by Tacie Graves
The bitterness in his voice surprised her. He expected her to believe that the only reason he brought Ivy was for her? And what about why she needed a friend? Was he going to address that? Anger masked heartache, and she lashed out.
“Sure. I get that.” Mina stepped away a fraction and nodded sagely. “The best lever is the one that’s already in place, right? You bring someone I care about and let them make your excuses for you. Perfect.” Sarcasm oozed from every pore. “Well, we all knew you were a master manipulator, but it’s good to see that you haven’t lost your edge.”
Marco growled low in his throat and Mina had a moment to gloat over drawing first blood before he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against him as an ancient Citroën made the turn and rattled past them. Her yelp of surprise melted into a groan as he held her in his arms, the position a perfect storm of emotional triggers. Just having his hand on her set her nerves buzzing. She could feel his heartbeat and smell the coffee on his breath--it was absolutely intoxicating.
The muscle at the corner of his jaw clenched and relaxed, and she watched mesmerized as he fought his temper for control. He shifted his grip on her arm, and his eyes fell on red marks that his grip had left under his fingers. He stood there for a long moment staring at them, and then his mouth twisted. He pulled her closer making sure not to hurt her again, and placed a breath of a kiss against the injured skin. Mina sucked in a breath as his lips touched her, sighing as Marco released her arm, leaving it to rest on his shoulder.
“I am not trying to manipulate you.” He sounded exhausted. Mina couldn’t imagine he’d slept much more than she had, although for different reasons. He’d been traveling almost non-stop for seventy-two hours, with two trans-Atlantic flights and God knows how many miles traveled. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
Mina curled her hand along the back of his neck. She felt his hair tickle her and she couldn’t help but thread it through her fingers. Marco wrapped his free arm firmly around her waist and held her there, almost as if he were afraid she’d run away. Again.
“You could have called.” She knew she sounded flippant, but she was too hurt to tread carefully.
“Called where?” The frustration was back. “You weren’t in our rooms, you weren’t at the office. Mamma said that Gio had put you on a plane, so I flew to Miami, but when I got there you weren’t there either.” Marco glared at her, accusation clear in his eyes. “You disappeared. No word. No warning--just gone.”
Mina put a little space between them so she could look at him.
“Hang on a second--you’re not putting this on me,” she said, trying to pull away, but Marco refused to give an inch, and she refused to give him the pleasure of struggling. “I didn’t disappear. I left. With good reason, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Marco loosened his grip and Mina pushed until she was as far away from him as possible.
It wasn’t far enough.
He was standing there, less than a foot away, and yet she felt like they were still worlds apart. How could he blame her for not calling, not explaining? He was the one who needed to explain, but no, that would never occur to him. He’d never admit that he was just as bad as Ethan, just as guilty as his father, stringing women along. Making promises and then breaking them, leaving a string of bleeding hearts in his wake.
Hurt flashed through her, and she grabbed it, slashing out at him with its razor edge.
“How is Serafina, anyway?” Mina showed her teeth in the semblance of a smile. “You didn’t lose her, too, did you?” She made a tsking sound. “You really should be more careful with your toys. Someday you’re going to break one and not be able to get a replacement.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed in the sunlight, dark hair falling over a frowning brow, and Mina shivered as she watched the emotion fade from his face. The stony expression was more unnerving than his temper ever could be.
“Serafina can go to the Devil for all I care,” His voice was flat and inflectionless. “If you’d stayed and let me explain instead of running off with Giovanni, you’d know that.”
Again with the blaming. Really?
“Of course! It’s my fault because I ran off with Giovanni. Did you forget the part where you punched Giovanni in the face trying to get to me?” She threw the words at him. “You’ll forgive me if I didn’t see that as an invitation to a civilized conversation.”
“I’ll tell you what I remember: I remember a conversation where you promised--promised--not to run away again. You promised to stay and deal with things instead of throwing everything away because it was the easy way out.” He sneered down at her, and her temper flared again.
“Easy? You think this has been easy?” Her voice was so shrill she was surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the cops on them for disturbing the peace. “I haven’t slept for three days. I couldn’t eat. I spent four hours Friday night crying until Gio thought he was going to have to take me to the hospital for dehydration.” Her eyes burned with tears. “This wasn’t about easy, Marco--it was about survival. It was about getting out with my skin intact, because it was clear that was the best I was going to get.”
The hands holding her let go so suddenly that she lost her balance, grabbing for the car for support.
“I told her this wouldn’t work.” Marco ran one hand through his hair as he threw the other up in the air. “I told her you wouldn’t listen. Fam!” He turned away from her, slamming both hands on the roof of the car. His breath was coming like he’d just run a race. Mina had never seen him so agitated.
“Told who I wouldn’t listen?” She latched on to what he said.“Serafina? I’m sure she was really happy to hear that.” Marco looked at her and shook his head. “Again you’re not listening. Ivy. I told Ivy you wouldn’t listen.”
That was unexpected. And offensive.
“Why would you tell her that? I listen.” Mina stuck her chin out. “I always listen.”
Marco let out a stream of Italian and raised his eyes to heaven.
“English, please,” she snapped. Damn she hated not understanding what was going on. Marco looked at her over his shoulder. “You didn’t care what I was saying Friday.”
Mina stopped for a moment, but it still didn’t compute.
“What do you mean, what you were saying Friday? You didn’t say anything Friday.” Every minute of that night was burned into her brain; she was pretty certain he never spoke Italian to her.
“In the office,” Marco turned to face her, his expression carefully blank again and Mina watched him, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “When I was with Serafina I was speaking Italian. You didn’t want to know what I was saying then.”
She thought about it for a minute--the scene crystal clear in her mind--and nodded slowly. They had been speaking Italian, but that didn’t explain why that woman was pressed up against him, or why they were kissing. They’d known she was there. Serafina certainly knew, she thought sourly.
“I don’t see what understanding Italian has to do with it. Kissing is pretty universal.” Even saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth. “You don’t normally need subtitles with that.”
Marco leaned toward her, casting a shadow across her face.
“Really? Because my understanding of what happened seems to be very different than yours.” He sounded too calm. It made her nervous.
“I may be inexperienced,” she said wryly, aware that she could chalk almost all of her experience up to what she’d learned from him, “but it was pretty obvious to those of us in the audience what was going on.”
A light glimmered in Marco’s eyes, and he looked hopeful for a split second, before his expression shuttered again.
“It’s odd that you used that word. Audience.”
“Odd? Why? You two were certainly putting on a show.” She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. She drew a circle on the roof of the car with her fingertip, around and around and around. Just like this conversation.
“Actual
ly, only one of us was putting on a show.”
Mina looked at him and her finger stopped moving. Dark eyes bore into hers and she shivered at the intensity she saw there.
“Wha-at do you mean?” She felt like Demosthenes with his pebbles, trying not to stutter. “What show?”
“What does it matter?” Marco took a deep breath and gave her a twisted little smile that hurt. “It won’t change anything. You’ll just find another excuse, another sin, and you’ll run again. Maybe you should just go now.”
“What show?” She demanded.
He stared at her for a long moment and she feared he wasn’t going to answer, and she needed that answer.
“Please.” Her voice was quiet in the busy street, her throat sore from crying and yelling, but she knew he heard. A second passed, and then another until something fell into place and he nodded in answer to some internal argument.
“Will you listen?” The words were simple, but there was a world of meaning in them. She knew that if she agreed she was committing herself to something bigger than this conversation in the street. She knew it could hurt, but she was already hurting more than she’d ever imagined.
What did she have to lose?
“I’ll listen.” The decision made, her bravery returned, faint but real, and she opened the car door. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
As she slid into the leather seat she glanced back up at Giovanni’s apartment. Ivy was standing in the second story window watching, and Gio’s head was just visible behind her. Ivy smiled and nodded, giving Mina a thumbs-up as she slammed the door, and Mina could only hope her friend was right. Otherwise, she’d just gone from the frying pan back into the fire.
Chapter Five
Marco drove in silence, and Mina watched the scenery as it passed. Giovanni’s apartment was in Genoa--a bigger city than Miami--but Portofino was tiny. She’d explored the area in between as she’d wandered her way through the local museums, and pretty soon she realized they were headed back to the villa. Back to the beginning.
Or the end.
She couldn’t stand the silence. They’d spent hours on these roads, all of them more comfortable than this one. At least they could talk about work. “The last of the collezione shipped out this morning.”
“You went to the office?” He sounded surprised, and she felt a little redness warm her cheeks.
“I sent Gio.” She didn’t know why the admission embarrassed her. She’d already explained that she hadn’t wanted to see him--this was no different.
“I thought you’d be there,” she shifted in her seat, “and I wasn’t ready to see you.”
Marco shot her a confused look. “How could I be there? We didn’t arrive at the airport until two” he looked at his watch, “and a half hours ago.”
She shook her head, “Think about it. I didn’t even know you were gone. How could I know you hadn’t gotten back?”
The conversation stalled and Mina zoned out watching fence-posts as they zipped past.
“You didn’t know I’d flown to Miami?” There was an odd note in Marco’s voice and she turned in her seat to look at him.
“No idea,” she shrugged her shoulder a little. “It didn’t even occur to me that was possible. I mean, no matter what else was happening, the collezione had to be dealt with. When I left the villa I asked Giovanni to find me a hotel. It wasn’t until later that he offered to let me stay at his place since it was convenient to the main offices in Genoa and I didn’t have a car.” A stormy look crossed his face and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look like that. He was a perfect…”
Marco gave her another look and the words died in her throat.
“We will talk about Giovanni later,” he said, and she shivered at the edge in the words, “but right now I have another question. Did you leave a message for me Saturday morning?”
The impending conversation was forgotten and she shook her head.
“Message?” Mina gave a little snort. “No. I had a lot I wanted to say, but I didn’t leave any messages. I thought you’d call, or come by, or something, and I could say it to your face. ” She realized how pathetic that sounded and wished she could take it back, but it was true. She’d been hurt and angry but underneath it all she’d been certain that he would track her down and they’d have another knockdown, drag-out fight that would probably end up with them in bed. Shows what she knew.
You expected him to prove himself. Again. Mina squirmed but the voice in her head refused to back down. Apparently it was in league with Ivy.
“When you didn’t contact me I thought…” She let the statement fade off without finishing it. It was too embarrassing to admit that she believed he was bored with her and didn’t call because he was glad she was gone.
“I can imagine what you thought.” The words came out in a snarl, surprising her. “Three days. Wasted.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, anger in every line of his body.
She didn’t know what his problem was but she refused to be blamed for this. “I’ll have you know I haven’t wasted any time. I kept my part of the bargain,” even if you didn’t, she thought. “Every artifact, every contractor… I took care of all the…” Her indignant response was cut short as a heavy hand reached over and rested on her knee.
“No, Mina darling, not you. Me.” He looked at her and she could see emotions warring on his face.
“I have wasted three days--three very frustrating days--on what was apparently a wild goose chase.” The anger was still there, banked beneath the surface, but he wasn’t directing it at her. His hand tightened on her leg. “You see, I was told that you left for Miami, Mina. Told that you quit your work with the collezione, and that you never wanted to see me again.”
The words hung in the air between them and Mina tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Never wanted to see…?” she stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. “I never said that. You had to know I would never say that.”
Did he? The Ivy-voice asked. You ran away before. Why wouldn’t he believe you’d done it again?
She refused to dignify that with an answer.
Marco’s hand felt hot through her jeans and she couldn’t help remembering how it felt against her bare skin, how it caressed her, and held her… and how it looked against Serafina’s shoulder.
The memory stung her pride and she sat straighter in the leather seat.
“I am a professional. I wouldn’t abandon my responsibilities to the Oppen no matter how much my feelings were hurt.”
There, she thought, see what he makes of that.
His fingers patted her leg gently. “I should have realized your honor would never let you do that. But I,” he let out a rough laugh, “Well, I wasn’t thinking particularly clearly.”
There was some cold comfort to be had from that, she supposed. She’d hate to think she was the only one royally screwed up over this.
“Well, whoever told you I left was either messing with you or full of wishful thinking.” As soon as the words left her mouth she realized their importance. She met Marco’s eyes across the car and was taken aback at the blazing anger she saw there. She was thankful it wasn’t aimed at her, but it made her wonder who was the target.
“Who told you that anyway?”
He turned the steering wheel and guided the car down the long drive to the Genovese compound, his face blank. “It came straight from my dear Mamma, of course.”
The wheels in Mina’s head were turning faster than the ones on the car. His mother told him she’d run back to Miami? That made no sense. She wanted her out of the picture, and she got that when she ran out after seeing what was going on in the office in the first place. Why send Marco chasing her halfway across the world?
She probably believed he’d be too angry to chase her. That made more sense. It would never occur to Bianca Genovese that Marco might actually care enough to pursue someone so beneath him.
Bitch.
“Amazingly helpful woman, your mother. S
he’s the one who made sure I saw you and your friend,” she said sarcastically. “It’s impressive. Between slapping me in the face with your infidelity and sending you on a wild goose chase, I can’t imagine how she can manage her busy social schedule.”
Marco gave a short laugh and pulled the car into the cavernous garage.
“You don’t know the half of it. She’s also the person who invited Serafina the other night, and the person who informed her that I would be interested in rekindling our relationship.”
Marco was focused on parking, each move controlled and efficient, but Mina could hear the bitterness in his voice.
“I didn’t recognize what she was up to right away.” He got out of the car and came around to her side to open her door. She didn’t want to be that close to him, but there was no way to avoid it without looking like she was afraid of him.
It wasn’t him she was afraid of, though, was it?
She took a deep breath and let him help her out of the car. He gripped her elbow, guiding her gently towards the door to the courtyard. “It isn’t normal to see a conspiracy around every corner, but after the past few days I cannot come to any other conclusion.”
They crossed the paved walk and entered the shadowed cool of the entry hall and she turned on him.
“You expect me to believe that this whole thing--Serafina, the kissing, the messages--is a set up? By your mother?” Disbelief was thick in her voice. “I know she doesn’t like me, but that’s hard to believe.”
Marco’s grip on her elbow tightened.
“Harder to believe than me being involved with another woman? Harder to believe that after all my support and promises that I would betray you, in public, in front of my family, my partners, and my political contacts?” He forced her to face him. “You said I should know that your honor wouldn’t let you abandon your work. I hoped that you’d know my honor wouldn’t let me abandon you.”
She wanted to believe him so badly, but she had so many doubts.