Page 20 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

“Okay, so that’s the argument for waiting until after the wedding to go public. What are the arguments against?”

“I hate that we have to sneak around to be together. It feels like I’m living a secret life. I’m not cut out for secrets and lies.”

“Marisa, you’re incapable of lying.”

“Lies of omission are still lies.” She tilted her head to watch a pair of pretty, colourful birds swoop over them, and sighed.

“I wish I could guarantee that they would accept you. I think my parents will at least pretend to accept you for my sake, but Luisa... I just can’t call how she’ll react; whether she’ll try and kill me first or kill you. ”

He laughed, his straight white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. “It’s funny,” he said, “But I’d have thought you’d be more worried about marrying into my family than me marrying into yours.”

That would have been the case not even a week ago. The way she felt about Rico now, he could be the son of Satan himself, and she’d still want to spend the rest of her life with him.

“I’m marrying you, not your family.”

“But they are my family, and marrying me will make them your family, just as marrying you will make your family mine. I’m a part of them, and you know what we are, angel. Our businesses are legitimate, but you know they were built with dirty money and where that dirty money came from.”

“Have you been involved in that side of it?”

“No, my father was pretty much legitimate by the time I reached my teenage years, but I’ve done plenty of bad things to keep our past under wraps and maintain and build our legitimacy.”

She hesitated before asking, “And would you still do them now?”

He was silent for a long while. “If it meant protecting my family, then yes.” Suddenly, he stopped walking and cupped her face in his hands. “It’s not too late for you to walk away. No one knows about us. You can walk away, and no one need ever know.”

The last of her glow of happiness seeped away. “You’ve changed your mind about marrying me?”

“Not a bit, but I’ve been so wrapped in my feelings for you that I’ve not thought through what marriage will mean for you. You have the purest soul, Marisa, and I don’t want to be the one to damage it.”

Staring into his troubled eyes melted something inside her, and she looped her arms around his neck. “I love you, and loving you means accepting you for who you are, but Rico, the man I’ve got to know and fall in love with is far from the man people say you are.”

“That’s only because it’s you. I’m different with you. You make me feel different. I want to slay dragons for you, make love to you, protect you, laugh with you, all the things. I want to shrink you to the size of my hand so I can put you in my pocket and carry you everywhere with me.”

The glow bubbled back up inside her, a smile breaking free at the imagery. “If you did that, I could be your conscience.”

He pressed the tip of his nose to hers. “You already are. But you have to accept that if you marry me, my loyalty to my family will remain unchanged, and that’s what I’m talking about when I say it’s not too late for you to walk away.”

“But I’ve already made my choice, remember? I chose all , and I have faith that when you need it, my conscience will protect both our souls.”

“If I have a soul, it’s black.”

“God would never have given you to me if that were true, now let’s stop all this morbid talk. This is our time, so let’s get a bed and order some food, because I am starving .”

The beach was busier than it had been their other days there, and this time Marisa was happy for Rico to close their drapes.

As neither of them had eaten, they asked the bar staff to arrange brunch for them, and were rewarded with baked eggs with spinach, asparagus and prosciutto on toasted crusty bread, a basket of pastries and a cafetiere of coffee.

They demolished the lot and, because it felt like a holiday, when they rang the bell for their plates to be collected, ordered a cocktail each.

Instead of enticing her into making love, Rico yawned and curled into her with his head on her lap.

She trailed her fingers through his hair. “You’re tired?”

“I suddenly feel exhausted.”

“Go to sleep, then.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Stop being a baby. If you’re tired, sleep.”

“Old men take naps. Even my father’s started taking naps.”

“How old is he?”

“Sixty-six.”

“That’s not all that old.”

“It is when you’re still chasing women your daughter’s age.”

Lorenzo was an infamous lothario, much more so than his sons. Growing up, Marisa had overheard hushed, disapproving stories about sex parties involving rich, powerful men and young women in their early to mid-twenties, organised and enthusiastically participated in by Lorenzo Esposito.

“What kind of father and husband is he?”

“A terrible husband but a great father.”

“Elaborate.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to be my father-in-law, so I want to be prepared.”

“He will love you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know it. He’s religious like you. He’s spent two decades trying to bury his past so he’ll see you marrying into the family as a sign from God that he’s been forgiven.”

“How do you figure that out?”

“You’re like the Madonna – you shine with goodness.”

As Rico’s fingers were at that point creeping up her inner thigh, and Marisa was hoping the barman would hurry up with their cocktails so they could be left alone again and Rico could pleasure her, she spluttered. “Hardly.”

“Oh, I’m corrupting you, I know,” he said lazily, dipping a finger beneath her bikini bottom. “But you’re taming me, so all’s fair.”

Her cells refilling with the glow of happiness, she sighed. “Can I ask… when you say about him chasing women your sister’s age, does that mean the stories about him are true?”

“All the stories about him have a kernel of truth. The stories about him and his women have more than a kernel. ”

She felt a little sick. “Why does your mother stay with him?”

“Because she doesn’t care. My parents haven’t shared a bed since Siena was born. They’ve been together since they were at school, and their marriage works for them. They’ll never leave each other.”

“I’d care.”

“I know you would, and so would I. You’re the only woman for me now, angel, and I’m the only man for you.”

“Till death us do part.”

He kissed her belly. “Till death us do part.”

Massaging his head contentedly, she said, “So, your father… terrible husband but great father?”

“Great to me. Mattia and Tommaso might disagree. He’s always been harder on them.”

“In what way?”

“He had greater expectations of them. I was the youngest son, so I got away with a lot more than they did. I suppose it helped that we had a love of old cars in common and that I’ve always been able to make him laugh.

” He turned his head so he could look up at her.

“I know the reputation my father and my whole family have. I know people in the higher echelons of society turn their noses up at us behind our backs and suck up to our faces. We’re too powerful to be snubbed. ”

“Too frightening,” she clarified.

“Yes. That too. Treat us honourably and with respect, and we’ll return the favour.

Disrespect us, double-cross us or try to screw us over and expect to pay for it.

But once you’re a part of our family, you join our ranks and become one of us.

When Niccolo marries Siena on Saturday, he will become my brother and my father’s son and will be protected for the rest of his life. ”

“Protected from what?”

“His own foolishness. Niccolo is reckless.” Rico felt an unexpected and unwanted prick of his conscience to remember how the Espositos had taken advantage of that recklessness for their own ends; the end being marriage to Siena.

“What’s wrong?” Marisa asked.

Quickly squashing his conscience, he smiled. “Nothing.”

“Your eyes clouded.”

God, she was observant… although she would probably put that down to God making her observant. “There are some things it is better for you not to know.”

“So there is something wrong.”

“It depends on your definition of wrong, and as your definition of wrong is very different to mine, then believe me when I say there are things it is better for you not to know.”

“Rico, I can’t go into a marriage knowing my husband will keep secrets from me. We both chose all, and that means all. No secrets.”

“Not even if it’s for your own protection?”

“Especially then.” She traced her finger over his nose and cheekbone. “How can I protect you if you keep things from me?”

That made him grin. “ You , protect me ? You’re half my size.”

She tapped the end of his nose. “Protect your soul.”

The bell outside their Bali bed rang. Rico uncurled himself and climbed off the bed.

After taking their drinks from the barman, he handed Marisa hers.

They tapped their glasses together and then sucked through their straws, but the potent liquid had barely touched his tongue when his phone vibrated.

As it was in the back pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out; would have ignored it if his father’s name hadn’t flashed on the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” he said wryly, showing the screen to Marisa. “I’d better answer this.”

Normally, he would take his phone elsewhere to speak with privacy, but after the conversation they’d just had, thought he’d better stay put.

He was confident Marisa would soon understand why it was better that certain things were kept from her and understand, too, that there would be situations when he had to keep things from her, but those things were in their future.

This was their present, and while he’d earlier had a different prick of his conscience and tried to give her a way out, that had been an impulsive burst of madness he would never allow be repeated.

If Marisa wanted to be keeper of both their consciences, that was fine by him: Rico’s brief touch with his had led to him attempting to sabotage the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Once his father started talking, though, he wanted to kick himself for not taking a short solo walk.

“What’s happening with the English woman?” his father wanted to know. “Is the situation still under control?”

“Nothing’s happening,” he answered carefully. “Everything’s under control. She can’t leave.” He flicked a glance at Marisa to see her reaction to his words, but she’d taken her phone out of her beach bag and was reading something with a furrowed brow.

“I want you to increase the numbers keeping watch of the Castello.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“No. Just my gut.”

If there was one thing Rico trusted, it was his father’s gut.

His father had an uncanny ability to sniff trouble when no one else could even smell the air.

His instincts about people were second to none.

“I’ll get on it now,” he promised, flicking his stare back to Marisa.

She was looking at him, distress in her eyes.

“Good. Tell them to increase the reports to hourly.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“No… Hey, where are you? I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“At the beach.”

A knowing tone came into his voice. “With the Rossellini girl?”

Rico made a mental note to kill his brothers. “Yes.”

His father chuckled and dropped his voice. “As rare and as beautiful as she is, don’t forget your responsibilities.”

“I won’t.”

He ended the call, apprehension rising in him. He had no way of knowing how much of that conversation Marisa had heard, but the distress ringing at him strongly suggested she’d heard and understood both sides.

Bracing himself, he at first thought he’d misheard her when she said, “My sister’s gone.”

His eyebrows drew together.

Her chin wobbled, and she held her phone out to him. “Luisa’s gone home.”