Page 9 of The Virgin’s Dance with the Devil (The Martinelli Wedding #3)
Chapter Five
Rico approached the exclusive nightclub his brothers were holed up in and strolled past the rowdy crowd of scantily clad young women queuing for admittance.
They were the usual beauties who draped themselves over the Espositos like wasps to honey.
He barely noticed them; paid them not the slightest bit of attention.
The only woman he currently wanted draped over him was likely tucked up in bed, fast asleep like the good girl she was.
He would have enjoyed bringing Marisa here, would bet his fortune she’d never stepped foot in a nightclub before.
He’d waited outside the spa for an hour hoping he’d misinterpreted the shake of her head, but there had been no sign of her. A stroll through the hotel’s grounds and all its bars had revealed no sight of her either.
The bouncer manning the VIP entry point recognised him and put his hand to the rope barrier in preparation for lifting it.
He heard his name and looked over. The giggling women had recognised him and were vying for his attention. One was flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder, another tugging the top part of her micro dress down to show off more cleavage.
Just as he would bet his fortune that Marisa had never stepped foot in a nightclub before, he would bet the same that none of these women were local.
They were there, on a Monday night, because they knew there was a good chance the Espositos and many of the other famous names staying at The Bianchi would be there.
All of them were dressed for sex. All were gazing at him with lascivious expectation, and as he gazed back at what he would normally consider rich pickings, Rico felt not even a tendril of desire.
He felt nothing, and suddenly the thought of wasting the next few hours in a sweaty nightclub turned his stomach.
Ignoring the women’s catcalls, he turned and walked away, firing off a quick message to his brothers telling them he would no longer be joining them.
Back in his suite, Rico stepped out on the balcony and craned his neck for a glimpse of the main hotel. He wondered what Marisa was doing. Was she reading? Thinking about him? Dreaming of him?
Rico had made more progress in one day than he’d expected, but frustratingly, it felt like no progress at all, and now there was a restlessness in his veins of a kind he didn’t know how to purge.
Okay, he did know how to purge it, but she wasn’t ready yet, and he refused to listen to the taunting voice in his head that said she would never be ready and he would lose his bet.
This was only day one. Plenty of time left.
A message pinged on his phone. An insulting message about his manhood from Mattia. Another message pinged with another insult to his manhood from Tommaso.
He went inside and flopped backwards on his bed.
Gazing up at the ceiling, he undid his trousers and took hold of his impugned – a word he’d learned during his hours spent writing to Marisa – manhood.
His cock, which had spent most of the day vacillating between half and full mast, responded immediately, especially when he closed his eyes and relived the sensation of Marisa’s sweet tongue in his mouth.
It didn’t take much at all to bring himself off, but it did nothing to cure his restlessness.
Should he call her? He never had before. They’d never used their phones to communicate.
After pouring himself a large whiskey, his gaze fell on the book on the table. He’d forgotten he’d shoved it in the deep back pocket of his shorts until it had made a thumping sound when he’d stripped for his shower.
He picked it up and read the back cover.
He supposed he could mug up on the story for when Marisa inevitably asked his opinion of it.
Review sites had proved their weight in gold for him these last four months, but there was something about this book that reminded him of the ones he’d been forced to read at school.
They’d been dog-eared from being read by so many students.
This was dog-eared because of the number of times Marisa had read it.
She must love it very much to read it so many times.
He carried it to the bed and settled down. He’d read a few pages – well, try to. It would add a touch of authenticity for when he delivered his thoughts on it.
It was a strangely comforting sensation to hold something he knew was so loved by her and had been held so many times in her hands.
The Santa Maria church, originally a tenth-century Benedictine Abbey, was situated at the highest point in Accardiano. Marisa crossed the small piazza at its front and was grateful to find the door unlocked.
Inside, she took a moment to breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of musty beeswax and soak in the gracefully ornate neoclassical interior, and then slipped onto a pew, sank to her knees and clasped her hands together.
She prayed for her father’s health, for her mother’s strength of mind and for her sister’s happiness, and she prayed too, for the name she’d added to her list of prayers after their second lunch together.
“Please, look over Rico, and keep him safe from himself.” After a long moment of hesitation, she got to the point of her reason for being there.
“Please, dear heavenly father,” she whispered, “help me reconcile my feelings for him because when I’m with him it feels so right, but I don’t see how it can be right to have such strong feelings for someone I know has done such bad things and who it would break my family’s heart for me to be with. Please, help me. Amen.”
It was the same prayer she’d made before going to sleep, but no divine inspiration had revealed itself by the time she’d woken.
Hopefully, being here in God’s house would help her see the light through the fog of confusion that was her thoughts and emotions, because she just didn’t know what to do.
Her feelings for Rico had already been strong and confusing, and now the kiss they’d shared had awoken something else in her, something that had flickered to life for the first time on a dancefloor and now hugged tightly to her.
She longed for Rico with her body and her heart, but how could it ever be?
Time slipped away as she begged for guidance, a sign, anything . She had a distant awareness of other people entering the church, but paid no attention to them, not even when she sensed movement close to her… not until she breathed in the scent of fresh oranges warming under the summer sun.
Her heart slammed against her ribs even while the rest of her froze in shock.
She had no idea how she pulled herself together enough to get off her knees and sit back on the pew beside him. “What are you doing here?” she whispered shakily.
He shifted closer so the side of his body pressed into the side of hers. Pitching his voice low, he said, “Looking for you.”
“But how did you know I was here?”
He leaned his head against hers and murmured, “I didn’t. The guards told me you’d left the hotel. I guessed I would find you here.”
Closing her eyes, Marisa threaded her fingers tightly together, barely able to comprehend what was happening.
She’d been praying for a sign, and Rico had appeared.
If he was bothered by her silence, he made no sign of it, seemingly content to sit there and wait for her to speak or do something.
More sounds and voices were filling the church. There must be a mass about to start.
Hardly able to breathe, she covered Rico’s hand and lightly squeezed before getting to her feet. Following her lead, he rose too.
Outside in the rising sun, he said. “We can stay for mass if you want?”
Her chest still too full to speak, she folded her arms over her chest and shook her head.
She’d received her answer.
“Coffee?”
She nodded and let him lead her through a narrow back street to a small café. Only a handful of people were in there.
Coffees ordered, they settled into a small corner table.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
She took a sharp breath before meeting his piercing, watchful stare. “No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged and pulled a rueful smile. “I went to church looking for guidance to reconcile my feelings for you, and you turned up.”
A better answer than Rico could have dreamed.
Gently stroking her slender fingers, he was willing to bet more of his fortune that Marisa had had as much sleep as he’d managed.
His intention of a quick read of the opening pages of her book hadn’t quite gone as planned.
He’d had to re-read the first few pages a couple of times, but by the time he got to Henry watching Clare leaping for joy, something clicked in, and when he’d next looked at his watch it had been three a.m.
Far from falling asleep, he’d lain awake another hour thinking of his next plan of attack with Marisa.
His plans had been abandoned when he'd failed to find her anywhere. He’d seen her parents, but of Marisa there had been nothing.
Instinct had seen him stroll out of the grounds and speak to the discreetly armed guards keeping the filthy rich guests safe and confirm she’d headed into Accardiano alone.
It had been instinct that had seen him make the church his first port of call.
If she wanted to interpret that as divine intervention, then all the better.
“What we feel for each other is natural,” he murmured. “We were made to experience love and desire.”
“I know,” she agreed with a whisper, her eyes shining. “I just never thought I’d feel them for someone like you.”
He brought her delicate fingers to his lips and brushed a kiss to the tips, fighting to tamp down the exhilaration shooting through him at her admission. All those hours and hours of research for his letters and hours and hours of lunches had paid off.