“May I show you something?”
She blinked, her eyes coming back into full focus, searching his before she replied, “Of course.”
They had spoken of his family’s business and the small part he played in it, and she’d expressed the wish to see his designs. Now it was his wish to share with her what he considered to be the best of them and, in that way, show her his hopes for the future, his viability as an artist and, as a result, a provider.
Taking her hand, he guided her toward his drafting table, saying as they went, “I told you this studio belongs to a friend, but in truth I share it with him.”
Jane’s eyes widened, her gaze swinging to scan the paintings against the walls. “Those are your work?”
“Non.” Sergio shook his head a little ruefully. “I paint only a little and mostly landscapes. My friend, Gustav, is the true painter and the one obsessed with capturing the human form.”
Jane gave one of her little huffs of amusement. “The female form mostly, it seems to me.”
Sergio chuckled, and acknowledged, “You are correct, of course.” Opening the drawer where he kept his designs, he pulled out his latest, shuffling the sketches at the top to the bottom of the pile. “I truly enjoy designing and sketching more than I do painting, a fact that Gustav teases me about most unkindly.”
He turned and laid the papers on the table, and Jane’s gasp was as music to his ears. “Sergio…” She reached out with one finger extended, let it hover just above the page, tracing the swirling pattern of the cameo mount depicted there. “How wonderful.”
Spreading the topmost pages out, he said, “These are designs such as would be sold in my family’s store.” He let her look at them all and then moved them aside. “And these are some newer ideas.”
“Exquisite,” she breathed, actually leaning closer to look. “They are so realistic. So delicate in design and yet so strong.” She raised shining eyes to him, and Sergio’s heart raced at her radiant, delighted expression. “They are truly beautiful.”
Without taking his gaze from hers, Sergio pushed all the designs aside, revealing the final sketch. “Not as beautiful as this.”
She looked down and gasped, her hand flying to cover her heart as she saw her own face looking back at her. He had sketched her from bare shoulders up, hair loose and flowing, her throat adorned with one of the necklaces the design of which she had just been admiring. With half-closed eyes and slightly parted lips, her face flushed and one hand raised to touch her cheek, it was the image of a woman of power—earthy and worldly. The epitome of his sweet Jane, sated and yet hungry for more.
For a long moment, she didn’t move or speak, and then she looked up at him again. The expression in her eyes was both bold and vulnerable, restrained and yet somehow alive with need that had only a little to do with the demands of the flesh.
“Is this truly how you see me?”
“I wish I had the skill to do you justice, cara mia.” Reaching behind her head, he buried his fingers in her bun, searching out the pins, plucking them free one by one. “You are far more beautiful than this sketch, but it was the best I could do.”
For an instant, he thought her eyes seemed moist, then she blinked, and the impression faded. Leaning back into his hand, she silently encouraged his chore. The angle of her face as she gazed up at him, the pulse racing at the base of her throat, brought a rush of need so strong Sergio caught his breath. As her hair began to uncoil of its own accord, he leaned in close, setting his lips to her neck, murmuring against the heat of her skin, “Io sono tuo.”
“Sergio…” Her voice faded into a low moan, and her head tilted to the side, baring her throat to his caresses. “Ahhh…Sergio. What…?”
Before he could repeat it, say, in English, “I am yours”, there came a loud, imperative banging on the door. Jane stiffened, stepped back, her hand on his chest pushing him away. Her face went white, her eyes wide with obvious fear. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders as a voice called from the corridor.
“Sergio. Let me in. Gustav said you were here.”
Damnation. What did Nico want?
Chapter Nine
Cold, strangling fear made Jane think she might faint for the first time in her life. Sergio was frowning, and the insistent banging on the door showed no sign of letting up. As though hearing her thought, the person outside shouted, punctuating each word with another hard slam of his fist on the wooden panel. “Sergio, I shan’t go away. You may as well let me in.”
“It is my younger brother, Nico.” Sergio no longer looked angry, merely resigned, and he shrugged. “Unfortunately he probably means it when he says will not go away.” His face cleared, a smile tipping the edges of his lips. “I will introduce you.”
“No!” Just the thought made her stomach churn, and it took every ounce of control to keep her voice down.
Sergio frowned again. “I would like to.”
“No. I couldn’t. I won’t.” Clutching his arm, she held him in place when it seemed he would turn toward the door. “Sergio, think rationally.”
Those dark eyes, which could melt her to the core, now made another band of cold squeeze around her chest with a look of such mingled anger and disappointment, she was almost tempted to give in. Then the expression faded, and a little smile played at the edges of his lips. “It is just as well.” He fingered a lock of her hair. “No one should see you like this but me.”
Relief sent a flare of heat through her limbs, leaving her weak. Looking quickly around, she pointed to the large screen at the back of the room and whispered, “I will go behind there.”
Sergio nodded but caught hold of her wrist as she began to move away. “But there will be a penalty for refusing me, sweet Jane. I hope you are prepared to pay.”
His smile was predatory, the gleam in his eyes so sensual she forgot her fear, her breath catching as lust once more washed over her. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever punishment he deemed appropriate would bring her intense pleasure.
Unable to find the wherewithal to reply, she simply nodded, knowing her reddened cheeks revealed her understanding of his words. With a low laugh, Sergio released her and Jane forced her trembling legs to carry her quickly to the hiding place she’d chosen. It was darker in the little corner, the screen blocking most of the watery afternoon light and the glow of the fire. Even with the washstand and commode taking up space there was more than enough room for her to stand without having to pull her skirts in close to hide them.
Through the small gap between two of the panels, she watched Sergio cross the room and unlock the door. Even if she hadn’t been told who the young man was who catapulted in through the portal as though propelled from a firearm, Jane would have known. The familial resemblance between the two men was marked. Yet, to her eyes, Sergio was more handsome, and his brother had yet to achieve the same air of calm assurance the dancing master exhibited.
Although it would be difficult for any man to appear in complete control of his emotions with his hair on end, like Nico’s was. As Sergio closed the door behind him, the younger man ran his fingers through the dark strands, putting them into even further disarray.
“Sergio, how long will you continue this nonsense?” Nico spun around to face Sergio and waved both arms as though throwing the words at his brother. “You cannot mean to continue this way. For once, I agree with Papa. You are being completely and utterly selfish.”
Jane saw Sergio’s eyebrows rise. “Selfish?”
“Yes. Selfish.” But even as he said it, Nico looked to the side, as though unable to meet his brother’s gaze. “How else can I classify your refusal to do what Papa has asked of you? And your decision not to design for the firm anymore?”
There was no expression on Sergio’s face, but when he spoke, the ice in his voice made Jane shiver. “Classify it as a man living his life as he sees fit, rather than kowtowing to the wishes of others.”
Nico threw his hands in the air. “Papa has said h
e will disown you. It will break Mama’s heart if he cuts you out of her life. You know it will.”
“Do not speak to me of that.” Sergio sliced the air with one hand as though cutting the words to pieces in midflight. “Do not try to make me feel guilty for decisions not of my making. I see through you, Niccolo. I know what you are trying to do.”
Nico turned his back on Sergio, allowing Jane to see the anger and frustration on the younger man’s face. “If you would just do your duty, marry Lucretia Bertuca, then you could do whatever it is you feel is so much more important than taking care of the business our father built.”
Sergio replied, but Jane didn’t hear the words. Pain had clamped itself around her chest, making it impossible to breathe, causing her heartbeat to thunder in her ears.
Sergio was to marry.
It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. There had been no promises made between them, no expectations this association would last. At least, none that she had been willing to admit to herself. Now she acknowledged if she truly hadn’t hoped, then she wouldn’t feel the overwhelming urge to scream, to cry.
Foolish Jane. Take what you have been given, for it is more than many others have.
The thought steadied her, caused the pain to abate enough for her to inhale, allowing her to focus once more on the scene unfolding on the other side of the screen.
“Papa gave his word to Signor Bertuca,” Nico said, spinning back to face Sergio and stabbing a finger toward him. “Would you tarnish our father’s name, his honor, by refusing to marry Bertuca’s daughter?”
“You marry her, then. Save the Fontini name from disgrace.” When Nico spluttered incoherently, waving his hands, Sergio laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “That is what brought you here posthaste, isn’t it, brother? Papa is insisting you marry Fabrizio Bertuca’s daughter instead, and you want to force me to do as Papa demands so as to let you off the hook.”
Nico went still, but Jane could see the way his hands fisted and flexed at his side. “I have as little wish to marry as you do. Why should I pay for your stubbornness? You are older. It’s fitting you marry first, take up the responsibility.”
The words, so quiet in comparison to his previous tirade, were nonetheless filled with bitterness, and Sergio’s face tightened, grew forbidding in reaction.
“If you believe it is Papa’s inalienable right to dictate your life, that his honor is more important than your manhood and ability to decide the direction of your future, I advise you to resign yourself to being married to the goldsmith’s daughter very soon.” Sergio walked to the door and held it open. “For I won’t be doing so.”
“Sergio—”
“Non.” The implacable tone cut through Nico’s plea, yet Jane heard something almost gentle, certainly understanding in his voice as he continued. “Every man has to choose what is important to him, what concessions and sacrifices he is willing to make. I have made that decision, fratellino. Now you must do the same.”
Silence fell between the two men, and Jane wished she could see the expression on Nico’s face, for his hands were clenched into fists once more. The passion the young man exhibited during the encounter was outside Jane’s experience. Would he attack Sergio in his anger? As Nico paced toward Sergio, Jane held her breath, biting down on the inside of her cheek in trepidation.
The young man paused as he came level with his brother and said, “I envy you, fratellone.”
Then, to Jane’s surprise, the men embraced, slapping each other on the back. Even more amazingly, they exchanged kisses on first one cheek and then the other. As Nico went through the door, Sergio murmured something to him that made the younger man chuckle even as he shook his head.
“I wish I had your conviction.” Nico paused on the threshold. “And your courage.”
As the other man left, Sergio closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, his hand still on the knob. Even behind the screen Jane could feel his focus already once more on her and, as if to emphasize that thought, he turned the latch.
“You can come out now, cara.”
Yet she couldn’t force her legs to move. The knowledge that he was to marry, that his family expected it of him, still ricocheted within her torso, scarring her soul. He said he wouldn’t do it, wasn’t willing to bow to his father’s demands, but to Jane he had no choice. It was his family he risked with his stubborn refusal. His family…
She couldn’t fathom it. Didn’t he know how blessed he was to have people who loved and needed him—wanted to have him as a part of their circle, to keep him close? What wouldn’t she do to have such a thing? And if she had it, was there anything she would balk at doing to keep it?
Nothing.
It hurt to think of him married to anyone, but it was no concern of hers, had no bearing on what she hoped to experience here, today. Sergio would expect her to ask him about it, perhaps berate him for knowing he wasn’t free to be with her anymore, but she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this time with him.
“Come out, cara.”
There was no mistaking the command in his voice, but was she only imagining the undertone of concern? There was no time to consider it further, for she was already moving, compelled to obey. She took two steps out from behind the screen and came to a halt, frozen beneath his concentrated stare. Yet he said nothing, just let the silence hang between them until she thought she might scream from the tension ratcheting tighter and tighter in her chest. Unable to bear it a moment more, determined not to speak of his impending nuptials, she latched on to the only other subject she could think to broach.
“Why are you not designing jewelry for your family’s store anymore?”
Sergio’s eyebrows rose as though the question came as a surprise, but he answered readily enough. “My father wants only designs that follow a particular pattern, one he believes people shopping with us expect from Fontini’s. The new designs I have created wouldn’t suit him. They are too different from what he is used to.”
“How can you be sure? Have you shown them to him, asked if he likes them?”
Sergio’s smile was redolent with irony, but Jane thought there was a hint of sadness beneath it too. “I know my Papa well, sweet Jane. He is a man of fixed ideas, not willing to change unless it is absolutely necessary and even less willing to listen to those he feels should, instead, be abiding by his wishes.”
“But what will happen to those beautiful designs?” The thought of the bracelets, necklaces and other glorious pieces of jewelry never being made caused her to suddenly want to cry. “They are too exquisite not to become real, to be worn and admired.”
He took a step toward her, as though drawn by her words, and the light in his eyes made her heart leap. “Your faith in me is touching, cara. It makes me feel ten feet tall, as though I can do anything, everything I want to. Tu sei un dono del cielo.”
She shook her head, but her legs were trembling, the softly spoken words affecting her body like a kiss, making it grow hot and tight, her insides melting with desire. “You do that all the time—speak to me in Italian—when you know I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
The smile he gave her, the hooded look, made it hard to breathe. “I will tell you…” He paused, his gaze drifting down her body and then returning to meet hers. “When you are naked and beneath me, your body shuddering with passionate release.”
“Oh…”
“Yes,” he said. “Oh.” He mimicked her little gasp and then swept a hand toward her in a graceful arc. “Take off your clothes, Jane. I would see what you have been hiding from me—from the world.” His smile widened slightly, but there was no amusement on his face, only erotic intent. “And I haven’t forgotten my promise of punishment for refusing to meet my brother. I will think of the appropriate penalty while I watch you disrobe.”
Once again there was no thought of disobeying. Indeed she wanted to be naked with him, was aware of the afternoon moving, far too swiftly, toward its end. Yet her finge
rs refused to work properly, and she wished, more than anything, that she were wearing less clothing. Never before had she regretted the current fashions as much as she did now as she fumbled with buttons and hooks and ties.
And through the entire ordeal of getting out of her clothes, Sergio stood watching, still as stone, saying nothing. Why that should be so arousing, she didn’t know, but it was incredibly so. As each garment came loose and fell away, she felt his gaze like flickering flames on the flesh left exposed. She’d never known such an everyday act, the removal of her clothes, could fill her with need and, strangely, power. For although he said nothing, did nothing but watch, Jane could hear Sergio’s breathing grow rougher as she unhooked the special corset she’d had made in the East End and eased it off her shoulders. Beneath was the heavily padded bodice she wore, which, without the corset to hold it tightly in place, was easy to unbutton and slip off.
Jane paused, suddenly unable to continue. She still wore her chemise, drawers, stocking and shoes but felt naked in a way she never had before. Strange to suddenly be aware of her breasts, now loose beneath the thin linen of her chemise, her nipples already tightly beaded with anticipation. The sensation of fabric brushing her shaking legs, a breath of air, cool against the heated flesh of her neck. It was all too intimate, too revealing.
“And the rest, cara.” Deep and low, his voice raised gooseflesh over her entire body. “All of it.”
She lifted her hands, wanting to obey, but they were trembling too much, and her fingers fluttered impotently through the air. “Sergio…I…”
“All of it,” he said again. The masterful, rolling caress of his words made her shudder and brought a pulse of arousal in her belly. “And when you are naked, display yourself for me.” He stepped closer. Just one step, but it was as though he were right in front of her, touching her. And when he continued, there was unmistakable surety in his voice, his eyes. “After today, nothing shall be hidden between us.”
Bellissima Page 7