La Sposa (19 page)

She put a finger to his mouth and silenced
him. “I’m a stranger here. A black American woman who rose from the
dead and reappeared with a little brown, blue-eyed baby, will marry
the most eligible bachelor in the
Campania
. Of course they
will stare at me.”

“
They will respect you.” His tone
was soft as velvet, but edged with steel.

“
Yes. They will. But it’s okay if I
earn their respect.” She kissed his lips. “I can handle them,
Giovanni. Trust me.”

“
I do trust you, Bella. With my
life and the life of my children. I don’t want you to have any
regrets.”

“
We all have regrets sweetheart.
It’s our nature. Mine don’t compare to all the rewards I share with
you.” She brought his hand down to her stomach and placed it there.
“Our child is going to be remarkable, just like Eve. We’re going to
have it all. Aren’t we?”

Giovanni’s gaze lowered to her stomach and she
could see sadness in his eyes. She embraced him to keep him from
verbalizing whatever fear he had. He held her close to him. “I’m
ready, Giovanni.
Ti amo
.”

“
Perfetto
. Then let’s go
downstairs and celebrate.”

“
Let’s go.”

Chapter Five

Amore / Sesso
– Love / Sex

She was a sexy one, with high breasts and a
small waist. Her ass moved so fucking sweetly underneath the snug
fit of her dress, he had to rub his jaw to keep from fixing himself
below. His damn dick felt like a boulder between his legs. She kept
walking ahead of him with bouncy thick black curly hair. He wasn’t
able to unglue his eyes from the sway of her hips. She glanced back
at him when they entered the elevator. He saw her confidence slip
as he stepped in and crowded her to the corner. Lorenzo dropped his
hand on the side- mirrored wall and locked her in his
gaze.

Her lips were tempting him. She wore them
slicked with shimmering red gloss. He licked his own, bringing his
face closer to hers.

“
Ah, I need to press the button—uh,
four.” She turned her face away to avoid the pending
kiss.

Lorenzo glanced back at the light panel. He
hit four and the elevator began to climb. His attention returned to
her. He hadn’t touched her yet. But he intended to. And those damn
lips.
Blow job lips
, he thought to himself. She made things
worse by smelling so damn good. Fuck. He bet her pussy smelled like
roses too.

“
You have to give a girl a little
space to breathe,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

He stepped back and dropped his hands behind
his back. The elevator doors opened and she hurried around him into
the hall. The fire burning in him for a taste of her was now an
inferno. He followed her, close.

Caught in her own tangled impulses, inviting
this dangerous man into her web may prove to be a sticky situation.
Marietta turned the key, and the lock disengaged with a soft click.
She tossed a casual look back over her shoulder. Lorenzo stood
almost as tall as the hall ceiling. He leaned against a powder blue
and beige wallpapered wall. His vibe was ‘don’t invite me in as a
tease, because if I enter I’m fucking you’ and danger rolled off
him in such strong waves she believed it. The raw vulnerability she
felt when she looked into his eyes made her hesitate.
Think.
Think. Think. Do you want to play this game with this
man?

Lorenzo lifted from the wall and stepped
toward her. It was too late. She had gone this far, there was no
turning back. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he walked in
through the door she held for him. He reached for her hand and she
gracefully delayed him by side-stepping his touch.

The hotel suite was comprised of a series of
levels and bi-levels. The living area sunk down into the floor. The
kitchen area rose above it and was situated to the left. The entire
space was open and airy with very few walls or doors except for the
bath, bedroom, and a coat closet. Large glass doors led to a quaint
balcony that gave a spectacular view of Milano at night. Pretty
soon, the savings she was living off of would run out and she’d
have to find something less posh. Marietta hoped to have resolved
her issues with the Capriccios before then.

Lorenzo remained at the door until she turned
on the lamps, shrugged off her coat, and set her purse down.
Marietta heard the double bolt engage by his hand. Her heart beat
erratically against her chest when she glanced his way once
more.

“
I think there will be fireworks
tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile. Her brows rose in
surprise. “Outside.” He nodded toward the window.

“
Oh? Yes. The front desk manager
told me the celebration starts right at midnight. Maybe we should
have drinks on the balcony? We still got about three hours left to
the year.”

Their eyes locked. His lips curled into a
smile. The man truly had an uncomplicated charm about him. What you
saw with Lorenzo Battaglia was what you got. His cool yet aloof
manner disarmed her.

“
I’ll take that as a yes,” she
said.

“
No,
Cara.
I’d rather keep
you inside.” He measured her with an appraising look that moved
over her body slowly. Those looks were a constant since she joined
him at the bar and each one aroused her vanity, instead of caution.
Now she understood how easily little red riding hood was fooled the
first time she met the wolf.

“
Possessive already are we? I’m
flattered,” she said as she stepped up into the suite’s
kitchenette, her stilettos clicked daintily over the hardwood
floors. She put a bit of a sway to her hips knowing he paid extra
attention to her backside. A little flirting would do no
harm.

Underneath the cabinet, she found the
complimentary bottle of wine. She bent at the waist, her dress
moving up to reveal more of her thighs as she located two glasses.
She was certain he noticed. When Marietta turned, she saw he had
shed his coat.

“
Incredibile
. What they’ve
done to the place.” Lorenzo commented, bringing her out of her
thoughts. “I haven’t stayed here in a few years,” he said,
unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat on the leather
sofa.

Marietta uncorked the wine and joined him.
“I’ve been here for a little over a month. I think I need to look
for somewhere more permanent. Any recommendations?”

“
I own a few places. I’d like to
help. Planning on making Italy your residence?” He asked, accepting
the wine glass. His accented voice was deep with a quiet charm that
had a hint of roughneck around the edges. An unusual mix that made
her yearn for him to talk more.

“
That’s sweet.
Grazie.
It
depends on how things work out for me.” She smiled. The heart that
had been banging hard and fast against her chest had somehow lodged
in her throat. She swallowed hard to continue to speak with less of
a hoarse, nervous quiver to her words. “I know you may think it
strange that I’m the daughter of Caruso Capriccio.”

“
I don’t.” he corrected
her.

“
Oh? Okay.”

“
Many men I know have whores, and
some of those whores have babies.” Lorenzo shrugged.

Marietta tensed. “Are you calling my mother a
whore?”

He sat upright. “Of course she was a whore.
She wasn’t his wife. Far as I know, Capriccio always had a
wife.”

“
If you and I are going to be
friends,
Signor
Battaglia, we need to get something clear.”
Marietta set the wine bottle on the coffee table. “My mother is not
to be disrespected. Period. If anything, Caruso Capriccio is the
whore for stepping out on his marriage and fathering a child with
another woman.”

Confusion dented Lorenzo’s brow. He put up his
hands in mock surrender. “
Va bene.
Mi scusi,
Marietta.
I didn’t mean to offend you. I sometimes forget my
manners. Besides, you were the one who referred to her as a whore
first, if I recall.”

The apology felt sincere, and he was right.
She was the first to introduce that word into the conversation
earlier about her mother. Marietta regained her composure. Lorenzo
poured their wine like a gentleman. A comfortable silence settled
between them. She sucked in a breath and exhaled slow. His large
presence overwhelmed her, even when he was sitting. Damn, he was
all man. “Well I’ve told you about me, why don’t you tell me about
you?”

“
Nothing to tell.” Lorenzo
said.

“
Are you married?” She
asked.

“
No.”

“
Kids?”

“
No.”

“
What do you do for a
living?”

His gaze slid from her face to her cleavage,
then back to her eyes again. Marietta chewed on the inside of her
jaw. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She
asked.

“
Like what?” He dropped a hand on
her thigh. She looked down to his touch, then back up into his
eyes. Having lost her train of thought, she stammered a bit before
she answered him.

“
Like I’m a steak dinner, and you
haven’t eaten in weeks.”

He began to choke and cough on his wine.
Marietta smiled. Lorenzo put the wine down and smiled. “I am
hungry,” he said with a smile.

“
I didn’t invite you here for sex.”
She tried to shift her legs by crossing them, and his response was
to slide his hand down further along her thigh.

“
I’m disappointed.”

“
You should be.” Marietta quipped.
She lifted his hand from her thigh and shot him a challenging
glare. “I’m good.”

Humor and keen interest flashed underneath his
smile. One deep look into the lovely blue shade of his eyes and she
warmed intimately.

“
You are beautiful.” He leaned
forward to speak against her ear. The husky sound of lust in his
voice made her squeeze her thighs tightly shut. “If not for
dessert, then why do you tease me, Marietta?”

“
I told you. I wanted to talk. I
need answers.” She downed the wine and set the empty glass on the
table. She slapped her hands down on her lap. “Did you know of my
mother?”

“
I thought we covered this?”
Lorenzo’s arm stretched out across the back of the sofa once more.
He moved her hair behind her ear with the reach of his long
fingers. The brief touch across her cheek sent a thrill through her
that he had to see in her eyes.

“
I think you’re a man that knows
things. Maybe you didn’t know her personally, but Capriccio
fathering a black American daughter, had to have made news in your
world.”

Lorenzo chuckled. “How old do you think I am?
What the old fool did with his dick over twenty years ago is not
news to men like me.”

The letter from Isabella said Lorenzo
Battaglia was the key to the truth of her parents. Maybe her clues
were in that strange conversation she listened to on that cassette
tape. “Fine. Let’s talk about someone you do know. Giuseppe
Calderone.”

The humor in Lorenzo’s eyes faded, replaced by
something dark and unreadable. It was as if a switch was thrown and
everything about him stilled. After an uncomfortable pause, Lorenzo
leaned forward with his elbows resting on the top of his legs and
his hand clasped before him. “Now you have my attention,
Marietta.”

“
Giuseppe said you knew about
Caruso and my mother.”

“
Did he?”

“
Yes,” she began. “We were, ah,
friends. I knew him before he died. All he could talk about was
you, how close you two were. So when I saw you today in Silvio
Negali’s office and learned who you were, I was shocked. I had to
speak with you.”

“
I thought you only arrived to
Milano four weeks ago?”

Marietta froze over the detail.
Shit.
When did Giuseppe die? A month, three months ago, maybe a year?
Gemma had told her that the man was dead, and Lorenzo Battaglia’s
family waged war on the Calderones.
Wait, did I just say they
were friends? What if they were enemies? Damn it. Yes, I think
Gemma said they were enemies. Oh fuck! What do I say now?
Marietta cleared her throat.

Lorenzo stared at her. Goose pimples began to
spread over her skin and the wine felt as if it soured in her
stomach. He hadn’t said a word, but she felt the need to put
distance between them. “Excuse me a minute. It must be the wine.”
She half-smiled.

She disappeared into the bathroom. Lorenzo
slowly stood. He took another long look at his surroundings and his
focus soon centered on her purse. Lorenzo snatched it up. He dumped
the contents. The most interesting item was a bulging envelope. He
removed photos, the same photos that were sent to him.

And then his world came apart.

A piece of paper and a cassette player dropped
out.

Lorenzo stared at the cassette player for
several minutes before he could even bring himself to touch it. He
silently prayed that the Nigerian was wrong. He has said the same
prayer for the past two years. When he pressed the play button, the
words of that fateful night poured out of the little speaker
box.