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“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “I love the way you smell when you wake up. All soft and female.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “I like the way you smell, too. Sea and sky and Matteo.” She leaned back in his arms and looked at him. “If only somebody could bottle that and turn it into cologne …”
He laughed. Then, his eyes searched hers.
“You really like it here, sweetheart?”
“How could I not? This beautiful island. This wonderful house.” She smiled again. “And you. It’s all perfect.”
Rio linked his hands at the base of her spine.
“We can make it more perfect,” he said softly.
“I don’t see how.”
“Dinner in a quiet little restaurant by the sea would be a start.”
“Uh-huh. A quiet little restaurant, and me in those sweats.” She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “I think there might be Health Department rules to keep me out.”
He grinned and planted a kiss on the end of her nose.
“I took care of that.”
“You did, huh?”
“I did.”
“You bribed the department of health?” she said, laughing.
“I bought you some stuff to wear.”
“What?”
“I said, I bought you—”
“Matteo. You can’t do that.”
He smiled. “Too late. I already did.”
“But—”
“A dress. One of those floaty things with skinny straps. Brown. Well, maybe it’s amber. Or dark gold.”
“Matteo, listen to me. You cannot—”
“Shorts. A couple of T-shirts. Sandals. I guessed at the sizes.”
“Would you listen?”
“So I went with size sixteen for the clothes and size ten for the sandals.”
“Matt—” Isabella slapped her hands against his chest. “Size what for the clothes? And for the sandals? Do you really think—” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re making that up.”
“The part about the sizes?” He smiled. “Absolutely.”
“But you really spent money on clothes for me? I can’t let you do that. Really, I—”
“Really, you can. Things are inexpensive here.” It was a lie of monumental proportions but what did one more matter? “I guessed at the sizes. And the colors.” He nuzzled a curl from her cheek. “I ordered everything by phone, sweetheart, and they delivered it while you were sleeping. So if things don’t fit, or if you don’t like them—”
“If I don’t like them? Are you crazy? I’m going to love them! How could you even think—”
Rio kissed her. Kissed her gently, then more deeply. She made a soft, sexy little sound; he groaned as she melted against him.
“Isabella,” he whispered, and she fell back on the bed, her arms taking him down with her, and he made love to her as Matteo Rossi for the very last time because tonight, after he’d showed her off to the world …
Tonight, he was going to take the biggest risk of his life.
He was going to tell Isabella he’d been deceiving her.
And that he loved her, with all his heart.
A couple of thousand miles away, Anna Orsini Valenti was pacing the office at the rear of the bar her brothers owned in SoHo.
That she was able to pace it was proof of how carefully everyone else was maintaining their distance.
Eight of them—Anna, her husband, three of her brothers and their wives—were packed into the relatively small room.
The bar—The Bar, to use its semiofficial name—was still a real bar. Rafe, Dante, Falco and Nick had bought it for the express purpose of keeping it that way as the area all around it turned upscale and expensive.
They had done little to change it, and the little they had done had not included expanding the office. It was small. Very small. On a good day, all four brothers, big men every one, constituted a crowd.
“For the tenth time, Anna,” Rafe said, “what’s this all about?”
Anna glared at him.
“For the tenth time,” she snapped, “I’ll tell you once we’re all here.”
“Well, then,” Falco said impatiently, “where in hell is Dante?”
“He’s on his way, with Gabriella.”
“And Izzy?”
“Izzy’s not coming.”
“Maybe Dante and Gaby aren’t, either,” Nick said logically. “Maybe they’re away. Maybe they’re out for the evening. Damnit, Anna—”
The office door edged open. Dante Orsini and his wife squeezed into the small room. One glance at Dante’s grim face and Gaby’s swollen eyes and the Orsini-Valenti clan fell silent.
“Okay,” Rafe said grimly. “Let’s hear it.”
Anna took a deep breath. “Izzy phoned me this morning.”
Nick: “So?”
“She phoned to tell me she was going away for the weekend.”
Rafe: “And?”
“She was in Southampton.”
Falco: “Southampton, Long Island? What was she doing all the way out there?”
Anna looked at Dante, who cleared his throat.
“She went to interview for a job. A landscaping job. We—I got her the interview.”
“It was me,” Gabriella Orsini said quickly, touching her husband’s arm. “I thought it was a wonderful opportunity. It was such an important commission …”
“I’m the one, darling,” Dante said softly. “It’s entirely my fault, not yours.”
“Goddamnit,” Falco snarled. Elle, his beautiful wife, grabbed his hand and clutched it. “Will somebody get to the point?”
“I convinced Rio D’Aquila to add her to his short list of landscaping applicants.”
“Rio D’Aquila?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Smart guy. Lots of money. He’s into shipping, freight, oil, computers—”
“He’s into women, too,” Rafe murmure
d. Chiara Orsini dug a sharp elbow into her husband’s side. “Hey,” he said, “I’m only saying what I’ve heard.”
“You’re right,” Dante said tersely. “Lots of money. Lots of women. Not much heart.”
“Well, so what?” Nick said. “The guy doesn’t have to pass a morals test before Iz can go to work for him.”
Anna narrowed her eyes.
“Izzy drove out there yesterday. She took my car. She had some kind of accident.”
A communal gasp almost sucked the air from the room.
“No,” Anna said quickly, “she’s fine. She’s okay. But—”
“But?”
“She met someone. A man. And she called to tell me she was going away with him for the week.”
Silence descended on the tiny room again.
Falco: “Wow.”
Nick: “Our Izzy?”
Rafe: “Going away, with a guy?”
The brothers looked at each other.
“Well,” Rafe said, “okay. I mean, she’s a big girl. I mean, hell, we’re happy for her. I mean—”
“His name,” Anna said, “is Matteo Rossi.”
Frowns all around. Nobody knew a Matteo Rossi.
“Who?” Nick’s wife, Alessia, said.
“Exactly. So, I asked her, who was this Matteo Rossi? And she said that Rossi worked for Rio D’Aquila. That he was the caretaker at D’Aquila’s Southampton estate.”
“A caretaker?” a male voice asked.
Throats were cleared.
“Okay,” Falco said, “well, hell, we’re not snobs—”
“Except,” Dante said, “except, D’Aquila’s caretaker is a guy named Bill Foster.”
This time, the silence in the room was a palpable force.
“What the hell is going on?” Nick said softly. “Has Izzy been kidnapped?”
“Worse.”
“Sweet Mary, what could be—”
“Matteo Rossi and Rio D’Aquila are the same man.”
Rafe shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“They’re the same man, damnit! Anna called me, told me Iz had called and said that she was leaving the country with some stranger.”
“Leaving the—”
