Page 36

His face was hard, cheeks stark red, and his gaze intense, focused solely on her. “Are you toying with me, Bella?”

The question was valid. She wanted to argue with him, play with him, and make him chase her a bit. She realized if he took her back to the villa then it could very well mean the end of their mating dance. And she kind of didn’t want it to end on a sour note. “I’m not a tease Giovanni, I just expect things. A girl has a right, to, you know. Not every man is entitled to a kiss. At least not a kiss from me.”

“Which makes me want to kiss you even more.” He stepped closer, her attention riveted. She lifted her chin higher to maintain the connection they shared. “Boils my blood to think any man has tasted you before me.”

The gravel in his voice made her toes curl. Mira drew in a quick, harsh breath. “You can’t be serious?” Her entire body quivered with heat after his proclamation. His left brow quirked upward and a sly knowing look of her inner weakness covered his features. Damp and sticky between her thighs her wet panties clung to her like another skin. Nothing alleviated the heat gathering in her core and warming her inner channel. She forced her gaze downward to her ruined designer original. Muddy stains had the fabric shriveling and looking worn. How anybody could find her attractive now was a mystery. Yet she felt like the most desired woman under his stare.

His eyelids fell to her lips, darkening his crystal violet stare to the deepest shade of sapphire blue. She held her breath and braced for his lips to reunite with hers. Oh yes, she wanted another kiss. Did he know? Instead he shifted his gaze to one of his men who had wandered too close, and the spell was broken. “Let’s get you changed. Maybe we can see more of the city and salvage the day.”

Giovanni again extended his hand. Mira felt as if even the insects held their breaths waiting to see if she would accept. She did. He walked her out of the garden toward his car. Mira felt drained and empty by the end of the short tour. She sat in his car quiet. Would it have been so terrible for her to loosen up and just enjoy the man? Fabiana would have. Kei told her she was cold inside at times, and she believed him. She didn’t trust happiness. She knew how badly it hurt when one lost it.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“When we kissed.”

Again he wore dark sunglasses but she felt his stare shift in her direction. “Yes?”

“You said something in Italian, what were you saying?”

The sly smirk on his mouth made her heart flutter. “Why? You didn’t enjoy the kiss?”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy it.” She gripped the inside of the door as he accelerated around a very narrow curve along the mountain. “Slow down, please.”

He eased off the gas, and she relaxed. Still the cramped roadways made cars and the ride uncomfortably close.

“Thank you. I want to know what you said. I know a little Italian, and I could understand some, but not all.”

“I cursed where we were when you gave me our first kiss. I said if we had a bed I’d spread you out on it and taste every inch of you. Shall I continue?”

The kiss had been wildly erotic, but lord what he said had her nipples tingling and extending. She averted her gaze to the passenger window. Silence lengthened between them. He shifted gears again, and they accelerated toward the gates of Lorenzo’s villa. Giovanni parked. A man approached the car but remained at a distance.

“Thank you for breakfast. The tour was nice. Sorry about the pond.”

He nodded.I guess there’s no more to say.She left the car and hurried for the steps to the villa and then the stairs to her room. She could barely close the door before she was reaching under her wet dress skirt and removing her panties. She dropped them on the floor. Taking in deep breaths she aimed her attention toward the doors of her shower, while trying to reach the zipper at the back of her dress. She really needed the temperature turned to frost to cool herself off. The man made her feel like her skin was on fire. In her dreams, she would remember the tender roll of his tongue and the groans as he whispered to her in Italian. God, if she had known he was saying those things she would have dropped.

“Fabiana girl, I can’t wait to tell you this—.” Her voice hitched in her throat when she heard voices. They sounded close enough to be in the room. Slowly Mira lowered her hands from her zipper. Men entered the hall behind her. Giovanni’s voice rose above the others. He said he’d take the call in his room. Then a door closed. He was in the room across from her. Mira suffered a twinge of disappointment that they didn’t spend the rest of the day together. Maybe she should change and hurry to remind him of the promised tour of the hamlets. Or maybe she’d blown it. Seriously what did she have in common with a Mafia gangster who once wanted to be a lawyer?

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something. The closer she stepped to the bed, the deeper the realization. It was her purse, the one stolen in Napoli with the cut strap. Mira marched over and opened it. To her surprise everything, including her passport was accounted for. With shaky fingers she drew aside the inside zipper. A three-inch square shaped velvet pouch was tucked right where she found it. Hard and fast relief filled her and her mind stilled long enough for a deeper realization. She’d misjudged his arrogance. The man obviously had skills and power that reached further than her imagination. For him to do this, he couldn’t be all hardness and brawn. What lie in her hand was more valuable than the hope diamond. Did he know what this meant to her? Maybe he didn’t. She removed her grandparents’ picture and the tiny bracelet. She pressed it to her heart and exhaled deeply.

Giovanni grunted, shed his shirt and tossed it to the chair in his room. He wasn’t the heroic type, didn’t believe in denying himself anything. Most women spoiled him, saw to his emotional needs without asking. This was true of Zia and Catalina, and of every girlfriend he’d ever had, and he’d had plenty. Now he felt like an idiot. He glared down at the muddy streaks to the front of his trousers. His men had seen him wade in a shallow pond for her. Saw her laugh in his face, and still he couldn’t get enough of her.

These were troubling times with his family. The other families and outsiders were all slitting each other's throats with the introduction of drugs. He wanted no part of it. But to take this stand put him and his people in danger. He had to show strength. Even Lorenzo warned so.

Why should he spend the next few days chasing an American fashion designer who had snubbed him? They were different, in every way imaginable, and still the unfamiliar was as tempting as the apple in the Garden of Eden to Eve. He knew he wouldn’t be able to turn away from her. Convincing her would be another problem. He picked up the phone and dialed Don Calderone.

Mira marched out into the hall. She ignored the man standing off to the other end and his curious stare. She knocked twice before the door opened. He appeared with his shirt off but still wore the same mud stained trousers. Stunned at the sight of his chest and the tattoos on his arms, she stepped back instead of forward. He looked as if he expected her and turned to go back into her room. The tattoo that spread across his shoulder blades was more intricate. And though she wasn’t into that kind of thing, it just added to his raw handsomeness. She entered and closed the door.

“Un momento, Bella,” he said.

Silenced, she waited. Giovanni returned to the phone and spoke in his native language to the person on the other end. The room he had was twice the size of hers but absent of the magnificent view. The bed nearly seized half the space.

He ended the call.

She kept safe to the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s no interruption. I thought you were going to change?” He looked her over.