She smiled. “Can I get drunk now?”
“Why not?” He handed her the martini and picked up the phone. “Two more,” he said to Maddalena. Then he picked up his own glass and settled back in the chair.
A couple rounds later, they were both quite intoxicated. Kate looked down at her skin, starting to turn pink. “I’d better go in before I burn.”
“No need.” He fetched a large sun umbrella from where it stood next to the house and set it up over her. Then he picked up the bottle of sunscreen. “I thought you would eventually need this.” He poured some onto his hand, adrenaline starting a flutter in his chest. What if she says no? “May I?”
Her wary eyes found his, the pulse jumping at her throat. But she didn’t look away, so he waited, slicking the cream across his palms, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, the silly flips his stomach was making. An eternity passed before she nodded and pulled off the blouse. He almost smiled, but held it in, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Instead, he sat down on the edge of her lounge chair and smoothed the lotion over her left arm, massaging it into her skin with both hands. When he worked it up to her shoulders, she sat forward so he could apply it to her neck and upper back. She shivered beneath his hands.
He stopped, his mouth going dry. “Is this too much?” She shook her head, and he continued on to the other arm. Her skin felt heavenly to him, silky, warm. It had already been too long since he’d last touched her.
Hell, he shouldn’t be touching her now. Not after he’d agreed to let Dom set up a betrothal to Delfina Andretti. His heart plummeted to his feet. How could he possibly give Kate up? How could he walk away from this wild and tender creature who trembled beneath his touch, when he wanted nothing more than to soothe, to protect her? How could he leave this fierce woman who had captured his heart?
He would have to, if he was going to keep his cosca safe.
But how?
He looked at the bruises on Kate’s face and body. He had to leave her. It was the only way to keep her safe too. Unless….
Unless he made her his mistress, supposing she would accept that solution. He couldn’t see Kate accepting second place in anything. But, here she was nevertheless, even though he hadn’t removed his ring or packed away the pictures of Antonella.
Of course, maybe that was because Fuente still had her passport and Carlo had his eye on her. Somehow, he had to convince her to stay.
When he finished her right arm and her hand slipped from his grasp, he moved down to her feet, smoothing the cool lotion over them, between her toes, kneading the muscles of her arches, his fingers working over the delicate bones of her feet and ankles. Then the meat of her calves was between his hands. He slowly worked his way up to the tender skin behind her knees, one of his favorite parts of a woman. Cristo, they all were. She flinched when he touched that soft, soft skin, and he stopped and met her eyes. “Would you like to do the rest?”
She looked down at him, a bit unsteadily. His heart hammered like this was his very first time with a woman. “No. Go ahead,” she finally said.
He gave her a slow smile, then coated her knees and thighs, his fingers working in concentric circles as he moved toward the juncture of her legs. Slow down. As his fingers neared her bikini line, she tensed and he stopped again. He took a shallow breath; it was the first one he’d taken in over a minute. Removing his hands from her, he sat back, his mouth parched. This might be the last time you ever touch her; don’t ruin it.
She opened her eyes and stared at him for a few seconds. He couldn’t read her. “You missed a spot.” She motioned to her chest.
He let a lazy smile spread across his face. “So I did.” Pouring more sunscreen onto his palms, he smoothed them across her upper chest, his fingers running over her collarbones, the little hollow at the base of her throat, the tops of her breasts. His heart thrashed in his chest. How he wanted to continue touching her. Kiss her. Looking into her eyes, he saw them filled with trust. He closed his own, forced himself to breathe, to ignore the demands of his cock. He was rock hard and ready. But now was not the time. He rose carefully, keeping his back to her, and waited for his erection to go down.
“Thank you,” she said dreamily. He smiled to himself. Mille grazie, Kate. Even though it was agony to stop. He hoped she wouldn’t think badly of what he’d done later, when she was sober. And he wasn’t so completely besotted.
Kate woke up in her lounge chair; from the position of the sun, it was now late afternoon. She looked over at Enrico, reading in his chair. He’d obviously been moving the umbrella around to keep her shaded as the sun crossed the sky.
She could almost still feel his hands on her body. She’d nearly said no to the sunscreen, but the hopeful look on his face had made her change her mind.
Fortunately. Warmth filled her chest. When he’d stopped and asked if she wanted to do the rest—it was a small thing, but it was everything. Because he’d asked. Because he always would.
Though he had pushed her to accept his touch again. Once his hands were on her, they raised a hunger for him, for more. A hunger she wasn’t ready for. She hadn’t wanted the massage to turn to sex, but she hadn’t wanted it to end either.
The cordless phone on the table between them rang. Enrico picked it up, spoke briefly, then seeing she was awake, handed it to her. “It is for you.”
She took the phone. “Who is this?”
The man introduced himself, but she didn’t register the name because of what he said next. “I am the director of the city morgue.”
“Oh.” Her stomach flipped, and she pressed a hand into her abdomen. She forced her voice to stay neutral. “I suppose you’re calling about my husband.”
“Yes. His uncle is here. He is insisting on taking the body.”
“He can have it.” She didn’t suffer a second’s debate.
She heard a hand slide over the receiver and a muffled discussion. Then a new voice came on the line. “I am glad you are seeing reason, mia cara.”
As she recognized Carlo’s cool, dry voice, her heart sped up. “I want nothing further to do with Vince. He’s all yours.”
“You are Lucchesi’s whore then. I had wondered if my nephew was being hasty.”
Every inch of her skin blazed white-hot. “He was. I was never unfaithful to him, until after he accused me of it. And I am no one’s whore.”
“That is between you and God.”
“You have a lot of nerve, Carlo, invoking God with me. You of all people.” Enrico motioned for the phone, his face angry, but she shook her head. The last thing she wanted was Carlo thinking he’d cowed her.
He chuckled. “Such fire, signora. Or should I say signorina, now that you are without a husband?”
His tone was almost flirtatious. “You don’t seem all that angry with me. I thought you’d want me dead.”
“Oh, I assure you, I do want that… and more. Beforehand of course. I have no interest in a cold body.” An icy wash of fear coursed through her as his hints hit home. “However, I have read the police report and have seen the photos of what my nephew did to you, and I disapprove.” Kate shuddered. Carlo—Carlo!—had seen those pictures. “Such lovely… flesh should not be marked so.” His voice lingered obscenely on “flesh,” the sound conjuring disturbing images of Vince’s attack, images she did not want to visit, but could not stop seeing.
Her hand went numb from gripping the phone too hard. “You son of a bitch,” she finally whispered.
Carlo tsked at her. “Such language. You Americans can be so crude.”
“You called me a whore.”
Carlo laughed. “So I did.” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was harder. “But you earned that.”
“Didn’t you?” She fought to keep her voice from trembling with anger.
“What lies has Lucchesi been filling your head with?”
“You killed his mother, his brothers.”
“Not that I am admitting anything
, but did he tell you why I might have done such a thing?”
She frowned. “A business dispute.”
Carlo barked with laughter. “He would put it that way.” He paused. “His father kidnapped my son.”
“What?” She laughed in surprise. “That’s preposterous.”
“Ask him.”
“No. This conversation is over.”
“If you say so. But do ask him, signorina. And watch him closely when you do.”
The phone clicked in her ear, the line going dead. Kate stared at the phone for a few seconds, then absently placed it on the table.
“You are shaking,” Enrico said. “Did he threaten you?”
“Sort of. Not really.”
Enrico took her hands in both of his. “Then what has you so upset?”
“He saw…” Her voice trembled, broke. She took a deep breath. “He saw the police report. The photos of me.”
He winced. “I am sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that he saw them. It was his reaction.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants me.” She looked away from Enrico. “I think he always has.”
“I will not let him touch you.”
She closed her eyes and shivered, picturing Carlo’s avid eyes tracking her when she was with Vince. “He never said anything directly. But now I know for sure.”
“You were his nephew’s wife.”
“And now I’m not.” She was quiet for a moment. “I never realized being with Vince protected me from him.”
“I will protect you.”
She turned angry eyes on him. “Will you?”
Enrico swallowed down his natural response. He deserved her scorn. “I swear it.”
“The only way you can protect me is if you know who’s betrayed you.”
He hoped he was right about Trucco. “Ruggero is working on it.”
“Can you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“I trust Antonio.”
“So do I.” Jealousy jabbed a knife in him, hard. So she trusted Antonio, but not him. And if she knew how he’d lied to her…. He squeezed her hand, looking into her eyes.
After a moment, she returned the squeeze, exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“For blaming you. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”
He shook his head. “This whole… mess has been going on for a long time. You just got caught in the middle.”
“Carlo said something strange.”
“What?” Her tone raised the hair on the back of his neck.
“He said your father kidnapped his son. That that was why he killed your mother and brothers.”
Enrico sucked in a breath, trying not to show how rattled he was. What could he say?
When he didn’t immediately answer, she continued. “I told him that was preposterous.” She hesitated, studying his face. “Isn’t it?”
He looked down at their feet for a second, then up at her. “I wish it was.”
“How can this be? Unless—”
“Unless my father was in the Mafia? That is what you were going to say, yes?”
She nodded, holding his eyes.
Tell her. Tell her now. He searched her face, saw the dread in her eyes. Not yet. “He did arrange to have Dario kidnapped. My father had contacts—Carlo’s enemies—and they helped. You know the saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” She nodded. “My father very much believed that. But it was a mistake.”
“What happened?”
“They took him too seriously, or maybe they just hated Carlo too much. They cut off one of Dario’s fingers and sent it to Carlo.” Enrico damned himself for the lie. It had been his father who had done the cutting. If only he could tell her the truth about the situation. The whole truth.
Kate gasped. “That’s horrible.”
“Carlo thought Dario was dead. That is why he ordered the attack on my family.” He hated making Carlo look reasonable, but saying anything else would make her suspicious.
“How do you live like this?”
He shrugged. “You get used to it.”
“I never want to get used to this. I just want my life back.” Kate withdrew her hand from his and hugged herself.
An ache started deep in his chest. How would she ever accept him, and the malavita?
He needed some advice, and there was only one person he wanted to consult. He leaned toward her. “We need to get away from all this for a few days.”
“How?”
“We could go to Capri and get you a new wardrobe.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “I’ve always wanted to go there. It looks so pretty in the pictures I’ve seen.”
“It is.” He hesitated. “And there is someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“My godfather, Vittorio Battista. Aside from Dom and my father, he is all the family I have left.”
“But he’s not related by blood?”
Enrico shook his head. “It does not matter. He is like my own father.” He couldn’t explain it, not yet. But Vittorio was more than just a godfather. He was Enrico’s compare, his co-father. He’d taken the vow of comparaggio in front of the cosca when Enrico was born. He’d sworn that he would watch over Enrico, that he would never betray him. That he would regard him as a son. As his own blood.
She looked up at the house. “It’s a shame you have no family living with you. You strike me as being rather lonely.”
His throat constricted. How she cut right through him. “I am surrounded by people.”
“Employees. Not family. Not friends.” She paused. “Do you even have any friends?”
“Dom.”
“Your cousin. Anyone you’re not related to, that you’re not in business with?”
He shook his head.
“That’s not healthy.”
His position, his business, made it impossible to have friends other than family. Family was all he had, and very little of that left now. His skin burned under the pity in her gaze. He’d never chosen this life. It had been forced upon him. It and all the consequences—no friends, a dead family, a target on his back, no respite, no rest, only constant vigilance. When was the last time he hadn’t felt exhausted? He rubbed his hands over his face.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
Anger flashed through him. He just wanted to be honest with her for once. But he couldn’t. “I do not need your pity.” He jumped from the chair and strode to the house, his feet carrying him without conscious thought. He’d wanted her, and even though he’d had her, he was no closer to what he really wanted. He was well past mere lust. He wanted her to be his. Maybe even, someday, his wife. He wanted her to understand, and accept, him. Him and the malavita. And that was never going to happen. Hell, he probably couldn’t even make her his mistress, much less his wife. No, he had to marry Delfina fucking Andretti.
Her feet slapped on the flagstones as she ran up to him. She grabbed his arm outside the French doors that led inside. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m upset and frustrated and still more than a little drunk, and I’m taking everything out on you.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I really don’t want to fight.”
He smirked. “That seems to be all you have wanted to do since you came here.”
She looked at the stones beneath their feet. “I’m scared. I don’t handle it well.”
He took a breath, then blew it out. He could be honest with her on this point. “I am scared too. I want so much from you, and I am afraid I cannot have it.”
Kate’s stomach filled with a hard lump of shame. She had no intention of staying. She had no intention of letting him break her heart when he realized she was no substitute for Antonella. “I’m sorry.”
He put a finger on her lips. “Stop apologizing.”
“I should say the same to you.”
His expression was grave.
“I am not sure how I can ever make amends for failing to protect you. But I want to try. Will you let me?”
She made her tone teasing when she answered. “As long as it involves a trip to Capri.”
He smiled. “You will love it. It is one of my favorite places on earth.”
Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. Going on this trip was probably not the best idea. But she was loath to leave his side. Not with Carlo out there, thinking about her. Making his plans. Dreaming his obscene dreams.
Better to choose the lesser of two evils. She looked at Enrico, the tenderness in his gaze squeezing her heart. She didn’t want to think of him that way, but he had just as much potential to hurt her as Carlo. The difference was, Enrico wouldn’t enjoy it.
But he would hurt her just the same.
CHAPTER 17
Ever since he’d massaged her by the pool the day before, Enrico hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about Kate. The memory of touching her hit him hard that evening as he was lathering up in the shower. He’d put himself through a grueling workout, but it hadn’t helped.
He ran the bar of soap over his arms, unable to stop picturing her there with him. He wanted her hands touching him, not his own. When he’d rubbed the sunscreen on her, she was all softness, all curves, her body pliable, yielding. He closed his eyes. His hands kneaded her thighs, his eyes glued to the fleshy mound of her sex. He cupped it with his hand, then pushed the thin fabric aside, his fingers parting the lips of her slick little figa, his mouth on her high ripe breasts, her hard nipples rolling under his tongue. Her lush body beneath his, opening up to him.
He soaped up his cock, the length going rigid as he imagined her mouth on him, his cock moving in and out between her ripe lips, the little moans in her throat as she swallowed him down, her tongue swirling over the head, again and again, driving him mad.
Now he was taking her on her hands and knees, thrusting into her from behind. She was so tight, gripping him like a glove, and he was fucking her like it was the last thing he was going to do on this earth. His hand slid up and down in a desperate rhythm. Cristo. Her ass jiggled as she pressed back into him, as his hips slapped against hers, her moans deepening as he slammed his cock into her.
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