Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution (8 page)

“Which war?”

He looked vague for a moment, then replied, “The Civil War, as you call it up here.”

“Personally, I never saw anything particularly civil about a war.”

He smiled at my joke. “I’m sure you know what befell many southern families during reconstruction. They couldn’t keep up the taxes and debts and so on. Thankfully the family fortunes revived later. The estate is called
Caithness
, after the Sinclair family seat in Scotland. The house was in ruins when I acquired it. That was ten years ago— it’s nearly finished. You should see.”

Was that an invitation? It had the ring of one. “Is it one of those great big white houses with the columns?” I had stopped eating and leaned my cheek against my hand.

“It’s red brick and a bit smaller than those antebellum palaces you see in the movies, built in the Georgian period. I’ve been in New York hunting suitable antiques. Some of the old pieces were salvageable, but many were beyond redemption. I’m not boring you?”

Not a chance, I could have stared at him forever but a warm, drowsy feeling had come over me. His face became animated, where before his manner had been so composed. He had tremendous feeling for this house. Touching. Still I caught a whiff of desperation. Just what was it about him? Something indefinable.

“Not at all,” I replied. “This place has great meaning for you. It gives you a sense of your history.”

He was surprised by my response. “You understand.”

Our eyes met again. I wasn’t quite up to the challenge and changed the subject. “I’ve a bit of history myself.”

“Do tell.”

“After you, I’ve got two more courses.”

“You do have a healthy appetite,” he said, observing the nearly empty plate before me. His blue eyes narrowed, as he rested that chin on his hand. “Are all of your
appetites
this prodigious?”

I aped his drawl, “Now you
aren’t
being a gentleman Mistah Sinclair.”

“But you like me better for it, don’t you?”

“You’re a very bad boy, I think.”

He ran his finger along the bottom of his lower lip. “That, my dear Miss Disantini, remains to be seen.”

The waiter placed my entree before me. Mr. Salvi must have been convinced I was truly starving and ordered the chef to double my portion. Ethan laughed at my amazed expression. “Are you up to it?”

I observed the mound of food on the plate. “I begin to doubt myself.”

“The Bird of Prey?”

“Huh? Oh, the play. That’s just acting.”

“You have a bit of the bird of prey in you as well. You’re sinking your little talons into me— not that I mind in the least. But I must warn you— you haven’t met such prey as me before.”

I watched him furtively between bites. Oh, he was very easy on the eyes but there was something odd about his looks. He was
inhumanly
beautiful. Hair too glossy black, eyes too icy blue— he looked about thirty-five but didn’t have the tiniest lines, smooth and pore-less as a young boy and although very fair, not pale or unhealthy looking, rich red color infusing his skin and lips. Like some celluloid image from Hollywood, he was just too much of everything to be true.

Still there was something else— in the glitter of the ice blue eyes, in the precise control of his movements, so different than anyone I’d ever seen, but not just because of his background. Something under this disciplined and elegant exterior, maybe the posture of his powerful frame, or the arrogant set of his full mouth spoke savagery. Danger. Somewhere in the dark corners we’d met before… ”

Joe stifled a laugh. “The gothic stuff… really Mia.”

“It’s all true. He was all that. Ethan was unlike anyone else.”

“And of course you fell madly in love with him?”

“
Madly
… yes, it was like madness… ” I must have been sitting there for awhile with my mouth hanging open, because he waved a hand in front of my eyes.

“Are you still here, Mia? You must tell your story.”

I related my history while he listened intently.

“He appraised me with the air of a connoisseur. “You’ve a European flair. Women of your nationality have a certain,
vitality,
about them, very attractive.”

I shook my finger at him. “You know every trick in the book, don’t you? I’m on to you.”

“How can one seduce a charming young lady when she’s equally adept?”

I lowered my eyes demurely. “I’m no siren. I’m just a little girl who does some acting.”

“You’re totally aware of the powers you possess, but if the innocent pose amuses you, retain it by all means. It only adds to your appeal— beguiling little bird of prey.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I hope I don’t bear too strong of a resemblance to that little monster.”

He leaned over to me and looked me in the eye. “You have potential you don’t yet realize. When I first saw you onstage you captivated me. I was amazed that some little
ingenue
could wield so much power. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, but the vision before me is most pleasing, I must say.”

He knew me too well, studying me as if I were a new species he’d discovered, and this infuriating attitude was driving me mad for him.

“Continue,” he ordered.

Well, how do you like that, already telling me what to do? I looked up in surprise at his imperturbable icy gaze. Not someone you’d want to displease. Mmm, I liked him even better.

I went on. He listened, nodding his head on occasion. Then he inquired about Aunt Selena’s whereabouts.

“No idea. Hope she croaked, the old bat.”

He threw his head back, laughing out loud. People turned around and stared. He didn’t care in the least. “You’re a scamp, Mia!”

“Selena would call me a lot worse,” I said. “After a party at Richard’s place I auditioned for my other role. I’ve been playing in repertory ever since. There you have it, Maria Michaela Paola Disantini’s fall from grace.”

Ethan grasped my hands. “You deserve better, Mia.” I looked up to the most determined stare I’d ever seen. Strong fingers caressed my wrists, running rhythmically over the veins. “End it.”

The entire place went quiet. I was barely aware of people around us. Far off, dishes and glassware clinked, music played but I was removed from it all. Ethan made everything fade into insignificance. He’d spoken of being captivated by my performance. Then what was this he was doing to me? He touched my wrist to his mouth and to my surprise, licked it. Man, was I hot now. Two pinpoints of blue-white light bore into me like twin lasers. “You’re worthy of great love, far more than that bloodless thing can give you. No broken promises. Isn’t that what you really want, Mia?”

I wanted nothing more than those parted lips all over my body. “Ye-s-s-s.”

“I will stop at nothing until you are mine.” He gripped my wrists so tightly I thought they’d break.

“You’re hurting me,” I gasped, trying to wrest my hands from his grip.

“I won’t be trifled with. You
will
let him go.”

A flame burned in those regions of ice. His lip curled back. I could’ve sworn he was fanged, his face taking on the predatory snarl of a panther, dark and lethal. My body prepared the way for him, weakness about the knees, wetness, nipples insinuating themselves through the black satin of my dress, heart pumping furiously.

“Yes-s-s,” I answered, panting.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

He released me. The room kind of shifted sideways, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. “Oh God,” I groaned, sinking to the table, holding my head between my hands.

“What is it?”

“Too much wine. Please take me home,” I pleaded.

“Yes, of course.” He helped me to my feet. My high spiked heels wobbled a little, so he took my elbow and steadied me, wrapping his other arm around my bare shoulders. The place was nearly empty, still I was embarrassed, struggling to regain composure and walk out on my own power. Ethan retrieved my wrap and placed it around me, leading me outside. Once the cold air hit, I was better. Ethan hailed a cab and we piled inside.

“Feeling better?”

The abrupt change in character bewildered me. The panther exited and the gracious southern gentleman re-entered, but I sensed the predator waiting in the wings to spring. I turned, hoping to draw the gorgeous animal out again. “My old self again— tad warm in there.”

He didn’t make a move. He just sat there quietly, a mysterious little smile on that beautiful visage. Fully aware of the effect he had on me, yet patiently biding his time. What a tease.

My place was deserted when we got there, so I invited him in. He told me he couldn’t stay long. It was late. I’d used that excuse myself before, but this time I was the one hoping for more than a good night kiss, and although I look a lot like her, I’d made it clear I wasn’t Snow White.

I switched the lamp on, hanging my wrap carelessly on the back of the chair. Knowing I looked pretty tasty in the black satin, I sashayed over to him. From his lofty height, he smiled benevolently, a god on a mere mortal, and I approached to make a burnt offering of myself. Pure white Carrera marble, the cool planes of that face. But his chilly appearance was deceiving. As I pressed my body along his length, an inferno rose deep within, contained with exquisite control. Mmmm, he was hard and hot
all over
. I wrapped my arms around and tried to draw the fire into myself, but he touched me as if he were afraid I’d shatter to bits, taking reverential care as he placed his long warm fingers on my shoulders, only one elegant, teasing digit straying to stroke my decolletage.

“I must go back home for a while. I will return in April for you. Get rid of that leech.”

I cried out as his finger teased my nipple. “Yes-s-s, of course. I can’t stand him anymore.”

“A bird of prey requires a master falconer.”

I’ll stop at nothing until you’re mine.

That ardent promise, which in retrospect, sounded an awful lot like a threat, drained me of resistance. I was pulled in his orbit, a helpless satellite, Callisto to his Jupiter. He picked me up in those arms like a child, small, helpless, utterly trusting, and laid me down on the sofa, kneeling by my side, tongue tracing a moist, warm path from collarbone to ear as he lowered my dress over my shoulders and breasts.

“Kiss me!”

“
A kiss to build a dream on
,” he murmured, burying his face in my neck.

A jab of pain, like a pinprick stabbed into my neck and then oblivion… ”

Joe asked, impatiently, “So, that’s when he did it?”

She shook her head. “Wouldja let me tell this the way I want?”

“Next morning, I found myself on the sofa still clothed, tingling all over. If we didn’t make love, then I must have had the most incredible erotic dream.

Richard called, apologetic, begging me to join him for lunch at his place. He obviously planned on me as the entree and I didn’t want to go, but Ethan had ordered me to break it off as soon as possible.

Richard fell to his knees and begged, burying his head in my bosom, his fingers maggots crawling over my flesh. I extracted myself from his arms and left— but he wasn’t quite finished with me.

Ethan called from time to time and sent huge bouquets every day to my dressing room, the cards addressed to his
“Bird of Prey.”
Then, right before Ethan was due back, Richard got his revenge.

I awakened one morning, a few days before our last performance, very sick. I got up from bed, stomach flipping over, and ran to the bathroom to retch into the toilet. A cold sweat broke out as I sank to the floor, head between my knees. My period was almost two weeks late and I was always like clockwork. Now I
had
to call Richard. He agreed to meet me after the show that night. I didn’t tell why I wanted to see him. I really hoped I was wrong, but I was very scared.

At the theatre, I threw up again in the bathroom. Another actress ran to call the stage manager, a thin, intense, dark-haired man with a cigarette perpetually glued to his lips. The curtain was held for fifteen minutes. When we finally went up, I had difficulty concentrating. It was everything I could do to keep from running off stage to vomit again. I struggled to finish the show. As I sat removing my make-up afterward, there was a knock at my dressing room door.

“Mia, your friend is here,” called the ASM. “In the green room.”

Ethan!
I was overjoyed, until I remembered the new twist in the plot. I had to see him, even if it might be for the last time. Tears welled up, as I ran to the green room.

A vision glittered before me, dressed in impeccable evening clothes. As he held his arms out the floor gave way. He stepped forward to catch me, carrying me to the small beat-up leather sofa against the wall. Laying me down tenderly on it, Ethan felt my pulse and laid his hand against my abdomen. Voices buzzed and someone went to fetch a glass of water. Ethan waved them all away. “Leave us,” he growled. Naked despair swam in Ethan’s eyes when I looked up at him. “How long have you been in this condition?”

“A few weeks maybe.”

“Anything I can do to assist you?”

I cried into his crisp white shirt. “You promised nothing would keep you from me.”

“Best I let you go now. I’m sorry but I must.” He caressed my hair.

I pulled away and rubbed at my eyes, sniffling. “I understand. It isn’t your responsibility. It’s Richard’s kid.”

Ethan frowned. “Have you told him?”

“Not yet.”

He reached into his coat, pulling out a black leather card case. He took out a card. “You can reach me here should you need assistance. I deeply regret things didn’t work out as we planned. Please— call if you need me.” Kissing my forehead, he rose, leaving me desperate.

Richard met me outside in his car with an amused expression on his face, enjoying my dilemma too much. He wrapped himself around me, exhaling a solution mixed with cigarette smoke into my face. “Get rid of it.”

My Catholic conscience recoiled in horror. “It’s murder!”

He went on smoking as I stared out the window at the passing traffic on the narrow street. “Fine, go to some home and give it up. You can kiss your career and your southerner goodbye, or you tell him it was a false alarm. I go on living on Katherine’s money. Everyone’s happy. What you wouldn’t do to feed your ambition— a role on Broadway and a rich pretty boy on the side. I’ll even pay for it, as long as you promise to keep your big Italian mouth shut.”