Page 24 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)

And so Rico told her. Nose to nose, he told her everything, from Niccolo being entrapped into an unaffordable debt with his father and having to marry Siena as repayment, to Niccolo getting his mistress pregnant and the current battle to stop Niccolo learning about the pregnancy before he made his vows.

Throughout it all, Marisa did nothing but listen.

Her face, though, did a lot of talking, expressing shock, horror, disgust and upset, sometimes all at once.

Once he’d finished, she continued gazing at him, her troubled brown eyes narrowed with thought.

“Remember, you promised to still marry me,” he said, only half joking.

She didn’t smile. “I have questions.”

“I thought you would.”

“It’s more clarification than questions. Your father convinced Niccolo to go into business with him and engineered things so Niccolo was saddled with a nine-figure debt he couldn’t repay in the time frame demanded?”

“Yes.” One hundred and ninety-six million to be precise.

“In exchange for writing off the debt engineered by your father, your father offered him marriage to Siena.”

“Yes.”

“Was Siena given a choice in this?”

“Of course. She’s an Esposito. She knows where her loyalty lies.”

“What if Niccolo had refused?”

“Then interest would have been added to the debt.”

“Of the financial kind?”

“No.”

She closed her eyes, although whether at the answer itself or his bluntness, Rico didn’t know.

“And now Niccolo’s English girlfriend’s pregnant, and her twin sister is currently in Tuscany being hidden in Dante’s castle to stop her getting to Niccolo and telling him he’s going to be a father?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve got men keeping watch of the castle and all its exits in case she performs a miracle and escapes?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve also got men spying on the girlfriend in case she changes her mind and decides to tell Niccolo before the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the logic in that? Why would she fly to Naples if she can just call him or message him?”

“Niccolo’s phone unfortunately went missing during the suit fitting earlier.”

“You stole it?”

“Mattia did.”

“All this so you can marry a Martinelli into the Esposito family.”

“Yes.”

Brown eyes still locked on his, she took a deep breath. “What happens if the sister escapes or the girlfriend does decide to fly over?”

“My men will take them.”

“Yes, but what will happen to them?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what my father decides.”

She blinked hard. “Will he hurt them?”

“He doesn’t like hurting women.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only answer I can give you. If one of the Thomas sisters makes a move, my men will take them, and then my father, as head of the Esposito family, will make his choice about what to do with them.”

Throughout this conversation, Rico had worked hard to keep his tone neutral and knew his tender-hearted Marisa had too, and it made his chest tighten to see her chin wobble and her eyes fill with tears.

Twining her fingers through his, she gripped tightly and pressed her forehead to his. “Please, Rico, don’t let them be hurt.”

“I don’t think my father will go that far, but I can’t speak for him and so can’t –”

“No, she interrupted, her voice urgent. “I’m asking you not to let them be hurt. Please, Rico, keep them safe.”

Closing his eyes, he rolled onto his back and took a deep breath.

He wanted to promise her that his father wouldn’t harm the Thomas sisters in any way, but it was a promise he couldn’t keep.

His father would do whatever he thought necessary, and if Rico didn’t give the order, someone else would. “You know what my family are, Marisa.”

The Bali bed’s mattress moved as she sat up.

He opened his eyes and locked onto her distressed stare.

“I do know,” she whispered. “But this is different. You can’t let them be hurt. They’re innocent.”

“I know,” he agreed heavily, wishing he didn’t. “Don’t forget, nothing has even happened. They’re both safe exactly where they are. This time tomorrow, it will all be over.”

She palmed his cheek and brought her face down to his. “At least promise you’ll try and keep them safe if it comes to it. Promise me that much, please, for both our souls. Please .”

He groaned, half in frustration, half in defeat. Of all the women he could have fallen in love with, it had to be someone with such an uncompromisingly pure, moral heart and strong sense of compassion. “Okay,” he sighed.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Relief lit her face. “Thank you.”

“I promise to try .”

“I don’t imagine you’ve ever failed at anything you’ve tried to do,” she said softly before placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. “Thank you.”

He speared his fingers through her hair. “I don’t know how I can deny you anything.”

She kissed him again, deeper, needier, entwining her tongue with his. “Then don’t.”

Marisa had always thought that a man taking a woman from behind was degrading.

If and when she fell in love, sex would be strictly in the missionary position.

She hadn’t reckoned on falling in love with Rico Esposito and the sexual awakening it would evoke in her, or that when he invited her into his suite that evening before they had to go their separate ways for dinner, she would gladly let him bring her to orgasm and then gladly let him flip her onto her stomach.

Now, her face was buried on a pillow, her back arched, her backside in the air, and Rico had a hand clamped on a hip and the back of her shoulder, and was pounding into her from behind with long, increasingly vigorous thrusts and grunts of pleasure.

When he slammed into her the long, final time, it was with a loud cry, and though she didn’t come too, the pleasure of it had been so good that she didn’t feel she’d missed out on anything.

Rico obviously did, though, for when they cuddled up together, he used his fingers to bring her to another powerful orgasm.

It was a long time before either of them moved or spoke.

“Do you want to shower with me?” he murmured when he finally stirred.

“I don’t think I can walk,” she said, only half joking. She felt deliciously boneless.

He gently bit her earlobe. “That’s your fault for being so sexy.”

Just a week ago, Marisa would have shied away from being called sexy, but now she stretched and smiled seductively. “You make me feel sexy.”

“I’m very glad to hear it because I intend to spend the rest of my life getting sexy with you.” He kissed her, swift and hard and possessive, before jumping off the bed. “Want to spend the night here?”

She looked around his glorious suite and sighed happily.

“I’d love to.” At least four times the size of her room, it was set in one of the private blocks rather than in the main hotel itself.

It also came with the added benefit of not being adjoined to her parents’ room, and so she didn’t have to restrain her vocal cords when in the throes of passion.

“Just let me know when you’re back and I’ll come and join you. ”

“I promise I’ll escape as soon as I can.”

That night, the Martinellis and Espositos were dining privately, a traditional dinner for the families of the bride and groom before all reuniting the next day for the wedding.

As she wasn’t either a Martinelli or an Esposito – at least, not yet – Marisa wasn’t invited.

Instead, she was going out with her parents for dinner.

Luisa had made noises about joining them, but as Luisa was still hardly talking to her, Marisa hoped she would decide to dine elsewhere with Gennaro.

Every time she thought of her sister and her attitude to Rico, it made her want to cry.

She knew she’d come round, that all she needed was time, but it still hurt.

Rico was no angel – Marisa knew that better than anyone – but he was no devil either.

He loved her, would always love, protect and cherish her just as she would always love, protect and cherish him.

Part of her wanted to confront Luisa with the promise he’d made earlier to not allow either of the Thomas sisters be hurt, but, never minding that their talk had been made under confessional conditions, she figured it would probably backfire and be used as proof that the Espositos were evil.

What Luisa wouldn’t see was that Rico had made the promise for Marisa’s sake, that he was willing to temper the more unsavoury parts of himself for her , because he loved her.

Oh well, she thought, trying to be philosophical and push away the maudlin thoughts, it would all work itself out.

Stretching her sated body again, she suddenly spotted the book on Rico’s bedside table.

“You’re still reading it!” Reaching over, she lifted his phone off it and put it by her thigh so she could hold the book.

To her surprise, the receipt he was using as a bookmark showed he’d read barely a fifth of it.

With the speed he read, she’d have thought he’d be close to finishing it, but then, thinking again, he really hadn’t had much reading time that week.

“What do you think? Are you still enjoying it?”

He turned back to her from the bathroom doorway. “Yes, I am.”

“You still sound surprised at that.”

He pulled a face. “I can’t say I ever pictured myself reading a romance book.” He blew her a kiss. “I need to get in the shower before I’m late.”

Puzzled by his comment – Rico’s letters were littered with quotes and references from literature’s great romances – she nodded and automatically blew him a kiss back.

It made her smile that he left the bathroom door open in an unspoken invitation.

A moment later, she heard the shower running, and was debating whether to join him after all or snuggle back under the covers for a bit longer when his phone buzzed.

As it was right by her thigh, she picked it up, intending to put it back on the bedside table; would have done so if the received message hadn’t flashed on the screen.

Put the unicorn down and get your arse to the bar. Mattia’s got the tequila lined up.

The message disappeared but remained vivid in her mind’s eye. Put the unicorn down? What did that mean? Maybe she would never have thought of it again if the phone hadn’t buzzed in her hand and another message filled the screen.

By the way, don’t think holding hands with her in public is proof that you’ve fucked her. We want the goods or you lose!

By the time the message disappeared, it felt like the temperature in the suite had dropped to freezing.

The shower turned off. She could hear humming.

Could smell fresh oranges warming under a hot sun…

But learning where the source of Rico’s glorious scent came from – his shower gel – barely registered.

There was a knife tipped at the edge of her heart, and only by frantically thinking of a different meaning to those two crude messages than what logic was trying to convince her of stopped it stabbing straight through.

Over the roar in her ears, she could hear teeth being brushed. He’d be back in the room soon.

Please, God , she prayed as she fumbled her trembling body into her shorts and vest top. Please don’t let this mean what I think it means. Please. I beg you.

The tap stopped running. Footsteps came closer.