His gut clenched. Money. She’d need money for advertising to promote her salon. After all, if she didn’t do anything drastic to get more clients, she’d be in a dire situation soon. A monthly allowance, perhaps?
“Hey. What are you thinking about?” she asked, nudging his elbow.
“I’m thinking we should go sightseeing before my cousin gets her claws into you,” he said. What he really wanted to say was how he’d also thought about visiting her salon even after their affair ended. The idea seduced him, slowly, lethal like a poisonous snake carefully dancing her way out of a charmer’s box.
“Sounds great. We can leave after I finish eating,” she said, taking a bite of fette biscotatte, the hard bread smothered in Nutella. “This is delicious.”
“It is,” his brother said behind him, surprising them with his presence. “Nico Giordano,” he said, gazing at Lily.
Lily covered her mouth for a moment, blushing, still eating the pastry, then she quickly swallowed it and said, “Oh. Nice to meet you. I’m Patricia.”
“Patricia. Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” Nico pulled out a chair and sat. “Hey, brother. You never told me you’d bring your beautiful friend to Nonna’s party.”
“I like to throw a curveball once in a while,” Marco said.
“A hell of a curveball,” Nico said, scratching his five o’clock shadow. “Then Arietta calls me and says you’re engaged. Imagine that. My confirmed bachelor of a brother, getting hitched.”
His throat grew thicker in annoyance. Marco wished he could take his brother into a martial arts studio and solve their differences over there. “I wanted Nonna to be the first one to know.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”
“Yes. Besides, you’re not my mother. I love you, brother, but I don’t need your permission,” Marco said, his voice as firm as his conviction.
Nico hesitated for a moment, probably pondering if fighting Marco was worth it. He settled for a slow nod. “Understood. Well, congratulations to both of you.” Nico smiled.
“Thanks,” Lily said.
“How did you two meet?” Nico asked, darting his gaze from Marco to Lily. “I can’t wait to know all about my future sister-in-law.”
Marco curled his fingers into a ball. The less he told his brother, the better. He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know Nico saw through their facade, or at the very least, questioned their relationship. Like Nico gave two shits about how they actually met. “At a bar,” he said. “The rest is history.”
Lily shifted in her seat. “How about you, Nico? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Not currently. You need to tell me the type of bars in New York you’re going to where you’re meeting such gorgeous women. Sorry, I didn’t catch your last name, Patricia.”
“Doors. Patricia Doors.”
Nico frowned. “Interesting.”
Marco pushed his chair and stood up, then swiftly pulled Lily’s out to prompt her to rise as well. “We’ll chat more later. I promised Patricia I’d show her Bellagio today.”
Nico gave her a lingering glance, and Marco could almost see the wheels turning in his brother’s brain. Nico pursed his lips, his neutral expression not fooling Marco for a nanosecond. “Sounds good. See you guys soon.”
He guided her through the house, taking a shortcut to make it out as fast as possible. Once they were inside the car, he let out an exhale. His brother thought he had his back, and if for some reason he didn’t believe their story, Nico wouldn’t rest until he proved his case. Damn him.
“Do you think he bought it?” Lily asked, turning her head around as if to make sure they weren’t being followed.
He chuckled. “This isn’t a spy movie. Relax, Nico isn’t behind us.”
“Does your brother know about your contract shenanigans?”
“I don’t discuss details of my intimacy with him, but he knows I prefer things clearly discussed upfront,” he said. Nico wasn’t exactly the domesticated kind, either. He’d even mentioned once he planned on getting a vasectomy because he didn’t want to inflict pain on his children like his father had done to them.
“Why didn’t you tell him about our fake engagement? You two seem close.”
“Because this is more complicated. If I tell him the truth, he’ll know about the garage. I’ll tell him after everything is said and done.”
“He’ll think you lost it over my heavenly pussy,” she said with amusement.
Marco should have said something and joined the fun, but a growing concern kept him from joking about what had become an almost palpable fear. His obsession over Lily and all her body parts was no laughing matter.
…
They’d spent the morning visiting the historic downtown in the nearby town of Como. With Lily, Marco had looked at the basilicas as if seeing them for the first time. He’d appreciated walking with her along the curvy, winding roads, telling her about the town and the several others in the region. He almost wished they had more time to see more together. Oh, the cities he could show her, not only in Italy. He’d love to bring her to Athens. Sydney. London.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked when he parked in front of the art studio Arietta had suggested they visit. They could balk and leave, but that would only enhance Arietta’s interest in their situation—which, in turn, would add fuel to his brother’s curiosity. Best to deal with the problem up front.
“Yes. We go in, shake some hands, and you say how much you love painting—”
“Sculpting.” She cut him off, rolling her eyes.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Can I confess something?”
“Indulge me.”
She leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of her feminine scent. “I had the highest marks in my sculpting class.”
“Great. So this shouldn’t be so hard.”
He slid out of the car, went around the vehicle, and opened the door for her. She wore a yellow dress that made her look impossibly carefree and young. He wished he could take her in the car, or behind an alley, to address his rising internal temperature. What if he continued to find it increasingly difficult to come to terms with the fact they’d say goodbye in two weeks? Could he let her go? Would he?
She grabbed his hand in hers, an intimate gesture that came naturally to them, and one he’d never really appreciated prior to meeting Lily. Walking hand in hand never seemed like a necessity, especially for an experienced man like himself. He felt her palm sweaty against his. She was nervous about putting on this sculpting act, but not once did she try to convince him to walk away.
They entered the studio, where a plethora of artwork was displayed on small stands. Remarkable canvases for sale hung on the walls, as well as framed photos of famous celebrities who had visited the place. She squeezed his hand, and in response, he made an invisible pattern on her palm with his thumb, hoping the continuous movements soothed her.
She gave him a sideways glance, a mischievous gleam in her eyes like they communicated in their own secret language. A tremor traveled through him.
“There you are!” Arietta called, jerking him out of his thoughts as she strolled up to him from the opposite side of the room. “Come here. The kids are dying to meet Patricia.”
It was his turn to tighten his grasp on Lily’s hand, bringing her closer.
They walked in tandem to the door and found a room where several kids talked vivaciously. When they entered, a few of them continued chatting, but most grew quiet and watched them, Lily especially. What the hell had Arietta promised them to make them so interested in her?
“Ciao,” Lily said, letting go of his hand. “Thanks for the opportunity, Arietta,” she said, giving his cousin a hug.
Arietta’s face froze for a moment, but she quickly recovered and responded to the spontaneous embrace. A wave of pride threaded down his spine. Lily managed to disarm his overbearing cousin in a few seconds. Nice start.
“Thank you for coming, Patricia. They’re th
rilled to see you. I told them not to hold their breath because you’re so busy, but they’d love if you showed them some of your skills. Maybe they’ll learn something new from you.” She winked at her.
“Or I’ll learn something new from them.” Lily said, studying the material displayed on the tiled counter next to a big sink. “You do water-based sculptures?”
“Yes. Natala here works at this studio and allows children to visit every month for special classes,” she said, pointing at a young woman with lustrous, long hair.
“Great. Why don’t you have a typical session with them, and I can supervise what they do in a case-by-case basis?”
“Good idea,” Natala said, with a heavy accent. “We’ve been working on vases.”
“Always a good start to do confined shapes,” Lily said.
Natala translated the idea to the children, and a few of the boys kept their gaze on Lily.
“Let’s do this,” Lily said. He knew her well enough to sense a tremble in her voice. What sounded like excitement to others carried a pang of apprehension to him. Regardless, she soldiered on, and soon the children made a line to wet the clay and begin working and playing with it.
His throat thickened. He should walk around and interact with the students, but he only had eyes for Lily. His Lily. What kind of child would he have been if he had a mother like her? What kind of adult would he have turned into—perhaps one less tainted, less objective, more susceptible to society’s idea of normal? A man who didn’t hide behind contracts and the ink of a pen to keep his emotions in check. A braver man.
A little boy with curly blond hair walked up to him, his eyes twitching like he was about to cry. “Sir, can you help me?”
He kneeled to look the kid in the eye. “I’m not great at this stuff, but I can try.”
“I wanted to make a vase for my mom.”
“Then a vase we shall make,” he said, and grabbed an apron hanging on the wall. For the next few minutes, they tried molding the clay into a bowl. The boy seemed more relaxed, smiling on occasion, talking about airplanes and dinosaurs. Marco could have given the little guy a prize and thanked him for taking his mind off Lily. At least, for the moment…
Chapter Twelve
“Look at you. You could pass for a pro,” Arietta said, behind her.
Lily took a deep breath. She had watched a few YouTube tutorials to refresh her rusty memory, and doubted she’d have pulled it off if her audience had been more discerning. The little kids, though, enjoyed her visit, and her idea of observing and encouraging them instead of putting on a demonstration had paid off.
“They’re children,” she said. “It’s more liberating to let them work freely than restricting them to one way of doing things.”
“True,” Arietta said. “Feel free to give them tips, though, to make their sculpting process more efficient. Even though you aren’t getting paid yet in the United States, you must have some time-saving tips.”
Lily squared her shoulders. No way would she pretend more than she knew and fall into Arietta’s trap. “Art is art anywhere in the world, and it can’t be rushed. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Lily said, walking past the woman to check the stations. Phew.
For some reason, Marco’s cousin wanted her to fail. She wanted her to admit she didn’t know much and certainly couldn’t add any to what these kids already knew. A few times she had to pull answers out of her ass, but she hoped plastering a smile on her face while she did it helped her convince them.
She didn’t want to screw things up for Marco.
Instinctively, she turned her head in his direction. For the past half an hour, he had been assisting an adorable young boy, maybe six or seven. Her heart filled with bursting bubbles of joy. She hadn’t seen him with kids yet, and had expected him to be the kind of guy who treated little ones as adults and miss out on the quirks of childhood.
She’d been wrong.
He hadn’t found an excuse to get rid of the boy, or asked for someone else to facilitate. They’d been working hard together, and she wished she could speak Italian to understand what stories he told to make the boy laugh with gusto.
“How are we doing?” she asked, inching closer to them.
Giuseppe—that’s what his name tag said—looked up at her. He spoke quickly, gesturing with his hands in a frantic attempt to tell her something.
“What is he saying?” she asked Marco while touching the boy’s hair to acknowledge him.
Marco sighed. “He feels bad we’ve been trying to do a perfect vase for his mom, but the edges still came out rough,” he said, pointing at their imperfect piece. Giuseppe spoke again, and Marco translated. “He wants her to be proud of him.”
She kneeled down and lifted Giuseppe’s chin up. “Can you please tell him I’m proud of him?” She looked into the boy’s eyes but spoke to Marco.
Maybe Giuseppe sensed her approval, for a shy smile formed on his lips.
“Tell him sometimes when we start our process, we have an image in our minds of what the final piece will look like. We work toward that goal, then things change. They don’t go as planned, and that’s absolutely fine.”
Marco translated her words in his dreamy voice.
“Tell him this bowl is unique because he made it and his mother will love him for it. If she doesn’t, she can talk to me. I’ll set her straight.”
Giuseppe giggled, and even before Marco told him what she’d said, she knew he had understood her intent.
When she peered at Marco again, she noticed a strong emotion flashing in his cocoa eyes. Flecks of gold sparkled in his irises, like shooting stars in a dark sky. Her heart stopped in her chest, and she watched him, hypnotized, unable to speak and ignoring everyone around them.
The need to hug him, to kiss him, to claim him, ignited at her core and spread madly throughout her body. Her own words played in her mind like an old broken record. We work toward that goal, then things change.
Shit. The situation hadn’t changed—they were still in Italy pretending to be committed to each other when the only thing drawing them together, besides scorching sexual chemistry, remained a calculated contract. No, the situation hadn’t changed, but she had.
Oh, crap. I’ve fallen in love with Marco.
…
“You were great with the children. Arietta didn’t suspect a thing,” he said, as they entered their suite.
The day had been long, with him showing her the sights then the stop at the art studio. All she wanted was to throw herself in his arms, but they had one last activity—a mandatory one. His aunt had planned for everyone to go on a boat trip along Lake Como, with drinks and more fancy appetizers, she imagined.
“Thanks. What should I wear tonight? I’m assuming it’s not a jeans-and-sneakers type of event, right?”
He shook his head then opened the armoire where he’d placed some personal items. Even though they had a walk-in closet with enough space, Marco had preferred to keep some of his things locked. She doubted he suspected the housemaid would rob his stuff. Did he think she would?
She switched her weight from one foot to the other. God, I hope not. She loved him, which was completely outrageous, inconvenient, and unexpected, yet none of these arguments made it less true. What if he felt something for her, too? Maybe he didn’t completely love her yet, but she’d seen the look in his eyes at the studio when she told him that sometimes plans changed and new goals came into view. Damn it, could she be so wrong?
I’ll show him. She didn’t have time on her side when it came to making him fall for her. She’d have to use her body to show him, without the words that would probably freak him out if she revealed just how much she cared for him. Perhaps the intensity of that emotion would be enough to convince him to give her a chance and forget about contracts.
He produced a black plastic bag and removed a box from it. “I want you to wear a dress, and underneath, this.”
She tilted her head to the side, trying to register the shiny box wi
th a red G-string inside. A couple of small devices were packed next to it: a black ring, and a—
“Is that a dildo?” she asked, grabbing the box from him.
Why, yes, it was. A small, round vibrator.
“This is a vibrating panty. You insert the vibrator in the slot,” he said, pointing at the small opening on the interior lining of the underwear, exactly where it would cover her pussy.
Heat coiled low as she stared at the contents, fascinated, curious, and aroused. “This looks kinky.”
He gave her a devastatingly sexy smile that weakened her knees and sent her pulse on a wild race. “Wear it tonight. This dildo has different settings, and I’ll command it with my ring,” he said, taking the ring from the box and sliding it on his finger.
“Are you serious?” The ring didn’t give away its purpose, but simply had a couple of buttons on the side that she assumed he’d push to adjust the vibration settings.
Her clit throbbed, the idea sinfully wrong. “Why don’t I wear the ring?”
“Because you won’t make yourself come in public.”
“You got that right,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn. She wouldn’t mind screwing him in public, as long as no one saw them. She didn’t have the salaciousness to sweat in front of his family if she didn’t have to. “I was going to take a shower. Wanna join me?” she asked.
“As much as I’d love to, no. I have some business emails I can’t avoid. Take your shower, then put this on,” he said, pointing at the box, “and get dressed.”
“How long will I wear the panties?”
“Until tonight. I want you begging me to make you come by the time I take them off.”
“Well, I have a request of my own, then. Tonight, I want us to go all the way,” she said, as heat spread across her chest. She’d entertained the idea, and now, she was ready to try it with him. “I want you to take my ass.”
Other than the butt plug they’d used, she’d never had anal sex before. Not full on, cock-in-her-ass sex. Hell, none of her boyfriends had even suggested it. They were too congenial, too sweet, too vanilla to entertain playing with her ass.
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