by Dana Delamar
Perfect. “There’s no need to bother anyone. I can get us something. What do you want?” She picked up her shirt to put it on.
“No, no.” He waved his hand at her to sit down. “The servants are well-paid. Doing their jobs for them makes them upset. They think it is a comment on their work.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he added, “Trust me. You do not want to upset Maddalena or Nonna Drina, or they will over-salt your meals.”
She chuckled, then sat back down and let out a rush of air, feeling herself relax. He looked at her for a moment. “I am having a campari and soda. What would you like?”
“A dry martini would be heavenly. But all the martinis I’ve had in Italy have been dreadful. Half gin, half vermouth. They taste awful.”
He laughed. “They are made the English way in my home. I did not spend my formative years in London for nothing.”
“Then a martini it is.”
He rang the house and placed their request.
She waited until he ended the call. “When were you in London?”
“From sixteen to eighteen. After my mother and my brothers were murdered, my father sent me to boarding school. He said I needed to improve my English.”
“But?”
“Whenever I mentioned them, he changed the subject. I think he just wanted to be alone.”
“Maybe he wanted to keep you safe from Carlo.”
Enrico nodded. “Even though the engagement had been arranged by the time I left, I doubt he trusted Carlo much.”
“Do you still miss them?” How would she handle such a loss?
“Every day. Especially Primo. Dom sometimes makes the same gestures, or his tone of voice will sound the same as Primo’s, and I’ll miss him all over again.”
“I’d like to meet your cousin.”
“You will. Though not for a while.” His face darkened.
“Did the two of you fight?”
“He was upset about what happened.” He paused, then added, “Dom knows all my business. He knows about Carlo. And Vincenzo.”
“Oh.” Everything that had happened the other night seemed like a surreal nightmare. Her feelings about Vince were a jumble—anger, relief, and yet a strange feeling of being adrift, alone.
“What is it?” Enrico looked at her closely.
“I don’t know the woman who shot Vince. I didn’t think I could.”
He regarded her somberly. “We are all capable of killing, in the right circumstances.”
“But—”
“You did the right thing. Accept it. You saved our lives. There is nothing wrong with wanting to live.” He paused, as if to see what effect his words were having.
She took a deep breath. “I could have held the gun on him, I could have waited for the police.”
“I would not have. You were too close to him. He could have taken the gun from you.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I had to accept long ago that the Andrettis—or someone else—might force me to do the same thing one day.”
Now was her chance to ask about Fuente’s needling in the study. “Haven’t you already done so?”
He looked down at his feet. “I cannot answer that truthfully.”
So he had killed those men. She watched his face when he finally looked up at her. There was no remorse, no guilt on those features. Only defiance, and a touch of pride. “I have no right to judge you, Enrico.”
Surprise flickered across his face, then he smiled. He pointed to the tattoo on his bicep, the one she’d asked about. “You wanted to know what this means.”
He paused so long she said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I do, actually. Though it is unwise for me to be so frank.”
“Can’t we trust each other after all that’s happened?” She caught his eyes with hers.
“What I am about to tell you, you cannot repeat. I could go to jail.”
“I won’t say anything.”
He stroked the tattoo. “I avenged my family. I killed those men. All four of them. In three days. Quattro in tre.”
Kate couldn’t suppress a gasp. “But weren’t you just a boy then?”
“I was eighteen. And about to marry Carlo’s daughter to save my family. I could not go after Carlo, but I could go after his men. I wanted him to know I would be no man’s slave.”
Kate sat back in her chair. Well, well. Enrico Lucchesi wasn’t just a ruthless businessman; he was a street fighter too.
They were interrupted by Maddalena, with their drinks on a tray. She’d brought a pitcher of ice water as well. Enrico thanked her, then handed Kate her martini. He picked up his drink and touched it to hers. “Salute.”
The ringing chime of the crystal reminded her that they were supposed to be celebrating the day. She put on a smile for Enrico’s benefit, and took a sip of the martini.
“How is it?”
“Perfetto.” She took another swallow, feeling the gin burn her throat as it slid down. She had the urge to get spectacularly drunk, something she hadn’t done in years. “I’m going to need another of these.”
“You will get drunk.”
“That’s my intention.”
He glanced at her. “I did not think you would miss him.”
She took another swallow of the martini, then popped one of the olives in her mouth and chewed it, savoring its salty tang. “Neither did I.”
“I think what I really meant is why would you miss him.”
Kate turned to look at him. “He was my husband.”
“But—”
She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “Do you think I was an idiot? Our marriage was good at first. He loved me. And I loved him. Yes, he had a temper, and sometimes he scared me. But maybe if I’d never talked to you, maybe none of this would have happened.” To her mortification, her eyes blurred with tears.
“Kate.” Enrico leaned forward and took the glass from her hand. He set it on the table, then touched her shoulder. “I have to say this.” He waited until she looked at him. “You have nothing to feel bad about. Look at you.” He gestured to her bruised arms and legs, his eyes lingering on her marked face and swollen lip. “He had no excuse for his behavior. None. Your only mistake was loving him. If it had not been me, someone else or something else would have turned him against you.”
A wave of recognition passed through her and she looked away, her eyes finding a bruise on her left shin. He was right. And yet, it was all still her fault somehow. She could feel Enrico’s eyes upon her, and as another truth hit her, a shiver ran down her back. He’d expected her to move on from Vince quickly. Hopefully on to him. Which gave him a motive for getting rid of Vince. And gave Fuente a reason to suspect Enrico, not just shake him down. She looked up. “Did you have anything to do with the security breach?”
CHAPTER 16
Enrico’s eyebrows flew up at Kate’s question. He stared at the pool for a moment before answering, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “Why would you think I would sabotage my own security?”
“Why are you stalling?”
She didn’t miss anything. “I was taken off-guard.”
“Well?”
“Of course not. I would never put you—or myself, or my people—in danger knowingly.”
“How do I know that’s true?” Her eyes seemed to penetrate into him.
“Where is this coming from?”
“Fuente wasn’t just shaking you down. He knows something,” she said.
“I have a lot of money. That is all he knows.”
“There’s something else.”
Dio, she was impossible to throw off the scent. “What are you accusing me of?”
“What did Fuente say to you outside the car?”
Enrico sighed. He had to tell her. “He threatened me, us. He said the investigation could go either way, that because we were lovers, it could have been murder, not self-defense.” He met her eyes. “I did not want you to worry.”
“What are we going to do?”
Enrico took her hand. “Nothing. The physical evidence will clear us.”
“But what if Fuente makes the evidence disappear?”
“There were witnesses. Ruggero. The doctors who examined us. He cannot make them disappear.”
“Ruggero works for you; his testimony could be dismissed,” she said.
“The doctors do not.”
“But the test results could be lost. Or changed.”
He shrugged. “I can only worry about what actually happens.” He took her other hand in his. “Fuente will go away if I do the favors he has asked for.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I will handle it.”
“I’m sorry for bringing this into your life.” She looked down at their joined hands. Her voice was soft.
“I have been dealing with the Andrettis my entire life. I knew what could happen.”
She looked up at him. “You could go to jail. Both of us could.”
“Please stop fretting.” He wanted to kiss her, but settled for pressing his lips to her cheek. “And stop arguing with me.” He spoke lightly, hoping to break the mood.
She smiled. “Can I get drunk now?”
“Why not?” He handed her the martini and picked up the phone. “Two more,” he said to Maddalena. Then he picked up his own glass and settled back in the chair.
A couple rounds later, they were both quite intoxicated. Kate looked down at her skin, starting to turn pink. “I’d better go in before I burn.”
“No need.” He fetched a large sun umbrella from where it stood next to the house and set it up over her. Then he picked up the bottle of sunscreen. “I thought you would eventually need this.” He poured some onto his hand, adrenaline starting a flutter in his chest. What if she says no? “May I?”
Her wary eyes found his, the pulse jumping at her throat. But she didn’t look away, so he waited, slicking the cream across his palms, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, the silly flips his stomach was making. An eternity passed before she nodded and pulled off the blouse. He almost smiled, but held it in, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Instead, he sat down on the edge of her lounge chair and smoothed the lotion over her left arm, massaging it into her skin with both hands. When he worked it up to her shoulders, she sat forward so he could apply it to her neck and upper back. She shivered beneath his hands.
He stopped, his mouth going dry. “Is this too much?” She shook her head, and he continued on to the other arm. Her skin felt heavenly to him, silky, warm. It had already been too long since he’d last touched her.
Hell, he shouldn’t be touching her now. Not after he’d agreed to let Dom set up a betrothal to Delfina Andretti. His heart plummeted to his feet. How could he possibly give Kate up? How could he walk away from this wild and tender creature who trembled beneath his touch, whom he wanted nothing more than to soothe, to protect? How could he leave this fierce woman who had captured his heart?
He would have to, if he was going to keep his cosca safe.
But how?
He looked at the bruises on Kate’s face and body. He had to leave her. It was the only way to keep her safe too. Unless….
Unless he made her his mistress, supposing she would accept that solution. He couldn’t see Kate accepting second place in anything. But, here she was nevertheless, even though he hadn’t removed his ring or packed away the pictures of Antonella.
Of course, maybe that was because Fuente still had her passport and Carlo had his eye on her. Somehow, he had to convince her to stay.
When he finished her right arm and her hand slipped from his grasp, he moved down to her feet, smoothing the cool lotion over them, between her toes, kneading the muscles of her arches, his fingers working over the delicate bones of her feet and ankles. Then the meat of her calves was between his hands. He slowly worked his way up to the tender skin behind her knees, one of his favorite parts of a woman. Cristo, they all were. She flinched when he touched that soft, soft skin, and he stopped and met her eyes. “Would you like to do the rest?”
She looked down at him, a bit unsteadily. His heart hammered like this was his very first time with a woman. “No. Go ahead,” she finally said.
He gave her a slow smile, then coated her knees and thighs, his fingers working in concentric circles as he moved toward the juncture of her legs. Slow down. As his fingers neared her bikini line, she tensed and he stopped again. He took a shallow breath; it was the first one he’d taken in over a minute. Removing his hands from her, he sat back, his mouth parched. This might be the last time you ever touch her; don’t ruin it.
She opened her eyes and stared at him for a few seconds. He couldn’t read her. “You missed a spot.” She motioned to her chest.
He let a lazy smile inch across his face. “So I did.” Pouring more sunscreen onto his palms, he smoothed them across her upper chest, his fingers running over her collarbones, the little hollow at the base of her throat, the tops of her breasts. His heart thrashed in his chest. How he wanted to continue touching her. Kiss her. Looking into her eyes, he saw them filled with trust. He closed his own, forced himself to breathe, to ignore the demands of his cock. He was rock hard and ready. But now was not the time. He rose carefully, keeping his back to her, and waited for his erection to go down.
“Thank you,” she said dreamily. He smiled to himself. Mille grazie, Kate. Even though it was agony to stop. He hoped she wouldn’t think badly of what he’d done later, when she was sober. And he wasn’t so completely besotted.
Kate woke up in her lounge chair; from the position of the sun, it was now late afternoon. She looked over at Enrico, reading in his chair. He’d obviously been moving the umbrella around to keep her shaded as the sun crossed the sky.
She could almost still feel his hands on her body. She’d nearly said no to the sunscreen, but the hopeful look on his face had made her change her mind.
Fortunately. Warmth filled her chest. When he’d stopped and asked if she wanted to do the rest—it was a small thing, but it was everything. Because he’d asked. Because he always would.
Though he had pushed her to accept his touch again. Once his hands were on her, they raised a hunger for him, for more. A hunger she wasn’t ready for. She hadn’t wanted the massage to turn to sex, but she hadn’t wanted it to end either.
The cordless phone on the table between them rang. Enrico picked it up, spoke briefly, then seeing she was awake, handed it to her. “It is for you.”
She took the phone. “Who is this?”
The man introduced himself, but she didn’t register the name because of what he said next. “I am the director of the city morgue.”
“Oh.” Her stomach flipped, and she pressed a hand into her abdomen. She forced her voice to stay neutral. “I suppose you’re calling about my husband.”
“Yes. His uncle is here. He is insisting on taking the body.”
“He can have it.” She didn’t suffer a second’s debate.
She heard a hand slide over the receiver and a muffled discussion. Then a new voice came on the line. “I am glad you are seeing reason, mia cara.”
As she recognized Carlo’s cool, dry voice, her heart sped up. “I want nothing further to do with Vince. He’s all yours.”
“You are Lucchesi’s whore then. I had wondered if my nephew was being hasty.”
Every inch of her skin blazed white-hot. “He was. I was never unfaithful to him, until after he accused me of it. And I am no one’s whore.”
“That is between you and God.”
“You have a lot of nerve, Carlo, invoking God with me. You of all people.” Enrico motioned for the phone, his face angry, but she shook her head. The last thing she wanted was Carlo thinking he’d cowed her.
He chuckled. “Such fire, signora. Or should I say signorina, now that you are without a husband?”
His tone was almost flirtatious. “You don’t seem all that angry with m
e. I thought you’d want me dead.”
“Oh, I assure you, I do want that… and more. Beforehand of course. I have no interest in a cold body.” An icy wash of fear coursed through her as his hints hit home. “However, I have read the police report and have seen the photos of what my nephew did to you, and I disapprove.” Kate shuddered. Carlo—Carlo!—had seen those pictures. “Such lovely… flesh should not be marked so.” His voice lingered obscenely on “flesh,” the sound conjuring disturbing images of Vince’s attack, images she did not want to visit, but could not stop seeing.
Her hand went numb from gripping the phone too hard. “You son of a bitch,” she finally whispered.
Carlo tsked at her. “Such language. You Americans can be so crude.”
“You called me a whore.”
Carlo laughed. “So I did.” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was harder. “But you earned that.”
“Didn’t you?” She fought to keep her voice from trembling with anger.
“What lies has Lucchesi been filling your head with?”
“You killed his mother, his brothers.”
“Not that I am admitting anything, but did he tell you why I might have done such a thing?”
She frowned. “A business dispute.”
Carlo barked with laughter. “He would put it that way.” He paused. “His father kidnapped my son.”
“What?” She laughed in surprise. “That’s preposterous.”
“Ask him.”
“No. This conversation is over.”
“If you say so. But do ask him, signorina. And watch him closely when you do.”
The phone clicked in her ear, the line going dead. Kate stared at the phone for a few seconds, then absently placed it on the table.
“You are shaking,” Enrico said. “Did he threaten you?”
“Sort of. Not really.”
Enrico took her hands in both of his. “Then what has you so upset?”
“He saw…” Her voice trembled, broke. She took a deep breath. “He saw the police report. The photos of me.”
He winced. “I am sorry.”