by Susanna Carr
“Tell your family that you couldn’t find me.” She took a step away from Antonio and was relieved when he let go. “Give the money away to charity.”
Antonio eyed her with disbelief. “You don’t know how much it is.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She could use the money, but she didn’t trust this gift from Giovanni. There would be a price to pay if she accepted.
“Isabella!” her boss yelled. “Get the food on the table before it gets cold.”
She turned abruptly and her head spun. She reached for the wall but her fingers gripped Antonio’s strong arm. She battled desperately for her balance. She couldn’t show weakness—or any other symptoms. She sensed Antonio’s stare and held back a groan.
“You’re ill?” he asked sharply.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she replied in a rough voice.
She refused to look at him, not wanting him to see just how weak she truly felt. She could tell that he was assessing her and that made her worry. Antonio was smart and he’d made a fortune on intuitive connections. It wouldn’t take him much longer to figure out what was wrong with her. She had to get away before he discovered the truth.
“Isabella!” her boss barked out.
“Let me serve this,” Isabella told Antonio as she grabbed the tray of food. “Then we won’t be interrupted again.”
She didn’t wait for his answer as she hurried out to the sidewalk. She served the food quickly, almost spilling it. She recovered just in time, murmuring her profuse apologies, but her mind was on possible escape routes. Isabella moved slightly until she was in a blind spot from the kitchen. This was her last chance to make a run for it.
Isabella placed the serving tray on one of the empty tables. She kept her casual pace until she turned the corner. Then she ran as fast as she could down the alley to the back stairs.
As her feet slapped against the pavement her lungs felt like they were going to explode—but she couldn’t stop. Time was of the essence. Isabella reached the stairs and climbed them, two steps at a time. She tripped and bruised her knee. For a moment her world tilted, but she got back up and kept going.
Her legs burned and shook, but she pushed herself to go faster. Antonio would now have realized that she’d escaped. Any minute he’d start looking for her.
She reached the door to her room, but didn’t stop to take a breath. She felt nauseous and her body ached. It didn’t matter. She needed to get far away and then she would rest.
Swinging the door open, Isabella saw her backpack on the top of her lumpy mattress. She stepped into the small room and lunged for it. As she grasped the shoulder strap she heard the door bang shut.
Isabella turned around and the room moved. She saw Antonio resting against the door. He didn’t look surprised or out of breath. From the glimmering rage in his dark eyes, she thought he had probably been waiting there for her the moment she stepped out of the kitchen.
“I’m disappointed, Bella,” he said in a dangerously soft tone. “You’re becoming so predictable.”
“I—I …” She blinked as dark spots gathered along the edges of her eyes. She felt light-headed, but her arms and legs were unusually heavy. She couldn’t move.
He stepped away from the door and approached her. “I don’t have time for your games. You’re coming with me now.”
“I …” She needed to move. Run. Shamelessly lie.
But just as Antonio reached for her her head lolled back and she fainted, collapsing at his feet.
CHAPTER TWO
“BELLA!” Antonio sprung into action and caught her as her backpack fell onto the wooden floor with a thud. He lifted her and couldn’t help noticing how light and delicate she was. Fragile. The word whispered in his mind like a warning.
She slumped against his arm and he held on tight as alarm pulsed through his veins. He swept the wisps of hair from her face. Her eyes were closed and her complexion was very pale. He laid her carefully on the mattress. Crouching down next to her, Antonio took a quick survey of the tiny room. The beige paint was peeling off the walls in chunks and a faint scent of rotting garbage wafted through the small open window. There was nothing else. No sink or refrigerator so he could get her water. There was hardly enough space for the mattress. How could she live like this? Why was she living here when she had a life and a future in America?
“Bella?” He tapped her cheek with his fingers. Her skin was soft and cold.
Isabella frowned and pursed her lips. She murmured something but it was incomprehensible. She didn’t open her eyes.
Antonio started to get suspicious. His first instinct had been to take care of Isabella. Some things never change, he thought bitterly. But what if this was an act? Did she hope that he would back off? Not a chance.
“Isabella,” he called out sharply.
“Go away,” she said drowsily. She turned to her side and curled her legs close to her chest.
“No.” He grabbed her shoulder and gave her a shake.
“I’m serious.” She squeezed her eyes shut and weakly tried to push his hand away. “Leave me alone.”
He wished he could. He wished he had left her alone when he’d first seen her. It had been early March. The sun had been shining but there had been a chill in the air as he’d left his office. He had just pocketed his cell phone when he’d seen a young woman standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.
Antonio had done a double-take and halted.
“Is everything all right, sir?” his assistant had asked.
No. His world had taken a sudden tilt as he’d stared at the blonde, dressed simply in a fitted leather jacket, skintight jeans and knee-high boots. The violent kick of attraction had made him take a staggering step back.
He knew many beautiful young women, but there had been something different about this one. He had wanted to accept her silent challenge. It could have been her don’t-mess-with-me stance or the jaunty tilt of her black fedora. Maybe it had been the bright red scarf draped around her neck that hinted at attitude. Whatever it was, he had found it irresistible.
“Sir?” his assistant had prompted.
Antonio had barely heard him. His attention had been on the blonde as she’d turned a map upside down, clearly hopeless at navigating. Then suddenly she’d shrugged her shoulders and stuffed the map carelessly into her backpack. Antonio had watched as the blonde had started walking away as if she was ready for whatever adventure she faced.
Her beauty and vitality had intrigued him, and her bold spirit had captured his imagination. He’d known he had to meet this woman or regret missing the opportunity.
“Cancel my meeting,” he had said to his stunned assistant.
Following an elemental instinct he had not wanted to question, Antonio had ignored the chauffeured car waiting for him and followed the blonde.
His pulse had quickened as he’d watched the swing of her long blonde hair and the sway of her hips. She’d looked over her shoulder, and as their gazes connected he had seen the flare of attraction in her blue eyes. Instead of looking away she had turned and approached him.
“Mi scusi,” she had said, her voice strong and clear as she’d met his gaze boldly. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” he had said, noticing she was American. There had been no light of recognition in her eyes—just lust. She’d had no idea who he was.
“Great. I’m looking for the Piazza del Popolo,” she had said, her attention clearly drawn to his mouth. She had absently swiped the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip.
Antonio had clenched his jaw. He had wanted to know how her lips tasted, but it had been too soon, too fast. The last thing he’d wanted to do was scare her off. “It’s not far,” he had replied gruffly as attraction pulsed between them. “I can show you where it is.”
He had been fascinated as he’d watched her cheeks turn pink. She hadn’t tried to hide her interest, but she’d been fighting an internal struggle. He had seen the rise and fall of her che
st and the eagerness in her expression. She had been tempted to explore whatever was happening between them.
“Wouldn’t it be out of your way?”
“Not at all,” he had lied. His voice had softened as his chest had tightened with growing excitement. “I happen to be going in that direction.”
“What luck!” Her broad smile had indicated that she didn’t believe him. She could have said she was going to Venice and he would have given the same answer. “By the way, I’m Isabella.”
He had taken Bella to bed that night. There had been no games, no pretense. There had also been no indication that this American student on Spring Break would twist him in so many knots that he would never be the same again. She hadn’t been very experienced, but a generous and affectionate lover.
Giovanni had thought so, too.
The reminder burned like acid, eating away at him.
Antonio stood up and shoved his clenched fists in his pockets. “You told me you weren’t sick.”
“I’m not sick,” she countered faintly.
The Isabella he knew was full of life and ready to take on the world. This Isabella looked like a strong gust of wind would knock her over. “You need to see a doctor.”
Isabella suddenly opened her eyes wide. She blinked a few times and darted a quick look at him before keeping her gaze on the floor. She rose, resting awkwardly on her elbow and pushing the wayward hair out of her face. “I’ve seen a doctor. I’m not sick. Just exhausted. All I need is to eat and sleep properly.”
Antonio cast her a look of disbelief. “I would ask for a second opinion.”
“I don’t need one. Now, go away,” she ordered with the flutter of her hand.
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
“You have to,” she urged as she held her head in her hands. “Tell everyone that you couldn’t find me. Tell them that I’m back home.”
It was tempting. He wanted to leave and not look back. Purge her from his memories. Do anything that would erase Isabella from his world. But he knew that was impossible.
“Sorry. I’m not like you. I choose to tell the truth whenever possible.”
She lifted her head to glare at him. “I never lied to you. I never—”
He turned away and checked his watch. “I don’t have time to rehash the past.”
“Rehash?” Isabella’s voice rose angrily. “When did we discuss it the first time around? I thought we were happy. We had been together for weeks and going strong. We had made love throughout the night. The next morning your security woke me up to kick me out. My bag was packed and you wouldn’t take my call. You didn’t tell me why you did that, and you never gave me a chance to talk about it!”
Antonio leaned against the wall by the door. The room felt like it was getting smaller. “I wasn’t in the mood to hear your excuses. I’m even less inclined to now.”
“There was nothing to excuse,” Isabella argued as she rose slowly.
Her movements were wobbly and awkward. Antonio folded his arms so he wouldn’t reach out and help her. He already regretted holding her close. He didn’t like how much effort it had taken to pull away. His fingertips still stung from where he had touched her face.
Isabella looked him in the eye and jutted out her chin. “I did not have an affair.”
He held up his hand. “Enough! I will not discuss it.”
“Typical,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t like to discuss anything. Especially if it’s personal. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t share how you felt. The only time I knew exactly what you were thinking was when we were in bed.”
An intimate and very inconvenient image bloomed in his mind. Of Isabella, naked in his bed, eagerly following his explicit demands. When they’d been alone together he had held nothing back. He had demonstrated how much he wanted Isabella and how much her touch had meant to him. There had been many times when it hadn’t been certain who was in command.
A muscle bunched in his jaw and ferocious energy swirled around him. “We are leaving,” he announced in a gravelly tone. Antonio thrust the door open and waited for Isabella.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not signing any papers. I don’t want Giovanni’s money.”
“I’m sure you earned it.” He didn’t want her to know what was at stake here. All he wanted was to end this errand as soon as possible. By whatever means necessary. Antonio walked over to her.
Isabella’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
“How times have changed,” he said silkily as he wrapped his hand around her wrist. He ignored her racing pulse under his fingers as he picked up her backpack. “I remember when you begged for my touch.”
Isabella tried futilely to pull out of his grasp. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about the past? Let go of me.”
“I will when we get to my car.” If it was still where he had parked it. Trust Bella to find the most dangerous neighborhood to live in.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Isabella declared as she tried to grab onto the doorframe—but she couldn’t hold on.
“Think again.” He headed for the stairs, dragging her behind him.
“Pushy and selfish,” she muttered. “It must be a Rossi trait. You are just like your brother.”
Antonio stilled as the accusation lashed at him. He slowly turned and faced Isabella. He saw the wariness in her eyes as she backed away. She didn’t get far as his grip tightened around her wrist. “Don’t.”
Isabella’s gaze fell to her feet. “All I meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant.” Her words had clawed open a wound he had valiantly tried to ignore. Were he and Gio interchangeable in Isabella’s mind? How often had she thought of his brother when she’d kissed him? Had she responded the same way in Gio’s bed?
His thoughts turned darker, piercing his soul. Antonio didn’t say anything as he took a step closer to Isabella, backing her against the wall. Why had she chosen Gio over him? Everyone else he knew made that choice, but why Isabella? He had thought she was different. Was it because Gio had been the handsome and charismatic one? Had his brother fulfilled her deepest, darkest fantasies? Or had she actually fallen in love with his brother?
“Antonio?” she whispered with uncertainty.
He stared at Isabella. Her angelic beauty hid a devious nature. Her bold spirit and breathtaking innocence had led him straight to a hell that he might never escape. He blinked slowly as he battled the darkness enveloping him. He wouldn’t let this woman destroy him again.
Antonio released her wrist as if her touch burned. He took a deliberate step back but met her eyes with a steady gaze. “Don’t compare me with my brother. Ever.”
Isabella couldn’t move as she stared into his brown eyes. Her heart twisted and her breath snagged in her throat. Antonio was always so careful not to show his thoughts and emotions, but now they were laid bare before her. The man was in torment.
But just as quickly as he’d exposed his pain his eyes were shuttered. When he opened them again he was back in control, while her emotions were in a jumbled mess.
Antonio turned away from her and Isabella sagged against the wall. She slowly exhaled as her heart pounded in her ears. She felt shaky, her limbs twitching as she watched Antonio take the stairs.
“I’m sorry.”
Her words were just a whisper but she saw Antonio’s rigid stance as he silently deflected her apology.
She hadn’t meant to compare Antonio to his brother. They had very different personalities. It was impossible to confuse the two. Giovanni had been a charmer, with movie star looks, always the life of the party. He’d been entertaining—but not fascinating like Antonio.
The moment she had met Antonio she’d known he was out of her league. She didn’t have the sophistication or sexual knowledge to hold on to him. It hadn’t mattered. She’d only wanted to be with him. Just once.
Isabella remembered when they had first met and he had offered to show her
Piazza del Popolo. The sight of him had jolted her as if she had woken from a deep slumber. Her heart had started to race when she saw him.
She knew she had projected an image of being bold and strong. Tough. It had all been an act. It had been her way of protecting herself as she went through the world alone. But the way the man had been looking at her—she had felt brazen. She had wanted to hold on to that feeling.
“I’m Antonio,” he had said, and offered his hand.
She had hesitated at the sight of his expensive cufflinks. It had only been then that she’d noticed he wore a designer suit. His silk tie had probably cost more than her round-trip ticket to Italy. She didn’t know anyone who had that kind of money.
Be careful of the rich ones. Her mother words had drifted in her head. They only want one thing from women like us.
Isabella had smiled. She had decided that it was okay because she was after the same thing.
She had reached for Antonio’s hand and felt a sharp tingle as her skin had glided against his. She hadn’t been able to hide her gasp of surprise. When she had tried to pull away Antonio had wrapped his long, strong fingers around her hand.
Instead of making her feel trapped, his touch had pierced through the gray numbness that had settled in her when she had nursed her mother through her final illness. Her breath had locked in her throat as he’d raised her hand to his mouth.
The earthy colors of Rome had deepened and the sun had turned golden. The blaring sound of traffic had faded as Antonio had brushed his lips against her knuckles. She had known that this man would be the highlight of her vacation. She hadn’t expected to fall in love—and into his bed—with such wild abandon.
She hadn’t expected that she would never be the same again.
Isabella jerked her mind to the present as she saw Antonio disappear from the stairwell with her backpack. Everything she owned—her passport, her money—was in there.
“Wait!” she called out, and hurriedly followed him. She rounded the building and saw Antonio striding down the block. Isabella ran after him. “Antonio, stop!”