My Italian Beast (Part One)

by Marian Tee

  An arrogant Italian boor was smirking at me, and I found it beguiling?

  “Well, bambina?” Marcus stepped closer. “Do you think of me as family?” He started leaning towards me, his head lowering, and---

  I couldn’t bear it. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” And then I was walking away as fast as I could.

  I heard him laugh, and I walked even faster.

  Of course I didn’t think of him as family, and the blasted man knew that.

  So why did he even ask?

  Actually, why had he come looking for me in the first place?

  When he reached my side, I said very politely, “Please leave me alone.”

  And to which he replied just as politely, “No.”

  I stumbled to a stop. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Chapter Three

  He wasn’t sure? What did that even mean?

  I gazed at him with a mixture of frustration and something else, something that shouldn’t even exist inside of me. If I were in a fanciful mood, I could probably think that we had everything required for a romantic scene.

  The setting was ideal, with warm sunlight peeking through the gaps of space between the trees that towered over us. There was even music in the air, with birds chirping in the distance, and the leaves faintly rustling on the ground every time a breeze made them dance.

  And most importantly of all, there was a boy, and there was a girl.

  It was a perfect setup for a love story, really – only if the boy wasn’t Marcus Ravelli and the girl wasn’t Anneke de Konigh.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling cold despite the summer heat. “What do you want from me?”

  The words seemed to startle him, and I didn’t get that either.

  “It’s not supposed to be like this, bambina.”

  “What’s it?” I was even more frustrated now.

  A faint smile touched his lips. “Flirting. This – asking such straightforward questions – isn’t how flirting is supposed to work.”

  Oh. “I see.” We were flirting? “I’m sorry.” That was flirting? “I truly beg your pardon.” We really had been flirting?

  “Va bene.” Marcus’ words drew my attention back to him. He was smiling again, but this time it no longer reached his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been the usual with you anyway.”

  “I see.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but his words awfully sounded like he had compared me to other women---

  And he had found me lacking.

  I managed a smile. “Then that’s that, I suppose.” And once again I found myself walking away.

  I heard him curse under his breath, but again it only made me walk faster.

  Marcus reached my side, but I forced myself to ignore him.

  “Do you know,” he muttered under his breath, “you are the only woman I find myself running after?”

  Then that made us even, I thought, for he was the only man to make me exhibit such rudeness.

  He suddenly blocked my way, forcing me to stop. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t like it either,” I heard myself snap and felt appalled right after. It was yet another act of rudeness, and again it happened because of him---

  Marcus Ravelli.

  Last night I had spent hours tossing and turning in bed, trying to figure out why he affected me so. I wasn’t so stupid I thought it was love at first sight. I didn’t need actual experience to understand that what existed between us was nothing more than a powerful attraction, the kind of chemistry that was off the charts.

  But what I still didn’t get was why.

  Why him?

  Why Marcus Ravelli?

  What made him different?

  “Anneke---”

  I jerked. It was the first time for him to say my name, and the sound of it was---

  Unlike any other, I thought helplessly.

  He made my name sound like an endearment that he alone had the right to use---

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  ---and I actually liked it.

  Crap, crap, crap, but I actually really liked it.

  What was happening to me?

  “Anneke.”

  There it was again, and oh, how it made my body ache in a strange, powerful way.

  “Look at me.” His voice was tight. “Anneke, look at me.”

  It was an order that I knew in my heart I would be better off ignoring.

  But I couldn’t.

  And so I opened my eyes, and his intense dark gaze immediately captured mine.

  “I want us to be friends.”

  My eyes widened.

  “I know it sounds like a bad idea,” he said grimly, “but it’s what I want.”

  I shook my head helplessly. “Why would you want to be friends with me?” And I really did want to know. “I’m different from my brothers, and just because you’re their friend doesn’t mean you have to be mine.”

  “I want to be your friend.”

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “You can’t. You shouldn’t even want to. We live in very different worlds---”

  “Then let me inside yours,” Marcus cut in.

  “Impossible.”

  The word seemed to offend him, and he snapped, “Then I’ll snatch you out of yours and lock you in mine.”

  His words were the height of arrogance, but instead of annoying or angering me, they made my toes curl hard instead---

  And that, too, was dangerous, wasn’t it?

  I gazed at him in mute despair. “May I be frank?”

  “You may do anything you want with me.”

  My mouth opened and closed at his unexpectedly suggestive words. Where did that even come from? And why did it make me feel so darn lightheaded?

  Marcus’ lips slowly formed a smirk.

  Oh! His amusement made me mentally shake myself, and I cleared my throat. “That is exactly why we can’t be friends---”

  His smirk disappeared.

  “I’m not the type to fool around---”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  It doesn’t matter if he never asked me, I thought. Didn’t he see that just being in his company would make any ordinary girl want to fool around? But since pride forbade me from saying such words, I could only look at him.

  My silence made Marcus’ jaw harden, and he said abruptly, “Come with me.”

  And before I knew what was happening, his hand was already clasping mine, and Marcus was leading me back to town.

  “Where are we going?” My voice came out strained. It was my first time to hold another guy’s hand, and the realization was enough to turn my thoughts into mush.

  “I’m taking you out to lunch.”

  He was?

  “And over lunch,” Marcus continued in a silky voice, “you’ll ask me questions.”

  I would?

  He flashed me a smile that was as dangerous as it was charming. “You will get to know me well, and after lunch we will be friends.”

  Marcus continued walking as he spoke, and I found myself following him.

  I was trapped, and it was all because of his touch.

  It felt too hot. It felt too right. And most of all – the feel of his large, strong hand engulfing mine felt too addictive, his touch making me feel like a lamb about to be slaughtered but unable to do anything about it.

  Marcus asked me for a recommendation, and I decided to skip the usual local favorites and suggested Alfred’s, a family-run bed-and-breakfast located at the edge of town. It also had a rather nice restaurant at the back, and when we arrived, Alfred himself came out to greet me by the door, dressed in his usual, with a black apron tied over his chef’s uniform.

  “Hallo, Anneke. Table for two?”

  “Hallo, Alfred, and yes, please.”

  “Corner table would do?”

  “Sure.”

  But the septuagenarian didn’t move, only smiling at me expectantly.

  I sighed. So much for thinking no
one in town would notice that I was having lunch with a guy.

  “This is Marcus Ravelli by the way. He’s a friend of my brothers, and I’m just showing him around.” I tried to pull my hand away from Marcus’ as I spoke, but his grip only tightened.

  When I turned to him with a frown, his eyes only gleamed in response. You’re not escaping that easily.

  Riiiiight. I cleared my throat. “This is Alfred. His family has been running this place for over a hundred years now.”

  Marcus shook hands with Alfred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, mijnheer.”

  “Same here,” Alfred answered jovially. “It’s always nice to meet new friends of Anneke. She doesn’t have much of them, you see.”

  Thanks, Alfred, I thought with a mental sigh. Way to go at making me sound like a loser.

  Alfred led us to our table, asking, “Are you two feeling famished? Our daily specials are always worth a try.”

  “Then I’ll have that,” Marcus affirmed.

  “Same.”

  Alfred grinned. “Excellent.” The old man threw me a rather audacious wink just before leaving, and I could’ve expired on my seat in sheer embarrassment.

  When Marcus raised a brow, I muttered, “He thinks we’re dating.”

  He laughed. “And you say it like a bad word.”

  “It is,” I said morosely. “You don’t know how it is here. News travel really fast, and people tend to exaggerate.” I paused. “Also…”

  “What is it?”

  “Could you let go of my hand now?” I asked in a small voice.

  A grin formed on his lips. “Not a chance, bambina.”

  Riiiiiight. This man definitely had a sadistic streak in him.

  “Now.” His voice turned brisk and commanding. “Ask me questions.”

  I looked at him in shock. “I can’t ask you just like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…because I’m not like that,” I finished lamely.

  Marcus slowly shook his head. “You really are something.”

  “I guess so.” If by that he meant boring and incapable of doing anything impolite, fun, and impulsive, then yes, I was something.

  And surely that was enough to get him off my back?

  I honestly thought it was, but then I heard him sigh. “Ah, bambina.” His fingers tightened on mine once more, making me look up at him. “You are too easy to read---”

  I blinked. That was news to me. Most people I knew thought I was pretty expressionless, actually.

  “And for that matter you are wrong, you know.”

  I was?

  He let go of my hand, but before I could pull completely away from him, Marcus reached for a lock of my hair, and I froze. Were all Italian boys this touchy-feely?

  “You asked me why I want you to be my friend, and that is it.”

  That? What was that? And I blurted out, “Are you saying you want to be friends with me because I’m boring?”

  “No, bambina.” He gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I want to be friends with you because you’re nice. I want to be friends with you because you’re sweet.” He leaned back, his fingers releasing my hair, and his voice took on a brooding tone. “I want to be friends with you because looking at you…is like having a personal reminder that the world isn’t bad.”

  I could only stare at him when he finished speaking.

  On one hand, those were just about the most beautiful words that had ever been said about me, and that they came from Marcus made them even more special.

  But on the other hand---

  “Why would you need that kind of reminder?”

  His lips twisted. “Don’t we all?”

  I didn’t know what to say. My life was far from perfect, but---

  The food arrived, and the conversation was placed on hold. Alfred served us our starters and left after giving me another wink.

  Riiiiight.

  Marcus was nice enough to wait for Alfred to disappear back into the kitchen before grinning.

  “It’s not funny,” I muttered.

  “It is.” Marcus had a taste of his salad. “This is good.”

  As I took a sip of water, I realized I was disappointed that the mood had been ruined. I tried to get it back, saying tentatively, “About what you said earlier---”

  “You should start eating.” Marcus’ tone was charming, but something about it didn’t feel right. When he saw me staring at him, he lowered his fork and took mine, asking, “Want me to feed you?”

  “What? Ah. No---” But the forkful of salad was already on its way to my lips. “Thank you,” I mumbled after.

  “Have another,” Marcus invited, and there went the fork again.

  As I chewed on my salad, he started talking.

  He told me about his parents’ early divorce, after which he then grew up in his grandmother’s care. He told me about his life in boarding school, and how he intended to take up the reins of the family business as soon as he graduated from college.

  He shared his story with a surprisingly self-deprecating sense of humor, and I found myself laughing. But he also never talked about the world being a bad place, and when I tried to ask him that, Marcus seemed to sense my intention and fed me another forkful.

  And so it went on, all the way down to dessert, until Alfred wasn’t even bothering to hide his grins and winks.

  When we were served coffee, I pleaded right away, “May I at least drink coffee on my own?”

  Marcus laughed. “But I like serving you, bambina.”

  “Please?” I had no shame. Or rather, I was suffering from a lot of it, and it was his fault. Who knew being fed by a gorgeous guy could be so embarrassing, awkward, and exciting at the same time?

  Marcus beat me to paying for lunch, and he also beat me to reaching for my tote bag.

  “But---”

  He said gently, “I insist, bambina.”

  The walk back home was spent in silence.

  “It didn’t work, did it?” Marcus’ tone was quiet but unreadable.

  I shook my head. “It’s not you,” I tried to explain. “I just think this isn’t going to work in the long run.”

  “Because I’m different.”

  My head shot up, and I protested, “No.” The hard outline of his jaw appalled me. I couldn’t believe he actually believed he was the different one here. Was he blind? Had he forgotten who he was? Had he forgotten the kind of man he was?

  Everyone would want to be friends with him.

  And that meant me, too. I wanted to be his friend, too, but the difference between me and the other girls was that I knew being friends of him would be a big mistake.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice came out stilted. I had never imagined I’d be in this position, turning down a chance to be “friends” with someone like Marcus Ravelli.

  When Marcus didn’t say a word, I said slowly, “I’d understand if you get mad at me because of this.”

  He shook his head. “No, bambina. I don’t think I can ever be mad at you.”

  Oh.

  “But neither am I the type to take rejection so easily.” He faced me all of a sudden, his hand reaching for mine. I watched our fingers twine, and it was…beautiful. It was…forbidden. It was…wrong.

  “Please let me go.”

  “Be my friend.”

  A helpless laugh escaped me. “Do you hear yourself? Can’t you see how ridiculous this is?”

  “It’s not ridiculous.” His dark eyes captured mine. “I need you to be my friend, Anneke. I genuinely need you to be my friend.”

  Oh.

  “So at least think about it?”

  Chapter Four

  Bruin Hemel at the crack of dawn was like a sleeping princess, with its white walls painting a gentle countenance and its bed made of faded pastel colors that streaked the cloudless sky. Its beauty was more soothing than glorious, and so was the sound of water as I did my morning laps in the pool hidden at the back of the house.

 
; It had been three days since I last saw Marcus Ravelli, and the time spent away from him hadn’t done me any good. Every day that passed, I just had more and more questions I wanted but was too scared to ask.

  What made the world a bad place for him?

  Why did he need me to be his friend?

  And most importantly of all – why did I even care about any of these?

  I was on my third lap when a trace of footsteps drifted into my ears, and my strokes slowed. I lifted my head, thinking it was one of the young locals hired to clean the pool.

  “May I join you?”

  The deep, husky voice coming out of nowhere startled me, and water splashed around my body as I turned, dreading but already knowing who it was I would find---

  And of course it was Marcus Ravelli.

  I caught a fleeting glimpse of a bronze chest and rock-hard abs---

  Oh!

  And then our houseguest disappeared from sight, Marcus diving into the pool in one, swift, fluid motion.

  He’s going to try and take me by surprise, I thought right away. I took a step back, already thinking of leaving the pool, but it was too late.

  Hands captured my waist underwater, and I struggled to keep myself still, struggled to ignore the most shameful urge to writhe in his hold.

  A moment later, Marcus emerged from the water right in front of me, and a startled cry still spilled past my lips even though I had already expected him to show up.

  Water dripped from his hair as he grinned at me, and my breath caught.

  Marcus.

  Marcus Ravelli.

  My Marcus.

  In the last three days, I had tried to convince myself that how he made me feel was just a figment of my imagination.

  “Ciao, bambina.”

  Heat wrapped around my body at the mere sound of his voice, the irrational but intense attraction I felt for him coming to life in an instant.

  Obviously, I had imagined wrong.

  Everything about him was just too sensual. His lovely words, his sexy accent, and even that smirk of his – all of it conspiring to overwhelm me---

  I forced myself to meet his gaze, and his dark eyes were in it, too, with the way his gaze caressed mine.