Elli chewed her lip. “It might mean postponing the kid thing for a year or two.”
Indio’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “We have all the time in the world, Els.” He stood and offered her his hand. “But we can still practice, right?”
In the bedroom, Indio stripped her slowly, stroking his fingers down her belly and cupping her breasts before taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Elli closed her eyes, focusing only on the feel of his mouth on her. Indio laid her down on the bed, burying his face in her belly, and rimming her navel with his tongue as his hand snaked down between her legs, parting them gently. Elli opened her eyes as he made his way down to her sex. He was still fully dressed, in a loose, white cotton shirt and jeans, his dark curls wild about his head. He looked up and smiled at her, his green eyes crinkling, then he took her clit into his mouth and began to tease it. Elli gasped as the nerve endings responded to his touch, her clit hardening and becoming uber-sensitive as his tongue swept up and down her slit, and his teeth bit down gently on the peachy folds. Elli felt her body react, her limbs liquefing as his tongue dipped deep into her cunt. Indio’s fingers were stroking her belly, his thumb mimicking the rhythm of his tongue and finger-fucking her navel as Elli writhed beneath him. Elli came, crying out his name as he continued his exploration of her body.
“Oh, I love you, Indio Navaro,” she gasped as another orgasm hit and Indio looked up and smiled at her. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, then parting her labia with his fingers, he glided his huge cock into her, balls deep, and Elli screamed her pleasure. Indio’s hands were on either side of her head as he thrust hard.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, “There isn’t a more beautiful sight on this Earth than your lovely face when you come, your mouth open, screaming my name as I fuck you harder, and harder, and harder …” His pace became quicker, more violent as he fucked her into submission.
“Cum on my belly,” she asked as he neared his peak, and he did as she requested, pulling out just as his orgasm hit and shooting creamy white cum into her skin. Elli gazed up at him …there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for or to this man, her husband, her life, her Indio. She watched as his flushed face calmed down and his broad, solid chest rose and fell as he panted for air, then she rolled onto her stomach. “Fuck me,” she said simply, and after a minute, grinning, Indio was pushing into her ass, and Elli was crying his name over and over.
They played their games into the early hours of the morning before finally falling asleep, their limbs entangled, lips almost touching.
An hour away, Zane L’Amour lay in his hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. Usually, during this kind of festival, he would be whoring his way through the actresses, models, and groupies who would show up, but this time, his heart wasn’t in it and he knew why. Elliana Moretti.
He thought about her soft caramel skin, the dark, soulful eyes, and the full pink mouth so ready to smile. The pert breasts, the flat belly, the curves of her. He slid his hand down to his cock, feeling it already hardening, and began to pull on it, stroking his hand up and down, imagining it was her cunt enveloping it. She was clearly unavailable, in love with her husband, which was maddening. He would have loved to just fuck her on the balcony as they sat talking, imagining her naked and riding him, her hair still up in a messy bun, her spectacles perched on her nose as she consulted her notes, all while his cock was buried deep inside her.
Zane groaned as the orgasm built relentlessly. He staggered to his feet and into the bathroom, only just making it before he came, sticky, white cum shooting from him into the toilet bowl. He leaned his hot head against the cool tile as he caught his breath. God …Elli …
He washed his cock and his hands and went back to the bedroom. His cell phone was blinking that he had a voicemail. He picked it up, hearing his half-brother asking him to call him.
“Hey, bro.”
“Hey, dude, you okay? How’s New York?”
“Crowded. Noisy.” His brother laughed, before hesitating. “Have you seen her?”
Zane sighed. “I have and I’ve made the offer. We’ll see what happens now.”
“What happens now is we …” his brother’s voice choked off and Zane heard him sob.
“Dude, listen. All I came here to do is meet her. She’s …nice. She’s lovely and beautiful and sweet.”
“Christ,” his brother said in disgust, “You want to fuck her, don’t you?”
Zane tried to make light of it. “Have you met me? Of course, I want to fuck her.”
“Well, don’t. She’s poison.”
Zane’s smile faded. “Listen …we just want information, right?”
There was a long silence. “Zane …you know what I want. She killed Aldo.” Antonio Constanza let out a long breath. “She is the reason he’s dead. Our brother, Zane.”
Zane’s heart was pounding. “Tony, no. We do not take revenge. Aldo stabbed her and almost killed her. What’s done is done.”
“No, it isn’t. And I’m going to finish what he started, Zane. Elli Moretti, or Navaro, whatever she calls herself, is not going to see her next birthday. Don’t blow this for me, brother.”
And he hung up the phone, leaving Zane to wonder what the hell he’d got himself into …and how the hell was he going to stop his brother from killing Elliana Moretti.
Elli smiled at Zane as they met at the small trattoria in the center of Venice. Elli had suggested it. It was out of the way and private so he wouldn’t be besieged by press or fans. As they ate divine seafood pasta and drank white wine, Zane outlined the biography he wanted to be written. “Honestly, I have a hard time justifying writing it now, but so much crap has been written about me, I just want to put the record straight from the beginning of my career to where I am now. More and more, I’m thinking of moving into directing, so it would be a nice way to bookend my acting career.”
Elli was listening with interest. “Are you thinking about your younger years? Where you came from, your education, your family? Because, I have to say,” and she reached into her purse and pulled out a manila folder. “There’s not a lot of information about you on the internet. Your Wikipedia page looks like it was copied from a bland “Movie Star’s Biography” page. Your first film through to this latest, your age, the awards you’ve won. The fact that you’re single is about the only personal information on it. People want to know more, Zane.”
Zane put his head on to one side and smiled at her. “People …or you?”
She gazed back at him steadily. “For instance, people should know you’re an incorrigible flirt and a cad and bounder.” She grinned as he laughed, holding up his hands in defeat.
“I am, I won’t deny it. But who could blame me? Have you seen you?”
Elli stuck her ring finger up in the air, chuckling. “I’ve seen this, and while you’re a very pretty boy, Zane, my heart lies elsewhere.”
“Fair enough. Look,” he leaned forward, “I don’t really want to go into my family background, but I understand why you’d want to put it in the book. There’s not much to tell. Mum had an affair with a rich guy, the guy was a douche, she got pregnant, he disappeared. Later, my half-brothers, who themselves are half-brothers, so you can guess my dad put it around a lot, got in touch. I grew close to them, then my eldest brother died.”
“What happened to him?”
Zane hesitated. “He was …murdered.”
Elli’s face creased with sorrow. “God, Zane, I’m sorry.”
Zane shook his head. “It’s not something I want to talk about, no offense. Either now or in the book.”
Elli patted his hand. “I hear you …but if you ever want to talk, I have some experience with violent crime.”
“You do?”
She nodded, and to Zane’s surprise, lifted her t-shirt. He saw the scars on her belly, jagged and brutal, and it took his breath away. “Courtesy of a psychopath who thought I belonged to him. I disagreed and so he stabbe
d me.” She said shortly, dropping her shirt. “So, you see? I can relate.”
“Wow,” Zane felt his voice shake, “You’re pretty open about it.”
Elli nodded, sipping her wine. “It happened. I can’t change that, but I don’t let it define me.”
“What does?”
“What?”
“What does define you, Elliana Morgan?”
She laughed softly. “I’m supposed to be interviewing you, remember?”
“Humor me.”
Elli gazed out to the street down to the Lagoon, contemplating for a long moment. “My family. My work. They’re both so intertwined, I can’t differentiate. My husband, Indio, is the reason I breathe in and out.” She laughed softly. “Literally, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
She met his gaze. “He killed the man who was stabbing me to death, got me to the hospital, and never left my side.” She rubbed her belly unconsciously. “Stuck with me through my recovery even when I was tired and in pain and bitching him out every five seconds.” She smiled at the memory, Indio calmly taking all her rage and hurt and fear and holding her tight, until she calmed down.
“Man.”
She blinked and looked back at Zane, who was impressed. “What?”
“Never seen love like that. Never had it.”
“I wish I could tell you that you will have it, but from what I’ve seen, it’s rare. God, that sounds so smug. What I mean is, I hope you find it, Zane. With someone who doesn’t mind calling you Steve.”
He laughed and clinked his glass to hers. “Amen. So, Elli Moretti, what do you say? Want to do this book with me?”
And Elli nodded and smiled. “Yes, actually, I do. Thank you, Zane. I’ll be honored to work with you.” She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. “Cheers to the book.”
“And to a great relationship.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Elli burst out laughing.
“A great working relationship,” she said, wagging a disapproving finger at him.
“Spoilsport.”
“Man-whore.”
“You know it, sweetcheeks.”
“Zane.”
“Sorry.”
Zane called Antonio that evening. “Tony, I’m asking, as your brother, drop this. Elli Moretti doesn’t deserve any more pain in her life. I saw what Aldo did to her, what he did to Yvetta. He deserved that bullet.”
Antonio was silent for a long time. “I can’t let it go, Zane. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Zane sighed and leaned his head against the wall. “Brother …please. You’ll either end up dead or in jail if you murder her, and I can’t lose you too.”
Antonio was quiet. “Zane, I’m in Italy. In Venice.”
Zane’s heart began to thump uncomfortably against his ribs. “Tony …”
“I saw you with her today. She’s beautiful.”
Zane heard the conflict in his brother’s voice. “Listen, what hotel are you in? Let’s meet and talk.”
“I can’t. I know where she lives. I have to end this.”
And he hung up.
“Fuck!” Zane screamed and raced out of the door, calling Elli’s number as he did.
Antonio Constanza parked his car at the bottom of the hill and trekked up through the darkness to the Navaro farmhouse. The house was in darkness, except for one room at the far end. He crept along the wall, looking through the edge of the window into the warmly lit room. He saw Elli sitting at the kitchen table, alone, reading. He fingered the knife in his pocket as he ran his eyes over her body. The thought of actually stabbing another person was making him feel sick—especially a tiny, fragile woman—but he had to finish what Aldo started.
It had destroyed Antonio when Aldo had died. The circumstances of his death—Indio Navaro shooting his brother through the head to stop him stabbing an already horrifically injured Elli to death—they didn’t mean anything, just that this woman, and her beauty, had destroyed his brother.
Their father had hardly cared, only coming to Aldo’s funeral for show—and even then, it was so sparsely attended that Antonio felt it keenly. Zane, his father, and his mother had stayed just long enough to throw mud on Aldo’s coffin, but he, Antonio, had spent the night huddled by his big brother’s grave, drinking and swearing revenge.
Antonio crept around the next door and pushed on it. To his surprise, it opened easily, and he slipped in, creeping along the dark corridors until he reached the kitchen. He pushed the door slightly and it swung open.
Elli Moretti was standing in the middle of the kitchen, gazing at him. God, she was achingly beautiful, but Antonio steeled himself. He drew the knife from his pocket, but Elli didn’t even glance down at it.
“Hello, Antonio,” she said softly. “I hear you’ve come to kill me.”
Zane drove like a madman to get to Elli’s home. Cherry had pulled every favor to get her address and found him a rental car, even at this time of the evening,
As he passed the outskirts of Venice and into the rural countryside, his mind raced over the conversation he’d had with Elli earlier. When he told her what he was, who he was, and who his half-brother had been, she had been remarkably calm. He’d apologized over and over for not telling her the truth.
“Zane, it’s okay. We can handle this.”
“He’s just a kid.” He’d almost been in tears. “He’s hurting. Please …I don’t want either of you to get hurt. I’m on my way—please just keep him talking until I can get there. Is Indio with you?”
“Yes. Don’t worry …we’ll handle this,” she repeated, so calm he couldn’t believe it.
“I’m sorry, Elli, for not telling you who I really am. I never meant for this; I truly just wanted to meet you.” He was almost sobbing now.
“Zane, it’s okay, calm down. Just come and get your brother. We’ll keep him safe.”
Antonio stared at her. “Zane warned you?”
Elli nodded. “He did, but if I’m honest, I’ve been waiting for you too. Ever since it happened, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the consequences of that terrible night to come back to haunt me. It felt …unfinished.”
“You killed my brother.”
“I didn’t fire the gun, but yes, it is my responsibility. Just like it was Aldo’s choice to stab me repeatedly. Just like he did to Yvetta. I survived, Yvetta didn’t. He kept a video of her murder, did you know that? He kept it to watch over and over. I saw the video. It was the worst, most sickening thing I’ve ever seen. He also shot my friend, Ori, when she was holding her new-born baby. In cold blood, Antonio.”
Antonio blinked, and suddenly, he looked like a lost child. “He did that?”
Elli nodded. “Antonio, please, come sit with me and talk. If it makes you feel more comfortable, bring the knife with you, although I do have to warn you that Indio has a gun aimed at your head right now.”
Antonio started as Elli looked beyond him into the darkness of the corridor, and looked behind him. Indio, his green eyes dark with anger, was leveling his pistol at him. As furious as he looked, when Indio spoke, his voice was calm. “No one is getting hurt tonight, Antonio, but least of all, my wife. Your brother is on his way. I suggest you sit down and talk things through with Elli, and contrary to what she said, I’d prefer it if you dropped the knife. Just in case of any misunderstandings.”
Antonio stared at the gun. “Was that the gun you used to kill my brother?” His voice was scratchy with emotion and Indio nodded.
“It is. I cannot tell you I’m sorry I killed Aldo, Antonio, because he was about to gut my wife. If you had seen what he did to her …” his words choked off, and Elli was shocked to see tears in her husband’s eyes.
Antonio looked back at Elli, gazing at her intently, before slowly putting the knife on the ground. Indio moved in and kicked it away from him.
“Good. Sit. Would you like some wine?”
Elli’s lips twitched at the scene, her natural humor coming out. It was just like Indi
o to be both protective but courteous in this ridiculous situation. “Boys, relax. Let’s just have a drink and talk.”
Indio didn’t sit, but he tucked the pistol back in his waistband. Antonio seemed shell-shocked. Elli held her hand out to him and he took it, sitting opposite her. She studied him. He was in his early twenties, with a shock of dark hair and bright blue eyes. She couldn’t really see any resemblance to Aldo in his boyish face, but then in her memory, Aldo’s features had become as grotesque and exaggerated as the hideous cherub mask he had been wearing as he stabbed her.
In turn, Antonio was studying her. “I can see why my brother fell for you,” he said quietly, but Elli shook her head.
“He never loved me, Antonio. I was nothing to him—just there to help him get his revenge on Indio. And what a joke it was, because the thing Indio was damned for was for being with a woman Aldo wanted—and who he, Aldo, eventually murdered. Yvetta. After Aldo had murdered her, he told Indio that he would never rest until he destroyed Indio too, by killing the woman he truly loved. Me. From the second he knew about me, Antonio, Aldo had planned to kill me. Your brother was sick, Antonio, sick in the head. His sense of entitlement over what he had, and what he thought he should have, sent him insane.”
She was still holding Antonio’s hand, and he made no move to pull away. Elli smiled at him. “I am sorry that you lost a brother, truly. But Aldo made his decision. He had the chance to walk away as a free man if he left Indio and me alone, but he chose to try and kill me. There really was only one way it was going to end.”
Elli closed her eyes, swallowing back the memory of that day. She still remembered everything: being taken from the gala celebrating Indio’s architectural achievements, seeing her friend, Ori, shot (and thankfully only injured), to being hunted through the Masquerade Festival crowds, drugged and helpless when Aldo found her. She could still feel the pain of his knife ripping through her.
“Elli Bella, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and nodded to Indio, whose green eyes were concerned. “I’m fine, baby.” She turned back to Antonio. Indio came to sit by his wife, sliding an arm around her waist and kissing her temple.
Dark Masquerade: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Page 18