by Jayne Castel
Sabrina was impressed—it was good to see someone so wealthy and successful giving back. She’d heard about the state of Italy’s economy. If people like Adriano didn’t take the initiative, things would never improve for this country.
The Mercedes pulled up in front of them. It was a wrench to pull away from Adriano—although once inside the car, he leaned over and gave Sabrina a lingering kiss.
The trip back into the center was much faster than their journey earlier in the evening. At this hour, Rome’s streets were a lot emptier, and before Sabrina knew it, Adriano was guiding the Mercedes across Ponte Garibaldi. Either side of the bridge, on the wide, stone banks of the Tiber, locals had set up pop-up restaurants and bars. Lights festooned the riverbanks and crowds of people milled around, glasses of wine in hand. Sabrina smiled as she watched them; the summer in Rome was so full of life. Not an evening passed when people weren’t out enjoying themselves, soaking up the atmosphere.
Adriano crossed the river, passing stalls selling shaved ice and wedges of watermelon, and entered the labyrinthine tangle of Trastevere. Sabrina realized he was bringing her back to his apartment. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness at the thought.
He parked the Mercedes in a narrow garage under the street and they took the elevator up to his penthouse apartment. Stepping inside, Sabrina looked around, her gaze taking in the lofty space; whitewashed walls; the minimalist art; the parquet flooring; and the tasteful, if spartan, furniture.
“Does it meet your approval?”
Sabrina turned to see Adriano watching her, amusement on his face.
“It does,” she admitted, before giving him a coy smile. “Although it could do with a woman’s touch.”
He stepped close to her, relieving her of her purse and placing it on the table next to the door. He leaned forward, his lips trailing down the column of her neck. Sabrina shivered, all coherent thought suddenly leaving her.
“You’re right,” he murmured, “it does.”
He took her hand and led her out of the living space and down a hallway to his bedroom. Sabrina followed him, all a sudden nervous as if this was their first time together. He’d taken her into his world—things were getting serious. She now realized she’d lost control of the situation—if she’d ever had any—and was at the mercy of fate.
The bedroom was furnished in a similar manner to the rest of the apartment—tasteful but a little spare. A large bed dominated the space, covered in a silver-grey coverlet. Any other observations that Sabrina might have made were halted when Adriano turned to her. He pulled her against him and brought his mouth down fiercely over hers.
His kiss was hot, intimate, and demanding. Sabrina leaned into Adriano, drowning in the taste and feel of him. She was barely aware of his hands stripping her naked, of the gown pooling like quicksilver around her ankles.
Hands trembling, she undid his shirt and explored the heated skin beneath, before she undid his pants and pushed them down over his narrow hips. His erection pressed hard against her, straining urgently against his black cotton briefs. Sabrina’s breath caught in her throat as she peeled his briefs down, and her hand closed over the thick, hard length of him.
She began to stroke him, up the rock-hard shaft to its glistening head. Adriano groaned into her mouth. His hands cupped her naked breasts as he teased her swollen nipples with his thumbs.
Mouths still fused, they tumbled onto the bed. Sabrina vaguely realized, through the red-haze of lust, that she had not taken off her high, strappy sandals. However, there was no time for that now. If anything, it just added to the eroticism of the moment.
They rolled so that she was under him. Adriano pinned her arms above her head with one hand, so that her breasts thrust up to meet his hungry mouth. Then, he feasted on each engorged tip, sucking and teasing.
When she was panting and trembling beneath him, Adriano sat back and positioned himself between her legs. He parted them and raised one of her legs into the air, caressing it from ankle to thigh.
“Bellissima,” he murmured, before doing the same with the other leg. Then he opened her wide so that her most intimate part was exposed to him. His penis strained toward her. He gently rubbed the head of it against her wetness, where pleasure already pulsed and ached. The touch was like a bolt of electricity through Sabrina.
“Please,” she gasped. He was killing her, torturing her like this.
He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “What is it you want?”
“You,” she panted, “inside me—now!”
He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a condom from the top drawer. Trembling with need, Sabrina watched him roll it on to his throbbing shaft. Her loins melted as he positioned himself between her legs once more. Then, he threw her legs over his shoulders, exposing her completely, and entered her in one, deep thrust.
Sabrina’s cry filled the room. An intense orgasm ripped through her, turning her entire body fluid, but Adriano paid it no mind. He went wild, thrusting into her, bringing her to the edge between pleasure and pain. Sabrina lost all sense of time, of who she was, or where she was—she was lost except for the feeling of him filling her completely.
He thrust even deeper still, and Sabrina felt heat explode in her lower belly; tremors of exquisite pleasure radiating out to where their bodies met, followed by a wet rush of heat from deep within her.
As if from far away, she heard Adriano curse—the sound raw and animal—as the last shreds of his self-control dissolved.
Chapter Twenty
Sabrina toweled her wet hair before shaking it down her back. In this heat, it would dry in minutes. It was just after nine in the morning, and already she could feel warmth seeping into the apartment. She reached for a silk dressing gown—Adriano’s—and padded barefoot out of the bedroom.
In the bathroom beyond, she could hear the hiss of running water. Adriano had let her use the bathroom first, and now he was taking a shower.
Humming to herself, her body loose and relaxed after a wild night that had left her slightly stunned in its aftermath, Sabrina made her way to the kitchen. She’d thought her chemistry with Adriano couldn’t have gotten any more powerful, but the night they’d just shared had proved her wrong. Just the thought of what they’d done and the way they’d both lost control, made her feel slightly out of breath.
She’d never realized sex could be like that—like magic.
In the kitchen, she unscrewed the stove-top Mocha and filled the base with water before going in search of ground coffee. She found a canister of Illy in the cupboards above her head and spooned a generous amount of coffee into the Mocha. Then she turned on the gas hob and put the coffee pot on to boil.
While she waited for the coffee, Sabrina wandered out of the kitchen and took a proper look at her surroundings. Her observations had been rushed last night, and in the morning light, she could see that Adriano spent very little time here. The apartment had the look of a holiday home—pristine and unlived in.
The shower was still going. Sabrina gave a rueful smile; Adriano was taking an even longer shower than she had.
The only sign that someone lived here was a pile of papers spread out on a desk on the far side of the room. On the desk, there were also a few framed photographs. Drawn to the only personal touch in the room, Sabrina walked across to the photos and studied them. The first photo was of Adriano and his son, Luca. It was a sweet, natural shot of Luca sitting on his father’s knee. The second photo was of Adriano and Daniele. They were standing, grins on their faces, wearing their chef’s whites, in front of La Pasta D’Orata.
Sabrina smiled at the image, the look of pride on both their faces. Her gaze then slid down to the papers below it—and her smile faded.
How quickly things changed.
It seemed an age ago now that she had searched Adriano’s office for evidence that would help Helen. And now here it was, staring her in the face.
Hands shaking slightly, Sabrina reached out and began to leaf throug
h the papers. The papers were from his attorney—outlining their case against Helen Bellini in detail. Pages and pages of details about the case they were constructing against Adriano’s estranged wife.
Sabrina let out a long breath. Helen Bellini had never stood a chance. Adriano’s attorney may have looked like a softie but he was going for the jugular. If these details were all true then Helen Bellini was far from an innocent party. Four months’ earlier, she had attempted to abduct her son from his elementary school in Rome and had become violent when stopped at Rome’s Fiumicino airport.
Was she a desperate mother, or a selfish, conniving woman determined to have her own way?
What Helen Bellini would give to get her hands on these papers, to know what Adriano was planning to use against her. All it would take was a few photos.
Sabrina’s breathing hitched in her chest. Her smartphone sat in her purse—just two strides and she would retrieve it.
Adriano would never know.
Adriano sauntered out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, to find Sabrina placing a tray on the living room table. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the apartment—one of his favorite smells. Wrapped in his dressing gown, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in damp curls, Sabrina looked lovely. The dressing gown had come open slightly at the front, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts.
If he hadn’t a restaurant to run, he’d have dragged her back into the bedroom. Just the sight of her made him feel like a teenage boy who’d just discovered the opposite sex. He couldn’t get enough of her.
Pushing aside thoughts of a sexy morning in bed with Sabrina, Adriano walked by her into the kitchen and opened a cupboard. “I’ll get us some biscuits to have with the coffee.”
He placed a few shortbreads on a plate and carried it out to where Sabrina was pouring strong espresso into two tiny cups. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, although he imagined it was from the heat. Either that or the torrid night they’d just spent together. He too felt a little off-kilter—the world looked different this morning. Colors were brighter, lines sharper, as if his senses were enhanced.
Sabrina glanced up, her gaze meeting his. Her eyes were a deep, sultry green. Her expression was serious. Wordlessly, he reached out and stroked her cheek, his chest constricting as he did so.
“Dio, You’re lovely,” he murmured. His thumb traced her lower lip and he felt her tremble under his touch.
Sabrina looked down at her dress and cringed slightly.
Last night, it had felt appropriate—now, in the light of day, it looked almost indecent. She followed Adriano outside, blinking in the bright sun. Further up the street, a road sweeper stopped his work to cast her an admiring glance.
“I need to get home and change,” she muttered. “I look ridiculous in this.”
Adriano turned, his gaze raking her from head to foot. “You look gorgeous,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what that dress does to a man?”
“Yes … but it’s not what I’d usually wear on a Saturday morning.”
“You should—you wouldn’t get any complaints from me.”
Sabrina laughed. “Stop it. Go on—get the car. People are staring at me.”
Adriano stepped close to her, eyes twinkling. “Let them stare—you’re beautiful and I don’t care who knows it.”
He pulled her against him, enfolding her in his arms. His mouth covered hers, his tongue greedily seeking entrance. Sabrina melted against him, her discomfort at her attire forgotten. With a groan, her lips parted for him.
They may have gone on kissing for a while longer, for both of them quickly gave themselves up to the heat of the moment, if a woman’s voice—harsh with condemnation and anger—had not shattered the peace of the Trastevere back street.
“I should have known this was your game!”
Sabrina froze in Adriano’s arms. The warm cocoon that enveloped them both fell away, leaving them exposed. Against her, Sabrina felt Adriano’s body tense.
They both recognized that voice.
Sabrina pulled back from his embrace and twisted. Her gaze settled upon a woman, standing a few feet away.
Helen Bellini was as impeccably dressed as she had been the day she visited Sabrina in her office. This morning, she wore a beautifully cut, sleeveless linen dress and camel sling-backs. Her hair was twisted up in a delicate chignon. Despite the heat, she looked effortlessly cool and chic.
However, the gaze that met Sabrina’s was flinty, her beautiful face taut with fury. Sabrina stared at her, shock rendering her speechless. Likewise, Adriano said nothing.
Helen broke the heavy silence, her voice lashing across the street like a bullwhip.
“Bitch— get away from my husband.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Adriano was the first to recover. He gave a low, humorless chuckle. “Your husband? It’s been a while since you referred to me as that, Helen?” He stepped forward, between the women. It was a protective gesture, as if he expected his ex-wife to fly forward and rake Sabrina’s eyes out. “What is it—have you changed your mind? It’s too late. It was too late the moment you walked out on us.”
“Arrogant jerk.” Helen’s glittering gaze never shifted from Sabrina. “Is that why you think I’m here?”
“Isn’t it? Why the jealousy then?”
Helen laughed, the sound grating and harsh to Sabrina’s ears. She winced and fought the urge to cower behind Adriano. She couldn’t believe this was happening—that Helen Bellini was here, standing just a few feet away. She was about to ruin everything, and Sabrina was powerless to stop her. She could only stare back at the woman, waiting for the executioner’s blow.
“It wasn’t jealousy,” Helen sneered, folding her arms across her chest. “It was disgust. She has really played you, hasn’t she? Do you really have no idea?”
Sabrina saw Adriano tense, a nerve flickering in his cheek. When he didn’t speak, Helen continued, relentless. “She’s a private investigator—one I hired. I sent her here to get information on you. Only, she did such a bad job that I was forced to come here myself to check on her.”
A deathly silence fell on the street.
Adriano stood still. He stared at Helen, taking in her words, his face expressionless. Sabrina watched him, her heart slamming against her ribs.
“Now, I realize why she hasn’t turned up anything useful,” Helen continued, spite turning her voice brittle. “Instead of doing the job I hired her to do, she’s been fucking you.”
Slowly, Adriano turned to Sabrina. Nausea rose up within her as she faced him, barely able to meet his gaze.
“Is this true?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Something twisted within Sabrina when she saw the hope in his eyes. Even now, he wanted to believe her, wanted to think Helen was lying to him.
“Adriano …” she began, her voice breaking. “I—”
“Is it?”
Sabrina nodded. “I know how it looks but none of this was planned,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I didn’t …”
He put up a hand to stop her from continuing. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Sabrina stared at him, her body going cold. “But Adriano, please—”
He stepped close to her, his gaze glittering. “It was all a lie—everything between us.”
“No it wasn’t. I swear it wasn’t!”
His mouth twisted and he stepped away from her, backing off as if she were a land mine he’d just narrowly avoided stepping on. “Why would I believe a word you say?” he asked, his voice rough with barely restrained anger.
Adriano turned and walked away, leaving the two women alone on the street. Sabrina watched him go. She ached to run after him, to beg him to listen—but she would not, not with Helen Bellini looking on. He was in shock and angry; she would approach him when he’d had time to calm down.
At the end of the street, Adriano turned the corner and disappeared from view.
Trembling, he
r heart still pounding erratically, Sabrina glanced back to where Helen stood watching her. It was a cold, vulpine look—one of calculated cruelty.
Helen met her gaze before speaking—and there was no missing the satisfaction in her voice. “You’re fired.”
***
Evening settled over Rome in a humid blanket, the air heavy with the promise of a coming storm. Sabrina walked the distance between her apartment and La Pasta D’Orata with her heart in her mouth. Dread stalked every step. She was desperate to talk to Adriano, to make him understand, and yet she was terrified of his reaction.
Her argument was weak. There was no point in trying to justify her behavior, or even attempting to explain it—that would only anger him. Instead, she knew she had to speak from the heart.
It was her only chance. It was either that or lose him forever.
Sabrina walked out onto the piazza before Adriano’s restaurant. Ahead, the façade of La Pasta D’Orata illuminated the square. The terrace out front was packed, as usual, and Sabrina spied Roberto and Halina busy serving diners. Sabrina’s throat constricted. She had loved working here. The thought that she might never do so again made tears blur her vision.
Stop it.
She clenched her fists and dug her fingernails into her palms. She’d spent the day crying, alone in her apartment, but tears would do her no good now. She needed to keep herself together, or Adriano would never listen to her.
She hesitated a moment longer, her gaze taking in the crowded restaurant. Perhaps, she should wait until the restaurant was quieter … although the longer she waited, the harder it would be. No, this had to happen now—she had to speak to him before it was too late, if it wasn’t already.
Sabrina glanced down at her clothing—jeans, a black t-shirt, and flat sandals— a far cry from last night’s attire. She’d scrubbed her face free of make-up and knew her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Good, hopefully it would help him realize how sorry she was.