Dangerous Kiss

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Dangerous Kiss Page 138

by Michelle Love


  “We’re family, kiddo, it’s been my pleasure.” He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”

  Arturo nodded. “Gotta go pee before it kicks off. Hold my champagne.”

  He made his way into the Villa and found the restrooms on the second floor. It was quiet up here, and Arturo was washing his hands, relaxing at the moment’s peace before the auction started. Outside in the corridor, he made his way towards the stairs then stopped.

  At the far end of the hallway, a woman was staring out of the window, her features in profile, and Arturo’s heart nearly stopped. Her long dark hair, falling in soft waves, was pulled over one shoulder, and she looked so sad it made Arturo’s chest hurt. She looked so much like Flavia that everything in Arturo’s body screamed at him to go to her.

  She was wearing a white dress, ending just above the knee, the dress molding to her body, her full breasts, the soft curve of her belly, the long legs. She seemed then to sense his scrutiny, and she looked up at him. There was such a depth of sadness in her lovely, dark eyes that he wanted to know what was making this beautiful woman so unhappy, and how to make her smile again.

  “Buongiorno,” he said softly. She blinked at him, those big doe-eyes a little startled at his speaking.

  “Buongiorno.” A soft, American accented voice. Her lips were plump, pink and parted slightly and Arturo felt his body respond, becoming aroused by this mysterious stranger.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, then she turned away. “Scuzi.” She disappeared back into the hotel, and Arturo stepped forward, ready to pursue her but then he heard Peter’s voice from the stairs.

  “Turo? They’re ready, let’s go.”

  Arturo hesitated, his heart still thumping hard again his chest, his cock stiff against the fabric of his pants. God… what a fucking beautiful woman… he had to know who she was.

  “Turo? Come on. Hotel Bachi awaits.”

  Sighing, Arturo started down the stairs, his mind whirling and for once, intrigued by a woman.

  A half hour later, he was no longer in a good mood. “How the fuck did that happen? It did happen, right?” He was rambling now, looking in astonishment at Peter, looking to his best friend to tell him he’d just imagine what had just happened.

  He’d been outbid. He, Arturo Bachi had been outbid. The apartment was sold and not to him. He could feel the stares of his friends, colleagues, investors as he tried to process what had just happened.

  Bidding had started off as expected, somewhere in the low hundred-thousand and had quickly shot up to almost a million. Arturo had shot a smug look at Peter, then at George Galliano, who raised his champagne glass at him, somewhat sarcastically.

  Then it had all gone to hell. Just as the auctioneer was about to bring down the hammer, there was a new bid. Two million. A hush ran through the crowd. Arturo rocked back in shock and scanned the attendees to see who the new bidder was, but he or she wasn’t giving themselves away.

  “Two-five,” he shot back.

  Three million.

  Peter was looking alarmed, shaking his head at Arturo. The top end of their budget for the apartment was only one and a half million, and in any case, the apartment was only worth a tenth of that.

  “Four million,” Arturo called it, and Peter made a disgusted noise.

  “Turo, no.”

  Five million. Another, louder gasp in the crowd and hum of astonishment. Peter grabbed Arturo’s arm as the auctioneer looked at him. “Signore Bachi?”

  “Arturo, if you do this, I’m out. I mean it, I quit. You cannot do this. It’s reckless, and you’ll be humiliated. Whoever this is… obviously money is nothing to them. Let it go. We’ll figure out something else.”

  Arturo stared at his friend helplessly. Peter wasn’t kidding, but it was Arturo’s dream slipping away.

  “Signore Bachi?”

  Everyone was staring at him. Peter’s eyes were fierce and finally Arturo shook his head, his heart sinking. “No.”

  Another hum of gossip and then the hammer came down. “Sold for five million euros.”

  “To whom?”

  “Yes, to whom?

  “Who bought it?”

  The questions came thick and fast. The auctioneer held his hands up. “I’m sorry, my friends, this is a buyer who wishes to remain anonymous.”

  Arturo felt a rising in anger. “They won’t be anonymous for long,” he said, grimly, and Peter sighed, mostly from relief.

  “Let’s get out of here, Turo. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  On their way out, and despite his anger, Arturo couldn’t help looking for the woman in the white dress, disappointed when she was nowhere to be found. He could do with an angry fuck right now.

  Even as he thought it, though, he felt a wash of shame. No. She wasn’t someone he could forget the next morning. Something about her spoke to him, more than just desire, but he felt he connected with the deep sadness in her lovely face.

  He was still thinking about her as he got into Peter’s Lamborghini and drove back to the bar in Como he and Peter owned, and he found, strangely, his anger had dissipated quicker than he would have thought.

  He had to see her again that much Arturo Bachi knew. He had to see her again… and soon. Because more than anything now, on this day of disappointments, he wanted to see her smile.

  Chapter Three

  Hero’s hand shook as she signed the documents which would make her the owner of the Villa Patrizzi apartment. Five million euros. Holy hell. She’d had no idea she would go that high for what, mostly, was four small rooms, but as the bidding went higher, it had become imperative that she secure it. It seemed impossible that she wouldn’t.

  Of course, that was when she saw who she was bidding against. Him. The man she had seen upstairs, the man whose physical beauty had sent her body into a frenzy of arousal after just one look. His green eyes, brooding and dangerous, his dark curls… his incredible body in that exquisite suit… Jesus. As they had stared at each other, all Hero could think of was what it would be like if he were to approach her, touch her, fuck her right there against the window. God, she had gotten wet even thinking about what was underneath his clothes.

  And immediately she was ashamed. She’d never felt that way about anyone—even Tom. She had loved Tom with every cell in her body, but they had always been best friends and then lovers. With this man in front of her, all she wanted to do was fuck him, impale herself on his cock and ride him until she screamed.

  And the look in his eyes was a mirror of her feelings, she could tell. She only had to say the words… fuck me… and she knew without a doubt, he would not hesitate.

  And she wanted to punish him for making her feel like that, making her feel so disloyal to Tom’s memory, for taking that away from her. So, she bid a ridiculous amount to beat him to the apartment. And won. It was a pyrrhic victory at best. Five million was a massive chunk of her settlement—and the apartment was definitely not worth it.

  She pushed the thought away now as she shook hands with the auctioneer. “Would it be possible for you to call me a cab, please?”

  “Of course, Madam. Please wait here and make yourself comfortable.”

  Hero sat back and tried to steady her shaking hands. Maybe she’d go out to eat tonight, walk through the town, mingle in with the tourists, try to feel like a human being again. The paperwork on the apartment would go through quickly now, and she would be able to move in by the end of the week.

  Not that she had anything to move in, apart from her clothes, her art supplies, and her books. She would have to find somewhere to buy a record player and some vinyl—Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, maybe some Paolo Conti. She could see herself, sitting out on the balcony overlooking the lake, her watercolor paints in front of her, listening to Billie. That, to Hero, was her idea of heaven. Maybe lunch, fresh bread, some cheese, a bag of sweet, juicy peaches. Cold white wine. The image was so appealing she found herself smiling to herself, and when the auctioneer came to tell her the c
ab was waiting, she found herself shaking his hand far more enthusiastically than she meant to.

  Back at her hotel, she changed out of the form-fitting dress and back into her usual uniform of grey-marl t-shirt and jeans. She glanced in the long mirror, noting that she should really try to get back into exercising. She was nowhere near fat, but she knew her curvy figure meant, if she wasn’t toned, then she could look… what was the word? Dumpy? Flabby?

  No, you idiot. Just unfit. You could never be flabby. Tom’s words came back to her. He was always the best at being her biggest cheerleader, mainly when she was at a low confidence ebb.

  Her eyes filled with easy tears and she dashed them away impatiently. Stop wallowing. She would go out into the city now, do some window shopping, or maybe actual shopping. I have a new home. Time to get to know it.

  She grabbed her bag and slung it across her body, then left the hotel room.

  It was late by the time Peter left Arturo at the bar and went home. Arturo, buzzy on a few vodkas, sat outside at one of the small tables, smoking a cigar and people watching. People watching and brooding over his loss today. Damn it. Peter had talked him down from bribing the auctioneer to tell him who had purchased the Villa Patrizzi apartment. “Dude, don’t be dumb. Wait a couple of weeks until the person moves in, then knock on the door.”

  “What if they have no intention of moving in? What if they just bought it to fuck with me?” An idea came then. “Fuck, I bet it was George.”

  Peter sighed. “Don’t even go there, man. This feud you two have… it’s gone on for far too long.”

  Arturo’s eyes narrowed. “He fucked Flavia, Pete. He fucked my girlfriend and then told me about it after she’d been murdered.”

  Peter nodded, his blue eyes serious. “I know, Turo. But… we all lost Flav too. You knew he had feelings for her and admit it, you did flaunt it in front of him.”

  Arturo looked away from his friend’s gaze. “I was young and stupid.”

  “And so was he.”

  Arturo shook his head. “It’s gone too far now, Pete. Why did he have to tell me? Why did he have to tell me? I already had the image of Flavia, dead, gutted, and then he gave me the two of them together. Asshole.”

  “Turo, stop. Move on. It wasn’t George who bought the apartment. I saw him leave before the auction began.”

  Arturo sighed. “Fine. But he could have sent a proxy… okay, I’ll stop.”

  Peter looked at his watch. “Man, I have to go. I’ll come over in the morning, talk about what we do next.”

  So now, Arturo got up, throwing money for the drinks on the table, and took off into the town. He wandered aimlessly around the side streets for a time, then as he turned down an alleyway to double back to his car, he caught sight of a woman walking in front of him. He enjoyed the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, her rounded, perfect ass. She only wore a gray t-shirt and jeans but the way she moved…

  She stopped and turned to look into a bright shop window, and Arturo felt his pulse quicken as he saw her profile.

  It was her. His white dress girl from the Villa D’Este. For a moment, he just watched her. God, she was beautiful, achingly, heartbreakingly so. He walked up behind her and met her gaze in the reflection in the window.

  Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then Arturo risked snaking his hand around her waist and letting his fingers stroke her belly through her t-shirt. He heard her small gasp, then she leaned back into his body. Her hand crept around to cup his cock through his pants, and he got hard immediately. He swept her hair to one side and pressed his lips to her neck.

  She turned in his arms and gazed up at him, her eyes wary but full of desire. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Bonne noche.”

  He dripped his head and pressed his lips to hers, just briefly then looked back to see if she would allow more. “I’m…”

  “No names.” Her voice was a low, gruff whisper, but it sent thrills through his body. He nodded and offered her his hand. She took it, only hesitating a little, and slowly he led her back to his car. He turned to her. “Yes?”

  She nodded, and he opened the passenger door for her. What are you doing, man? You don’t even know her name! But he hushed the inner voice and slid into the driver’s seat. He gently brushed a lock of her hair over her ear. “Guess what we’re going to do?”

  A smile. At last, a smile. Small, hesitant, but a smile. He couldn’t take his eyes off her exquisite face. He leaned in to kiss her again, lingering over it before starting the car. He had to get her to his home, into his bed now… because he needed to be inside her desperately…

  He started the car and smiling at her, headed towards his villa, and towards their certain destiny.

  Chapter Four

  Hero, for the second time that day, couldn’t stop trembling. What the hell are you doing? She asked herself over and over, so many feelings rushing through her but none of them as strong as the need to fuck this man. When he had appeared behind her, and she’d seen his eyes searching her face in her reflection, she had known what would happen.

  When he had been so daring to touch her belly—how the hell did he know it was her most sensitive erogenous zone?—she was lost. His lips against her neck and she felt herself wanting to touch him. His cock, twitching at her touch, was hot, thick and long through his pants and Hero felt her cunt quiver with desire.

  Now, as he pulled his car up to the entrance of his villa, she could barely take anything in but the man beside her. The way he held her hand as they walked into the vast mansion, then straight up the staircase to his bedroom. She could barely wait before he touched her again, drawing her into his arms and kissing her so passionately her head swam.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard, beautiful one.” His deep, mellifluous voice sent shivers through her—god, this man was pure sex.

  “Don’t wait, please, fuck me now.” She said, breathlessly, and he grinned, triumphant. He pulled her t-shirt over her head and freed her breasts from her bra, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking so hard she might pass out from the pleasure. He removed her jeans and panties and lay her on the bed, stripping off quickly. Hero couldn’t take her eyes off his body, hard pecs, washboard stomach and his cock, standing so thick and proud against his belly. He smiled at her admiration, fisting the root of his cock. “This is all for you, sweet girl. Spread those beautiful legs for me and let me see your delicious cunt.”

  Hero did as he asked and with a groan, he dropped between her knees and buried his face in her sex, licking and teasing her, lashing his tongue around her clit until it was rock hard, then dipping his tongue deep into her cunt until she was weeping with pleasure.

  As she came, he slid a condom over his cock, moved to cover her body and thrust his straining length deep inside her, making her cry out. He pinned her hands to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Cosi bella, così bella…” So beautiful.

  There were so many emotions in his eyes as they made love, that Hero felt a stranger in her own skin, as if she were always meant to meet this man, make love with him, be here tonight, this particular night with him.

  Her orgasm hit her hard, and she arched her back, pressing her belly against his, her breasts against his chest. Arturo buried his face in her neck, kissing, sucking, biting at her skin as he groaned through his own climax.

  As they lay there panting, he smiled down at her. “Turn onto your stomach, pretty girl.”

  Hero felt a thrill shoot through her body and she complied, feeling him part her buttocks. “Yes?”

  She nodded and slowly, he eased his cock into her ass. Hero had never tried anal sex before and the feeling of him filling her sent stars through her vision. He was gentle, murmuring to her the whole time, making sure she was okay, that she was comfortable with what they were doing.

  Her climax was deeper, mellower, and she shivered as she felt him come. His lips trailed down her spine. “Excuse me for a moment, bella.”

  She heard him go into the b
athroom, obviously to deal with his condom and lay there, her eyes closed, letting her body recover. She felt as if her skin were on fire, and when he came back to bed and rolled her onto her back, the feeling of his fingertips stroking a circle around her navel made her eyes roll back in her head.

  Arturo chuckled. “You have a very sensitive belly, pretty one.” He slid his thumb into the deep hollow and began to finger fuck it, making her moan with pleasure. He chuckled as she came again, sighing and laughing softly.

  “God, what you do to me…” Her eyes were shining, and he was happy to see that the sadness in them was lessened.

  “Tell me your name, lovely girl.”

  But she shook her head. “No names. This is perfect just the way it is.”

  “Then, let us call each other…” He cast around for two names, then spotted the book on his nightstand. “Beatrice and Benedict. From Much Ado About Nothing.”

  He was surprised when her face flamed red. “What?”

  “Nothing. You like Shakespeare?”

  He nodded. “Very much. You?”

  “Some. I studied him at college, but I have to say, I prefer more modern writers.”

  Arturo smiled. “Such as?”

  “McCarthy, Angelou, Arundhati Roy. Haruki Murakami.”

  Arturo smiled. “I too am a fan of Murakami. Favorite book of his?”

  “Kafka on the Shore.”

  “Same.”

  She looked skeptical, and he held his hands up. “I swear, Principessa.”

  “I’ll believe you.” They gazed at each other for a long time, then she raised her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. “You’re really beautiful.”

  Arturo grinned, inclining his head. “Thank you.”

  She giggled at his confidence. “I forgot Italian men had no time for false modesty.”

  Arturo propped himself up on his elbow next to her. “Forgot? You don’t live here?”

 

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