Dangerous Kiss
Page 92
Ori started to laugh. “You are kidding me, right?”
Lucia chuckled. “I wish I was”
Ori sighed. “No problem. Look, if I’m going to look the part, can I borrow your work clothes? I can’t show up in jeans”
“Of course, anything you need. Thanks, Ori, I owe you one”
That was how, forty-five minutes later, Ori, dressed in a black skirt and jacket with her hair pulled back into a severe bun and her spectacles perched on her nose, marched into Maceo Bartoli’s gallery. She was gratified to see Maceo’s eyes open wide in surprise and saw him suppress a smile. He turned to the middle-aged man, who was eyeing Ori both suspiciously and appreciatively. Ori knew immediately that this would be easy.
In less than a half hour, the man went away that satisfied his painting was the original (It was. Ori, knew an original Kahlo when she saw it.) and Maceo was grinning broadly as he poured them some drinks in his office.
He handed her a flute of champagne. “Thank you, Ori”
“Anything to help Lucia,” she said smoothly but with a grin, and he laughed. He indicated her suit.
“That works”
She rolled her eyes. “If you have a secretary fetish, keep it to yourself”
Maceo shrugged good-naturedly. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you. Man, you’d think my reputation alone would be enough to convince these people that I don’t trade in counterfeit goods, but there it is”
Ori considered. “Mr. Bartoli … I’m just guessing. Some of these men who come back to your gallery angry and bitter … would they happen to have attractive wives?”
Maceo’s grin was wide and completely unrepentant, and Ori had to laugh. “Oh, you really are a man-whore. Glad to help, Maceo, but next time, keep your pecker in your pants”
She got up to leave, but Maceo put up his hands. “Wait, before you go … Lucia tells me you’ve become fond of our city”
Ori sat down again. “I have. It’s beautiful and restful and serene”
Maceo laughed. “Not during Carnevale”
Ori grinned. “That’s what Lucia said. What’s your point?”
Maceo sat back. Ori tried not to look at the open neck of his shirt or the swarthy skin of his chest. “I want to offer you a job, Ori. I need a curator to work ahead of our current schedule and line up exhibits months, even years, in the future. You have contacts at MOMA and the Guggenheim, right?”
Ori nodded, her interest piqued. “All of the big guns, plus a lot of the small galleries”
“Contacts like those are invaluable” Maceo sighed, his handsome face serious for once. “Ori, we put together the exhibition we have now by the skin of our teeth. We simply don’t have the time to fill our schedule at the moment, which means we miss out on the best pieces. I need someone like you, not just for the big names but as a scout finding new talent, as well as negotiating with galleries worldwide”
Ori was speechless for a moment. Maceo Bartoli, whether he knew it or not, had just described her dream job. Actually, dream job didn’t even begin to cover it. And this man, this charming, gorgeous, yet completely untrustworthy man, was offering it to her right here, right now.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Forgive me for asking … you know if I work for you that there’s even less a chance of me sleeping with you, right?”
For a moment, she wished she could take back the words because maybe, just maybe, she saw a little hurt in his eyes. But a second later Maceo smiled, and the cocky businessman was back.
“So does that mean that until you start work for me, there is a chance?”
Ori couldn’t help but chuckle at him. “Absolutely none. Can I think about the job?”
Maceo smiled. “Of course. May I at least take you to dinner to say thank you for tonight?”
God, it was tempting, but if she let him wine and dine her, there was no way she’d be able to resist that smile, that body, those green, green eyes …
“I can’t. But thank you”
He nodded. “Then let me call you a water taxi”
He kissed her hand before she got into the water taxi and, as she was driven away through the canals, she looked back toward the dock. He was still there, watching her. He raised his hand and, unthinkingly, Ori did the same. Before she even made it back to her apartment, she knew she would tell him yes to the job.
And not just because it was her dream job.
Ori never saw the man in the shadows outside the apartment. He watched her go in and lock the door after herself. Then, as lights came on in the first-floor window, he smiled to himself. He walked a little down the street so he could not be seen or heard if she came out onto the balcony. He hoped she would—the girl was a looker, all right.
He pulled his cell phone out. “It’s me. Yeah. You can tell him it’s confirmed. His stepdaughter is in Venice, as we thought. What does he want me to do?” He listened carefully and began to smile. “Yeah, okay. Twenty-four hours”
He shut off his phone and stared up at the balcony. “Come on, Juliet. Show Romeo something here”
He grinned as Ori, now changed into a slouchy sweater and pajama pants, stepped out onto the balcony, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The observer felt his groin tighten. No wonder Janek wanted her found.
He almost felt sorry for the girl. He was absolutely sure that Janek didn’t have good things planned for this little beauty. Not good things at all.
Ori leaned her hot forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. The water spray was hot against her skin, but she barely felt it, concentrated as she was on imagining Maceo Bartoli’s hands where hers were now between her legs, relentlessly massaging her clit until her vision exploded with stars and she gasped through her orgasm. She panted for air, reveling in the sensation.
Goddamn you, Maceo Bartoli. Her dreams had been full of him—mostly a continuation from last night. Him stopping her before she left his office, reaching around and freeing her hair from its bun, tugging open the white blouse, tiny white buttons flying everywhere. Her pushing him into his chair and straddling him; his cock filling her …
“Oh, goddamn you, Maceo Bartoli,” she whispered as another orgasm ripped through her. She’d woken up hornier than she had been in years—maybe even ever. For a second now, as she panted her way back to sanity, she wondered whether she should just go ahead and fuck him. Tell him no strings, no need to call. Just a sensational, mind-blowing fuck.
She laughed out loud. “What is the matter with you, girl?” She dressed quickly in sweats and set out to clean the entire apartment, distracting herself. Mid-morning, she heard her phone beep and checked it.
Made up your mind yet?
She grinned. About the job? Yes. I’ll take it. Thank you.
Good. See you Monday … unless I can persuade you to join me for dinner tonight?
Yes, yes, yes. Mr. Bartoli, I don’t think that is a good idea.
Take a risk ...
Ori felt her heart beating hard against her ribs. Oh, I want to. You don’t know how much I want to … but she knew enough about powerful, rich men like Maceo to know that once she gave in to him …
I can’t.
Another time.
She was both grateful and regretful that he didn’t try to persuade her.
Later, after the apartment was clean and she was filthy, she took a long soak, reading her book, then went out to the market to buy fresh fish and vegetables for her supper. While she was cooking she called AJ and was happy to hear him sounding upbeat and positive.
She went to bed early, falling asleep just after ten p.m. It was quiet outside, and she could hear the lapping of the water on the sides of the canal. It lulled her to sleep, but at a quarter of eleven, she awoke with a start. Someone was in the apartment. She could hear them moving in the other room.
She slid out of bed, looking around for a weapon. She grabbed a vase from the dresser and stole to the side of the door, peeking out. She held her breath …
but the fear was almost overwhelming, the memories of years ago when her stepfather was creeping down the hall to her bedroom.
Never again.
She drew in a deep breath then and, with a banshee howl, darted for her intruder. He picked her up easily, her size no match for his, and threw her across the room. Adrenaline made her leap back to her feet and she ran at his midsection, hearing a muffled oof as her head connected with his belly.
“Fucking bitch …”
His hands were around her throat then, squeezing, squeezing … until nothing. She could breathe again, and his weight was being pulled off her by someone else, someone shouting— a familiar voice.
Maceo.
The two men struggled as Ori tried to catch her breath. Then, with a roar, Maceo threw the man out into the hallway, and her attacker took off, cursing. Maceo locked the door behind him and came to her, wrapping his arms around her, calming her.
Confused, scared, and discombobulated, Ori let him hold her until she had calmed enough to meet his gaze. Maceo opened his mouth to speak. Instead, Ori, driven by terror, lust, and chaos, pressed her lips to his hungrily. He took her face in his hands as he kissed her, and they only broke apart when they ran out of air.
Maceo, his green eyes full of desire but at the same time questioning, spoke softly. “Are you sure?”
Ori nodded, her body curving around his. In one easy motion, Maceo swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Ori didn’t care that she was in her old ratty-but-comfortable T-shirt and shorts combo; all her attention was on the man above her. Maceo pulled his T-shirt off in one easy motion, and Ori saw the finely-honed planes of his body and his thickly muscled arms.
Maceo pushed her T-shirt up, pulling it over her head. And then his mouth was on her breasts, sucking each nipple, teasing them until she was moaning, his hands slipping inside the waistband of her shorts to stroke her clit. Oh god, it was even better than she had fantasized about, the rhythmic stroking of his long, strong fingers making her pussy soaking wet, her skin electrified by his touch.
Her hands fumbled at the zipper on his jeans. She could feel his cock hot and hard against the denim, and when she finally managed to make her trembling fingers free it from his underwear, she stroked the length of it, feeling it shudder and thicken under her touch.
“Ori …”
His eyes were fixed on hers, the desire in them making her head swim. Ori stroked his face.
“Don’t wait, Maceo, please …”
He ripped her shorts from her and hitched her legs around his waist. Ori felt his cock nudge at her cunt then as he plunged into her. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her completely, of their bodies rocking in perfect symmetry, his lips against hers. Right this minute she didn’t care about anything else but being fucked by this glorious, glorious man.
He drove himself into her, both of them delirious with desire, until they both came, crying out, his hands pinning hers to the bed. He barely let her recover before his tongue was lashing around her clit, driving her crazy.
Maceo Bartoli made Ori come four times before he finally let her catch her breath. Panting, she smiled up at him. “That was just a thank you, Mr. Bartoli, for, you know, saving my life”
He grinned down at her. “Well, then, thank you back”
They rested for a while, Maceo’s arm around her, her head nestled on his shoulder. Then he moved away, propped himself up on his elbow, and looked down at her. “Ori … who was that man?”
She shook her head, her smile fading. “I honestly don’t know. I woke up and he was in the apartment. I attacked him first, so I could argue that he wasn’t violent until I was” She sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes, totally at ease with being naked with this man. She smiled at him and touched his cheek. “Thank you, Maceo, really … but can I ask? Why were you here?”
Maceo looked sheepish. “Call me old-fashioned, but knowing you were here alone … it bothered me. So, I just took a late-night boat ride”
“I’ve been alone for a couple of days … did you do that last night too?”
He nodded, looking up at her from beneath his thick dark eyelashes in a way that made her belly quiver with desire. “Forgive me”
Ori wasn’t sure how she felt about his vigilance, but she couldn’t deny that tonight, it had saved her life. Maceo sat up now and kissed her shoulder. “I’m not sure this is the safest place for you,” he murmured, his lips against her skin. His long fingers stroked her belly, making it vibrate with desire. “Why don’t you come back to mine?”
She was tempted, sorely tempted, but she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, I don’t want to give the impression that I can’t look after myself. Tomorrow, I’ll go get a deadbolt”
Maceo sighed, running a hand through his dark curls. “Simpler to stay with me”
She looked around at him and smiled. “Maceo, on Monday morning you’ll be my boss. I don’t think it’s advisable to be sleeping with the boss”
Maceo was silent, his lips still on her shoulder, his light green eyes fixed her hers. Goddamn, he really knew how to work that whole smoldering Italian thing …
“Fine,” he said suddenly. “But I’m staying tonight”
Ori was strangely relieved. “Thank you. I’d like that”
He pulled her back down onto the bed, on top of him. “And also, I’ll get my people to find out who your intruder was. If you like, we can go to the polizia. But I warn you, a case like this, they won’t spend a lot of time on it. That’s just the way things are here”
He was trailing his fingers up and down her spine, which was distracting Ori so much that she agreed without even listening and soon his mouth was on hers, and he was rolling her onto her back.
They made love long into the night and Maceo was both tender and rough, attending to every part of her body, challenging her to do things she had never dreamed of. Ori knew in her heart that she’d probably never have another night like this, with a man who awoke in her a primal need and a feral desire such as this. Maceo Bartoli deserved his legendary ‘swordsman’ status. His cock, huge and proud, plunged deep inside her relentlessly, making her crazy, and she gave herself up to him entirely for the rest of the night.
Ori’s attacker, humbled and bleeding, knocked on the hotel suite’s door. He’d ignored the curious stares of the staff at reception as he had limped towards the elevator; the night manager had approached him, but he had warned him off with a don’t-fuck-with-me stare.
A bald, gigantic henchman opened the door of the suite, smirking when he saw the man’s wounds.
“Got your ass handed to you by a girl, did you?”
“Shut the fuck up, moron. Is he here?”
“Ready and waiting”
The man walked into the suite’s living room. Tyson Janek was impeccably dressed, even at this late hour, in a Saville Row suit, a heavy glass of bourbon n his hands. He stood with back facing the room, but turned as the man greeted him. His steel gray eyes were cold.
“Where is my stepdaughter?”
“She attacked me, and then her boyfriend got involved. I thought it best to back off and re-evaluate”
Janek’s face was expressionless. “My stepdaughter does not have a boyfriend, Mr. Harrison. Are you telling me that there was a man with her tonight?”
Harrison nodded.
Janek put his glass down on the table. “Filthy little whore,” he whispered, almost to himself. He was silent for a few long moments, then looked back at Harrison. “Find out who the boyfriend is and end him”
Harrison—who had no trouble killing women, but balked at taking on men twice his size—looked alarmed. “Sir, I think that might be a mistake”
Janek looked faintly amused. “You do?”
Harrison kept his mouth shut, knowing this look of old. It was the calm before the storm. Janek would appear amused, then from nowhere would explode into a rage which made Hurricane Katrina look like a brief rain shower.
Harrison was relieved. “Consider it done”
When he was alone, Janek brooded, nursing another drink. He had come to Italy after a mutual friend had told him he’d seen Ori in the city— alone, the friend had told him. Tyson Janek had seen his political career collapse because of his affairs with the wives of his friends, but he was convinced he could turn things around in a year or two. After all, who would honestly care about it after the initial scandal? How many times had JFK fucked up? And yet he was still considered a god.
Tyson went to his bathroom now and stripped off. At fifty-five, he was still hard-bodied and had the handsome, all-American good looks that had propelled his career so far. Even now, so near to the scandal, people were already whispering that he was so good-looking, who could blame those women for falling for him? Who could blame a red-blooded male for taking advantage of what was thrown in his path?
Once Kathryn had—fortuitously, in Tyson’s opinion—died young of cancer, he had been able to focus all of his attention on Ori. On those nights he used to go to her room, force the door open, and see her cowering on her single bed, there was no one to hear him and stop him then. Nor would there be now …
When she left home—practically the day she turned sixteen—Tyson had lost some of that control over her, but while AJ was still under his parentage, he knew he could still be sure that Ori would not tell anyone about Tyson’s particular peccadillos.
Now AJ had left home and Tyson no longer had that assurance. Which was why, regrettably, his beautiful Orianthi would have to die.
He stepped into the shower, cranking the hot water on. As he stood under the spray, he imagined the leverage that a tragic death in the family would give him. All sins would be forgiven as the courageous, devastated congressman bravely vowed to find out who murdered his beautiful stepdaughter. And now that she had a boyfriend, he suddenly realized, he had someone to pin it on, to frame when they found Ori’s broken, brutalized body.