CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

M y body tingles with lust and my heart pounds with romance, but almost as soon as my head sinks into the rich softness of the pillows, I’m in a deep, sound and solid sleep.

I stir, sitting up wide awake soon after five in the morning. Carlo has moved and changed the side of the bed he’s on, but he is out like a light. On the other side, Alessio is sleeping like a log, although not a completely silent log.

Wrapping the toweling robe tight around me, I pad out in search of juice and coffee.

Light breaks orange and turquoise around the horizon with cloudbursts reflecting on the silver blue water.

In the galley, I find the fixings for coffee. The stove is still warm, so I figure that Bruno has been here not too long ago. As I expect, I find him on the bridge.

“You know photographers call this the magic hour for the light,” he raises a mug of coffee to greet me. “The hour after sunrise. The hour before sunset is a magic hour, too. But it’s not as quiet..”

The views all around are breathtaking. The little bay where we’re nestled is brushed and highlighted by the light of the sunrise. I stand next to him and lean close. It feels magical, nestling with this fabulous man.

Not wanting to break the spell, I turn to nuzzle into his chest.

I sip my coffee.

In spite of all the tech, the screens and touch panels, in the center of the console is a big old dark wood wheel, with handles like compass points. It looks lovely, but anachronistic.

I touch one of the handles and murmur, “A rich man’s fantasy?”

Bruno smiles. “Imagine. On a forty million dollar yacht.”

I press my head against him again.

He strokes my hair. “It’s so good to have you back, princess.”

“Some of the way back,” I put my arms around him. “I wish I could move the process along.”

“You made amazing progress yesterday.”

“Yeah, but,” I lean against the heat and strength of his huge pecs. “We’ve got trouble.”

I feel him nod, “Right here in River City.”

“No point you explaining it to me, I suppose.”

I can feel that he wants to bring me in. But he says, “Understanding half of it or less would do you more harm than good.”

I nod. “That’s what I thought.” I look up, “And I would get in the way, right?” Reaching for the mug to take a pull on the coffee, I tell him, “Flashes drift back. Fragments. But they’re like random pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and I don’t have the box. I don’t even know the picture.”

His voice is a steady rumble in his chest. “It isn’t that you would get in the way. It’s more that the assaults and attacks on our people and businesses are targeted to take advantage of you not being there.”

“So, it’s people who know us. People close by.”

“We’ve been looking, believe me.”

“Someone from the past, then?”

He breathes in and straightens up.

“Damn, you’re good.” His arm wraps around me and pulls me close. “Even now, when you’re locked in a box, you’re good.” He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight. “We started getting reports about six weeks ago, about the old housekeeper.”

I freeze. “Jago?”

“She was out in Florida somewhere. We had someone keeping tabs on her. But we lost her.”

“I saw her.”

He hugs me tight. “We should just get you to a resort or an old fashioned sanitarium to convalesce.”

“There isn’t time though. Right?”

“When the alternative is shutting our eyes, crossing our fingers and hoping for a miracle?”

I murmur into his chest. “That’s not what Alessio is doing.”

“Not quite.”

I tell him, “Alessio is doing his best.”

He nods. “But he is a bear of little brain.”

I throw my arms tighter around him. “He’s the bear we’ve got. He’s our bear.”

I touch his jaw. Run my finger along the chiseled edge.

He winds me in and we kiss. Lost in Bruno’s arms, with his breath and his tongue stirring me up inside, this dawn could be the perfect place to be.

After I get some breakfast, I can’t face putting on that tea-dress again. Bruno shows me into one of the three junior suites.

“Sorry there aren’t any women’s clothes here..”

“You said, I know. But I’m not loving that dress. From the reactions it got, I don’t think any of you are, either.”

“You would look like heaven wrapped in a tarp. Does it matter all that much, really?”

“Watch and learn, Bruno. Watch and learn.”

The walls of the suite are lined with closets, and the closets are filled with lovely, tailored clothes. I find racks of men’s deck shoes and loafers. I won’t get much use out of them. At best, they’re hardly a step up from the boots I’ve been wearing. And, at a guess, I could get both feet into any one of them. Casual tops, sweaters, rugby shirts and tee-shirts. Shorts. All pretty typical for a boat.

Ah! Here are some pretty nice neckties. Cufflinks. That means there must be some decent shirts.

Now, here in the drawers. Fresh, beautiful, cotton tailored shirts, folded and still wrapped. Big cuffs, high collars.

I thought I saw a green suit in one of these hanging spaces. There. The suit coat is lovely and double-breasted. Way too big to be any use to me, though. But, the pants.

If I can find a wide enough belt I could maybe do something.

No luck with the belt but I have another idea. I take my haul back to the bathroom, where I left the overnight bag.

The pants are long, but I pin them up to make cuffs. The tailored shirt feels fantastic, and I wear it with a big silk tie. no belt, but the whole outfit is set off perfectly with the red and white scarf. I roll it and and pull through the belt loops of the pants, tie it at the side.

I slip into the red Ferragamo T-strap heels.

Next, I pin my hair back and brush in the lightest hint of blusher and shadow.

In one of the closets I saw a dark and faded reddish orange leather bomber jacket. Chances are it will swamp me, but I go and try it. It’s not too huge and the sleeves stay up.

There isn’t a decent sized mirror where I could check the look, but when I strut back into the cabin, the men have drifted in and are sitting around the table with coffee and the reaction on the three men’s faces makes my heart soar. Not nearly as much as the obvious reactions in their pants make my pussy buzz and throb.

Alessio says, “I was trying to think how we could take you shopping but, damn, girl. Look what you can do by yourself.”

“Don’t let that put you off taking me shopping. That’s a fine idea.”

I hold up a hand. “First, did I hear mention of somebody in hospital?”

“Yes,” Carlo says, “your driver was hurt in the crash. They’re still keeping him under sedation.”

“My driver.” They’re all looking at me with a flicker-book show on their faces of fear and pity. “Like most of my mind, there’s nothing but fog.”

So I decide. At least that’s something I’m getting the hang of.

“Okay. Let’s go and see him. We’ll take fruit and flowers and chocolates. All those things that clutter up a hospital room and get snatched up by the nurses.”

Against Alessio’s wishes, and Carlo’s, I travel in the front of the car. I keep the hood pulled up on a dark rainproof hooded jacket, over my clothes and the leather jacket.

I have sunglasses, but they stay in the pocket. Everybody wants me to wear them, but I insist. “They’re better for attracting attention than they are to deter it.”

Instinctively, as we pull into the hospital lot, I’m scanning the people and vehicles. Two cars catch my eye, at the far corners of the lot. Dark sedans with a driver and a passenger up front. Both males.

“They’re ours,” Bruno tells me.

“Too easy to spot,” I say, shaking my head.

We go in through a shabby rear entrance, and up by a back elevator. In the hallways, I’m watching for single or pairs of males of fighting age, in civilian clothes, and anyone who doesn’t look busy or preoccupied.

I spot a large male in scrubs, carrying a sports bag. Alessio tells me that he’s ours, too. Like that should be reassuring.

Carlo says, “If the opposition are anywhere near as good as you are, then we are royally fucked.”