His For The Taking

by Kat Walters

  The car pulled to a stop outside Alessandro's apartment. The driver must have phoned ahead, she realized as the doorman stood waiting to escort her to Alessandro's private lift. The thought of Alessandro waiting for her, possibly even now looking down at the car, watching.

  The driver had the door open sooner than she would have liked, and sucking in a deep breath, she tried to calm her madly beating heart. One night. That was all she had to offer him. One night and she would walk away. She would walk away this time. Not him. The thought gave her no satisfaction. Walking away from Alessandro was going to be the hardest thing she would ever do.

  Isabella forced herself out of the car, smiled at the driver, and continued to force herself to put one step in front of the other. She loved Alessandro. How was she ever going to leave here tomorrow?

  The doorman greeted her by name and escorted her to the lift. Isabella just remembered to thank the man before the doors slid closed, trapping her inside. The mirrors in the lift threw her foolish courage back in her face, mocking her. She was a fool. She had no power to resist Alessandro.

  Isabella went absolutely still as she realized this. She had no power to resist Alessandro unless… she couldn't give him a chance to talk. She had to maintain control. She smoothed a hand down the front of her dress, a revealingly self-conscious gesture.

  She had chosen to wear the red dress for this last night with Alessandro. The same red dress she had worn to the gallery opening. Their first night out in public pretending they were lovers. It felt right. Symbolic. It was the only item of clothing she had kept from that time with him, and it was the dress that marked the beginning of their relationship. Relationship? Arrangement.

  The lift doors slid open, and Alessandro was waiting for her, tension radiating from every pore, dark eyes narrowed as he looked at her. There was no smile for her tonight. No light teasing, and even in this dark and brooding mood, Isabella knew he was the only man she would ever want, the only man she would ever love.

  Chapter 11

  Isabella was slipping through his fingers, and he was powerless to stop it.

  "Are you going to let me in, Alessandro?" Her voice was husky. He stepped aside, and she moved closer, moved past him into the apartment.

  She radiated tension and… determination. Alessandro's heart cinched tight. She had made her decision. He could see it in the stubborn tilt of her jaw, in the defensive tightening of her shoulders. He was losing her. Alessandro watched her fiddle self-consciously with her hair and then stop abruptly as though suddenly aware of what she was doing.

  The red dress. Alessandro scowled at it, knowing exactly why she had chosen it for tonight. She was reminding him of their arrangement and all the ways he had hurt her.

  Isabella turned to him, and in her eyes, for just the briefest moment, he saw uncertainty and hesitation in the searching look she gave him. He felt some of the tension ease from his body, just enough to lean in and brush his lips across her cheek. She trembled at his touch, and that made him smile.

  No. They weren't done. No matter what Isabella might want to tell herself. Alessandro wasn't giving her up. As though sensing his determination, her own flared back to life. She lifted her head and met his gaze, no sign of that uncertainty now. So proud. So determined. Dio, he loved this woman, even when she was tearing his heart apart.

  Alessandro pointed towards the balcony, where a table was set for two, a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket. She walked towards the glass doors, stepping out into the warm night. He didn't touch her… as much as he longed to. Alessandro watched her approach the table, witnessed the shake in her hand as she lifted the bunch of orange roses. She raised them to her face, breathed in their scent. The way he longed to breathe her in.

  "They reminded me of the dress you wore last night," Alessandro explained quietly when at last she turned to look at him. Did she know how much love was shining out of her eyes? "Are you hungry?" He didn't move towards her as he asked this. Isabella had the look of a skittish doe, and he knew that if he made one wrong move, she would flee, and he would have lost this chance.

  Isabella shook her head, and he saw heat flare in her eyes as she looked at him, suddenly looking anything but skittish. Skittish is what he felt now. That look. With Isabella, it had always been that easy. But no, he gave himself a mental shake. Tonight, he wanted to talk to Isabella. Talk. He wanted her to understand.

  While he was still struggling with that look in her eyes, all Isabella did was turn and walk back inside. Without saying a word. Alessandro groaned as he watched her. He knew exactly where she was going and what she was doing. Her auburn hair fell about her shoulders, and her dress dipped low on her back, her golden skin tormenting him with memories.

  He was as helpless now as he had ever been. He watched Isabella disappear upstairs, and all he could do was follow. She was waiting for him in the bedroom, but he stopped in the doorway, closed his eyes, and took a breath, trying to regain some control of the situation. Sex with Isabella was not part of the plan, but already he could feel his body responding, hardening, over-ruling his brain.

  He stood in the doorway, watching her. Observing the determined tilt of her head and the way she was watching him too, imploring him. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. No, it wasn't that; she didn't want to listen to him, she was scared.

  Isabella stepped closer, and he felt his breath catch, his hands bunched into fists at his side. He couldn't touch her. No. She reached for him, her hand cupped his cheek tenderly, and he turned his face into that hand, kissed it, his eyes closing on a sigh. No. Alessandro tried to take a step back, but she wrapped her other hand around his neck, pressed her body flush against his.

  "Isabella, don't," it was a raw appeal. He knew he was lost. "I want us to talk tonight."

  Her answer was to reach up on her toes and press her mouth to his. Alessandro groaned, opened his mouth to her, his arms moving around her, holding her tightly to him. "Isabella," he moaned against her mouth before deepening the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers. If he couldn't talk to her, he would love her with his body until she could be in no doubt as to his feelings.

  Alessandro picked Isabella up and carried her to the edge of the bed. Placing her gently on her feet, he trailed kisses along her neck while he slipped the dress from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. The air hissed from between his lips as he looked at her naked breasts, so perfect. He bent over her, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his hand cupped her other breast.

  Isabella arched into his caress, her gasp sending blood straight to his groin. He kissed her again, helping her as she stumbled over the buttons on his shirt. His jeans followed until they both stood there in their underwear, looking at each other in the shadowed room. Just looking.

  Isabella's eyes were bright with unshed tears. Alessandro growled and pulled her into his arms, holding her to him. His kiss was gentle, in direct contrast to the way he held her so fiercely, so protectively. "Don't cry. Isabella, my love. Don't." He pressed his forehead to hers, willing her to understand.

  Isabella lifted her hand, pressed her soft fingers to his lips. "No more talking," she whispered, but it was a plea. She was begging him, needing him to understand. And he did. He had always understood Isabella.

  Alessandro pulled back just enough to look down at her. He brushed the hair back from her face with a firm hand, cupped her cheek, and then he sighed. Surrendered. How could he do anything else?

  It was still dark outside, the odd sound from the street muffled, coming to her through the closed windows of Alessandro's bedroom window. The air conditioning hummed, and Alessandro breathed deeply beside her. Deeply. Peacefully. His arm wrapped around her waist. Tightly wrapped around her waist.

  Isabella turned her head to look at him, and something inside her broke. Her heart? All over again. It had been a mistake to come here. A mistake to allow this, and yet… she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back her tears. Later. Th
ere would be time for tears later. Tears she could handle, and if she left now, that's all there would be. If she stayed...

  Isabella didn't want to think about that option. She didn't want to give her heart even a hint of that possibility. No matter what Alessandro might say now, Isabella knew there was no future for them. He might think he wanted more, but how could she trust that? Her heart would never survive him leaving, dismissing her again.

  She turned in his arms, so she was facing him, watched him sleep. She had to leave, and she had to do it now before he woke. Before he talked her into staying. Oh god, she wanted to stay. She wanted to curl up against his warmth and go back to sleep. No. She couldn't do it. She couldn't live like that, always waiting for the day he sent her away. She had to go now. Now, she repeated to herself sternly, almost angry. Angry and scared and vulnerable.

  A last moment of weakness had her reaching for him, brushing her fingers across his lips, a breath away from leaning down and pressing her own lips to his. No. She let out a strangled sob in the dark room and quickly froze, clutching a hand over her mouth, terrified that she had woken him. Alessandro stirred but then was still again, his breathing deep and steady. Shaking, she slid out from beneath his arm. She perched on the side of the bed and found herself hesitating again, wishing. No. Fiercely she stood, reached for her clothes, and left his room before she could change her mind.

  Isabella stopped in the passage to slip the dress over her head, the little buttons catching in her hair, she tugged at it irritably, wincing as she pulled her hair. Leaning a hand on the wall, she then slipped into her red stilettos and promptly tripped over the hem of her dress. It was all she could do not to burst into frustrated tears there on the landing outside Alessandro's bedroom.

  She needed to get away. Away from Alessandro, away from the memories that permeated every room in this apartment. If she could just get away from here, then everything would be alright. She would be strong again. With a bit of distance between them, she could be strong.

  Isabella listened in the passage for any sounds. When silence met her, she crept towards the stairs and descended as quietly as she could. She wasted no time in heading for the lift. Isabella glanced through the open balcony door and noticed the table set for two, the bunch of roses lying discarded. Her breath hitched, and she swallowed down a sob. No. Be strong.

  Punching in the security code for the lift, Isabella waited for the green light. Oh no. Squinting at the keypad, she tried again. It was the correct code. She knew it was. Unless… Alessandro had changed it. Desperation chilled her. No, please, no. I can't face him. Isabella prayed, desperately trying the code a third time. When it still wouldn't work, she cursed quietly and would have slumped down onto the floor in tears if the voice behind her hadn't frightened her into whipping around.

  "Going somewhere, Isabella?"

  Alessandro leaned in the doorway wearing only his low-slung jeans, a picture of raw masculinity, dark and brooding. The shadows hid his eyes from her, but his body suggested relaxed elegance, insouciance. Her stomach clenched at the sight of him, and she dug her nails into her palm, willing herself to be strong.

  "You changed the code." She couldn't help the accusatory note in her voice; she knew he heard it too.

  Alessandro pushed himself off the wall, his movements slow and predatory as he walked towards her. Involuntarily she took a step back. Please don't touch me. Alessandro cupped her jaw in his hand, tilted her face up to his so he could look deeply into her eyes.

  "How did you know?" Her voice was barely a whisper, and still, it broke as she fought not to cry, not to wrap herself around him.

  When at last he spoke, there was so much sadness in his voice, but he still managed a fleeting amused smile. "It is you, my love, my Isabella. I know you."

  Her heart broke at the hurt she saw in his eyes. It ached, the pain so deep she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. No. She pulled back sharply. Angry now, with him and with herself. She should never have come here.

  "No, you don't. You know my body. That is all you know." Isabella knew it wasn't true, but she wanted to lash out at him and push him away. She needed the distance her anger would give her.

  Alessandro stilled, his eyes narrowed, piercing her. His look called her a liar, dared her to go on. Isabella couldn't. Already she regretted the words. He turned abruptly, and she slumped back against the wall suddenly drained.

  "Coffee. We will talk." He announced without even looking at her, already striding towards the kitchen.

  "I don't want coffee, Alessandro." Isabella heard how plaintive her voice sounded, but she had managed to push herself away from the wall and was facing him determinedly. "I want to leave. I have a flight to catch." Despite her determination, her voice still slipped at the end, and tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't fight him. She didn't have the strength. "Alessandro, please let me go."

  Alessandro stopped, but he didn't turn around immediately. He only stood there with his back to her, his shoulders bunched, tension marking ridged lines across his back where the muscles tightened.

  "Alessandro?" Isabella wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around his waist and press her lips to his back to kiss that tension away. It was in her power to do that, but then what? She could stay but at what cost to herself?

  He turned, at last, his eyes looking right through her, not seeing her. His face looked haunted, and she knew then. Knew what he was seeing, what he was remembering. 'Alessandro, he has to let me go.' His mother's words to him after he had begged her to come home.

  Isabella couldn't breathe; the pain was so sharp she wanted to cry out. Her hand flew to her mouth. What had she done? Alessandro had begged her to come back to him, just as he had begged his mother, and she had used the very same words to refuse him. No. Oh god, she had never meant to do that to him.

  Isabella lifted her hand, wanting to reach out to him, but he wasn't even looking at her now. His face was cold. Alessandro had been willing to give their love a chance, and she had refused. Why? She was a coward, that was why. A coward.

  His pain was a stark slash across his face making him appear hard and ruthless, nothing like the man he had been the last two nights. Alessandro had put aside all his fears to find her. He had said he would never love, and yet he called her his love, and when she had refused his words, Alessandro had loved her with his hands, his mouth, his whole body.

  And what had she done? So scared of being hurt, she had thrown it back in his face. Alessandro was the bravest man she knew, and she was a coward.

  Alessandro was beside her suddenly, but he didn't touch her. He didn't even look at her. He punched in the security code for the lift, then he turned and left. Isabella stared after him. She heard the slide of the lift doors as they opened behind her at the same time that she heard the quiet closing click of his study door. Alessandro was letting her go.

  The study was warm, closing in on him. He stood in the dark, unable to move. Unwilling to move, assaulted from all sides by memories of the past. Please let me go. Tears in her eyes as she uttered those cursed words. He has to let me go. Had his mother been tearful as she said those words? Why could he not remember? He remembered the bitter fights late at night, the tears after those fights, his father slamming the front door. The day she finally left for good.

  Through the study door, Alessandro heard the lift doors closing, the electronic beeping to indicate its descent. Don't go after her. Let her go. He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't shake the image of her standing in the dark hallway, her eyes wide and full of panic. Isabella was gone. He had lost her just as he had lost his mother, his father.

  Isabella had looked at him with tears in her eyes, begging him to let her go. He was making her miserable. If he loved her, really loved her, he would let her go. A bitter smile marred his face. He could force her to stay. Even if she left tonight, he could pursue her until she gave in. She wanted to give in to him; a part of her wanted to stay. He was Alessandro DeLaurentis; he always got what h
e wanted in the end.

  If he loved her…

  He made her miserable. He hurt her. How many more times was he going to do that? Isabella deserved better. Rage consumed him, his vision blurred, and he reached for the nearest thing to hand. A glass tumbler sitting on his desk from the night before. He hurled it across the room, watching it smash against the wall—the sound of breaking glass splintering inside him just like his heart splintering into a thousand pieces.

  How could he let Isabella go? He wasn't his father, and Isabella wasn't his mother. They were different people. He could make her happy. Could he? Had he ever made anyone happy? Doubts assailed him, but all he knew was that he loved her. They couldn't end things like this. He had to talk to her, and if she still wanted to leave, he wouldn't stand in her way. He had never told her he loved her. He had never said the words.

  Even if Isabella left, Alessandro needed her to know. Grabbing open the door, he strode into the living room only to come to an abrupt halt. Isabella stood in the middle of the living room; the early dawn light filtered through the glass doors behind her, casting her into silhouette. She was standing perfectly still as though she had been waiting for him.

  His brain caught up with his eyes at last, and he took a hesitant step towards her but then stopped. Isabella. She hadn't left him. Yet. Alessandro exhaled a shaky breath; he felt suddenly exposed, tense. Why wasn't she saying anything? What did she see when she looked at him?

  Isabella took one step towards him, and then, like him, she stopped. He was close enough now to see her eyes, to see how bright they were. She had been crying. Dio, all he wanted was to pull her into his arms, to kiss her tears away. She lifted her chin, her eyes searching his. What was she looking for? And why didn't she say something? Anything.

  "I love you, Alessandro."