by T. K. Leigh
“Certamente. Take your time.”
I hurried up the stairs, found my purse, then glanced at my reflection in the mirror one last time. After applying a hint of gloss I luckily had with me, I headed back down the stairs.
“Ready?” Antonio asked when I reappeared in the living area.
“Yes,” I answered, then paused. “Antonio, do you know of a salon that would be able to fit me in before this evening?”
He smiled cordially as he held the door open for me. “I believe we can have that arranged, Signorina. People in this town tend to bend over backwards to cater to Signor Luciano.”
“I’m starting to understand that.”
Chapter Nine
I raised the zipper of the black evening gown I’d procured earlier in the day, then stepped into a pair of three-inch strapped silver heels. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the price tag and did the currency conversion in my head. Antonio had assured me the cost didn’t matter. After realizing who Dante was, I didn’t feel as uneasy as I originally had. Still, the bill was staggering. As if I hadn’t been spoiled enough with all the shopping, Antonio had arranged for me to be pampered at a local spa, where I was treated to a massage, manicure, and pedicure, then had my hair cut, colored, and styled, as well as my makeup expertly applied. I felt a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, minus the whole prostitute thing.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I blinked repeatedly. I couldn’t remember the last time I had dark hair. I felt lighter, and it wasn’t simply because I’d cut a few inches off my hair so it now rested just past my shoulders. Changing the color severed one of the final chains trapping me to my old life.
I smoothed my hands over the long black dress with a lace and jewel overlay. It was fitted, a slit exposing my leg to mid-thigh. The sweetheart neckline emphasized my chest. Dante’s personal shopper suggested I add more emphasis with a diamond necklace that lay right in my cleavage. It certainly did just that. I had a feeling Dante wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me once he saw me.
The sound of footsteps in the living room tore me away from my reflection. Grinning, I hastily finished the look with a pair of matching earrings, then grabbed my clutch, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Dante had been gone all day, and I looked forward to finally seeing him. I didn’t want to admit I’d missed him. That would make leaving here at the end of my trip harder than it needed to be. Still, I’d thought about him more than I should have over the course of the day.
I straightened my spine and carefully made my way down the steps, my expression falling when Antonio stood in the living room.
“I apologize. Signor Luciano’s meeting ran late. He asked me to escort you to the museum. He will meet you there.” He held his elbow out for me.
Trying to hide my disappointment, I nodded, offering him a smile. I hooked my arm through his and allowed him to lead me out of the apartment.
“You look beautiful this evening, Signorina,” he said as we stepped into the elevator. Thankfully, it had been repaired. I didn’t know if I could walk down six flights of stairs in these heels.
“Grazie, Antonio.”
“Prego.”
Within moments, I was sitting comfortably in the back seat of the dark sedan as Antonio navigated through the hectic streets of Rome. When I decided to walk out on my nuptials, if anyone had told me I’d be on my way to an opening night gala at a museum with Dante Luciano, the culinary world’s bad boy, I would have laughed, then asked to have a bit of whatever they were on. I found myself constantly pinching myself, thinking it was all a dream. But no matter how hard I pinched, I didn’t wake up. I hoped I wouldn’t have to any time soon.
After a fifteen-minute drive through heavy traffic, Antonio was waved into a cordoned off area, then came to a stop in front of an impressive building with a white façade. A red carpet ran up a set of wide stairs, what appeared to be the who’s who of Italy stopping to pose for photographers calling out their names.
A man dressed in a black tuxedo with coattails approached the car and opened the door, helping me out. He said something in Italian, but I was in a daze, taking in the celebratory and upscale atmosphere surrounding me. I had no idea how I was supposed to find Dante in the sea of evening gowns and formal tuxedos.
I gingerly stepped away from the sedan, glancing at it with a hint of longing as I watched Antonio drive away. For a split second, I wished I were still in it, now feeling out of my element. Throughout my life, I’d attended more formal functions than I cared to admit, but everyone typically knew who I was. Here, I was a nobody. Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing?
Turning to face the stairs leading to the entrance of the museum, all the breath left me when my eyes fell on Dante wearing a crisp black tuxedo, standing at the top. The few times I’d been with him, he’d always been dressed somewhat formally. But Dante in a tuxedo was a different look altogether, one that made me want to haul him to the nearest dark space so we could have some privacy.
Careful not to trip, I slowly made my way up the steps, my eyes locked with his. As I approached, he held his hand out toward me. My lips parting, I reached for him, completely caught off guard when he instantly pulled me into his arms, capturing my mouth with the type of kiss I thought should be reserved for private.
A slave to his touch, I opened for him, his tongue tangling with mine. I didn’t need words to know he was pleased to see me. He exhibited it with the way he held me, the way he looked at me as if he were ready to devour me, the way he had no problem kissing me with such greediness surrounded by a sea of people.
He gradually pulled back and ran a finger through a few ringlets of my now dark hair cascading past my shoulders. “You changed your hair,” he remarked in that deep baritone I knew I’d hear calling my name in my dreams for months to come.
“It’s time to finally be me again.”
“It’s stunning. You’re stunning.” He caressed my lips with his thumb, then stepped away. “I’m a sucker for a beautiful brunette,” he murmured in my ear, the heat of his breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he steered me through the throng of people.
I couldn’t help but marvel at Dante as he seamlessly interacted with everyone who approached us, all of them sizing me up, probably wondering who I was. I didn’t understand much of what they said, but the way he maintained a possessive hold on me made it apparent to anyone I was here with him.
As we headed up another short set of stairs toward the front doors of the museum, I stole a glimpse of him, only to be met by his fiery gaze. I tried to pretend I wasn’t affected by the way he admired me — so much heat, so much want, so much yearning. It was an impossible task.
I opened my mouth, hoping to break the sexual tension with friendly conversation, but words seemed to fail me. I considered telling him I knew who he was, but why did that matter? Maybe he kept it from me for a reason, just as I never made it clear who I was.
“Judging by all the people here,” I said when the fire in his eyes felt like it was scalding my skin, “this event must be a pretty big deal.”
“It’s more a political thing than anything else. I don’t enjoy having to put on a smile and pretend I like all these fake people who are just here to be seen among the who’s who of Italy. Sometimes, though, you must do it to grease the wheels, so to speak.” He snaked his arm around me, pulling me close. “But having a beautiful woman with me makes it quite bearable.”
I tilted my head and met his eyes, smirking. “Oh? So being with me is only bearable at best?”
Curving toward me, his lips brushed mine. “I don’t know if I’d say that, but I do know after spending the day without you, being away from you is quite unbearable.” He nuzzled my neck, inhaling my scent. “Tell me you thought about me as much as I did you.”
I swallowed hard at the fever in his voice. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” I admitted softly. “Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined you beside me, or on
top of me, or behind me.” I didn’t know what had come over me. The old Ellie never would have spoken so boldly, so perverse in public. But Dante had brought out a side of me I never knew existed, and I wanted to explore it even more. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the next time you’d fuck me.”
His hand on my waist tightened and his jaw clenched. I rubbed my body against him, his erection becoming quite noticeable. “Do you have any idea how much I’d love nothing more than to do just that at this very moment?”
I faintly made out the flash of camera lights around us, but I tuned it all out. For all I knew, we were alone in our own little world. That was the effect Dante Luciano seemed to have on me. Whenever I was with him, I forgot everything else.
“Especially after seeing you in this dress.” He ran his finger down the line of my throat, his thumb grazing my breast. My breaths came in short pants, every inch of my body alive with need. “I can’t wait to rip it off you later.”
“Then why don’t we go see this exhibit so we can get home sooner rather than later.”
A devilish smile crawled across his lips. “A woman after my own heart.” He placed a full kiss on my mouth, then pulled away, offering me his elbow. Holding onto him with one arm, I allowed him to lead me through the front doors of the museum.
Even more people filled the cavernous lobby. High-top tables covered in black cloth were set up. Women dressed in designer gowns and men wearing tuxedos laughed and gritted fake smiles, pretending to actually like each other. As soon as it ended, insults would probably be slung like gunfire.
“What exactly is the exhibit everyone’s here to celebrate?” I asked as Dante took a few glasses of champagne from a roaming server, handing one to me.
“A bunch of artwork temporarily on loan from the Louvre. Apparently, they went missing during World War II and have only recently been recovered. The art world thought they were gone forever. There are a few Monets, some by Degas, Van Gogh. It’s a pretty big find.”
“Wow,” I breathed.
“The artwork had to go through a restoration process. As you can imagine, none of it was stored as it should have been for the past seventy-plus years, so some of the pieces had deteriorated. Thankfully, several art restorers were able to bring them back to life.”
“Do you enjoy art?” I asked, studying him.
“I can certainly appreciate it,” he answered. “Art tells a story. It’s an important part of a nation’s culture.”
“I agree. Too many people dismiss it, especially now that we’re living in this technological age. They’d rather sit on the couch and watch football than go to a museum and see priceless works of art.”
“Proof of the detrimental effect of cuts to art education.”
“I don’t know how it is over here, but you see it too often back in the States. School systems make huge cuts to the art and music programs, sometimes eliminating them altogether, but they’ll spend a fortune on sports.”
“That’s why nights like this are important to me. As much as I hate having to put on a monkey suit and interact with some of these people, I still make it a point to make an appearance when I can. All the money they raise tonight goes to art education in the schools. It’s something I feel very strongly about.”
I gave him an understanding smile as we made our way to a large room off the south wing of the museum where tonight’s exhibit was set up. Stepping inside, I noticed the atmosphere was more subdued than out in the lobby. Framed artwork hung on the walls, each with a nameplate below it, detailing the work and a brief history. Display cases filled the center of the room, some containing sculptures, others with jewels and even a few journals. People discussed the artwork in hushed tones, but I remained quiet. I didn’t feel the need to pollute the air with unnecessary conversation.
As we continued through the large space, I couldn’t believe such magnificent pieces of artwork had almost been lost forever. It seemed like such a disgrace. I’d grown up in a family that put little value on the arts, but I’d somehow formed an appreciation for it…probably thanks to my nanny.
The farther into the exhibit we went, the closer Dante stood to me. At some point, his hand found its way to my waist, his thumb lightly feathering against my hipbone. It was such a simple touch, but it sent a current straight to my core.
“This dress is driving me fucking crazy,” he murmured into my neck as we continued past painting after painting, only stopping briefly to marvel at the beauty and magnificence surrounding us. I was no longer paying much attention to the art. The only masterpiece I cared about was the one standing beside me. “And probably every other guy here, too. They’re all going to go home and fantasize about you as they’re fucking their wives.”
I turned to him. “I doubt that.”
He slowly shook his head, his eyes growing hooded as he backed me into a corner. “I’ve seen a few guys eye fucking you all night. They’re probably imagining what it would feel like to have those killer legs wrapped around them. And they’re all jealous because I’m the only lucky bastard here who knows what that’s like.” Palming my back, he forced my body against his, my breath leaving me.
My chest rose and fell as his free hand discreetly traveled down my side, then disappeared between us. His lips whispered against mine, and I bit back a gasp when he pushed my panties aside.
“Tell me, Eleanor. Did your ex ever go down on you?” He thrust a finger inside, crushing me into him even more. I looked around, thinking someone would see, but no one did. There were too many bodies in the room for anyone to pay attention to two people tucked out of the way. For all they knew, we were having a quiet conversation about the art, particularly based on the serious and unaffected look on Dante’s face.
“No,” I whimpered as he massaged my insides.
“Has anyone ever gone down on you?” He brushed his thumb against my clit, slowly fucking me with his fingers.
I felt lightheaded. I knew this was wrong, but the forbidden nature of Dante’s hand between my legs in a room where hundreds of people could see only heightened my arousal. All my inhibitions were tossed out the window, along with the modesty I had ingrained into my brain for years. I’d become a slave to Dante’s touch. I’d do anything he asked, as long as he kept making me feel as good as he had last night…as good as I felt now.
“No,” I moaned, my lips parting.
“Does it turn you on that I’m touching you like this with all these people around?”
“Yes.” My grip on him tightened, my chest constricting as I fought against the orgasm that was coming far too quickly.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
“God, yes,” I breathed.
He abruptly removed his hand, leaving me a panting mess of hormones.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I formed my hands into fists, exasperated. I’d lost count of the number of times he’d left me wanting over the past several days.
A wicked grin on his lips, he clasped my hand in his and tugged me from the room. His strides were long as he stalked down the corridor toward the lobby, the murmur of polite voices and ambient music growing louder. I had trouble keeping up with him, a man obviously on a mission. Instead of heading through the lobby and out of the museum, he continued down another darkened corridor.
“Dante, where—”
He stopped outside a door and opened it, revealing a family restroom. Yanking me inside, he quickly locked the door, then faced me, a feral look about him.
“I need to have you now.” He gripped my hips and, in one swift move, placed me on the long counter, spreading my legs with his rough hands. Fire in his eyes, he ripped my panties from me. I could only assume there was going to be a mark there later.
He kneeled on the marble tile of the bathroom that appeared as if it belonged in a design catalog and not a public place. Before I could say anything, his tongue traced circles around my slit, sucking gently.
“Holy shit,” I exhaled, wishing there was something for
me to hold onto. His mouth was warm, sensual, setting me on fire. Heat flamed my skin as I moved against him, chasing my orgasm. I ran my fingers through his hair, holding my breath as I climbed higher and higher, shaking and writhing when I could no longer fight my body’s response to him, the need that had been building all day sending me to the brink.
I hadn’t even had a chance to come down from my orgasm before he stood and hastily unzipped his pants. He dragged me to the edge of the counter and slammed into me, every muscle in my body tense. I hooked my arms around his neck as he fucked me hard in the bathroom of a beautiful museum in Italy. This was so wrong, but I only wanted more. Faster. Harder. Rougher.
As if able to read my mind, he drove into me with even more intensity, more depravity, more primal need. He wrapped my hair around his hand, yanking my head back. I screamed out, not caring who heard us.
“Come on, Eleanor,” he grunted. “I want you to go again.”
“I don’t think I can,” I panted in a husky voice, my chest heaving, my mind spinning.
“I know you can.” He released his grip on my hair, then pulled out. Lifting me, he spun me around, forcing my stomach onto the counter as he raised my dress to my waist, then entered me again.
“Suck,” he ordered, thrusting his index finger into my mouth. I willingly obeyed, teasing him with my tongue until he abruptly pulled his hand away. “If this is too much, tell me and I’ll stop.” His voice was tender, caring, warm.
“If what’s too much?”
“This,” he said, then slipped his slick finger into my ass, continuing to push into me from behind. My eyelids fluttered closed as I moved with the delicate motion he set. This was so new to me, but so wanted.
“You like that?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, my legs trembling.
“Has anyone ever done this with you before?”
“No.” I swallowed hard.
“You have no idea what a turn-on it is knowing I’m the first.”
“Oh god,” I moaned, another orgasm ravaging through me, taking me by complete surprise.