I slammed the receptor shut and threw it across the room. A numbing tingle framed the edges of my body. The pompous jerk actually thought marriage was the only way to keep me safe. He didn't even let me explain the pictures. The nerve! I could take care of myself. A familiar prickling sensation surrounded my lips.
Breathe Marli…breathe..
All four walls crashed in at once. Jordan asked me to marry him, and basically I told him to go to Hell. In only a few short hours, I managed to remove both Jesse and Jordan from my life. The "S.S. Destroyer of Love's" next port? Italy.
Brittany and Alex believed the lie about Jesse's mugging. Luckily I'd brought a long sleeved shirt which covered the bruises. When the questions started, I told them an abbreviated version of my break-up with Jesse. I said nothing about the pictures, however, or my horrific argument with Jordan. The hurtful memory, coupled with my aches, caused unbearable pain. I refused to check my cell for messages. The photos would be public now and Rick would be plotting Jesse's murder. I also didn't want to deal with Jordan's accusations or commands, not that I expected he'd ever call again after last night.
After packing for our trip home, I returned to Jesse's suite. The security tag team lingered together in the kitchen and their conversation ceased when I walked in. Jesse's bedroom door opened and he hobbled in on Brody's arm. He eyed everyone crowding in.
"Guys, mind clearing out? I want to talk to Marli alone." One by one they left. "Bolt the door, Marli. We need to talk and I don't want any interruptions."
Another demanding Mason brother.
I did as asked and curled on the sofa facing him. Jesse twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.
"Are you okay, babe? Moose said you were banged up pretty bad."
"I've been through worse," I lied. My heart hadn't felt such pain since Daniel's death, and yet, this seemed more unbearable. I looked away and pushed down the lump choking me.
Carefully, Jesse leaned forward, lifted my chin. "What is it?
"Jordan and I broke up for good this time."
"Why do you say that?"
I dropped the envelope in his lap. "Because of these."
Jesse's eyes, brows and lips changed positions with each picture. "Holy shit! I better talk to him."
"I wouldn't suggest it. He's not listening to reason about the pictures. Honestly, I'm so tired of being in the middle of your insane competition with each other." I bounced off the sofa, pacing in step with my rant. "And Jordan's possessiveness...I mean, he thinks he has to constantly protect me, like I can't survive without him. He actually demanded we go to Vegas and get married so he can quit worrying about me. Can you believe that?"
Jesse put his hands up. "What? Jordan asked you to marry him? What did you tell him?"
"No, of course. There's no way I'm marrying him...right now. Not like this. Probably never. Gripes! You're both a pain in the ass! I'm out of here. I'll see you at the concert."
"NO REGRETS" kept the crowd on their feet clapping and dancing the entire hour. I noticed Jesse wince occasionally when reaching over his guitar. After their set closed, Milo and Brody took Alex and Brittany in the motorcoach, leading away the throng of groupies, mixed with Press posing as fans, from the exit. Moose and the "silent hulk" drove Jess and me to the airport in a separate car.
Holding the side with the stab wound, Jesse eased his arm on the back of the seat in an attempt to pull me closer, but I moved against the door.
"I can't."
Jesse raised the glass partition between the front and back seat to give us privacy. He angled toward me, keeping his distance, but his fingers played with my hair…and I let him.
"Jordan does love you, Mars. He's just not good with situations he can't control, which is, essentially, where he's been since he met you."
"I don't want him to control me."
"His fear of losing you blinds him to where the line is on control and protecting you. He's so worried if he lets down his guard, someone will take you from him, or worst, that you'll fall for someone else."
Jesse's phone buzzed and he checked the number. "Speaking of the devil, I just received his billionth death threat. Think I'll crash with Moose in Buffalo a few days and give Jordan time to cool off. I can't talk to him when he's like this."
"He didn't believe me when I tried to explain the pictures." Jesse's thumb traced down my arm. I clamped his hand. "Please, don't." He dragged his arm back to his side of the backseat.
"I'd like to know who took those. Wiz said nothing hit the news sites. It appears to be personal and you probably received the only hard prints."
My twitchy neck hair pulled. "Weird."
We discussed all the reasons for the pictures and the list was long, but not the suspects. I threw out Heather Sandberg's name and while Jesse scoffed at the idea, he didn't dismiss it entirely. I wondered about Doug, but said nothing. The idea he'd follow me thousands of miles and just take pictures didn't make sense, especially when we'd be leaving for Italy in a week. Jordan would be another likely suspect; however, his reaction and wanting his twin brother to suffer a painful death ruled out the possibility. The "spy theory" seemed the most logical. I'd be home in a few hours and although it would be around two in the morning, if The Program wanted retribution, I felt certain someone would be waiting.
"So now what? If Jordan's gone and I'm out of the picture, do you think you'll be reassigned to Doug Peterson?"
I'd pushed the frightening thought far back in my brain, but the possibility, unfortunately, was likely, and I hated Jordan all over again.
"I'm committed to going to Italy, but I don't want to think beyond that. All I know is I'm vulnerable right now, so I've got to be careful not to repeat the past."
"Personally I don't like the guy, but I may be biased." We chuckled but stopped, allowing an awkward quiet to fill the space. "What about Cornell? Aren't you already registered?"
The ping of regret hurt worse than I expected. "There's still time to change things. Maybe I'll spend a semester at Ohio State and stick closer to home."
"Won't Sam try to weasel his way back into your life?"
My laugh sounded too loud. "No. Last I heard, he'd already moved on—found someone new to mend his broken heart. Guess I didn't mean that much to him after all."
Jesse took my hand and kissed it. "You know that's not true. Sometimes it's easier to guard an aching heart by pretending to give it someone else."
I said nothing, listening to the sound of the road beneath the tires hum a sad whine and feeling the gentle stroke of Jesse's thumb on top of my hand. The car slowed and took the exit to the airport. Ten minutes and the final chapter of my life with the Mason brothers would close.
Jesse tugged my hand. "Do you love him?" I didn't answer. "Mars? Between you and me only, I swear. Do you love Jordan?"
The lump in my throat barely moved when I swallowed and a hot tear dripped off my cheek.
"With every piece of my broken heart."
21
TUSCANY ROMANCE
The in-flight movie thankfully captured Doug's attention. I, on the other hand, stared aimlessly around the first-class cabin, listening to the plot ramble through my earphones. I was on my way to Italy, one of the world's most romantic places on earth, with a handsome, sexy boy…and miserable.
Unable to stop them, my thoughts drifted to Jordan. We hadn't spoken since our fight the night of Jesse's stabbing. He didn't even try to talk to me about the pictures, just assumed the worst, which hurt. His insinuation that I couldn't survive without constant rescuing, followed by a chauvinistic demand for marriage to alleviate his worries, brought all communications, in fact our entire relationship, to a screaming finish.
Jesse called a few times, leaving messages, ironically asking me to give Jordan another chance, or return to him, but warned he wouldn't let me go this time. I'd already been offered a state of permanency with one Mason brother and in such a non-romantic way; "live organ donation" sounded more appealing.
The problem? I wanted something permanent with Jordan. Taking back my refusal to his off-handed proposal would have been easy, but I was stubborn, refusing to budge and yet holding onto the fairytale fantasy. He called and instant messaged me constantly over the week, but I ignored him, choosing to cry myself to sleep listening to his messages, instead. Two days ago, everything stopped.
I did break one rule. The day after I returned from Jesse's concert, a small package arrived, which I opened before realizing it, too, came from Jordan. Besides a custom designed computer with installed features not available to the general public, he'd sent me an additional birthday present—my own pink "secret decoder" receptor. I hid the tiny device inside a box of feminine hygiene products no boy would dare touch.
Peterson's villa, an old restored farmhouse perched on a grassy knoll in the town of Siena, had been in their family over a century. Doug's grandparents were the present residents. Exquisite, leaded-glass entry doors sparkled in the midday sun, dotting the portico in colorful glitter. Inside, the mouthwatering smell of something seasoned heavily with garlic drifted to where we stood on a floor of natural stones laid in an intricate circle beneath our feet. Across the foyer, double doors led to a kitchen where the sound of voices chattering excitedly in Italian and clanging pans competed for attention.
"Ciao!" Doug called out.
A little lady, wide as she was tall, burst through the doors, waving her arms in the air. She grabbed Doug, pulled him from his great height to her level and smothered him with kisses. Doug latched tightly to my hand when several people surrounded us, hugging, kissing, and pinching our cheeks.
"There's our beautiful Marli!" English and a voice I recognized.
"Mr. Peterson." I acknowledged guardedly.
"Tony, please," he grinned, his expression light, unlike in our last encounter. Here, he definitely appeared more casual, donning a pair of khaki shorts and a bright red shirt, with bare toes wiggling in sandals. "We're more relaxed here. No timetables. We just indulge in fun." He winked, patting Doug's cheek, "And lots of 'amore.'"
That word I knew.
"Marli? You came!" Marah rushed from the kitchen and pulled me out of Doug's guarded embrace. She towed me up a narrow staircase. "I hope you don't mind sharing a room with me. We have our own bathroom and a view of the pool." She darted a teasing look to Doug who lagged behind, dragging our suitcases up the stairs. "Anyway, it's not fair if he gets you all to himself."
Marah continued jabbering to our room at the end of the hall. Doug caught my arm, holding me outside the door. "I'll come for you in twenty minutes. You'll need a break from 'chatter-box.' I'm thinking of taking a cool swim before lunch. Care to join me?"
"Make it thirty and I'll be the girl in the beach towel waiting in the hall." I stretched on my tired toes and kissed him lightly. "Where's your room?" I asked with a playful lilt.
"At the other end of the hall. Grammy will probably sleep on the floor between our rooms to keep things proper." He kissed my forehead. "See you in thirty."
Walls covered in pale blue and peach floral wallpaper surrounded the twin brass beds. Arched glass doors encased in heavy wooden moulding, opened to a balcony overlooking the pool. The sound of laughter drifted from the yard below. I stopped my unpacking and walked out on the private terrace. Below, a large rectangular swimming pool carved out the center of a manicured lawn. A rambunctious water fight ensued, drenching anyone nearby.
"It must be fun to be part of a large family."
Marah joined me. "Maybe someday you will find out. I see the way Doug looks at you. He's never brought anyone to Italy before." She gave me a formidable look, protective of her brother. "He adores you, Marli."
"I know. I like him, too."
I put the last of my things in the top drawer, pausing before placing the small blue box on top. I slipped the receptor from its hiding place and turned it on, halfway hoping for a missed call, but discovered nothing. Disgusted, I turned it off and tucked the box under a stack of panties.
Midnight tolled on the antique clock downstairs, the deep chime echoing throughout the house. I lay awake, my mind unable to shut down from either the day's excitement, or the time difference. More likely though, because thoughts of Jordan haunted me.
The sultry night air whispered over my bare legs. Outside, a nighttime lullaby echoed as crickets sang to each other and frogs called from the pond at the end of the property. Slipping from bed, I walked onto the balcony. The full moon cloaked the grounds below in a silvery glow. The hem of Jordan's Cornell University T-shirt ruffled against my thighs and I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts scatter on the Tuscan night air. I nearly fainted when two arms circled my waist and a pair of lips nibbled my earlobe.
"Doug you scared me!" I hissed, glancing through the open door to make sure I hadn't awakened Marah. She flipped over, but settled deep into her pillow again.
"Sorry," he muttered, his lips softly caressing my neck. "I couldn't sleep, so I came to check on you. The sight of you silhouetted in the moonlight forced me to your side."
He turned me in his arms and a flicker of disappointment scrunched his mouth when he eyed the carnelian bear—Cornell's mascot, spread across my chest. As if suddenly remembering the thousands of miles of ocean keeping me from Jordan, Doug's expression changed and he pressed my mouth with an unabandoned kiss, pulling my body into his. Only a thin layer of cotton separated my skin from his hands, slowly gliding down my back and over the curve of my hips, bunching the fabric upward.
I pushed away his hands. "No." Even in the dark shadows, I could see the unapologetic grin. A nervous gulp barely cleared my throat. "You should go."
He brought my hands to his mouth. "You don't honestly think I could sleep, now." Fingers lightly stoked my arms. "Let's go down to the kitchen where no one will hear us."
Hear us do what?
He tugged me past his sleeping sister, out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Doug poured us cups of herbal tea, placing a plate of cheese and a loaf of bread on the wooden trestle table. Dark eyes evaluated me and I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I wore more than panties under the oversized shirt.
He settled on the bench across from me. "You're sexy even in Mason's T-shirt. I damn near swallowed my tongue when I saw you upstairs standing under the halo of the moon."
"Looking is one thing. Touching is another. Neither of us needs to jeopardize our status in The Program."
"You know, Marli, if we're officially committed, they really don't care how far we take things. The diamond in the bracelet remains intact once the diamond goes on the finger."
"Well I don't see myself wearing any diamonds in the near future. The one in my bracelet isn't falling out because of a reckless choice." I already suffered from one of those. Doug's expression showed I bruised him with my blunt statement. I quickly amended my harsh words, "Doug, trust me, you're not ready for a 'drama queen' like me."
My gentle tease brought an easy grin on his lips. "You underestimate what I can handle. I think it's you who's not ready, but I can be patient, knowing what the prize will be in the end." He reached across the table, taking my hand. His fingers lightly traced up the inside of my arm and under the edge of my sleeve. "Very patient."
His sensual tone sounded more like a warning and I mentally wrapped caution tape around my heart.
An older, more portly version of Tony Peterson with thick waves of silver hair, appeared from the dark hallway, startling us. Doug released my hand immediately.
"Gramps? Why are you up so late?" he choked.
Gramps gave us a long appraising stare. It felt my T-shirt shrink under his scrutinizing eyes. I crossed my legs, pulled by bed-head locks over my shoulder to hide my chest, and hugged myself tight. My parental conscience, cursed to me whenever I left home, waved an "I told you so" finger for not wearing pajamas. I thought about wearing my silky polka-dot pajamas, but the air felt too hot, and…well, I just wanted to wear Jordan's shirt.
Doug surely also fe
lt his grandfather's judgmental glower, wearing only loose gym shorts. I didn't even want to think what he wore…or didn't underneath.
"Needed some milk to settle my stomach. Too much garlic in the sauce tonight." He poured a glass and settled next to his grandson.
"So, tell me about yourself, young lady. All I know is you and Douglas are in some government program in the States, and that my grandson is quite smitten with you."
My cheeks blazed hot. "Um, I'm from Ohio…my parents are divorced and I live with my dad, and, uh, I'm also fond of your grandson."
He smiled, giving Doug's shoulder a squeeze. "I like her. You need someone to keep you reined in." He rubbed the milk moustache from his upper lip with a paper napkin. "I best be getting back upstairs before your grandmother misses me. You wouldn't want her to come looking for me and find the two of you 'undressed' like this." He ruffled Doug's hair and mumbled "goodnight."
Doug's brow arched, "So you're 'fond' of me? Hmm, can't get more platonic than fond of."
I nibbled a chunk of cheese remembering that my association with Doug represented a business merger in his father's eyes. "I think friendship is a good place for us right now. I am curious why your sister and grandfather think you're 'smitten' with me? What exactly have you told people?"
Doug moved and straddled the bench next to me. I gulped my cheese chunk, feeling the warmth of his breath below my ear.
"That I can't stop thinking about you, worrying and wondering what you're doing every minute of every day."
"Shhh!" I interrupted, covering his mouth with my hand. Doug sat back, stunned. I lowered my voice. "Doug, we both know why I'm really here. Please don't make more out it." I took his hand loosely in mine, playing with his fingers. "I need you to understand I'm going to college and pursuing what I want before committing to anyone. In fact, I've already registered at Cornell University."
Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut Page 24