Nobody's Angel (38 page)

“Me, too.”

“I wish I had the skills Adam does, though. He and Karla moved as if it were in a choreographed dance.”

“They’re good together. I know she likes him.”

“Well, good luck with that. He hasn’t really looked at anyone since his wife died, from what I’ve heard.”

“But that was so long ago. Oh, I’m sorry, Luke. I wasn’t thinking.”

Luke waved her hand away. “It’s been seven years for me and even longer for Adam. But I don’t think you can tell someone to grieve X number of years and then have them just get back into the game when they reach that magical limit. It’s different for everyone.”

“How about you? Think you’ll ever remarry?”

“Not really looking for a wife at the moment. But I think I’m maybe going to date again sometime. If I meet the right woman.”

I’m sending you an angel
.

“I hope you do, Luke. You’ll make someone a wonderful…date.” He saw her grin and was happy to see her mood had lifted some. They drove on in silence; traffic picked up as they neared Adam’s house.

“Oh, my God.”

Luke eased off the accelerator. “What’s the matter?”

She turned to him. “You made the cross for the club, didn’t you?”

How did she get from talking about his dating to the bondage crosses he made? Without thinking, he began, “Yeah, I…” Oh, damn.

“So, you and Marc didn’t just meet Adam for the first time on Sunday.”

Luke drew a lungful of air, trying to think how he should answer this without sharing things it wasn’t his place to tell her. “I met Adam when I did the carpentry on the house while they were renovating it for the club five years ago.”

“They?”

Okay, he was just digging the hole deeper. Marc needed to be the one to come clean to her, not Luke. “Adam and Damián?”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

Clearly, she already suspected. He’d only make matters worse if he continued the lie at this point.

“And Marc.”

She gasped. Shit. He needed to get Marc over here.

* * *

Blood pounded in her ears as she processed what Luke had just told her. Marc had lied to her. Why? What difference could it make to her if Marc was in some kind of partnership at the club?

All that mattered was that Marc deliberately lied to her.

What else had he lied about? How could she ever trust him? He’d demanded that she trust him and always be honest, and yet he hadn’t been decent enough to show her the same courtesy. Angelina wanted to go home, nurse her wounds.

Maybe Karla could drop her off Thursday morning when she went to pick up her friend Cassie for their camping trip. Angelina felt a mixture of regret and relief over not having to go out in the wilderness with them. But she couldn’t wait to get inside and talk with Karla tonight. She needed some advice about what she should do.

Luke pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. “Angel, talk to Marc before you do anything. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Thanks for the ride home, Luke.” She reached for the door handle and Luke put his hand on her shoulder.

“He’s scared about something, Angel. I don’t know what, but I don’t want to see him hurt either. Just talk to him before you do anything. Don’t go back home alone, either. You know that jerk can come after you again at any time.”

Angelina nodded, mainly to end the conversation. “Can you help me get the leftovers inside?”

When they walked into the kitchen, they put the dishes in the fridge and Luke said goodbye.

“Please don’t say anything to Marc.”

Luke looked away.

“I mean it, Luke. I need time to think and I can’t do that when he’s around me.” He would just fill her with more of his lies or, worse yet, short-circuit her brain so that she would blindly obey any command he gave her.

Only she no longer wanted him to pretend to be her Dom either. Clearly, he’d only been playing some kind of game with her. He had no intention of ever being her real Dom.

After Luke left, tears stung her eyes and she started toward the hallway. On the stairs, she saw Karla on her way down, her eyes red, probably from crying. They would make a lovely pair tonight.

“What’s wrong, Angie?” She squeezed Angelina’s forearm.

“Marc lied to me. Everything about him was a fake.”

When Karla’s gaze shifted away, Angelina realized her new friend already knew. Adam had to have known. They’d all lied to her.

Angelina started up the stairs agin. “I’m going to bed.” She couldn’t get away from everyone fast enough.

“Wait, Angie! Let me try to explain.”

Angelina turned and looked at the woman she’d thought would become a good friend. “I’m listening.” She knew her voice sounded cold and hated to see tears in Karla’s eyes, but her stomach was churning and she really wanted to be alone.

Karla stood several inches taller than Angelina, so she took the next step up to be able to come face to face so she wouldn’t have to tilt her head back. She needed to be able to run the bullshit meter on whatever Karla was going to say.

“Oh, God. I don’t even know what’s going on! Please believe me, Angie. All I know is that Adam told me not to recognize Marc—and I’d never met Luke before, so that was easy enough.”

The distress in Karla’s expression seemed genuine. “Let’s talk to Adam. I’m sure he can explain. I think he had a talk with Marc. He wasn’t happy at all about the lie, that I know. He doesn’t get angry often, but he was angry when he told me Sunday. But from what I know about Marc, he must have had a good reason for doing it.”

But Marc had told her repeatedly that a Dom and his sub could have no lies between them, no secrets. And yet, he’d blatantly lied.

“Thanks for that, Karla. I’m tired. I just want to go to bed. Is it okay if I use your shower?”

She wanted to just wash the lies down the drain—and escape in sleep.

* * *

Oh, shit
.

Marc disconnected the phone and set it on the nightstand. He’d gone to bed right after everyone left. The house was his silent tomb once again, but for a few hours tonight, there had been life inside these walls for the first time in…forever.

He’d tried to get into the latest Carofiglio novel, but not even Guido Guerrieri’s new case could hold his interest. He’d put the book aside and turned off the light when Karla had called to tell him Angelina knew he’d lied to her and just what did he plan to do about it.

Had Luke told her, or did she just figure it out on her own?

No matter. In a way, he was glad she knew, because trying to pretend he didn’t know Adam and Damián had been a nightmare. He’d probably slipped up any number of times tonight alone. No wonder she’d figured it out.

But now what? Should he go over to Adam’s and tell her why or was this the opportunity he needed to back away from her without things getting…complicated. Hell, it was only Monday and he’d already started dreading her leaving this weekend to go back home.

Even so, he’d found it so damned hard to push her toward Luke tonight, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe he should call Luke and have him go over and be there for her right now.

He told himself he just didn’t want the tears and drama of being confronted by Angelina tonight. Italian women could be…emotional.

In reality, he knew he just had no business being with her. She deserved someone solid. Someone who wasn’t missing the commitment gene. Someone like Luke. Marc knew he was being a dickwad, as Adam would put it, but he picked up the phone and speed-dialed Luke.

“What’s up?” There was an edge to Luke’s voice, as though he were feeling Marc out to see what he knew. So, had he been the one to her?

“Angelina needs you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Marc closed his eyes. “She found out I lied to her.”

“Then why aren’t you over there right now telling her whatever the hell is going on in that thick head of yours?”

“Because I’m not going to make excuses. We weren’t meant to be. You’re the one with divine intervention on your side. You said you had a message from Maggie that she was sending Angelina to you. Now’s your time to be there for her. Karla said she’s hurting.”

Dammit, I don’t want her to be hurting.

“I don’t think Maggie’s message meant Angel.”

“Oh, come on! You two are perfect for each other. You can give her everything she needs. Hell, you’re even into BDSM. I had no fucking clue until tonight.”

“Marc, for once in your life, stop running. Get over there and talk to her. I’m telling you, she wants you and will probably forgive you, if you’d just explain yourself.”

But there was no explanation he could give her. No, it was better that she hated him than that she got any more attached to him. He couldn’t be the Dom she needed.

He sure as hell wasn’t the man she needed either.

After listening to Luke call him a few choice names, words he’d never heard Luke speak before, he hung up the phone and laid his forearm over his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t block out the images of her.

Angelina’s smile. Or the way she nibbled her lower lip when she was over-analyzing something—which was often. How she dominated his kitchen and made him want to see her there every night when he came home. The way she flew apart with such abandon at his hands.

Shock and awe. His cock stirred to life. She’d woven herself into his life so insidiously he didn’t know how he would ever be able to look at another woman.

But she deserved a lot more than he could give. He’d shut down emotionally a long time ago. She was bursting with a joy for living, an exuberant curiosity, and more love to give than most men deserved.

Certainly not this man.

His phone beeped to indicate a text message and he picked it up to read: “Get ur fucking ass down here. Now.”

He smiled ruefully.
Sorry, Adam
. Not following orders this time. She doesn’t need me in her life. He punched in the words “Tell her whatever you want. I don’t want to hurt her any more” and hit send, then turned off the phone, as well as the light, and went to bed.

The alarm went off six hours later and he awoke feeling as though he’d only slept ten minutes. He hadn’t been that restless since Iraq. After a shower and breakfast, he got into the Porsche and drove to his outfitter store downtown to meet his six clients for today’s trek. Brian, his business partner, had seen they were equipped to within an inch of their lives. The man could sell a firewood to a snowman. He could also balance the books, which made Marc happy, so he could devote himself to trekking.

They loaded into the 14-passenger van, Brian driving, and headed west on I-70. Brian would meet up with them over on Torrey’s Peak tomorrow afternoon. The group planned to hike Gray’s Peak then proceed to Torrey’s, camping overnight somewhere in between. He welcomed the strenuousness of the hike. He needed to expel a shitload of frustration today. Two Fourteeners ought to provide the level of exertion he needed to make a dent, at least.

Reports indicated the roads were open to the trailhead for Gray’s, not always the case at this time of year because of snow. But there would be snow at the summits. The Knife’s Edge at Kelso Ridge ought to be interesting even with a dusting.

Bring it on.

* * *

Angelina’s eyes were gritty as she rolled over to see what time it was. Eleven. Good God, she hadn’t slept that late in forever. Well, slept might not be the best word to describe what went on in this bed last night.

She picked up her phone and called Tony. The sooner someone could take her home, the better. Adam had refused her request last night, probably because of Allen. But clearly there was no reason for her to stay here. She’d handled Allen before and would again.

The man she couldn’t handle seemed to be Marc. She felt tears burn her eyes again as Tony answered.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”

“That’s what makes it the perfect name for you.”

She could just imagine his grin. She walked over to the dresser and picked up her brush and looked at herself in the mirror. The bruise. Oh, God. She’d forgotten all about that. No way would she be able to cover it without looking like an actress in full stage pancake.

What had ever possessed her to call her brother?

“I was just calling to see how Mama is.”

“Fine, as far as I know. I was over there Sunday. We missed you. You will be there this Sunday, won’t you?”

She looked at the bruise, which was only just beginning to turn shades of yellow. “I think so.”

“How’s Denver? Mama said you were doing cooking classes?”

Denver sucks and I just want to go home
.

“Denver’s fine. The first day of class went well.” Oh, God, would Karla be wanting another lesson today? In Marc’s kitchen? She didn’t want to go anywhere near him, although he’d said he would be out on the mountain today. Overnight.

“What did you learn?”

Never to trust men like Marc D’Alessio
.

“I’m actually the instructor.”

“Wow! I’m impressed as hell, sis.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, class is about to start. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, hi and bye. See you Sunday. Knock ’em dead, baby.”

I’d love to, but he’s out on a mountain right now
.

After saying goodbye and disconnecting, there wasn’t anything she could do but go downstairs and face Karla, and possibly Adam. The two of them had tried to engage her in conversation last night, but she’d retreated to her room after her shower and cried herself into a fitful sleep.

Why she’d let herself want Marc so badly in such a short time baffled her. No, not a want—a need. How could she come to need someone in such a short time? But the thought of his not being around to continue her training made her physically sick.

What happened to her being independent and not needing a man for anything? And yet he’d made her need even more than a man. He’d awakened her body to its need to submit. For her mind to be dominated during sexual encounters, at least, by a Dom who would make sure all her needs were met.