Cara Mia

by Denise Verrico

“Why me?”

  A puzzled look passed briefly over his face. “Whatever do you mean?”

  I gestured to a colleague of mine, a tall, blonde gazelle of a girl. “Why not my friend Janie over there? She’s the real beauty.”

  He paused for a moment, smiling. “You exceed her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.”

  “Much Ado about Nothing. You know your Shakespeare.”

  “I read extensively. I’m particularly fond of Shakespeare.”

  “Not just a pretty face?”

  “I hope not.”

  “And it is a very pretty face.”

  Large eyes widened and blinked in surprise. I actually upset his considerable composure. “I suppose I should thank you for the compliment, but I can’t say I’d agree with your choice of adjective.”

  “Handsome doesn’t really say it, does it?”

  Beautiful would only begin to describe him.

  He laughed again. “It’ll do. Thank you.”

  I stretched out my hand to him. Again he looked slightly surprised and amused yet took it in his. “I like your face very much.” He stroked the palm of my hand.

  “Cute.” I grimaced. “That’s what they say.”

  “Leonardo might have painted this face, pure in its lineaments, eyes that tantalize with secrets.”

  “Quit, you’ll turn my head,” I said imitating his accent.

  His eyes moved lovingly over my face. “That, my dear Miss Disantini, is my motive.”

  I was taken aback. He had me at the disadvantage and it was so delicious. I tried to remove my hand but he hung on. Something happened in that moment. The attraction went beyond the realm of the physical. I broke that lovely silence because I feared to hold his gaze another second. “Where the heck is my food?” But I was lost. I’d fallen with a resounding thud.

  The piano player struck up a show tune. My friends sang along loudly. Ethan looked over at them. “Your fellow thespians?”

  I grimaced. “They’ve had a few by now.”

  Suddenly Burt, the delightfully bitchy old queen who played Solness rushed over to the table. “Sing, Baby Bird. Warble a song for your lovely young man.”

  I was embarrassed. Sometimes I’d get up to sing, but I was sure I couldn’t manage a note. He took me by the arm, announcing to the entire restaurant, “It’s her birthday!”

  The piano crescendoed into Happy Birthday and everyone joined in. I was red-faced. Ethan just sat back and enjoyed my discomfort. “Happy Birthday, Mia.”

  “Come on Baby, let’s have that song,” Burt cajoled.

  Applause started up.

  I shook my head. “No, please. I can’t.”

  Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. “I’d be honored if you would sing, Mia.”

  “Theah, mustn’t disappoint your handsome new beau, dawlin,” drawled Burt, in an outrageous parody of Ethan’s accent as he dragged me off to the piano.

  He nodded to the piano player. “A Kiss to Build a Dream On.”

  I was shaking as the pianist played the intro in my key. My voice came out as a breathy whisper. I looked over to Ethan, who’d leaned forward smiling. My confidence returned and I set out to seduce him with the song.

  I finished to more applause. Taking a bow, I rejoined Ethan at the table just as Mikey hustled up with my first course.

  Ethan took my hand. “Enchanting, perfectly enchanting.”

  “My father was an opera singer. He taught me when I was young, but my voice is just a light, little thing.”

  “Clear and pleasing as a silver bell. A man could be driven to his destruction by a sweet siren such as you.”

  I laughed. “You’re too kind.”

  Mikey placed a soup plate piled high with mussels and a large basket of freshly baked bread before me. I sniffed in appreciation.

  Ethan gave me that slow lazy smile. “You appreciate the pleasures of the table.”

  What an odd way to put it. He had this strange, pretty way of talking. Even if it was just a line I took the bait eagerly. As I dug into the first course, Ethan observed me carefully, like he’d never seen a girl eat before.

  “Are you sure you won’t have anything?” I asked.

  His eyes glittered giving away no secrets. “No thank you, I’ll just sit here and watch you. That’s a veritable bed of mussels. I do hope you have a healthy appetite.”

  “Voracious, I’ll be fat someday if I’m not careful,” I said, as I speared a mussel with my fork and shoved it in my mouth. Mmm, garlic, wine and the slightly iodine taste of the sea exploded in my mouth.

  “I don’t see any danger of that.” His eyes gave me the once over then rested on my low cut bodice. “Girls today are too skinny, if you ask me.”

  I swallowed. “So you like your ladies with a little meat on their bones?”

  “It depends on where you’re talking about,” he said, with that little growl.

  I leaned over and inquired slyly, “How do I measure up?”

  He laughed, glittering eyes fixing on mine. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I answered that question the way I’d like.”

  “I think you’re a rogue at heart.”

  “And do you like rogues?”

  “If they’re handsome ones.”

  He burst out laughing again as he leaned back in the chair. “There’s a bit of the rogue in you too, isn’t there?”

  “Promise not to tell?” I winked. “Won’t you at least have some wine?”

  He looked longingly at my glass. “I’m afraid I must abstain,” he said, regretfully.

  Interesting, he didn’t look like a teetotaler. I certainly hoped he wasn’t an alcoholic. My, wasn’t I in for a surprise? I began to eat again while he looked on. It was making me very uncomfortable to be scrutinized so. I set down my fork and burst out, “Well, if I’m going to sit here and eat in front of you, you have to tell me something about yourself.”

  He seemed a bit taken aback but replied graciously, “There isn’t really much to tell.”

  “Oh come on, you’re one great big enigma, like some mysterious gothic hero. I just know you have a past. What skeletons are lurking in the family closet? Do you have a mad brother locked away in the attic?”

  He smiled slowly. “Nothing like that, I assure you. However, there’s one thing you might find interesting. I’m restoring my family estate in Virginia. They lost it after the war.”

  “Which war?”

  He looked vague for a moment, then replied, “The Civil War, as you call it up here.”

  “Personally, I never saw anything particularly civil about a war.”

  He smiled at my joke. “I’m sure you know what befell many southern families during reconstruction. They couldn’t keep up the taxes and debts and so on. Thankfully the family fortunes revived later. The estate is called Caithness, after the Sinclair family seat in Scotland. The house was in ruins when I acquired it. That was ten years ago—it’s nearly finished. You should see.”

  Was that an invitation? It had the ring of one. “Is it one of those great big white houses with the columns?” I had stopped eating and leaned my cheek against my hand.

  “It’s red brick and a bit smaller than those antebellum palaces you see in the movies, built in the Georgian period. I’ve been in New York hunting suitable antiques. Some of the old pieces were salvageable, but many were beyond redemption. I’m not boring you?”

  Not a chance, I could have stared at him forever but a warm, drowsy feeling had come over me. His face became animated, where before his manner had been so composed. He had tremendous feeling for this house. Touching. Still I caught a whiff of desperation. Just what was it about him? Something indefinable.

  “Not at all,” I replied. “This place has great meaning for you. It gives you a sense of your history.”

  He was surprised by my response. “You understand.”

  Our eyes met again. I wasn’t quite up to the challenge and changed the subject. “I’
ve a bit of history myself.”

  “Do tell.”

  “After you, I’ve got two more courses.”

  “You do have a healthy appetite,” he said, observing the nearly empty plate before me. His blue eyes narrowed, as he rested that chin on his hand. “Are all of your appetites this prodigious?”

  I aped his drawl, “Now you aren’t being a gentleman Mistah Sinclair.”

  “But you like me better for it, don’t you?”

  “You’re a very bad boy, I think.”

  He ran his finger along the bottom of his lower lip. “That, my dear Miss Disantini, remains to be seen.”

  The waiter placed my entree before me. Mr. Salvi must have been convinced I was truly starving and ordered the chef to double my portion. Ethan laughed at my amazed expression. “Are you up to it?”

  I observed the mound of food on the plate. “I begin to doubt myself.”

  “The Bird of Prey?”

  “Huh? Oh, the play. That’s just acting.”

  “You have a bit of the bird of prey in you as well. You’re sinking your little talons into me—not that I mind in the least. But I must warn you—you haven’t met such prey as me before.”

  I watched him furtively between bites. Oh, he was very easy on the eyes but there was something odd about his looks. He was inhumanly beautiful. Hair too glossy black, eyes too icy blue—he looked about thirty-five but didn’t have the tiniest lines, smooth and pore-less as a young boy and although very fair, not pale or unhealthy looking, rich red color infusing his skin and lips. Like some celluloid image from Hollywood, he was just too much of everything to be true.

  Still there was something else—in the glitter of the ice blue eyes, in the precise control of his movements, so different than anyone I’d ever seen, but not just because of his background. Something under this disciplined and elegant exterior, maybe the posture of his powerful frame, or the arrogant set of his full mouth spoke savagery. Danger. Somewhere in the dark corners we’d met before…”

  Joe stifled a laugh. “The gothic stuff…really Mia.”

  “It’s all true. He was all that. Ethan was unlike anyone else.”

  “And of course you fell madly in love with him?”

  “Madly…yes, it was like madness…” I must have been sitting there for awhile with my mouth hanging open, because he waved a hand in front of my eyes.

  “Are you still here, Mia? You must tell your story.”

  I related my history while he listened intently.

  “He appraised me with the air of a connoisseur. “You’ve a European flair. Women of your nationality have a certain, vitality, about them, very attractive.”

  I shook my finger at him. “You know every trick in the book, don’t you? I’m on to you.”

  “How can one seduce a charming young lady when she’s equally adept?”

  I lowered my eyes demurely. “I’m no siren. I’m just a little girl who does some acting.”

  “You’re totally aware of the powers you possess, but if the innocent pose amuses you, retain it by all means. It only adds to your appeal—beguiling little bird of prey.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I hope I don’t bear too strong of a resemblance to that little monster.”

  He leaned over to me and looked me in the eye. “You have potential you don’t yet realize. When I first saw you onstage you captivated me. I was amazed that some little ingénue could wield so much power. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, but the vision before me is most pleasing, I must say.”

  He knew me too well, studying me as if I were a new species he’d discovered, and this infuriating attitude was driving me mad for him.

  “Continue,” he ordered.

  Well, how do you like that, already telling me what to do? I looked up in surprise at his imperturbable icy gaze. Not someone you’d want to displease. Mmm, I liked him even better.

  I went on. He listened, nodding his head on occasion. Then he inquired about Aunt Selena’s whereabouts.

  “No idea. Hope she croaked, the old bat.”

  He threw his head back, laughing out loud. People turned around and stared. He didn’t care in the least. “You’re a scamp, Mia!”

  “Selena would call me a lot worse,” I said. “After a party at Richard’s place I auditioned for my other role. I’ve been playing in repertory ever since. There you have it, Maria Michaela Paola Disantini’s fall from grace.”

  Ethan grasped my hands. “You deserve better, Mia.” I looked up to the most determined stare I’d ever seen. Strong fingers caressed my wrists, running rhythmically over the veins. “End it.”

  The entire place went quiet. I was barely aware of people around us. Far off, dishes and glassware clinked, music played but I was removed from it all. Ethan made everything fade into insignificance. He’d spoken of being captivated by my performance. Then what was this he was doing to me? He touched my wrist to his mouth and to my surprise, licked it. Man, was I hot now. Two pinpoints of blue-white light bore into me like twin lasers. “You’re worthy of great love, far more than that bloodless thing can give you. No broken promises. Isn’t that what you really want, Mia?”

  I wanted nothing more than those parted lips all over my body. “Ye-s-s-s.”

  “I will stop at nothing until you are mine.” He gripped my wrists so tightly I thought they’d break.

  “You’re hurting me,” I gasped, trying to wrest my hands from his grip.

  “I won’t be trifled with. You will let him go.”

  A flame burned in those regions of ice. His lip curled back. I could’ve sworn he was fanged, his face taking on the predatory snarl of a panther, dark and lethal. My body prepared the way for him, weakness about the knees, wetness, nipples insinuating themselves through the black satin of my dress, heart pumping furiously.

  “Yes-s-s,” I answered, panting.

  “Don’t disappoint me.”

  He released me. The room kind of shifted sideways, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. “Oh God,” I groaned, sinking to the table, holding my head between my hands.

  “What is it?”

  “Too much wine. Please take me home,” I pleaded.

  “Yes, of course.” He helped me to my feet. My high spiked heels wobbled a little, so he took my elbow and steadied me, wrapping his other arm around my bare shoulders. The place was nearly empty, still I was embarrassed, struggling to regain composure and walk out on my own power. Ethan retrieved my wrap and placed it around me, leading me outside. Once the cold air hit, I was better. Ethan hailed a cab and we piled inside.

  “Feeling better?”

  The abrupt change in character bewildered me. The panther exited and the gracious southern gentleman re-entered, but I sensed the predator waiting in the wings to spring. I turned, hoping to draw the gorgeous animal out again. “My old self again—tad warm in there.”

  He didn’t make a move. He just sat there quietly, a mysterious little smile on that beautiful visage. Fully aware of the effect he had on me, yet patiently biding his time. What a tease.

  My place was deserted when we got there, so I invited him in. He told me he couldn’t stay long. It was late. I’d used that excuse myself before, but this time I was the one hoping for more than a good night kiss, and although I look a lot like her, I’d made it clear I wasn’t Snow White.

  I switched the lamp on, hanging my wrap carelessly on the back of the chair. Knowing I looked pretty tasty in the black satin, I sashayed over to him. From his lofty height, he smiled benevolently, a god on a mere mortal, and I approached to make a burnt offering of myself. Pure white Carrera marble, the cool planes of that face. But his chilly appearance was deceiving. As I pressed my body along his length, an inferno rose deep within, contained with exquisite control. Mmmm, he was hard and hot all over. I wrapped my arms around and tried to draw the fire into myself, but he touched me as if he were afraid I’d shatter to bits, taking reverential care as he placed his long warm fingers on my shoulders, only one elegant, teasing d
igit straying to stroke my décolletage.

  “I must go back home for a while. I will return in April for you. Get rid of that leech.”

  I cried out as his finger teased my nipple. “Yes-s-s, of course. I can’t stand him anymore.”

  “A bird of prey requires a master falconer.”

  I’ll stop at nothing until you’re mine.

  That ardent promise, which in retrospect, sounded an awful lot like a threat, drained me of resistance. I was pulled in his orbit, a helpless satellite, Callisto to his Jupiter. He picked me up in those arms like a child, small, helpless, utterly trusting, and laid me down on the sofa, kneeling by my side, tongue tracing a moist, warm path from collarbone to ear as he lowered my dress over my shoulders and breasts.

  “Kiss me!”

  “A kiss to build a dream on,” he murmured, burying his face in my neck.

  A jab of pain, like a pinprick stabbed into my neck and then oblivion…”

  Joe asked, impatiently, “So, that’s when he did it?”

  She shook her head. “Wouldja let me tell this the way I want?”

  FIVE

  “Next morning, I found myself on the sofa still clothed, tingling all over. If we didn’t make love, then I must have had the most incredible erotic dream.

  Richard called, apologetic, begging me to join him for lunch at his place. He obviously planned on me as the entrée and I didn’t want to go, but Ethan had ordered me to break it off as soon as possible.

  Richard fell to his knees and begged, burying his head in my bosom, his fingers maggots crawling over my flesh. I extracted myself from his arms and left—but he wasn’t quite finished with me.

  Ethan called from time to time and sent huge bouquets every day to my dressing room, the cards addressed to his “Bird of Prey.” Then, right before Ethan was due back, Richard got his revenge.

  I awakened one morning, a few days before our last performance, very sick. I got up from bed, stomach flipping over, and ran to the bathroom to retch into the toilet. A cold sweat broke out as I sank to the floor, head between my knees. My period was almost two weeks late and I was always like clockwork. Now I had to call Richard. He agreed to meet me after the show that night. I didn’t tell why I wanted to see him. I really hoped I was wrong, but I was very scared.