VITTORIO'S LOVER (Vittorio Series) (15 page)

Her gaze moved to his sensuous mouth,
instantly rekindling the memory of their last kiss. “You were right,” she murmured, heat spreading through her like wild fire when his lips curved into a knowing smile.

Raffaele
bowed his head to give her the merest whisper of a kiss before taking her hand and ascending the massive staircase. Jenesa’s heart was pounding as they walked in silence, down one long corridor and then turning right to follow another. She was only vaguely aware of passing several closed doors until they reached the end of the hall and stopped in front of the last room on the left.  Assuming this must be Raffaele’s bedroom, she looked up at him expectantly.

“You are making this very difficult,
mio tesoro
,” he sighed. Reaching around her, Raffaele opened the door and flipped the light switch. “I think you will find this room very comfortable. There are clean robes in the bathroom if you want to take a shower, as well as brushes for your hair and teeth, and body lotions. I will pilfer a nightgown from my sister’s room and leave it outside your door. If you need anything, my room is right across the hall.
Buonanotte…
good-night, Jenesa, we will talk in the morning.”

Hiding her disappointment behind a smile, Jenesa thanked him before stepping inside the room and closing the door.
She’d never felt so lost or alone in her life.

                                                     ***

Raffaele made his way to Milana’s room with a purposeful stride, determined not to allow the vision of Jenesa taking a shower invade his mind. But, of course, the more he tried
not
to think of it, the more vivid the image became; Jenesa’s body lathered in soap, water sluicing over her generous curves, the perfection of her silken skin, moist and glistening as she steps from the shower, her pallor a rosy pink from the steamy heat.

He pictured her in the soft, white robe that his mother kept in all the guest rooms, grinding his teeth to stifle the groan as he visualized slipping it from her shoulders and watching it drop to the floor.
He longed to touch her again, to feel her writhing beneath him as they made love and hear those breathless gasps as she begged him for more. It was sheer agony to know she would be sleeping across the hall from him, and yet he was honor bound to remain in his own room throughout the long hours of the night. Wanting her, aching for her, wondering if she was lying awake too.

Giving himself a mental shake, Raffaele entered his sister’s room and riffled through her dresser drawers for something that wasn’t
made of silk or transparent lace.  The last thing he needed was to add to his misery by giving Jenesa something sexy to wear to bed. As much as he wanted her, he wasn’t looking forward to the restless nights and string of cold showers that his life would consist of for the duration of her stay on the island.

Finally procuring a sleeveless black cotton top with matching shorts, he tossed them on the bed and went through her closet to find something more appropriate for Jenesa to wear the following day.
Milana was taller and thinner, but he found a couple of sun dresses he thought would fit. It took a trip down the west wing to locate a pair of flat sandals in Jenesa’s size; those he pilfered from Shelby, who was to married his brother, Logan. 

It didn’t occur to him that Jenesa might be hungry until he was standing outside her door with the items he’d collected
and heard his stomach grumble. Should he knock and ask if she wanted to join him for a late night snack or would that be inviting temptation he might not have the strength to deny a second time? Raffaele scoffed at himself. Jenesa Harding was only a woman who ignited feelings of lust; she was not a
strega
…a witch, with mystical powers that could entice him to forget the promise he made.

He rapped on the door, lightly at first and then more firmly in case she was in the bathroom and didn’t hear. When a third knock went unanswered, Raffaele
surmised she must be in the shower and decided to leave the clothes on the bed along with a note telling Jenesa he would return in twenty minutes. Inching the door open, he caught sight of her immediately and crossed the room to the four poster bed where she lay. She must have been exhausted because she’d only removed her shoes before crawling on top of the down comforter and falling asleep.

Her hair was splayed across the pillow, a mass of
golden curls that was as fine and soft as corn silk. She was curled into a ball with one hand draped across her waist and the other tucked up under her pillow. Raffaele set the bundle of clothes on the nightstand and placed the sandals on the floor where she was sure to find them. He turned to go, fully intending to leave as silently as he had arrived, when something compelled him to glance back at her. 

She was…breathtaking.

Raffaele stood there for several minutes, attempting to discern the precise moment Jenesa had gone from unremarkable to achingly beautiful. It didn’t make sense, this overwhelming attraction he had for her. Was it her body? Had he suddenly acquired a desire for the feminine softness of a curvaceous figure? Or was it something else? Had he grown tired of the fashionably elegant styles of his former girlfriends, preferring instead the natural color and waves of Jenesa’s pale hair?

Perhaps it was something deeper and more fundamental than
her physical appearance. Like the unpretentious way she looked at him with those evocative eyes as they’d stood outside her bedroom door earlier. She made him feel as if no other men existed; at least not as far as she was concerned. And she’d understood what he meant about the drawbacks of being wealthy, that is wasn’t all glamour and glitz or sipping champagne by the poolside while the hired help lurked about waiting to serve you.

He sorely regretted not being able to spend the night with her, even more so when
he reached over to switch off the bedside lamp and glimpsed the shimmer of moisture on the tips of her lashes. She’d been crying, but why? Raffaele didn’t like knowing she was so unhappy, or that he it might be the cause of it. Male pride made him bury the unwelcome thought that it was the comfort of Luca’s arms she longed for. 

Deep in thought, Raffaele made his way to the walk-in closet
to pull one of the spare comforters from the top shelf and carried it back to the bed. After gently placing it over Jenesa to ward off the slight chill in the air, he turned off the light and returned to his room. No longer hungry, Raffaele took a quick shower and climbed into bed just as the first rumble of thunder sounded from the approaching storm. 

Somehow, he would untangle the mess he and Luca had made of this woman’s life.
Once again, his mind wandered back to the possibility that Jenesa was pregnant and the inevitable unhappy fall-out that would ensue if it was his brother’s child. Too many lives would destroyed, too much misery and regret and eventually, bitterness because of one weak moment and a night of indiscretion.  And in the middle of it all…an innocent child who would grow up knowing he was the reason his parents despised one another.

Raffaele’s lips drew into a thin line of grim determination. He could not…
would
not let that happen. Whatever the consequences, it was up to him to make sure that Jenesa never gave birth to Luca’s baby.

                                                    ***

Jenesa huddled beneath the covers. Even with her eyes closed
, she was aware of the lightening streaking across the sky because she hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains before curling up on the bed. Every few minutes the entire room was illuminated, but that barely fazed her. It was the horrendous claps of thunder chasing the lightshow that sent shivers of fear racing up her spine. They were getting progressively louder and closer together, and infinitely more terrifying once the pounding of the rain against her windows joined in. 

At least it drowned out
the sound of waves crashing over the rocks below the mansion. That was the first frightening and unfamiliar noise to disturb her sleep; dragging her from a haunting dream Jenesa couldn’t quite remember to catapult her into a living nightmare. She wasn’t fond of storms, but they had never alarmed her to this extent before or made her cower under the covers like a child whose wild imagination created monsters from the shadows on the wall.

A startled squeak
burst free when a particularly violent gust of wind rattled the window panes. Panic-stricken, Jenesa’s mind began to fabricate headlines for tomorrow’s news media:
Hurricane Annihilates Mansion…Woman Swept Away in Colossal Ocean Wave…Island Vanishes in Hostile Storm…

Oh, God, why had she agreed to come here?

Braving it out as long she could, Jenesa’s tattered nerves finally snapped when several minutes of rumbling thunder was followed by a sonic boom. Throwing back the covers, she leapt from the bed and bolted for the door as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. Light suddenly flooded the room, momentarily blinding her and sending another jolt of panic to her quivering insides as she collided with a solid mass that seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

Much later, she realized it must have been the conversation about robbers and kidnappers invading the mansion that sparked the terrified scream from her because it never entered her mind that the arms enveloping her belonged to Raffaele.
Sobbing hysterically, Jenesa struggled to free herself, striking out at her captor with savage blows fueled by sheer terror and adrenalin until there was no fight left. Gasping for air, her energy spent, Jenesa felt herself slipping from his grasp as her knees began to buckle.

“Easy,
mio piccolo
,” Raffaele said softly, “I’ve got you.”

Jenesa drew in
a shaky breath as he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the room. She let her head fall against his shoulder; too distraught at the moment to offer an apology for her insane behavior, and too grateful for the protective way he held her to offer any objections about being taken to his bedroom. The room was dark, but his footsteps never faltered as he padded over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress with her on his lap.

For a long time, Raffaele simply held her while he gently stroked her back and murmured words of assurance
, occasionally slipping into Italian. It was a beautiful language which she found especially soothing when spoken in a fluent baritone that seemed to barricade her from the suffocating fear that had gripped her only moments ago. Locked in Raffaele’s strong arms with the warmth of his bare chest against her cheek and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm, Jenesa felt strangely calm and content.

Outside, the howling wind had picked up
speed, driving the down-pouring rain into the windows with a vengeance while the thunder and lightning continued to assault the skies. Even so, it seemed a distant threat now that she was with Raffaele. 

She
really did owe him an apology, if not for the fit of hysteria, at the very least for physically attacking him. By all rights, Raffaele should have been mad as a hornet; instead, he was being kind and understanding, as if he knew why she’d behaved like a raving lunatic and held her blameless. Jenesa hoped that was the case because she was simply too tired to explain. It was a major effort just to keep her eyelids open; a battle she lost a few seconds later when she fell into an exhausted sleep.

                                                    ***

The storm had taken on a new fury; Jenesa sensed it the instant she was wrenched from a blissfully dreamless sleep by the roar of the ocean slamming into…what? She hadn’t seen enough of the island on their short drive to the mansion to know if there were cliffs of stone protecting them or merely beaches and trees. The Vittorio’s would have used the finest architects and builders in the business to insure the sound structure of the mansion, there was no question in her mind about that, but was it strong enough to withstand the brutal beating it was getting right now?

With a million troublesome thoughts swirling around in her head,
several minutes passed before Jenesa realized she wasn’t alone in bed. Raffaele was lying behind her with one arm curled around her waist, holding her firmly against his muscular body.

She had a hazy memory of begging
him to stay with her and the enormous relief when he agreed, but everything after that was a complete blur, including when or how her dress had been replaced with some sort of short sleeved nightie. Presumably, she must have stopped clinging to him long enough to change clothes. The material felt nice; thick and soft like the Egyptian cotton sheets they were sleeping on, but not so heavy it prevented her from feeling his incredible heat down the length of her back and against her bottom, which was tucked into the curve of his thighs.

Every nerve ending in her body rippled to life, tingling with anticipation while her
female hormones took a less subtle route and went berserk, clamoring for a full scale red alert. Cocooned as she was, with his face nuzzled against the nape of her neck and their legs entwined, there didn’t seem to be any portion of her anatomy that wasn’t touching Raffaele. It was the most agonizing form of rapture she had ever experienced; all she had to do was turn over and he would make love to her again, but in doing so, she would relinquish what little control she had over the situation.