by K D Grace
She felt him tense, heard him grunt, smelled the sharp spark of his orgasm ready to burst like the fountains at the villa. Then he erupted inside her, thick and heavy with scent, laced with her own – smell still changing and evolving as it filled her, flooded her, and ran down her bottom onto the white-tiled floor.
Then, while he was still vulnerable, still gasping for breath, she shoved her way free, and squatted on top of him open-legged, open-pussied, rubbing and shifting up and down against his cock, against his damp pubic hair, then up over the soft down that led to his navel. She slipped and slid and gyrated, covering him with her scent while reveling in his. Then she fell forward on top of him, forcing a harsh grunt of a breath from his oxygen-starved lungs. ‘Can you smell us? Can you smell us, Paulo? My God, we smell brilliant! We smell better than anything. We smell like everything that counts. We smell … we smell …’ She sat up, hand still stroking the silky heat of his semen between her legs, nose still pulling desperately at every nuance of scent. ‘Paulo …’ She froze, her heart feeling like it would beat its way out of her chest.
‘What? What’s the matter, Liza?’ He rested and hand on her hip. ‘What is it?’
She locked onto his dark gaze. ‘Paulo, we smell like everything that counts.’ With all the grace of a floundering moose, she pushed and shoved her way to her feet. He gave a muffled ‘umph’ when she stumbled and elbowed him in the ribs, but he scrambled to stand right behind her.
‘Your handkerchief. Give it to me.’ He already had it out of his pocket. She went to work cleaning his semen and her juices in a task that would have made her incredibly horny all over again if her heart hadn’t been hammering for other reasons – reasons she could see by the dark spark in Paulo’s eyes, by the rapid beat of his pulse in his throat that he completely understood. ‘This is it, Paulo. This is the missing part of the puzzle. It’s us, it’s basic like vanilla and cinnamon, it’s the binding, it’s something that’s not the scent of the dungeon, not the scent of kink or voyeurism or a good spanking. All of those things are apart of what Martelli’s trying to create in this new line, but there’s nothing as basic as a man and a woman who can’t get enough of each other, a man and a woman who can’t resist the need to be together even in the most inopportune place. It’s magnetism, it’s connecting, it’s primal. Animals are attracted to each other by scent all the time. Why should humans be any different, and for all the kink, and all the emotions that accompany the Dom/sub relationship or a night in the dungeon with an audience, it’s that basic scent, as simple and basic as two people who lust for each other, two people whose chemistry is explosive and magical. Paulo, I promise, this is the missing ingredient.’
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Didn’t you get my text?’ Paulo barely made it out of the lift before Jim was on him. ‘We need to talk.’ He glanced around as though he feared they were being spied on.
Paulo shot an exaggerated look at his watch. ‘I’m off to Milan in just a few minutes, Jim. Can’t it wait?’
‘No, it can’t. Didn’t you get my text?’ He asked again.
Paulo let out an exasperated breath. ‘I got your damned text, Jim, and frankly I don’t know what got the bee up your ass about Liza, but I don’t want to hear it. I talked to her about Blain, and if you’d bothered to check it out, you’d have known his call was nothing to do with Martelli.’
Jim grabbed Paulo by the arm. ‘And her being in a room at the Hotel de Russie with him? What about that?’
Paulo froze in his tracks. Instantly the man moved his hand away from his boss’ arm and stepped back, but he held his gaze.
Paulo nodded to his office and stormed in that direction without look back. He knew Jim would follow. Inside he motioned him to shut the door, then he turned on him. ‘Tell me, Jim, how do you know that Liza was in a hotel room with Carl Blain?’
Jim’s face reddened and he raked his teeth over his lower lip. Then he squared his shoulders and said, ‘I was there with Vera.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was her treat, sort of a surprise for me. I stepped out the door for a second and saw Liza Calendar coming out of a room several doors down. She didn’t see me, but I did see Carl Blain sticking his head out before he shut the door behind him.’
‘How did she look?’ Paulo ask, trying to keep his breathing even.
‘What do you mean how did she look?’
‘Did she look disheveled? Did she look smug? Did she look sneaky? And what about Blain? Was he dressed? Was he in a robe? Was his hair well combed?’
‘She was dressed smart casual, so was he. And neither of them were disheveled. Look,’ Jim said raising a hand, ‘I never said she was fucking him. That would certainly simplify things if she were. I don’t think it’s about sex and I told you that from the beginning. If it’s business, though, if they’re in a working relationship that involves infiltrating Martelli Fragrance, then the whole thing makes a lot more sense. And knowing Liza Calendar, if it’s business, she wouldn’t be fucking him.’
Paulo folded his arms across his chest and glared at Jim. ‘So what the hell do you think her plan is, then? You think she’s a part of Blain’s hostile takeover plot?’
Jim ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. ‘Well she’s certainly in a position to be, isn’t she? And she could do him the most good where she’s at, don’t you think?’
‘She doesn’t like him and he makes her sneeze.’ The words slipped out before Paulo could stop them.
‘Makes her sneeze? Seriously? You believe that?’
Paulo didn’t answer. In truth, he didn’t know what he believed, but he just couldn’t believe that Liza was in cahoots with Blain, and whatever reason she had for being at the hotel with him, well he’d take Angelo’s advice once again and ask her.
Jim blew out a harsh breath. ‘Look, I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t tell you this. Even if you don’t want to hear. I’m just saying keep her close. Keep your eye on her, and maybe put security on the alert. Also, if her work’s done here, then send her home, or better yet, if it’ll make you feel better, take her somewhere, you know, just the two of you, somewhere where you can keep an eye on her. She doesn’t have to know that’s what you’re doing. She could just think it’s a romantic getaway. You know, something you’d both enjoy.’
It was early afternoon when Liza got back to the Martelli offices. Paulo was at meetings in Milan, so she had been at the labs with Coraline checking the final formulas. The scents that would launch this fall as the Innuendo line would be the most amazing, cutting-edge fragrances Martelli had ever launched. The money thrown at the line before Liza came on board was boggling, but it had cost little on the whole, for what she had managed to do in a short amount of time. There was very little technology involved in using her nose, and she was happy to do it. The cost to get the scents ready by autumn, however, would not be small, though it would be well worth it to launch a line that would blow the lid off the market. Coraline had hinted at a permanent position for Liza with Martelli. Her head was spinning with possibilities. Though Paulo would be away from the office for the rest of the day, a celebration dinner had been in the works for the evening, until he had texted to say the meetings in Milan were running longer than expected and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow evening. That being the case, she was thinking maybe she’d enjoy a quiet night. She hadn’t had one in ages. She hadn’t really had the chance to enjoy the Bernini flat. A nice long bubble bath, a good Skype session with Addie and maybe Rita, then maybe she would curl up with a raunchy novel and crack open that bottle of primitivo Coraline had so highly recommended. Yep! That would do nicely. Then when Paulo got back – her insides tightened and tingled with anticipation – she’d be ready for him.
‘I know, Jim. I know. It worries me too. I told you, I’ve never thought Liza Calendar was trustworthy.’
Liza stopped in her tracks at the sound of Vera’s voice coming from the open door of the break room. A peek around the corner showed that she w
as alone, talking on her iPhone.
Liza held her breath and listened, struggling to hear around her pounding pulse.
‘So you talked to Paulo about her?’ There was a pause. ‘Well that’s good. What did he say? I agree. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’
Liza couldn’t breathe. The cloying reek of her own sense of betrayal threatened to choke her.
Vera’s laughter seemed loud and grating in the silence. ‘Well he’s certainly doing a great job of keeping her close, I’d say.’ Her chuckle sounded vicious. ‘It’s a dirty job, but I suppose someone has to do it. I would have thought the connection with Blain would have been obvious from the beginning. Does Ms Martelli know about her? … I see … So she has her doubts too. Well that’s good, good that they’re keeping a close watch on her. I mean, hey, if she can do Martelli some good while she’s here with that magical nose of hers, and Mr Delacour gets laid and we all get a better Christmas bonus, then I say so much the better.’
There was more silence while Vera listened to what Jim was saying. ‘Well I can’t see her pulling anything when Mr Delacour’s between her legs every chance he gets. Still I suppose it is worrisome, her coming out of Blain’s hotel room and all. Mr Delacour seems like the jealous type to me. But, hey, he’s getting some, so win-win, the way I see it.’
Liza reached out for the wall, feeling as though her legs might give from under her, feeling like she might be sick.
‘Listen, Jim, I have to get back to work. Alessandro is off tomorrow so it’ll just be me at the queen bitch’s mercy. I need to meet with him and find out what I’ll be up against.’ As she disconnected and made one last check of her email, Liza fled down the hall to her office.
She dropped into her chair barely able to breathe. With trembling fingers, she started to call Paulo. Then she changed her mind. Her work here was done. She had plenty for an article about her experience in the perfume industry and Martelli now had what they wanted. She wouldn’t take their fucking money. She’d never done the job for money, and it felt like her insides were on fire every time she thought that they could believe such a thing of her. But then she supposed that’s the way big business worked; no one could possibly think that someone might do something because it pleased them, because it excited them and made them happy. She wiped viciously at her eyes as she thought of how happy she had been these past few days with Paulo. Well she was just being stupid, wasn’t she? She forced back the tears and packed up her computer bag, checking around the office for anything else that was hers. Her nose had been wrong this time. Her nose that she had always counted on to be right about situations. About people. She slipped out of the office unseen and held herself together through the walk back to the flat, oblivious to Bernini’s Angels gracing the Ponte Sant’Angelo, oblivious to the scents of coffee and traffic and tourists and harried Italians, oblivious to everything but the scent of her own betrayal. Once she was safely locked in the flat, she tossed her bag on the sofa, threw herself on the bed, and wept.
It felt like she’d cried forever. The long shadows of early evening were creeping into the bedroom windows when she sat up red-eyed and drained. In the bathroom, she blew her poor beleaguered nose, drank a large glass of water, then went back to the den and booted up her laptop, logging into the site she used for travel. It was high tourist season and without flying first class, the earliest flight she could book was for tomorrow evening. Still, Rome was a big city. She was sure she could make herself scarce until flight time. If she had to she’d wait in the damned lounge, and there were plenty of hotels. She’d find some way to stay away from Paulo. When she calmed down a bit she would send an email to him and to Coraline. Nothing personal, because clearly it hadn’t been, at least not to them. She would simply tell them now that her work was done, she saw no reason to linger. Clearly Paulo hadn’t believed her when she told him what had happened between her and Carl. She wondered now why he’d even bothered to ask. Well, best she get away as soon as she could and get on with her life.
Once her flight reservations were made, she pulled her bag from the closet, flung it on the bed, and began to pack. She was randomly tossing underwear in the bag when Skype sounded on her laptop. She would have ignored it until she saw it was Rita. Suddenly she was completely empathetic with Rita for not wanting anything to do with Martelli Fragrance, and though she didn’t want to talk to anyone, she really needed a friendly shoulder.
Chapter Twenty-five
The delays had been maddening. The meetings had run long, he’d missed one flight, and another was cancelled. Paulo wanted desperately to be back with Liza. They still hadn’t had the chance to properly celebrate the new line that would be so much more amazing than anyone could have imagined thanks to her. But at the moment, it wasn’t anxiety over the future celebration with Liza that was making him crazy. He texted her again from the queue at passport control in Fiumicino. The knot in his stomach tightened further when there was still no response to any of the previous texts he’d sent nor to any of his calls. The last message he’d gotten from her was to say that Coraline had been elated over the new line. As soon as he was through passport control he tried to call her again, but again her BlackBerry rang over to voicemail. ‘Hi, I’m at the airport. Looking forward to seeing you soon.’ As an afterthought, he added, ‘is everything all right?’
He knew it wasn’t, he sensed it wasn’t, and yet he still held out hope that maybe something was wrong with her BlackBerry. He broke as many speed limits and traffic laws as he could to get him home faster. Once there in the lift, he checked his BlackBerry one more time for a text he hoped for but felt certain now wouldn’t be there. When it wasn’t, he stuffed the device into his pocket and shoved his way into his flat.
‘About fucking time you got home!’ He recognized the voice before he actually looked up to see Rita standing in front of him, hands on hips, eyes blazing fire and ice.
‘Nice to see you too, sis,’ he said, closing the door behind him. ‘What are you doing here?’
She ignored his greeting and followed him into his bedroom where he dropped the garment bag on the floor. ‘Are you out of you mind, or are you just being an asshole, because the first I might be able to forgive, might. But if the second is the case, I swear I’ll kill you and dump your body in the Tiber for the fish to eat.’
‘Rita, what the –’
‘She’s my best friend, you bastard! My best friend!’ she gave his garment bag a vicious kick with the toe of a very wicked-looking black leather boot. ‘And don’t tell me you didn’t know, because I know you did. I can’t find Mom, and if she knows, if she’s in on this stupid shit, then I’ll kill you both. The two of you deserve each other.’ Suddenly her eyes teared and she ran a hand through her hair. ‘Paulo, how could you? How could you?’
He took her by the shoulders – carefully, for his own protection. ‘Sis, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you’re going to feed me to the fish, I’d at least like to know why.’
She jerked away and began to pace at the foot of his bed, kicking the bag once more for good measure. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Ring a bell? Hmm?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Should it?’
‘Is that what it was all along? You were toying with her because you didn’t trust her? But in typical Martelli fashion, just because you don’t trust someone doesn’t mean you can’t use them to get what you want, does it?’ This time as she passed him, she gave him a hard shove on the arm that nearly sent him off balance. ‘How the fuck could you not trust her? How the fuck could you possibly think she was in cahoots with Carl Blain?’
‘What?’ He dropped onto the bed, suddenly unable to stand, barely able to hear her over the sudden beating of wings in his ears.
‘Check you goddamned email. She said she sent you and Mom both a letter of resignation.’
‘Liza? Liza did? Why?’ With hands no longer steady, he checked his BlackBerry. Sure enough a message had just come t
hrough that must have been held up in the ether somewhere while he was flying and had only now caught up with him. It was polite, distant, and professional. Liza Calendar had done what she’d come to do, she’d enjoyed the work. She didn’t want Martelli’s money, and she was catching a night flight back to the States. She wished Martelli all the best with the new line. That was it! All professional, nothing personal.
The room tilted, and it felt like he was breathing cotton wool. ‘Why?’ he managed a strangled plea.
Rita plopped down next to him. This time she took his hand. ‘Paulo, she thinks the only reason you made love to her was because you thought she might be working for Carl Blain, and you were keeping your enemies close.’
‘Why the hell would she think that? I mean I know what Jim thinks, but Jim’s wrong about her. She would never work for Carl Blain. Never, no matter how it looks.’ Then, for some reason that made more sense to him than it would to anyone who didn’t know Liza, he added, ‘Carl Blain makes her sneeze.’
Rita’s laugh came out a little sob and she wiped her eyes with her fingertips and gave him a half-hug. ‘She told me that. She would never be in cahoots with anyone who makes her sneeze,’ then she held his gaze, the fire in her eyes bright again. ‘She can smell what a person’s like, Paulo, she can smell their heart, and nobody has ever smelled good to her until you came along. Don’t fuck it up.’
He sprang to his feet. ‘Do you know her flight number? When she’s flying?’
She nodded. ‘I know more than that, bro.’ She pulled out her own BlackBerry and texted him the information. ‘She’s probably on her way to the airport now. You text her and so will I.’
Their efforts were interrupted by the ringing of his BlackBerry. He answered it without thinking, not minding that Rita moved close enough to hear the conversation.