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‘DID I DRAG you out of bed, my friend?’
Leo Vincenti’s voi
ce carried over the video feed with a distinct note of dryness.
Nico thrust his hand through his dishevelled hair and peered at his friend’s image on his computer screen. Leo sat in his office in Rome, looking immaculate in a crisp shirt and tie, making Nico even more aware of his unshaved jaw and the rumpled tee shirt he’d hurriedly pulled on after realising he was late for the video call he and Leo had scheduled for this morning.
‘Long night working,’ he said as he ruthlessly smothered the image of his friend’s sister naked and spread-eagled on his bed.
Dieu. He hadn’t considered how truly awkward it would be to look his friend in the eye after all the things he had done with Marietta last night.
Never had he known sex to be so... so combustible. So all-consuming. And still he wanted more. Still his groin twitched at the mere thought of sliding between her thighs and burying himself inside her wet, welcoming heat.
He moved his chair closer to the desk, concealing his lower body.
‘Sorry I couldn’t talk longer yesterday,’ said Leo. ‘I was in the middle of a client crisis meeting. You said you had more news?’
‘There’s been a development,’ Nico confirmed, forcing his mind away from the sleepy, satisfied woman he’d left in his bed. He’d placed her chair within arm’s reach, in case she wanted to get up, but he hoped she’d stay put. He wasn’t finished with her yet.
He sat forward and gave a brief summary of the information Bruno had imparted yesterday. Late on Wednesday one of the two men they’d shortlisted as suspects had confronted Lina at the gallery and demanded to know Marietta’s whereabouts. When Lina had claimed not to know he’d become aggressive and physical. Bruno was convinced they had their man. But now the guy had gone to ground.
Leo’s expression was grim. ‘Is the girl all right?’
‘She’s fine. I have a protective detail on her.’
‘How will you find him?’
‘We have the polizia fully on board now.’ And his own men continued to work around the clock.
‘Does Marietta know?’
‘Not yet.’ When the perpetrator was in custody—then he would tell her. In the meantime she didn’t need to know about Lina. She’d only worry. ‘I’ll give her the details when the time is right.’
Leo dragged a hand over his face, pulled in a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Nico,’ he said gravely. ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.’
Nico shrugged. ‘If our roles were reversed you would do the same, mon ami,’ he said, tamping down on a flare of guilt.
Marietta was a grown woman, he reminded himself. She wasn’t answerable to her brother—and neither was he.
He promised Leo to keep him updated and disconnected the call. When he returned to the bedroom Marietta was still in bed, early-morning sunlight streaming over her mahogany hair and golden breasts. He shed his clothes and climbed in beside her.
She stirred, blinked those beautiful dark eyes at him. ‘I thought I heard you talking to someone...’
‘Just a work call,’ he said, cupping a soft, lush breast in his hand and thumbing its nipple. She moaned, and the little nub of caramel flesh peaked into a hard point that begged for the attention of his mouth.
A few more days, he acknowledged, his heart punching hard at the thought. That was all he’d have with her. Right then it didn’t seem as if it could possibly be enough, but it would have to be. He had nothing to give her beyond these days on the island, nothing to offer, and she deserved more. She deserved a man capable of love. A man who would tear down the barriers she didn’t even know she’d erected around herself and convince her she’d make an amazing wife and mother.
Nico wasn’t that man. And for a moment, as he stared into her liquid brown eyes, the knowledge twisted his stomach into a knot of deep, gut-wrenching regret.
* * *
Marietta lay on her side on the soft beach rug and watched the steady rise and fall of Nico’s magnificent chest as he slept.
He wore only a pair of swimming trunks and she trailed her gaze over his bronzed body, her belly twisting with a physical need she’d thought might have lessened over the last three days but had, in fact, only intensified.
They’d settled into something of a routine. In the mornings they’d linger in bed and make love, before indulging in a leisurely breakfast on the terrace, then Nico would work for two to three hours in his study and Marietta would paint. When her tummy grumbled she’d wash out her brushes and make them some lunch, and afterwards they’d swim and laze by the pool or at the beach. Dinner was usually a light snack, shared at the kitchen table or out on the terrace—and bedtime always came early.
It was indulgent and idyllic and it couldn’t last. Marietta knew that, and that was why she planned to enjoy it. Reality would intrude soon enough. For now she was going to accept these extra days with Nico for what she’d decided they were—once her anger over missing Ricci’s birthday had worn off. A gift.
