The Art of Enchantment (Life is a Journey Book 1)

by M A Clarke Scott

  So much for asking him about the directorship tonight. It would have to wait for another day. And time was slipping away.

  She picked up her cell phone and speed-dialed his number.

  "Guillermo?"

  "Bella. Sei il sole della mia vita."

  She sighed. Romantic nonsense, but it made her insides swim dangerously. Since last weekend, everything had changed between them, and yet she was just as concerned. She tried her best to keep that part of their relationship separate from their work. It was hard. "Si. Well let's see if you mean it. I have a big favor to ask. I hope you don't mind."

  "Per te farei di tutto!"

  Anything? Well, we'll see about that.

  "I have to change our plans for tonight. My father has arrived unexpectedly from Athens."

  "Stronzo." He paused. "Is he there with you now?"

  "Si. And rather than disrupt our plans, he wishes for you to join us for dinner."

  "You told him what we are doing?" Guillermo's voice croaked.

  "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just social. He wants to meet my friends, that's all."

  "Aha. So… what? Should I bring others?"

  "Maybe. No, I don't think so. Just the three of us. More intimate."

  "What is it we are… you know?"

  "Well, we'll have to figure that out, eh?" Clio looked at Father, smiling. "No need to be shy. Just be yourself."

  "Heh? Oh, I see."

  "Can you meet us at the Restaurant Bernini, in the Hotel Albani? Via Fiume 12, at 5 o'clock?"

  "Do I have any choice?" He chuckled.

  "No, I'm afraid not."

  Chapter 24

  Catching Clio's meaning, Guillermo thought that his best strategy might be to play the buffoon. He couldn't be sure what Clio had told her father, or why she would agree to include him in this dinner with her father, but this way he could perhaps avoid digging any deep holes that either he, or later she, would be unable to get out of.

  But to be on the safe side, he hid behind a potted lemon tree in the corridor waiting for them to arrive. He leaned against the wall, straightened his tie again and chastised himself for being nervous. This wasn't like him at all. He had nothing to worry about. He could handle himself with anyone, even the formidable Dr. McBeal.

  It was Clio he was worried about. He remembered how she'd shrunk during the Skype call with her father. Her color and spark had withered. His chest ached for her, and he wanted only to relieve the oppressive binds caging her passionate and creative spirit. Which was why he'd resorted to silliness the night he called. To lift her up, and to remind her that there was a big wide world outside of the one so strictly inscribed by her rigid family.

  That was the main argument for playing a similar role tonight. However, he worried it would not work with Dr. McBeal sitting across from them in the flesh. Clio would feel too heavy to elevate. And then there was his own relationship with the man. He might not know it, but if Guillermo's wishes came true, they would have to see more of each other in the future. What sort of first impression did Guillermo want to make?

  He gritted his teeth, straightened, glanced to the door, peeked at a clock on the wall, and scanned the room once more to make sure he hadn't missed their entry. He sighed. Then suddenly jerked back, his pulse thudding, peering at the entry. It was them.

  Guillermo watched Clio's father stride in, speak with the maitre d', puffed up like a king. Clio, in his shadow, looked like a frightened rabbit. Her eyes darted back and forth, and her posture was hunched, as though being smaller could somehow lessen the pain of this encounter.

  What should I do? How should I play this? What would help Clio the most?

  Then, just as the maitre d' was about to lead them into the dining room, Clio excused herself and turned toward him. He caught her eye, jerked his chin, and turned down the hall toward the toilets, knowing she would follow. A second later, he was able to pull her into his arms.

  "Memmo! Why are you hiding here?"

  "Waiting for you, Bella." He pressed his lips to hers, reveling in her softness, and the way she swayed and melted at his touch, despite her distress. "Mmmm." He released her, but kept one arm loosely draped around her. "Well? What shall we do?"

  She looked up at him, chagrinned. "I have to pee. I was really hoping you'd feel inspired. I don't know." She was pale, her brow creased.

  "Calm down. It will be alright. The main thing is to get our story straight. How do we know each other? Are we dating–?"

  "No."

  He tilted his head by way of query, unable to hold back a smile.

  "Not that there's anything wrong with you, aside from being Italian." She smiled to soften the blow. "It's just that he really won't approve of me wasting time on anything social, let alone dating, when I'm so pressed for time to meet my deadline. Isn't there something else we could–?"

  "Tell him we're engaged." Gesu! Where did that come from?

  "God, no. Be serious."

  He withdrew his embrace and leaned back, crossing his arms. It was unexpected, but it wasn't that far-fetched. Was it?

  "Memmo. Seriously." Clio swatted at him. "It has to be something that seems… like… defensible."

  "Why cannot we have met the way we did? He knows about your accident."

  "We need a reason to continue seeing each other."

  There were so many reasons, not least of which was his decided penchant for kissing her, and touching her, and the slight dizziness he felt in her company. Images of their lovemaking crowded his mind, making it difficult for him to think of anything else. Ah, Clio. Unbelievable that she had turned the tables on him. She was magnificent, beautiful, passionate."Senza di te la vita è un inferno."

  She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. "My life will be hell if I don't join Father, pronto." She never believed his endearments were sincerely felt. If she only knew.

  Guillermo blinked rapidly while he considered. He cast his gaze up at the ceiling. Aha! "I've got it. I will be me, of course–"

  "Very helpful."

  "Just wait. We met at a rural church, si? I am restoring it, consulting with the diocese, and you were there for your research. While we were both taking pictures and sketching, we talked a little, discovered common interests, and became acquaintances."

  Clio pursed her lips, considering. "That's not bad."

  "Am I brilliant?"

  "Yes, you are." She rose up on her toes to kiss him quickly. "Okay. That will do." They agreed on a church and a date, in fact the same one she had visited the day they met.

  "We get together from time to time for a drink or a meal to talk about Renaissance architecture, that's all. You can be as clever as you like. Impress us both." One of her delicate rusty brows rose up, challenging him.

  They shared a warm smile. He'd do just that.

  A few hours later, Clio and Guillermo returned to her apartment, after Guillermo had gallantly offered to see her home, assuring the protective father that she would be safe. But not, he reflected, from me.

  The moment the door closed, he pulled her into his arms. "I have been dying for your kisses all evening. I thought he would never get tired of talking."

  "It's because you played your part too well. If you were not so erudite about history and architecture, I'm sure Father would have dismissed you earlier. But you kept him engaged." She hesitated, blinking. "He liked you."

  "That is what you call liking? He grilled me like a candidate on Apprentice." Guillermo thought he'd successfully hidden how intimidated he'd been by the imposing man. His skin had shrunk under the shrewd, icy blue gaze, framed by copious sharp lines carved into his flaccid, habitually frowning face. The man even had the faded orange hair of that American fellow, though Clio's father was a bearded, and bushy-browed Scot.

  She chuckled. "He treats everyone like they're defending their thesis. It's just the way he is. But you impressed him. I can tell."

  "Hmph. I felt like he was testing me." Guillermo stood a little taller, raising his ch
in, winking at her. "So now I deserve scopare his daughter, si?" He ground his groin into her. It killed him not to touch her all evening, and to hold back his expressions of admiration and desire that he was now, finally permitted. "Do you think he suspects about us?"

  Clio made a face. "Oh, no. That would never occur to him."

  He lifted his brows in doubt. His hands slipped down to cup her delicious bottom, and pulled her hips into his. "Grrr."

  "Slow down, cowboy. We've got work to do."

  He grumbled in protest, nuzzling her neck, planting kisses behind her ear, nibbling and murmuring of his desire. "No work. Play." He let his palm graze her breast, stroking it until he felt her nipple harden in his hand, and felt her shiver and swoon a little, and he squeezed her chiappa, pressing into her heat, feeling himself stir to life.

  "Memmo." She pulled away, her palms soft on his chest, and he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. "We have to write that letter to the Cultural Ministry, so you can sign it tonight. And there is something else I wish to discuss with you."

  He drew back, pensive. She sounded so serious. "Have I done something to upset you? You're not regretting–"

  "Not at all." She took the opportunity to slip out of his embrace and saunter to the living room, sitting down in front of her piles of paper and files. He let his gaze rest on her soft curves and long legs, smiling. Her perfect sedere, which he never tired of admiring, clothed or not. I would like to get it nuda, at the moment. "I spoke with Dr. Bensen this afternoon," she said.

  "Si?"

  She patted the sofa beside her. "Sit down."

  He sidled over, not sure he wanted to know why she was being so stern. He veered toward the kitchen. "Do you want some wine?"

  "No, no, grazie. I've had enough." She shuffled papers, searching.

  He poured himself a glass of the red from the bottle sitting out on her counter. "Can I make you some tea?"

  "Memmo."

  He grimaced. "Okay. I'm coming." He perched next to her. What have I done to make her so somber? Did he say something out of place at dinner with her father? Did he suspect their romantic involvement? When would he have had a chance to say anything to her? Or was Guillermo pushing too hard, too fast with their new-found intimacy. He could hold himself back. "What is it?"

  Clio swallowed and averted her gaze. He watched her lick her lips, and licked his own, tasting wine. He leaned in, inhaling her fruit and floral scent, wanting more. Wanting the taste of her. "Dr. Bensen was balking at the appointment of an academic director without due diligence. This is a major investment for them, and they want to make sure they've considered all the suitable candidates before selecting someone."

  He frowned, taking a sip of wine, and nodded. "Continue."

  "Well that takes time. More than we have. And the government wants to know who will be in charge before they approve licensing or release funds. So it's a Catch-22."

  "Hmm. I see." But she would have already solved the problem, this he knew from experience. "And…?"

  Clio filled her lungs and turned to meet his eyes. She was so earnest, so grave, so lovely. He had to reign in his thoughts, which very quickly slipped into a slide show of her bare skin, her rosy lips ripe for his kisses, her fiery hair spread out across the pillow. His fingers itched to touch her. He reached out and grazed her bare arm with his fingertips, relishing the gooseflesh that rose up in response. A corresponding shiver danced across his neck, sending a spiral of heat down to his groin.

  "Are you listening?"

  They shared a small smile, and he saw a twinkle in her eyes, like the sparkle of sunlight on the sea. She already knew him too well. He dropped his chin and pressed his lips together to suppress a grin. "Si, cara."

  She shook her head, her eyes crinkling. "I made a proposal to Dr. Bensen that would solve the problem of timing, and, I believe, be a better solution in the long term… which is to split the directorship between academic programs and running of the foundation. This way the ads can go out for the academic director and…" She spiraled her hand. "Whatever, whenever. In the meantime we can move forward with establishing the foundation, accessing grants and saving the villa."

  She'd lost him. He scowled slightly. Had he missed something?

  "Memmo, it has to be you."

  "Scuzi?" A tremor shook him.

  "You know it."

  "Do I?" His voice was wooden. Suddenly instead of sex, he felt a profound urge to go for a long, fast ride.

  Clio's hands came up and framed his face. Her eyes pierced his, as though by trapping him there, she could prevent him from escaping. His breath wouldn't move, and he forced it out, in shallow puffs, trying to kick start a deep breath that would feed oxygen to his brain, to help him figure out what this meant, and what he should do. She couldn't be serious. She knew he loved his family estate, but he couldn't sacrifice himself for it. They'd talked about this!

  An engine revved in the street below, followed by a muffled shout, and the tinkling of a glass bottle tumbling along the cobbles. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, to quell the twitching, crawling sensation that had invaded his body like a rash. He was flushed, and his neck was moist.

  "Can you hear me?"

  He realized she'd continued speaking, and he hadn't heard. "Uh…"

  "I thought this all along, and I knew you would have difficulty with it, so I… I prevaricated. I suspected there would be issues over qualification of the academic director. But you must see, Memmo. The director of the foundation must be a member of your family. How else can we ensure the estate is managed according to the family's wishes, and at the same time incorporate the private holdings, the farms, and the supporting business interests?"

  He shook his head, but when he attempted to meet her earnest gaze, his eyes wouldn't settle on them, and slid around her face and the wall behind her head, erratically, evasively. He leaned back, pulling at her hands. He needed to think. He didn't want to disappoint her, but this…his head shook from side to side, caged by the frame of her palms.

  She continued to hold his cheeks gently but firmly. "I know what you're feeling, even if you don't. I know you, Memmo. You can do this." She pulled his face toward hers, and tipped her forehead to his, touching brow to brow. Her warm sweet breath caressed his face. He felt his heart squeeze and twist painfully. Ah, Clio. Il mio cuore è solo tua. My heart is yours. Per te farei di tutto, anything, anything, but not this. I can't do this.

  He lifted his chin to bring their lips together, and she kissed him, deeply and passionately. His arms encircled her and pulled her softness into his embrace. Instantly, desire flared between them. His pulse kicked up. She swung one knee over him, and straddled his lap. He felt blood rush to his groin, and he grew hard. Clio, too, was aroused. Her arms wrapped his neck, her heated core pressing against him. Her breath came quickly, and she whimpered into his throat as their tongues tangled.

  Guillermo grunted, slipped his arms under her, and stood up, lifting her, only one single thing in his mind driving away his conflicted thoughts. Need. He needed to claim her, so that no matter what happened, she would always be his. So that no matter what passed between them, no matter what difficulties the future brought, she would know how much he wanted her for his own. He strode urgently to her bedroom and set her down on the bed, lowering himself on top of her, their mouths still joined, beginning to strip away their clothing. "Clio, Bella, cara. Il mio cuore è solo tua." He murmured endearments between kisses as he bared more of her smooth skin, caressing her lightly with his fingertips, and tasting her, running his hot tongue over the gooseflesh that rose in the wake of his quaking touch. She arched up to meet him. "Ti voglio. Ti desidero."

  When he entered her, he at last opened his eyes and met hers, the blue of the sky merging with the blue of the sea. Look here, cara. Look inside me now, and tell me what you see. Ti voglio, ti voglio, ti voglio. Don't take this away from me. Per favor, Dio, don't take this woman away from me.

  Their lovemaking was fervent
. Guillermo was driven to possess her, and without the words he could not find, and couldn't utter, show her how he felt about her. At the same time, to revel in her beauty and her passion, as though it were the last time.

  Afterward, they lay entwined, her head resting on his damp chest, their breathing settling back to normal.

  "I'm confused."

  He raised his head an inch to look at her. "About what?"

  "Does that mean yes?"

  A long breath escaped him slowly, and he felt her tense. It couldn't be avoided any longer. "I have my career to consider, Bella. What am I supposed to do about that?"

  She shrugged one shoulder against him. "I thought maybe you could do both. Probably the foundation would take a lot of time and energy in the beginning. Only you can figure that out. But in time…"

  He hitched himself up on an elbow and sought her eyes. "Clio. My beautiful dreamer. You know saving the villa and this project are as important to me as life itself. I wouldn't be doing what I am doing if it were not. But am I to give up everything? The entire life I have built for myself? My reputation? My income? The design work I love?"

  She shrank away from him. "Who else but you?"

  He reached out his hand, palm up. "There will be someone who cares. We will find someone to do it."

  Clio pushed up and rose above him, her elbows braced on his chest, and met his eyes. "Who else? Some stranger?"

  "Bella." He reached for her arms, pulling gently, hoping to return to the blissful intimacy of a moment ago. "You could do it better than I."

  Clio leapt from the bed, pulling the sheet off to wrap around herself, backing away, glaring at him. "There is no one better qualified than you. No one who will care more than you do.

  He found himself sprawled on the bed alone, naked, flaccid, and suddenly felt exposed and awkward, his stomach sinking. Stronzo.