by Lenise Lee
“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Nichole streaked. A sad pout formed on her lips. The expression mirrored a woman who was on the verge of weeping. “Wait until it’s your turn,” she whimpered.
“Not any time soon, sweetie,” Marissa teased.
After taunting her weary friend, Marissa moved closer and hooked her arm around Nichole’s elbow. She helped the newlywed balance her plump limbs so they could continue their walk toward a café at the end of the crowded block.
“If I had known I would end up looking like this,” Nichole pointed her chin down toward her motherly stomach, “I would never have let Eric sleep in the same bed with me…ever.” She murmured another sour note under her breath then inched forward on puffy feet. “I would have double bolted the bedroom door every single night…even on our honeymoon.”
“Nicky, sweetie, you look fine.” Marissa sent a kind smile in Nichole’s direction. “You’re about to become a mother of the earth so you’re twice as beautiful now.”
In reply, Nichole huffed and rolled her eyes, but kept a tight hold on Marissa’s arm.
“Says the woman who doesn’t have to drag a basketball around under her shirt all day and night for the next three months.” Nichole sped up her pace as much as her oval shape would allow. She spoke her next statement with unshakable confidence. “I know one thing for sure…I hope this baby is a boy…‘cause there is no way I’m doing this twice.”
Tears dotted the corners of Marissa’s eyes. She dropped Nichole’s arm while riotous laughter spilled from her chest. When she pulled herself up, the woman swiped the salty stream off her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know how Eric survives living with you,” she said.
“Because he loves me.” A smirk tugged at Nichole’s lips. “He knows I’m the best drama that ever steam-rolled into his life,” she said with a proud grin.
Marissa straightened her face then nodded. She silently recounted the details regarding the chaotic beginning of Nichole’s harrowing romance, which very nearly ended in tragedy. Her husband, Eric Raven, a locally famous Public Defender, remains fiercely devoted to the stubborn woman. Marissa’s relief at knowing that her girlfriend since high school was now safe and only a trimester away from being blessed as a mother was soon countered by a slight twinge of envy for Nichole’s new and idyllic life. As the last thought flowed through her mind, Marissa quietly wondered if she would ever wear the serene glow hovering angelically around Nichole’s face – the joyful portrait of a young wife and mother. Would providence ever fill Marissa’s life with this kind of happiness and love?
A vision of clear blue eyes began to dance through her wandering thoughts, and Marissa did not delay in pushing the image away. In its place, a flash of red summoned her attention.
“Let’s stop here for a minute,” she said.
Her eyes became fixed on a brilliant bouquet standing gracefully in a flower shop window. The large display of crimson roses, perfectly arraigned and vibrantly shaded with true love’s color, held Marissa spellbound.
Out of nowhere, a crisp breeze caressed the tip of her ear. As the tickle of wind flowed onward to destinations unknown, it paused only long enough to whisper an enchanting phrase to Marissa. Addio, amore. The memory of the two words ignited a torrid blaze across every inch of her body, stirring up an unfamiliar longing in Marissa’s soul. One man was the cause of these tempestuous emotions. He was also the same man whom she had sworn to avoid. Marcello Antoni Rossi already had one woman clinging to him; who knows how many dozens of others were weeping for a chance at sampling his seductive touch. Regardless of how intensely her body reacted to the gorgeous Italian man, Marissa refused to fall prey to a rich man’s disastrous games of the heart.
“Perfetto…Proprio come te.” The warm breath from an arousing accented tenor stroked her earlobe. “If you will permit me, it would be an honor to purchase them for you, amore.”
Startled by the nearness of the alluring voice, Marissa turned sharply. Her wide-eyed gaze collided with the suave executive’s artic stare; she became trapped within its divine charm. Each time their eyes cascaded together, hushed volumes of emotion were exchanged between the pair. Feelings too thrilling to speak aloud, sensations far too intense to whisper freely flowed from Marcello’s blue eyes into Marissa’s hazel gaze then circled back again.
Though Marissa’s mind begged her curious stare not to sweep over Marco’s towering frame, she did so anyway. His Mediterranean tan blended well with the dark sweater and jeans he had changed into. The bulging outline of sculpted muscles peeked from beneath the stylish top, and a sturdy waist filled in the slim pants perfectly.
Seconds later, a sobering thought dashed across her mind. The vow Marissa had spoken to herself earlier crept into her common sense. He’s trouble…Keep away. The warning was so strong that Marissa had no choice but to forcefully throw off the effects of Marcello’s bold and irresistible presence. She blinked away from the mesmerizing eyes and regained her composure.
“Mr. Rossi,” she said, offering him a placid smile. “I’m surprised to see you out on the street. I assumed you would only travel by limousine during your trip.”
“Not tonight,” he said with an eager grin. “After this weekend, I may not return to your city for a long while, so this is a special occasion for me. I wanted to make the most of my time here, and to enjoy the beautiful sights.”
Marcello’s eyes seemed to be searching her face. He was trying to evoke a suitable response, yet Marissa would not submit to the demand from the blue gems. She simply lifted her mouth into an agreeable smile. A quick glance around revealed that the man was alone. No dark-haired, green-eyed siren was in tow.
“You’re alone again.”
His face straightened and the flirtatious smile dropped away.
“Katerina and I travel together from time to time.” He hesitated but continued. “Mostly for professional purposes, nothing more.”
“Of course,” Marissa replied, raising her cheeks slightly higher. “It’s none of my business anyway.”
“I’m Nichole Raven, and you are…?”
A brown hand jutted between the couple.
“Pleased to meet you,” Marcello smiled politely. “I am Marcello Rossi.” He accepted Nichole’s gesture then cordially tipped his head toward her. “I see you are with child. Many blessings on your family. May your home be filled with joy, always.”
“Thank you,” Nichole beamed. It did not take very long before her proud expression suddenly morphed into a sly grin. Behind thin glass lenses, a hint of mischief was lurking in Nichole’s brown eyes. “Do you have children of your own?”
Marissa’s lungs clamped shut and her ears buzzed. When Marcello’s cool gaze drifted over, her pulse exploded. The pounding was so hard that all of the busy nightlife noises on the sidewalk and in the street went mute.
“No…unfortunately, I have no wife nor any children.” His eyes never dropped away from Marissa as he spoke. “There will be no woman awaiting me when I return to my home.”
His stare flicked back to Nichole.
“I see.” Nichole tilted her head sideways. This time, brown eyes floated in Marissa’s direction. They stopped for a dramatic pause then blinked away. “Maybe one day soon you’ll find a woman to fill your home with joy…always.”
“Well, we should be going.”
Marissa stepped forward and cut the conversation.
“Please…stay.” Marco reached out, his warm fingers gently cupped Marissa’s hand before she could turn away. “I was about to enjoy a quiet dinner alone, but it would be a true pleasure to have you join me.” He offered another courteous smile to Nichole. “You and your dear friend, of course.”
Marissa’s mind was in conflict with itself. Since their first meeting, she had been frantically trying to dismiss her consuming attraction to this man. Danger and desire swirled all around him, and each one persistently tapped at her mind and body for control. Marcello Rossi tempted
the intrigued woman like no other man she had ever encountered. Even so, the clues were obvious and undeniable; once she gave in to the sway of his magnetic essence, Marissa’s life would never be the same. The question that was her constant companion – Would this change be a blessing or lead to her demise?
“No,” her heart was breaking even as she said the word, “but thank you anyway. Nichole and I already have plans for this evening. Good night, Marco.”
Nichole’s expression was stunned; her eyebrows were pushed toward the top of her head. Marissa turned to leave, but her admirer was determined to have his way.
“Tomorrow night? Will you be free then?”
“I’m afraid not.” In spite of a gripping urge to go against her decision, Marissa held strong. “The hotel has a policy against staff and guests having personal relationships. I can’t…I’m sorry.”
“As am I,” he said.
Sullen defeat mixed into Marco’s low voice. The jubilant glow on his face dropped. The sparkle in his eyes fizzled into nothingness as his stare drooped toward the gray pavement. Had Marissa been mistaken about Marco’s true intentions? Was there genuine affection behind his pursuit of her?
Marco stepped several inches away from the women. He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed solemnly, never raising his gaze to meet Marissa’s eyes.
“I apologize. I shall bother you no more. Good night.”
The crushed man turned and started a slow pace up the crowded walkway.
“Wait!” Nichole’s voice clipped the air.
She wobbled as fast as her swollen body could move then called out to him again. At the very last second, before disappearing around the corner ahead, Marco stopped and angled his body toward the calls. Once he spotted her in the crowd, Nichole did not waste any time lifting her hand to signal him to return, which he did without hesitation and hastily parted through the pedestrians.
“Can you wait here for one minute? I need to have a word with my friend.”
Marco’s eyes flicked from Nichole toward Marissa and held their position. The clear blue shade had deepened to a gleaming and hopeful cobalt.
“Sì.”
“Thank you. Don’t disappear, this won’t take long.”
Marcello nodded then moved a few feet away to leave the women to their private conversation.
“What’s the matter with you?” Nichole snapped the question at Marissa.
“With me?” Marissa replied, shocked by her friend’s tone. “Nothing. I can’t have anything to do with him outside of work.”
“No, Missy, that’s not the reason. I can see it all over your face. You like him, and you’re scared.”
Nichole’s remark hit too close to the actual truth. Marissa did not reply, because she was too tempted to lie. Instead, she looked away and stared at nothing in particular.
“I know these feelings are scary, because that’s exactly how I use to feel. You know me, and you know how I was. Couldn’t…wouldn’t…be bothered with anything to do with love and all the craziness that comes with it. All I wanted to do was live in my own little lonely world. I didn’t want some random guy to fill my life with empty promises and then break my heart.” Nichole’s voice softened. “I remember every word of my first conversation with Eric. I remember hating him and adoring him…all in the same breath. I remember being afraid to let my guard down. I also remember seeing how much he loved and adored me too…even during that very first argument. Seeing that expression only made me even more afraid to accept his affections.” She moved closer and laid a comforting hand on Marissa’s arm. “I see that same look on Marcello’s face…in his eyes…when he’s watching you. Missy, I love you, you’re like a sister to me, and I would never do anything to hurt you. Trust me…don’t let this moment slip by.” Nichole squeezed a little tighter, pushing more sentiment into every word she spoke. “I love Eric with all my heart and I love knowing that we’re about to bring a baby into the world to love…together. I want the same love for you, Marissa.”
Nichole’s admission struck straight at Marissa’s hesitant heart. Despite all of the obstacles that stood between them, Nichole’s reward for taking a chance on loving Eric was finding her soul mate. Eventually, a tiny voice, hidden in the most veiled part of her soul, convinced Marissa that she should not let Marco walk out of her life, at least not this way. Amazing possibilities, the likes of which even her vivid imagination could never dream of, awaited the couple. Destiny was calling, and Marissa would answer the plea.
“Marco,” Marissa said, lifting her eyes timidly to his. “Tomorrow night at seven?”
His eyes lit up; he stepped forward. Marcello’s signature and charismatic smile returned to his face. He reached forward, laying the tips of his thick fingers at the curve of her cheek.
“Perfetto,” he grinned. “Until then, I will be thinking of you, Marissa.”
In her dream, Marissa was waltzing across a ballroom floor in the arms of a strong man. Dozens of faceless onlookers were admiring them from the shadows. The event felt so real and so authentic that when she awoke, Marissa was surprised to be lying in bed next to her sister and not still floating around the regal scene.
The sound of the doorbell pulled the woman further away from her enchanted sleep. Jasmine stirred once, and then went motionless. Marissa also made no attempt to exit the comforts of the warm bed. In addition to trying to regain her sense of reality, she was also trying to settle her churning stomach. The huge servings of pasta, wine, and garlic breadsticks she had gorged on last night were having a revolution in her aching belly. Why had she ever dared to compete with a pregnant woman’s bottomless appetite? Apparently, pregnancy also included bed-hogging privileges. After Nichole rolled over and nearly smothered her sometime after 1 AM, Marissa decided that her best chances for surviving the night were to squeeze into her younger sibling’s bed.
While Nichole was merrily snoring away in the next room, Marissa was trying to cling to the last remnants of a much-needed rest. After surviving two hectic days and nights, there was no way Marissa was vacating the cozy cave under the quilt any time soon. Today was also her first Saturday off in a month, so she was not accepting questions, comments, complaints, or requests from anyone who was not related to her by blood or friendship. Unless one of the other two women decided to answer the door, whoever the visitor was would either have to take a hint and walk away or be left standing there for the remainder of the morning.
One of the best benefits of working at La Grande Roi was that Marissa had the convenience and security of living in the center of Manhattan at a hugely discounted rate. Three floors on the lower section of the building were used exclusively as apartment housing for employees and were only accessible with an ID badge. The morning after the grim incident in the alleyway, she had to issue herself a new access card. It was a very small weight off her mind that the robber had only swiped her ID card and not the entire wallet, or else he would know her address and where she worked. The thought caused the woman’s entire body to tense with apprehension. Marissa had to force herself to unclench the rigid knots her muscles had flexed into.
To flee from the shadows that were trying to creep into her mind, Marissa roused herself awake a little more. She opened her eyes only wide enough to watch the burnt-orange and honey-yellow double halo of the rising sun climb to the top of the skyscrapers crowding outside of her window. Satisfied that a better day was dawning, she tossed the blanket over her head and slipped into a light sleep.
When the doorbell dinged for a second time, Jasmine huffed beside her then used her feet to kick the blanket they were sharing off her body. At the third buzz, Marissa heard her sister grumbling something nasty while she stumbled around the dim room, probably in search of her pink slippers.
“I’m coming!” Jasmine’s snappy voice bounced off the walls. Afterward, her shuffling footsteps disappeared through the bedroom door.
In her sister’s absence, Marissa grabbed Jasmine’s share of the blanket an
d wrapped herself up like a living mummy. A sigh of contentment slipped from her nose…or was that a snore? All at once, her mind was anxious with worry. What does a woman with a middle-class wallet wear on a date with a wealthy businessman? Marissa frowned at the answer her conscious sent back to her. A paper bag over her head to distract him from the thrifty ensemble she was going to have to throw together. Why had she allowed herself to be bullied into accepting his offer? Both she and Marco would be much better off not crossing over into each other’s lives. Why was that such a hard idea to accept? Because he’s gorgeous and he makes your thighs tingle every time he looks at you, that’s why, again, her conscious was brutally honest with its reply.
A loud giggle floated into the bedroom. Then several more filled the apartment. Some of the laughter was from her sister, however, the other half of the muffled conversation was definitely a male voice, maybe two. Marissa pushed the covers back and perked up her ears; curiosity was quickly washing away her drowsiness. A few seconds later, riotous laughter pulled her out of the bed and down the short hall. When she arrived in the living room, Jasmine was standing in the door leading into the outside corridor. Her lengthy, naturally thick and curly hair was bouncing up and down while she joked with an unseen person who was just beyond the doorway. The sound of Marissa’s footsteps padding across the carpet finally touched her sister’s ears, and she turned her cheery cocoa face around.
“Hey, girl,” Jasmine beamed a broad smile at Marissa. “You have a special delivery waiting.”
Marissa knitted her brows together.
“Me? From who? What is it?” She spoke so fast that the three questions rolled into one.
Marissa took a handful of giant steps across the room and landed next to Jasmine at the front door. To her surprise, the head of a dark-skinned man leaned over the threshold.