Her Italian Millionaire (37 page)

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. After the party. After a night in the convent. Surely he didn't think they'd make love in a convent? The thought of their muffled sighs, their contortions on a narrow cot caused her to forget Evie's number. She had to open her small address book before she could punch in the numbers.

“Evie, it's me.”

“Anne Marie, I'm so glad you called. My cousin called. I heard about the party. This is so fabulous. You're going to love her house. Do you know how to get there?”

“No, but my, uh.. friend does. The one I've been traveling with. Misty won't mind if I bring a date, will she?”

“Of course not. Who is he?”

“No one you know.”

“How did you meet him?”

“At the hotel in San Gervase.” She glanced at Marco. He was looking off in the distance, his gaze carefully focused somewhere across the piazza.

“Do you know anything about him?” Evie sounded concerned. Anne Marie wanted to hang up.

“Yes, quite a bit,” she said. “He's a tour guide,” she added glibly for Marco's benefit.

Marco shot her a swift glance.

“Anne Marie, be careful. Many of those guides are out to take advantage of you.”

“Don't worry,” she said. “I have everything under control.” Liar. She had nothing under control, not her mind or her body.

“Dan's been asking for you. He expects you to call him. If you gave him even a little encouragement, I think he'd fly over there. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd take you back.”

“Take me back? How infuriating. How maddening. How condescending. And you can tell him I said so. Got to run, Evie. Gotta get dressed for the party.”

“Are you going to wear that black dress you ordered through the catalogue?”

“Not tonight. I'm thinking of wearing a little tied-dyed, silk halter dress.”

“Tied dyed? Halter dress? Anne Marie, that doesn't sound like you.”

“Sometimes I don't feel like me. Bye, Evie.”

“Wait, wait, don't forget the candy. You won't, will you? It's okay, isn't it? It hasn't melted?”

“What's left of it, yes.” She didn't have time to replace the missing chocolates, but why bother? They wouldn't be the same and Misty would notice. Instead, she'd send her another box when she got home. Which is what Evie should have done in the first place. Really, how ridiculous was it to hand carry a box of chocolate truffles all through Italy while they melted, got eaten, or forgotten by the wayside.

“Left of it? Left of it?” Evie's voice rose, it was clear she was upset. Anne Marie had no desire to explain what happened to the candy. And she couldn't believe Evie had nothing better to do than worry about some expensive chocolates. She disconnected and handed the phone back to Marco.

His phone rang immediately. He got up from the table.

“Marco, thank God I found you. I hope you're in Rome,” Silvestro said.

“Yes.”

“Giovanni has been double-crossed.”

“I know.”

“Do you know he's there in Rome and more determined than ever to get the diamond?”

Marco paced back and forth in front of the cafe, his voice low, his eyes on Ana Maria, who was still at the table.

“Yes.”

“There's a party tonight,” Silvestro said.

“I know.”

Silvestro was clearly annoyed. “If you know so much, why haven't you taken the diamond? Why haven't you found Giovanni and arrested him?”

“I will arrest everyone when the diamond is handed off. Don't worry. I have everything under control,” Marco said.

“Just in case there's a problem,” Silvestro said, “I'll be there tonight, and I won't be alone.”

“Good,” Marco said and hung up.

Was it possible for both him and Ana Maria and Silvestro to all have everything under control? Tonight would tell.

Anne Marie sucked in a breath at the sight of Evie's cousin's sixteenth-century villa. Located in a quiet corner of Rome, it was surrounded by lush gardens and statues. In front, a huge fountain spouted water from the mouth of a lion. Floodlights illuminated the pillars and polished marble of the facade.

“This can't be it. It looks like a museum,” she said in a hushed voice, suddenly nervous about attending a party like this. Thank God for Marco, she'd have someone to talk to. Though he didn't seem to have much to say in the taxi on the way there.

He hadn't even said anything about her dress. The look he gave her when they met on the terrace told her nothing, either. He merely raised his eyebrows. It was Isabella who'd complimented her when she came to her room and helped her get ready.

“You look wonderful,” Isabella said. “Now, with that dress you should wear a stone pendant. A man I was once involved with gave one to me just yesterday. When he came to see me. A farewell gift. I can't wear it now and I may never wear it, but you can.” She reached into the pocket of her apron for the necklace, fastened it around Anne Marie's neck, then told her to wear the patent-leather slingbacks that matched one of the bright rainbow colors in the dress. She stood back, looked at Anne Marie and nodded happily. “My brother will be knocked off his feet, if he isn't already,” she said. “Or perhaps you don't want to knock him off his feet? Don't answer that.”

“I have a question,” Anne Marie said. “What does he do?”

“Do?” Isabella wrinkled her forehead. “Whatever they tell him to do.”

“They?”

“His bosses at the agency. I know what you're worried about, that he takes his work home with him. That's always been a problem. I was just a kid when it happened, but I think that's why Donatella broke up with him. The bad thing is, he didn't take it as a warning. He just got more and more immersed in his work. Not that he didn't always have a woman around, but nobody serious. Not until now.”

“Serious? I've only known your brother a few days.”

“But you like him, don't you? I'm asking you, just give him a chance.”

A chance? A chance to do what? Make love to her again? Break her heart? Send her back to the US an emotional basket case?

“I think, and Nonna thinks too, that if he had a life outside his work...if he had a wife...”

“But I haven't seen him do any work at all. Since I met him, he's done nothing but show me around, eat and drink and...” She felt her cheeks burn.

 Isabella gave her a knowing smile. “That's why you're so good for him.” She looked at Anne Marie with hopeful eyes. “I just want to say that he's a good man. A good man who needs a good woman. I know he's difficult. I know he doesn't always say what he means, or mean what he says, but I can tell by the way he looks at you...”

Anne Marie waited, but she didn't finish her sentence.

“Go,” Isabella said. “I've said too much already. Go and have a good time. I won't wait up for you.”

Before they knocked on the massive, carved wooden doors of Evie's villa, Anne Marie turned to Marco. Despite his dark jacket, white shirt and a tie, he was too rugged to look suave. Not smooth either, with his hair a shade too long, his slightly crooked nose, and the shadow of a beard on his square jaw. But he was sexy. Very sexy, with his heavy-lidded eyes on her.

“I have to ask you something.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Who are you, really?”

“I might ask you the same thing.” His gaze was dark and fathomless.

“That's no answer. You know who I am. I have nothing to hide.”

“Nothing?” he said.

“All right. I didn't tell you, but I've seen Giovanni, and I gave him something. But that's really none of your business. He's an old friend. I trust him.”

 The unsaid words, But I don't trust you, hung in the air. He heard them just as surely as if she'd spoken them.

“Aren't you going to see him again? Aren't you going to give him something?”

“I have nothing more to give him,” she insisted.

Before he could press her for more information, the huge double doors on the front of the building flew open. Loud music came floating out on the night air, along with loud voices. A woman in head-to-toe gold, a full-length embroidered gold lace coat and gold leather jeans, glittered in the doorway. She was barefoot.

“You must be Anne Marie,” she said with a dazzling smile that matched her outfit. “I'm so glad to see you. You look absolutely fabulous. What a divine necklace.” She reached for the stone around Anne Marie's neck and studied it carefully for a moment, before she kissed Anne Marie on both cheeks, gave Marco a puzzled, sidelong look, then turned back to Anne Marie. “Where's the candy?” she asked abruptly.

Anne Marie's mind went blank. She'd had the candy. She'd brought the candy. But suddenly she didn't know where it was. She turned to Marco.

“In the taxi?” he suggested.

“Look, Misty,” Anne Marie said, so tired of carrying that damned candy all over Italy, so tired of trying to figure out Marco, what he was, what he did and why he did it, and how she felt about him, that she couldn't face another problem. It was just candy, for heaven's sake. “Just forget the candy. I'll send you a new box when I get home.”

“Forget the candy?” Misty's voice rose so high, Anne Marie was afraid it might crack the champagne glass she held in her hand. “I've been waiting for that candy for a week. I came to the airport to meet you, but I missed you because you'd changed your plans and had already left. I called Evie and she assured me you had the candy. Where is the candy?”

“I'll call the taxi company,” Marco said, taking out his phone.

“You'll have to do more than that,” Misty said, her fierce gaze leveled at Anne Marie. “I must have it.”

Anne Marie knew people who craved chocolate, but this bordered on a serious addiction. She was about to say something when a crowd of guests came up the long stairs behind them and Misty was forced to turn her attention to them.

Momentarily reprieved, Anne Marie waited until Marco finished his phone conversation, then he assured her the taxi driver had been found and would deliver the candy. She hooked her hand in Marco's arm and walked into the huge, high-ceilinged room that was more of an art gallery than a living room. It was filled with well-dressed people and undressed marble statues and paintings that looked old and valuable. Waiters passed through the crowd with trays of drinks and tiny appetizers. Anne Marie took a glass of champagne and a cracker covered with caviar.

“Thank you for handling the lost candy,” she said. “Was it just me, or did that woman seem hysterical about the loss of those chocolates?” she asked.

“I've never understood women and chocolate,” he said. “She liked your necklace,” he noted. “Where did that come from?

“It's Isabella's. She said it was a present from a man she was once involved with. A farewell gift.”