His Four Poster Bed (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 2) (11 page)

Marco and I sat next to each other at his long dining room table. He set the places side by side so we weren’t replaying some medieval scene with miles of table between us. In fact, he kept reaching under the table and rubbing my knee between bites of his enchiladas.

“Your mother taught you well,” I said, taking my last bite of the dish. I was officially full. The spices had just the right amount of bite, the chicken was tender and perfectly charbroiled and the vegetables just crispy enough. “You ever want to quit your day you could open up one of those trendy lunch trucks.”

Marco’s face lit up. “You know my mother and I used to talk about opening a restaurant together,” he said. “It was silly really, but something we shared. She was a wonderful cook.” He smiled as if he were replaying a memory in his mind. “She used to take me into the kitchen with her and I’d be her assistant, cutting vegetables, making sauces. I loved it. I always knew I was lucky.”

“That is so sweet,” I said, taking a sip of red wine. “Why haven’t you done it without her?”

“She was the talent,” he said, sighing and leaning back in his chair. “The point was she inspired me to dream, to want more than just work in the family business. It drove my father crazy the way she parented me. He wanted her to hire a nanny, a cook, a chauffeur when we lived in Guadalajara, but she insisted on spending time with me. I remember my father actually hired a nanny once and my mother fired her on the spot.” He smiled. “I loved how she stood up to him. I remember it still.”

I thought of my mother and the way she had crumbled without my father, the opposite of strong. I wished I had been raised by a woman like Marco’s mother, and I instantly felt guilty for thinking such a horrible thought.

“My mother always told me that the most important thing in life is to remember who you are, where you came from. My family wasn’t always rich. Before my father founded the import export business, my parents were from poor families. My mother never forgot who she was. She was always grateful.”

“And your father?” I asked looking at Marco over the top of my wine glass.

His eyes met mine, the coldness in his gaze gave me my answer.

Marco poured me another glass of wine. I felt blissfully sleepy, relaxed but not drifting. My body felt thoroughly exhausted but the dinner had given me some energy. I wasn’t falling asleep at the table yet.

“The service here is wonderful,” I murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek as he leaned over me.

“Well, the clientele is intoxicating,” Marco said, kissing me.

I was exhausted but every kiss from this man made me want to drop my panties.

“Odessa is an unusual name,” Marco said when we’d taken a breath. He reached over and interlaced his fingers with mine, his skin felt warm against mine.

“It’s Ukrainian,” I said, unable to stifle a yawn. “A city actually in Ukraine. My mother was born there. It seems she’s a bit sentimental. And stuck in the past, and totally dysfunctional and unable to do anything on her own.”

“And you are so driven.”

“Ah yes,” I took another sip of wine. “My response to her low functioning life style is to be a high functioning type A personality. At least that is what I’ve been told.”

“Told by who”

“Ex-boyfriends, family members, it doesn’t matter really,” I rolled my eyes remembering one of Dr. Mike’s rants about my emotional unavailability. “The fact is my parents split. My mother is Ukrainian, my father was . . . is from Minnesota. He’s a dentist. They met when my mother moved here when she was eighteen.” I sighed. “Boy meets foreign girl, boy and foreign girl fall in love. Boy grows up and gets bored, abandons his family while foreign girl loses her marbles. It’s a classic rom-com.”

“Do you talk to your father?”

“Not if I can help it,” I said, giving a falsely bright smile. “He has a new family. It’s an old story, nothing new. I don’t want to bore you with it.”

“You aren’t boring me. It’s incredibly sad.”

“It’s not sad, it’s just something that happens. I’m over it. And it’s not my dad’s betrayal that is the sad part, it’s how my mother fell apart. She fell the fuck apart. With no means, no motivation. Dad has been gone for eighteen years and she still thinks he’s coming back . . .eighteen years.”

“Is it that bad to never stop believing in the person you love?” Marco said, standing and taking my place. “She must have really loved him.”

His comments stunned me for a moment.

“Yeah, she did, I think she really did,” I said, watching him walk into the kitchen. Marco was right, my mother had been in love, so in love that she lost herself completely. A mistake I didn’t want to repeat.

Marco walked back into the room and offered me his hand. “Are you ready for dessert?” His smile was ridiculously suggestive.

“I can’t, I want you, but I don’t think I can come another . . .”

“Shhhhh,” he helped me to my feet and holding my hand led me across the room. “I thought we might do something very unique this time, very special.”

“It sounds exhausting,” I said, softly as we walked into his bedroom.

Marco led me towards the bed. “I want to crawl into that bed and do one thing with you Odessa Starr, and one thing only.”

“You do?” I asked weakly.

“I want you to fall asleep in my arms,” he said, smiling.

“Oh thank God,” I said, laughing. I threw my arms around him and rested my head against his chest. “Then take me to bed or lose me forever. I don’t think I can stand another moment. You’ve wrecked me.”

Marco laughed and lifted me up slipping me out of the soft robe. I slid beneath his sheets and closed my eyes.

“Hello, Ms. Starr,” Todd the bellman now made it a habit to greet me at the garage when I arrived at the hotel. It was equal parts charming and unnerving. “Your bag?”

“Thanks Todd,” I handed him my overnight bag and followed him up a staircase that led from the top floor of the garage to the lobby. “So, do you just hang out here in the garage waiting for me?” I asked him as we walked up the stairs. “How do you know when I’m arriving?” Once Marco had given me a parking pass, Todd had mysteriously been appearing whenever I parked my car. My own personal escort. It was a bit strange but I had to admit I was happy to have the help with the bags I carted back and forth from my house to work and to Marco’s every day.

“Mr. Amador has strict instructions that you are to be escorted upstairs,” Todd said, leading me around a small corner right to the private elevator that led to the penthouse.

“And you just wait for hours then?” I looked at my watch, it was 10:00 p.m. “I was late tonight, over an hour. Don’t you have other guests you are supposed to help?”

“I work exclusively for Mr. Amador now,” Todd said, rocking back on his feet a proud grin on his face. Then the elevator doors opened and his face fell as if he had just remembered something. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that,” he said.

He cringed and hit the button that led to Marco’s penthouse. “Please don’t tell Mr. Amador. I signed an NDA and he pays so much better than the hotel.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t out you to the boss.” Marco hadn’t mentioned to me that Todd was on his staff. It didn’t feel like a betrayal it was just interesting. I figured he had a bit more experience than me hiding from paparazzi and navigating this gossip riddled world as a billionaire.

The doors opened. Todd nodded and placed my bag in the entry way.

“Anything else ma’am?” He asked.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Can you please call me miss? You make me feel like an old lady with all this ma’am stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am . . . I mean miss.” Todd’s freckled cheeks flushed. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. And thank you about . . . you know.”

“Of course, Todd,” I said, turning at the sound of voices in the condo. Marco was having an animated conversation with a dark haired man who appeared to be adjusting the branches of what looked like a sculpture of a large silver tree. A beautiful red haired woman sat on the couch by the fireplace turning pages in a catalog as if she were waiting for an appointment.

“Hello,” I said, walking into the room, worried I should have called before arriving. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not.” Marco’s face lit up when he saw me. He strode across the room and planted a long lingering kiss on my lips. “Hello gorgeous,” he said, taking a moment to look into my eyes.

“Hello,” I giggled a little embarrassed at his display of affection.

“Theo Manhattan, this is Odessa Starr,” Marco held my arm and called over his shoulder to the man by the tree.

Theo stopped his work and nodded at me. He had long wavy dark hair and the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a lilting British accent. “I apologize for interrupting your evening, this bloody installation was supposed to take an hour.”

“Installation?” I said, as Marco took my hand and led me around the couch so I could sit beside the red haired woman.

“I’m Grace,” she said, softly extending her pale hand. “I’m with Theo. I’m here for emotional support only.” She nodded at the man beside the tree catching his eye. He stopped his work to smile at her. It was clear in that moment that they were deeply in love.

“Theo is the artist I told you about,” Marco said.

“You made the bird cages,” I said, the pieces falling into place. “Marco is a great admirer of your work.”

“She gifted them back to me,” Marco said, to Theo his lips in a tight line of mock anger. “I gave them to her and she just sent them back as if they were nothing at all. She may be beautiful, but no doubt about it, she’s cruel. Cruel I tell you.”

“Come on,” I said, laughing. “It was too much. They were lovely Theo, really they were. You are very talented.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Theo said, stepping back from the sculpture. The trunk of the tree stopped at about six feet with the branches extending even higher.

“I’ll help,” Grace said, standing. “It’s beautiful babe, it really is.” Grace got up off the couch and picked up one of the birdcages from the auction hanging it on a thin branch. Marco offered me his hand and we stood together as Theo and Grace arranged the cages on the tree in front of the enormous glass window that faced the night sky.

“Now that’s complete,” Theo said, stepping back from his work. Grace sidled up beside him slipping her hand into his. The two of them made quite a pair with his blue eyes and her dark red hair and pale skin. She reminded me of a woodland fairy, ethereal and sparkling, yet something about her gaze suggested a fire burned in her soul. I liked her. I liked him. I could see why Marco had invested so much time in this artist and in his art.

“I love it,” Marco said, walking to the sculpture and tracing his fingers over the branches. “Now aren’t you sad you gave me back those cages, Odessa?” he joked.

“I don’t have room in my studio for a display like this,” I said.

“Right then, we’ll be off.” Theo said. He packed up a small tool chest with Grace’s help and the two of them walked hand in hand to the elevator. “It was lovely meeting you Odessa, good night.” The elevator chimed and Theo and Grace disappeared downstairs.

Marco slipped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Do you like the sculpture?”

“Yes,” I said, admiring the way the light hit the branches and the cages. It was such a clever way to display the birds. “It’s gorgeous, so modern.”

“I have a gift for you,” he said.

I tensed up looking at the tree. “Not the cages, I’ve told you it’s too generous.”

“And I listened,” he said. “This is a different kind of gift, something that I think you will consider more reasonable.” His lips against my ear he gave me a soft kiss sending chills through my body. “Follow me,” he whispered, leading me across the room.

“You know I don’t want anything from you,” I said, as we walked into his bedroom.

“You don’t?” He turned and smiled at me, one eyebrow arched.

“Well, there is something I do want from you actually,” I said, placing my hand right on the bulge in his pants. I felt him harden at my touch.

I moved to kiss Marco when he pointed to the bed.