The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  We made fast work of the rest of our clothing. When his pants hit the floor, he bent to retrieve a foil package from them and tossed it on the couch. “We’ll need that later.”

  I would have answered but lost my ability to speak when he ran his hands up and down my naked body and whispered, “Beautiful.”

  He paused, giving me a chance to . . . return the favor? Not that I minded. I was a chest woman, and his was swoon-worthy. Chiseled. Lightly haired. Flanked by strong arms, flat abs, and . . . fully excited, the size of him was a delicious surprise. Size wasn’t everything, and I wouldn’t have walked away from much smaller, but still—holy shit. If he ever had trouble dating, all he’d have to do was whip that sucker out, and someone would go home with him.

  I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of him with anyone else. I remembered being in a bar once where a bride-to-be had worn a pin that said, One dick for the rest of my life. At the time I’d thought it was a passive-aggressive complaint, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe a sex life could be sustained with one dick.

  Tucking a finger under my chin, Christof raised my face to his. “No frowning at the merchandise.”

  When I didn’t laugh, he added, “Hey, if you’re having second thoughts, I can go cuddle with an ice pack for a few minutes, and we can go back to touring the town.”

  He was so sweet I almost burst into tears. How could I explain to him that it wasn’t that I wanted to wait but that I wanted what was between us to be real—now? I opened my mouth to attempt to, failed to find the right words, then pressed my lips together and simply shook my head.

  He pulled me to him for one of his enveloping hugs. “Don’t cry, Mack. This is the good stuff.”

  I sniffed. How perfectly our bodies fit together was insane. I didn’t believe in reincarnation or any kind of afterlife, but I couldn’t explain how right it felt to be with someone I’d known for such a short time. Soul mates? Rubbish. Still, I’d never felt this way with anyone before. “I don’t cry.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I do. I’m human.”

  The simplicity of what he’d said rocked through me. This was another glimpse into the real him. It felt natural to let him in as well. “Crying clouds focus. Distractions are career enders.”

  He ran a hand through my hair. “There was a time I would have agreed with you. I didn’t want to feel anything when my family was in pain, but trying to turn it off was worse. I’d rather laugh and cry, love and lose, than feel nothing.”

  I swallowed hard. If we were being real . . . “Losing is what I fear the most.”

  “I know.”

  I wasn’t talking about just in business, but he seemed to understand that. “What are we doing, Christof? What is this?”

  He hugged me closer and let out a slow breath. “I don’t know, McKenna, but it feels too important to not give it a chance. I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes when I look at you, I see . . . forever. I know it’s too much too soon. I know we’re doing all of this backward, but I have to believe that if we hold on and ride it out, there’s a future for us together.”

  This wasn’t a man saying what he thought I wanted to hear to get me to fuck him. He was speaking from his heart, and I wanted to be the kind of person who believed in forever. Could I be? Were we headed for a future together, or a month from then, would he just be another man I’d been with? “Kiss me, Christof. Let’s enjoy today and let tomorrow figure itself out.”

  A gentle smile spread across his face. “I can do that.”

  Slowly, passionately, he kissed me until I was writhing against him. His hands were everywhere, awaking every inch of me.

  I got greedy and impatient. He felt so good, and I was ready for him, but he made me wait. He stepped me back to the edge of the couch, then encouraged me to stand on it. I held on to his shoulders, moved one of my feet to the arm of the couch, and gasped with pleasure as he spread my sex with his fingers and dipped his tongue inside me.

  He took his time. I gave myself over to his control, and where he took me was heaven. With his tongue. With his thick fingers. I called out his name as I came.

  As I came down from that glorious orgasm, he kissed his way up and down my legs. No rush in this man. Waiting, I was discovering, was its own pleasure.

  He kissed his way across my stomach, up my rib cage. All the while his hands explored and tested until he knew just how to make me squirm and beg for more.

  He turned me around and spent as much time kissing his way up the back of me as he had the front. Legs spread wide, I gripped the back of the couch and shivered with pleasure each time his breath tickled just before his tongue claimed.

  The sound of foil being torn open had me gasping with anticipation. I turned at his command, facing him again, and kissed him deeply. He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  Our tongues were intimately dancing around each other when he thrust up into me. Oh God, he was fucking perfect. Gentle when a man should be. Strong and bold when anything less would have been a disappointment.

  As he thrust deeper and deeper, we continued to kiss as if our lives depended on the connection being maintained. We moved, and my back hit a wall with force. He pounded into me as I clung to him, meeting each thrust with my own. Harder and faster, wilder and wilder. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he switched positions, and the pleasure became even more intense.

  I came just before he did. We ended with me lying across one end of a wooden table. He stepped back, withdrew, cleaned himself off, tossed the condom in a trash bin, then lifted me back into his arms and carried me to the couch as if I weighed nothing. Not too shabby.

  I laid my head on his shoulder and took a moment to breathe him in. I’d had good sex. Prior to Christof I would have said I’d had great sex. This was different. It hadn’t been just about how he made my body feel. We’d connected.

  For just a moment we’d been one.

  I made a noise in my throat as I heard my own inner dialogue.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “You bring out a side of me I’m not sure I like,” I said with an honesty that surprised me.

  His eyebrows rose, and real concern filled his eyes.

  It probably wasn’t the best after-sex thing to say, so I quickly added, “When I’m with you, I think all this sappy shit I didn’t know I was capable of.”

  That earned me a quick kiss. “Like what?”

  I shook my head. “No way.”

  One of his hands gripped my side, poised to tickle. “Don’t make me.”

  I grabbed his hand. “Do you know some cultures consider that torture?”

  “Tickling?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Which cultures?”

  Without missing a beat, I said, “Mine.”

  He nodded. “Mine too. I still want to know, though.”

  “Really, it’s stupid.”

  “You will tell me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “When you’re ready, you will.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “Are you ready to tell me now?”

  “No.”

  He looked away, then back, mimicking how I’d done the same on the plane. “Now?”

  I laughed. “You’re as bad as I am.”

  “Which is why we belong together.”

  How honest should I be? This was Christof. He could handle the truth. “That’s the kind of stuff I keep thinking.”

  He smiled. “And it freaks you out.”

  How did he know me so well already? “Exactly.”

  “Me too.” He tapped my nose. “I was half hoping you’d be a bad fuck.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s too good between us. There’s always a letdown. What aren’t you telling me?”

  I laid my head against his chest again. How was it possible to feel this good with a man and still get the waves of nauseated nerves? “I’m not giving up my garage.”


  “Uh, I believe that was clear from day one.”

  “I’m headstrong.”

  “Yep, you didn’t do much to conceal that either.”

  “I snore?” I was only joking.

  “It’s a cute snore.”

  I tweaked his chest. “I don’t really snore.”

  “You do. One day I’ll film it to show you.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “I’m willing to take the heat for it if I think it’s funny enough. So, my big bad McKenna, how do you feel about a man who’s not intimidated by you?”

  I raised my head and met his gaze. “It’s nice, actually. It’s a relief to be with someone who doesn’t want to change me.”

  “The only thing I’d change is your name.”

  “Oh no. I’m a Decker. I own Decker Park. No way would I ever change my name.”

  “You’d change it for me.”

  “Really?” I asked in a tone heavy on the sarcasm.

  “And our little babies. Come on, you wouldn’t want them to have a different last name than their father.”

  “Did you hit your head during sex?”

  “It’s the only line I’d draw in the sand. I don’t understand wives with different last names.”

  “A name doesn’t make a marriage.”

  “It doesn’t make a person either. Would you really not change your name for your husband?”

  “Would you really not marry someone who wanted to keep their own last name?”

  It was our first real standoff. It felt foolish. We were fighting over something that was completely abstract.

  “To me, a name does mean something. Gian is a Romano.”

  “If he changed his name to Corisi, would he be less of your brother?”

  Christof eased me off his lap and stood. “We should get dressed and head back.”

  Because after-sex cuddling was only for those willing to take on the Romano last name? I didn’t voice the question, but it welled up inside me. I started gathering my clothing off the floor and headed toward what looked like a bathroom.

  “McKenna?”

  I stopped without turning back to face him. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” I was sorry. Sorry I might have just glimpsed what would be the reason we eventually ended. “I’ll be right back.”

  I closed the door of the bathroom, laid my clothing on the side of the tub, and took a few deep breaths. His stance made sense. He was a family man. Old fashioned in many ways.

  My hands fisted on the edge of the sink. Decker was my father’s name. It was one of the few things I had left of him. No man would strip me of it.

  I hadn’t come to Montalcino believing Christof and I were meant to be together. I wasn’t looking to get married. There was no reason we couldn’t date, enjoy ourselves during and after this fake engagement, then go our separate ways when the fire cooled. Relationships ended. That was the way life went.

  I kicked myself mentally for confusing fake with real and ruining what otherwise had been a wonderful day.

  Let it go.

  In the end, it doesn’t matter.

  This was never supposed to be forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHRISTOF

  As I dressed, I went over the sharp turn our day had just taken and owned up to my part in it. McKenna was an independent woman. She’d worked hard for everything she had. It made sense that she would want to retain her name.

  Why the fuck am I making a big deal out of something that isn’t relevant to where we are in our relationship? I’m an idiot.

  And I upset her.

  My last name was important to me. It was a source of pride. I’d never considered that a wife of mine might not want it. My first impulse had been to say I’d never accept anything else.

  Like a caveman beating my chest and demanding that a woman wear my bearskin. I didn’t want to own McKenna. I didn’t want to change her as she’d said so many before me had tried to.

  I’d been doing fine, ready to talk the subject out with an open mind, until she’d asked how I’d feel if Gian changed his last name. It had struck a chord in me and reminded me of my mother’s fear of losing him.

  My thoughts were torn between what I wanted to do and what I had to do. I wasn’t clearheaded, but I didn’t want to ruin things with McKenna. I couldn’t lie to her and say I didn’t feel the way I did. On the other hand, compared to everything that was going on, the whole conversation was ridiculous.

  Our first full day in Montalcino, and we’d already had sex. So much for waiting. McKenna would come out of the bathroom soon, and I knew I should say something to make her feel better. Not to smooth it over because I wanted to avoid an argument, but because we’d just shared something beautiful. A wiser man would have kept his mouth shut and simply enjoyed holding her.

  My phone rang. I checked it but almost didn’t answer when it was an unknown number. With everything going on, though, I didn’t want to risk missing a call. “Yes?”

  A woman with an American accent said in English, “Christof Romano, it’s my understanding that you’ve been trying to set up a meeting with Dominic Corisi.”

  My hand tightened on the phone. “Who is this?”

  “I’d rather not give you my name, but I can get you in to see him.”

  Fully dressed, McKenna appeared in front of me and nodded toward the phone.

  Silently I mouthed, “It’s about Dominic.”

  She took my free hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

  “I’m in Italy,” I said to the woman on the phone.

  “So is Dominic. Listen, I don’t have much time.” She read off an address. “He’s conducting business in your area. He travels with more security than the pope, so there’s no going in the front door. I’ll bring you in the back, take you up a service elevator, and get you inside his office. It’s up to you after that.”

  “I’m not sneaking in like a criminal. How do I know this isn’t a prank? Who are you?”

  “It’s not a prank. It’s enough that you know I’m someone who cares about Dominic and who wants him to hear you. Do you want to speak to him or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then be there in an hour. Tell no one where you’re going. Park a few streets over. Enter the parking lot from the alley just after the clothing shop. Come alone.”

  “I’m going with you,” McKenna said.

  I shook my head.

  The woman on the phone said, “His security team doesn’t know you’re coming. No extras. Too dangerous. You could get shot if you’re not careful.”

  “Sounds like a shitty plan,” I said.

  “Do you have a better one?” She ended the call before I had a chance to answer.

  I couldn’t call her back. All I could do was meet her and trust that she was doing this because she wanted it to work out and not to lure me off to meet Dominic in secret so he could erase me.

  “I’m going, even if I only stay in the car. No way are you going into this alone.”

  “You heard her.”

  “I did, but you’re right—her plan is a shitty one. I am not letting you get killed when we haven’t had a chance to make up. You’re going to meet this billionaire, talk some sense into him, come home, and finish our argument.”

  I laughed and hugged her. “She said it’ll be dangerous. I can’t take you into a situation like that.”

  “Do you know what’s dangerous? Life. From the minute we’re fucking born, something is trying to kill us. And you know what? In the end something does. None of us are spared the crash and burn. Honestly I’d rather die dodging bullets trying to save your ass than accidentally stabbing myself to death with a knitting needle in a nursing home.”

  “Are those the only two options?”

  Hands on both hips, she faced off with me. “You know what I mean.” She tapped my chest with a finger. “And you agree.”

  I did. “Okay, you can
come as far as the street. That’s it. I can’t imagine the meeting will take long. If I don’t come out in an hour, call Luigi and Sebastian. I’ll give you both numbers.”

  She nodded. “My heart is pounding in my chest and my hands are sweaty, but not in a good way. How about you?”

  “Couldn’t have described how I feel better than that. Let’s go. We don’t have much time.” I sent a text to Luigi, told him where we were, and asked him if we could borrow his car. He said he’d be over in a few minutes. I asked him to hurry. “Okay, we have a car and a few minutes to wait.”

  We shared a long look, then said “I’m sorry” at the same time.

  She raised a hand to my face. “We’re very different people.”

  “I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

  “I’m freaking out a little,” she said.

  “I told you you don’t need to come.” I took her by the shoulders and stared down into her eyes. “I can do this on my own.”

  “I want to go with you. That’s what is scary. None of this makes sense. None of it is a good idea, but I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  What could a man say to that? I let a kiss try to explain how tangled up she had me on the inside.

  I’d never wanted a woman more.

  Never worried more that I might not be what she needed.

  I wanted to protect her, tell her to sit her ass down and wait for me to return.

  Even more, though, I wanted her at my side through this.

  Like I said, it was a tangled mess inside this caveman’s head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MCKENNA

  There’s a difference between knowing something potentially deadly will happen and driving to it to speed things up. If I were sitting in a movie theater watching this unfold, I’d expect a car chase to ensue right about now. Or the cavalry to arrive.

  Neither did.

  The ride was painfully quiet. I’d gotten accustomed to Christof cracking jokes to defuse a situation, but his hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he appeared deep in thought. I wasn’t about to break his concentration.

  When he parked on a side street in a small neighboring town, I couldn’t hold my silence any longer. “Christof.”