Falling for Italy (10 page)

The dress was soft, knee-length, with long sleeves and a low neckline. He’d also bought her a pearl necklace and matching pearl earrings, presently resting in a black velvet jewelry box she hadn’t yet discovered.

She turned to him looking pleased and happy, but slightly confused.

“What is all this? My birthday isn’t until July.”

A corner of his mouth lifted.

“Well, Linda’s and Gerard’s wedding is the day after tomorrow—in case you’ve forgotten.”

“As if!”

“Anyway,” he went on, “I know you were obsessing about what to wear and I saw this on a mannequin. I thought it would suit you. And it does. I just wanted to buy you something pretty,” he finished hesitantly. “Do you like it?”

She lowered her arms, looking at him strangely.

“I love it, it’s…splendid. I just don’t want you to feel obliged to buy me stuff. That sounds stupid. I don’t know how to express what I feel. Giovanni, I don’t want you to think I’m interested in your money. I couldn’t care less about that.”

He laughed, frankly amused.

“Princess, you’re the least mercenary woman I know. It really didn’t occur to me you’d be interested in my wallet,” he said, his usual arrogance back in his voice. “I just wanted to give you this, okay? Why overanalyze it?”

She smiled back, looking relieved she’d made things clear on that matter.

“Okay. Then, thank you!”

She went to him and kissed him softly before she began unbuttoning her black tight sweater. When he raised an eyebrow, she winked at him, saying, “I’m dying to try it on.”

She unfastened every button with agonizing slowness, revealing inch by inch of delicious creamy bare skin. As the soft fabric clung to her covering only her nipples, Giovanni’s throat tightened, while another part of him went rigid as steel.

“Do you need any help?” he asked roughly.

“No, thank you,” she replied, peeling the garment off her shoulders, her gaze locked with his.

He ached to touch her, but not until she asked him to. He kept his hands in his pockets, fists clenched, as she headed toward him and gave him a light push, making him lie down on the bed. Darren Hayes’s sexy voice came from the speakers in the sensual rhythm of the song Insatiable—just as he felt since he’d met this gorgeous vision of female glory, who was maddeningly torturing him right now.

The sweater slid to the floor, leaving her bare breasts exposed to his hungry eyes. Her habit of not wearing a bra was going to kill him, but it would be the sweetest death imaginable. She unfastened her jeans and let them drop to the floor as slowly as possible, remaining only in a minuscule pair of black lace panties. Then she turned her back to him and, looking in her vanity mirror, shimmied into the dress. As he’d guessed, it gloved her enticing body to perfection. He noticed her mouthwatering nipples were tight, prominent under the fine texture.

He got up and stood behind her, reaching for the jewelry box that had been packed with the dress. He opened it, revealing the pearl necklace and earrings. She turned to him, looking awed at the exquisite jewelry. He took the necklace out of the box and, turning her around to face the mirror again, he fastened it around her neck. It was simply perfect, resting between her beautiful breasts, having the same ivory glow as her flawless skin.

They stood gazing at each other in the mirror, as though mesmerized, with him holding her waist and the back of her head supported on his chest. He stared meaningfully into her eyes, looking for a sign of what he should do. Suddenly, he decided.

“Sonia, I’m leaving after Linda’s wedding.”

Chapter Eight

Her smile simply shattered, which encouraged him. Before he could go on, she detached herself from his embrace and began tidying up the bed covered in wrapping paper. She swallowed and said, “Oh. Aren’t you staying for the holidays?”

He stared at her back, trying to judge her reaction to his news.

“No,” he finally replied. “I want to go home. And I wanted to ask you to come with me to Italy.”

She stopped dead, and then spun around to face him, dismayed.

“You want me to come spend the holidays with you in Italy?”

“No, Sonia. I want you to come and stay, not only for the holidays.”

She seemed at a loss of what to say. Her lips were parted but it took some time for words to come out.

“I see. You want me to leave my home and my job and come to Italy to be your…what? Your
concubine,
for as long as it suits you? And then, when the novelty fades away, I can come back and pick up my life where I left it?”

He was stunned, both by her tone and by her words. He couldn’t believe what she’d just said and felt waves of pure rage darkening his vision.

“What? Is this what you think, that I’m just interested in having fun and then discard you like a used object?”

“Isn’t this your
modus operandi
? You told me yourself you’re not interested in serious relationships, just sex!” she retorted and flung the empty gift box and wrapping to the wall with all her might.

“That was before I met you, damn it!” he shot back. “Can’t you see I’m in love with you? Are you so blind you can’t recognize love when it hits you in the face?”

She froze for a moment, but then said with utter derision, “Say what? Mister Italian Playboy, in love? Give me a break.”

That mocking of his feelings made him angrier than he recalled ever being. Something fierce and savage invaded him, a feeling as primitive as it was frightening, even to him. He headed toward her, his blood boiling with ferocious fury and she took a step back, but not quickly enough to escape him. His hands shot out and he gripped her shoulders, squeezing hard.

“Don’t ever mock my feelings, Sonia,” he told her through his teeth, very slowly and deliberately, trying to cling to control and reason. “If you don’t share them, you just have to say so. But don’t ever call me a liar.”

“I didn’t call—”

“This was the first time I’ve ever told a woman I loved her,” he went on, his voice rising without his being able to control it, “and what do I get in return? Did I ever give you any reason to doubt I’ve always told you the truth? Yes, I told you at first I wasn’t husband material, but maybe I was wrong. I asked you to go to Italy with me as my wife, not as my whore!”

She stared at him speechless, looking helpless, confused and maybe a little scared, but he couldn’t stop now, it was too late. He went on, his voice near a shout, “You were the one who first suggested we enjoy each other with no strings attached, remember? You said you were scared of the monotony of marriage and bullshit like that. Well, if you only want me to fuck you, I’m happy to oblige and then be on my merry way!”

He had backed her into a wall, trapping her body between it and him. He kissed her brutally, bruising her lips and probably his own. She shoved him with all her strength, pushing against his chest, but he couldn’t be budged. He grabbed her hands in one of his and held them high over her head to stop her from fighting him. She bit his tongue hard, but he grasped her jaw with his free hand, trying to force her to kiss him back, her strangled protests vibrating in his chest.

The necklace, which had somehow gotten in the way of his untamed hands, snapped. Pearls flew, jingling as they landed on the wooden floor. He lowered his mouth to her breast, kissing it savagely, expecting her to call him every name possible as soon as he’d released her mouth. But all he heard from her lips was the ragged sound of her breathing. He knew she was responding to his nearness—incapable of protesting, betrayed by her own body’s desire for him as he did for her.

He lifted his head, still keeping her hands trapped and kissed her again, biting her lower lip, demanding in a voice so rough he couldn’t recognize it, “Tell me how you feel, damn you! I need to know! I can’t stand this torture any longer. Just tell me, Sonia.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his own, letting him see into her soul for the first time.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I knew I loved you from the first night we made love, but I couldn’t tell you. I never thought you could truly love me, Giovanni. I’m sorry for what I said.” Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, as she lowered her head. “I didn’t want to mock your feelings. I’d never hurt you. I was just trying to protect myself from being hurt.”

He felt his own heart constricting and an imaginary weight being lifted off his soul. He kissed her tears away, releasing her hands, and she placed them around his neck.

“So, do you want to be my wife? Live in the monotony of waking up next to me for the rest of your life? Forever?”

He added the last word as a final test to the strength of her feelings for him.

She smiled faintly up at him.

“Giovanni, I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than
not
waking up next to you for the rest of my life. I never thought I’d say this, but yes, I want to marry you. I want it more than anything. Even more than living in Hawaii—and that has been my biggest dream so far.”

He burst into a relieved laugh, amused yet still shaken by the emotional charge of the moment. He touched her bruised lips with his fingers, whispering, “I’m sorry, my love. I acted like a mad man, but…I was truly going mad with the uncertainty of your feelings. I swear to you, Sonia, I’ll make you the happiest woman on Earth. And I’ll spend every day of my life cherishing you.”

“I know how you’ve felt, Giovanni. I’ve been slowly going mad myself thinking you’ll soon go away, return to your life and forget I ever existed. But I wasn’t going to start picking up the pieces of my shattered heart until you left. I love you so much sometimes it hurts. Right here,” she said and, taking his hand, placed it on her heart.

He kissed her with more meaning and gentleness than he’d ever had, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, lying down beside her.

“I’m sorry for the necklace,” he said, undressing her slowly, kissing every inch of skin gradually revealed, marveling at her beauty, that was now his.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, sliding off his sweater, lowering her head to frantically run her hands, lips and tongue over him.

“I’ll buy you…a truck full…of pearls,” he gasped, drunk with love and desire, helping her remove his jeans. He pushed her onto her back and caressed her naked body, feeling she burned for him as hot as he burned for her. The sense of possession and pure lust was nearly choking him as he slipped inside her fast and strong, holding her lips prisoners under his, catching her every moan and gasp in his own chest. His thrusts were powerful and demanding, proving to her the depth of his possession, knowing the same fierce passion echoed in her body, mind and soul. She was completely his, forever.

* * * *

Sonia woke up with an absurd feeling of absolute joy. She opened her eyes and saw Giovanni sleeping next to her, his face relaxed, his breathing steady and slow. She studied her lover in the dim dawn light, marveling at this treasure she and
only
she owned.

His face was beautiful, managing to look elegant and masculine at the same time. Dark stubble covered his jaw, making his natural olive skin look even darker. His lips were full and firm, and when he stretched them into a sleeping smile, the shallow dimples in his cheeks deepened. His eyes were closed, framed by black eyelashes and shadowed by equally dark, well-defined eyebrows.

She loved his every feature, every squint line at the corners of his eyes. She couldn’t yet believe this man was truly hers, that he was going to be her husband. One thing she knew for sure, she would have given anything to wake up next to him every single morning of her life. His chest rose and fell steadily and she couldn’t help placing her hand on his heart, to feel the warm vibration of his breathing.

He opened his eyes idly and watched her for a moment, his dark gaze still clouded by dreams. He smiled and gathered her against him, putting his arms around her, kissing her forehead. In a voice rusty with sleep, he said,
“Ti voglio bene, amore mio.”

She lifted her gaze, confused, not understanding but guessing the meaning of those words in his melodious native tongue.

“It means
I love you
, doesn’t it?” she asked. When he nodded, she pleaded, “Tell me how to say it back to you.”

He stroked her hair softly and said, “
Anch’io ti amo, mio caro.
”             

“What does it mean?”

“I love you too, my darling.”

She repeated the words in Italian, feeling awkward, but Giovanni taught her how to say it right. She was eager to learn at least the basics of his language, eager to please him as no woman ever had. When she told him that, he smiled.

“You already do, princess. You make me happy just by loving me.”

He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Where would you like to get married?”

She rose on one elbow to look at him, puzzled.

“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly had time to think about it,” she teased him and smiled, but immediately winced, feeling her lips swollen and bruised. Giovanni looked pained and ashamed. He lowered his gaze for a moment, before touching her lips ever so gently with the tip of one finger.

“Sonia, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened to me last night. I think I went a little crazy. I swear to you I will never,
never
hurt you again,” he vowed, accentuating the words.

She shook her head.

“Please, don’t blame yourself. I provoked you. What I said was terrible and…let’s just forget about it, please.” She nestled against his chest, feeling safe, protected and more fulfilled than she’d ever been.

“I don’t really have any ties here,” she went on. “As you know, I have no family. The only thing I have is my job, but I can do it anywhere. The kids will be sad if I leave, but I’ll make sure they’ll be assigned to another good trainer. So, if you want us to marry in Italy and live there, I would love that.”

He lifted her chin with his index finger, gazing deeply into her eyes, searching for reassurance and certainty.

“Are you sure, baby? Because we could live here if you want. We can even move to Hawaii, if that’s what you like. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. Whatever makes you happy.”

She laughed.

“I don’t know if I’d actually want to live in Hawaii. But I definitely want us to go there, maybe for our honeymoon if you’d like. I really think I should love Italy though. It’s going to be harder for me to learn the language.”

“It’s piece of cake. I’m going to be your teacher. We can start right now with the basics.”

“Meaning?”

He smiled wickedly and pushed the covers aside, rolling on top of her.

“Meaning some very naughty words, like…”

He started kissing his way down her body, as he spoke in Italian—no doubt demonstrating the meaning of each word. When he passed her navel, she was beyond listening, having just enough presence of mind to say on a gasp, “You can keep this up until I’m eighty. I’m a very, very slow learner.”

* * * *

The house was silent when Giovanni entered, leaving his keys on the coffee table in the living room. Not even Pirata appeared to greet him.

“Anybody home?” he shouted, his voice echoing loudly off the walls.

“Up here!” came his sister’s voice from upstairs.

He took the stairs two at a time, feeling energized and light-hearted as a teenager. He found Linda in her bedroom, her door ajar. She was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in what could only be her wedding gown.

He stopped short in the doorway, admiring his baby sister, aware more than ever that she was a gorgeous woman. Her dress was simple, white, strapless, tight at her waist, from where a white cloud of miles of lace flowed to the ground. On her head she wore a silver tiara sprinkled with diamonds.

He whistled, truly impressed and awed.

“
Dio mio
, you look splendid!” he said in their maternal language and she turned to him smiling brightly, happiness imprinted on her every feature.

“Do you like it, my darling?” she asked and did a graceful pirouette, looking indeed like a fairytale queen.

He smiled back, a different kind of emotion gathering in his chest. He was really getting soft.

“I love it. You are truly gorgeous,
cara
. Gerard is a lucky man. And this time you scored big too.”

Her eyes clouded a bit and he cursed himself for reminding her of her unsuccessful previous marriage with Tony Barella, an Italian bullying bastard whom he disliked from the day he’d met him.