Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) (22 page)

When Marcello finally arrived at the palace, he went straight to the Situation Room for an update and debrief. Though he and Alex had spoken several times during his trip back, he wanted to ensure everything was fine before he drowned himself in a long shower followed by at least twelve hours of sleep.

As he entered the room with his agents behind him, every set of eyes turned, including those of Alex and his father. Gabriel’s expression hardened at the sight of Marcello’s bruises.

Alex got to him first and pulled him in for a fierce hug. He felt like the little brother he was whenever he was swamped by Alex’s broad body.

Their father came next, kissing Marcello’s forehead gently before holding him. He never felt safer anywhere than in his father’s arms, even as an adult. Perhaps the only exception was Grace’s arms.

When they pulled away, the other security advisors and personnel in the room greeted Marcello and the other returning agents with handshakes and ignored the scene they had just witnessed. Though it was obvious the royal family loved each other, it wasn’t always on display.

Gabriel called a doctor who administered Marcello and the other agents while they gave their debriefing. It lasted a few hours, by which time the story had also made the press.

“I’m giving a national address tonight,” Gabriel said as they, along with Alex, walked towards the Royal Wing of the palace.

“That will help,” Marcello said. “What about Byelorus, Litva, and Estoria?”

“I’ve spoken to their leaders. I can’t say I’m surprised by the accusatory tone Byelorus and Litva are taking, but the press will follow the truth.”

“And Gardar Rus?”

“IPF are issuing their own statement tonight, once they’ve decided on the full set of charges. We’re going to see to it that the video leaks shortly before my speech.”

Marcello nodded as they walked inside. Any fatigue he had been feeling was stripped away by the exclamations of his family when he entered.

“Marcello,” his mother, Genevieve, said as she walked up and gave him a kiss on each cheek before drawing him in for a hug. Come to think of it, Marcello didn’t mind a hug from his mother too much each, either.

From there, he was greeted by Carolina, Arianna, Lorenzo, and Rebecca.

“I’m so glad you’re safe and sound again,” Rebecca whispered in his ear. “Alex was so worried about you.”

“Does that mean you weren’t?” he asked with a playful smile as they pulled away.

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly, then softened at his expression. “You know I was. You’re my brother now, too, you know.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Another sister for him to worry over. “I know I am, and I’m proud of it,” he said as he kissed her cheek.

“Marcello,” a voice said from down the hall, and Marcello’s heart stuttered.

Marcello turned to see Cat and Grace walking towards them. His broad smile turned thin, however, when he saw their bruises as they came closer.

“What happened?” he asked as he strode towards them.

“It’s my fault,” Grace said in a small voice, and his heart broke to see her hurting or blaming herself. As Grace related a brief version of events, Marcello’s blood ran hot with fury. He took a few deep breaths to get himself under control.

“You’re both okay?” Marcello asked.

“More than,” Cat said and gave him a hug. “We’ve just got some scrapes. You’re much more bruised than we are. How are you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, his eyes still locked with Grace’s. Unable to hold back any longer, Marcello walked over to Grace and enveloped her in his arms. God, how he’d missed her. She’d been hurt, but she was okay. For some reason, he blamed himself for her injuries.

“Everyone’s watching,” she whispered against his ear, slightly terrified.

Marcello smiled and drew away slightly, keeping an arm around her. “Have you met everyone, then?”

“Yes, I have. Cat introduced me.”

“Good. Well, let me do it again anyway. Everyone, this is Lady Grace, the woman I’m in love with. Grace, this is everyone. You’ll meet the rest of the clan at an exhausting family dinner soon.”

Everyone had broad smiles on their faces while Grace blushed. God, he’d even missed her blush. “I’m exhausted,” Marcello said.

“Of course, dear,” Genevieve said. “You should get some rest. Should we hold dinner for you?”

“No, I’m just going to have it in my room tonight.” Was he seeing things, or was Grace disappointed by that news?

His mother came over and gave him another kiss, then gave Grace a kiss on her cheek as well, surprising her. “Just let me know if you need anything, dear.”

As the family left the foyer, Marcello held on as Grace started to pull away. “Where do you think you’re going?” Marcello asked her.

“You need rest.”

“I need you,” he said and pulled her close. “I need you.” His fingers delved into her long, soft hair and his mouth descended on hers for a greedy kiss. The lack of sleep had him on edge and he was letting it all out on Grace’s luscious pink lips and tongue.

He pushed her against wall, and let his hands roam down the sides of her body. He wanted to be buried inside her for hours, days, and forever.

When she let out a cry of pain, he pulled back quickly.

“What did I do? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly as she held up her hands. “I just forgot I’d injured these and I banged them against the wall.”

“Holy hell, I’m an asshole,” he said as he stepped away from her. “You’ve been injured and I’m taking advantage of you.”

She walked towards him and placed her injured hand on his injured cheek. “We’re both injured it seems. Why don’t we heal together?”

When he didn’t say anything, she joined her hand with his. “Show me your room,” she said.

After another moment, he nodded and they walked hand-in-hand down the twisting hallways.

***

Grace was nervous as they approached his door. Would he turn her away? Or hold her close like she longed for him to do again?

As they stepped inside, she noted once again the similarities between this and Cat’s rooms. The furniture was very similar, but the tones very different. Where Cat preferred lilac, Marcello preferred tones of slate gray and dark green. For some reason, it reminded her of the Temple of Emma back in England where they had made love and she had fought for her life; gray stone surrounded by deep green forests. Was that a sign? If so, was it a sign of things good or bad?

As the door clicked close, she turned and waited for him to notice. It only took a matter of seconds.

“Whose bags are those?” he said as he pointed to a stack of luggage nestled in the foyer of his royal apartment.

“They’re mine,” she said and watched his eyes widen. “I thought to stay here with you, but I can stay in the guest room if you’d rather.”

He pulled her against his warm chest and wrapped his strong, slim, toned arms around her. “You’re never leaving me again if I have anything to say about it,” he said.

“Marcello.”

“Don’t pull away, not yet. Let me hold you a little longer. I missed you like crazy.”

Her heart bloomed for him even more than she thought possible. “I missed you, too.”

“You did?” he asked as he nuzzled her hair. “God, I missed your hair.”

She giggled. “My hair?”

“Yes, I love your long hair, Grace. Don’t ever cut it. It drives me wild. Soft and golden. I swear the scent of it haunts my dreams.”

“It’s the shampoo I use,” she murmured. In the past, an order telling her to cut her hair was another form of control. This time, she knew that an order telling her not to cut her hair was a sign of love.

“Mmmm,” he said and dropped a kiss under her ear, then on her temple. “How long are you staying in Valleria for?”

“Let’s talk about it after you’ve gotten some rest,” she said as she rubbed her hands along his back to deflect the question for the moment. “You need to shower and eat something, too.”

He jumped back, leaving her arms dangling in the air. “I’m sorry. I probably smell terrible. I didn’t use the shower on the plane on the way back.”

“You smell fine,” she said as she stepped towards him. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

She could see his nature warring within him. He was always the giver, wanting to take care of her. Well, he’d just have to get used to someone else taking care of him.

“Please? I could even help you in the shower,” she whispered against his ear.

“Jesus, Grace.”

She smiled. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Yes, it’s a ‘yes’, damn it,” he said, a man frustrated but not angry. She’d gotten better at recognizing true anger as opposed to frustration. Particularly sexual frustration.

“Did you get a tour of the suite?” he asked as he took her hand gently and walked her through his rooms.

“Yes, Cat showed me around.”

“Good, then we can get right down to business.” When they reached the bedroom and his overly large bed, he gently sat her down on the edge. He spent some time running his hands through her long hair. She closed her eyes and just let the unexpected feeling of contentment wash over her. She was happy, she realized. The typically elusive emotion came much more quickly and easily now.

She lifted her hands to the hem of his shirt and slid her hands underneath, feeling his taut muscles and smattering of coarse chest hair.

“I love the way you touch me,” he said gruffly.

“You do?” When she looked up his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. His hands fisted lightly in her hair. “What do you love?”

“Sometimes it’s soft and gentle, like it is now. Other times, like it was in the rain, you were holding onto me like an anchor out at sea.”

His eyes opened and connected with hers. He laid her down on the bed and hovered over her. “But no matter how you touch me, each one is like a little bolt of electricity on my skin.”

“It is?”

“Hot and exciting. It feels me with a need I never knew was possible. I crave it. I crave you and your touch, fair Grace.”

“Marcello.”

“Grace.” His lips fell to hers in a possessive kiss. It was rough and brutal, hard and unyielding.

And she wanted more.

Her hands started to pull his shirt off, and Marcello broke the kiss long enough to help her. Gasping for breath, he pulled her shirt off as well. The lacy bra she had worn, just for him, was admired with a lick of his lips, then followed their shirts onto a pile on the floor. When her eyes broke contact with his to take in his bare flesh, she gasped and sat up.

“Marcello,” she said, her voice filled with concern. Her fingers gently caressed the small circular bruises marring his skin. “What happened?”

Marcello took her hands and brought them to his lips. “It’s not a big deal. I was wearing a vest.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I was shot at, Grace.”

“What?” she said and he tightened his hold on her hands. “Shot?”

“I was wearing a bulletproof vest,” he said again. “They catch the bullet itself, but sometimes the force is too strong and it leaves a mark.”