Giovanni, My Love: A Tale of Romance & Suspense Page 4

  La Grande Roi was lavishly designed to cater to its pampered and wealthy clientele. Movie stars, foreign diplomats, and hundreds of the world’s most famous citizens crossed its Romanesque archways on a daily basis. One hundred deluxe suites and elegant penthouses, accented in classic black and white motifs, filled its fifty magnificent floors. Plush leather sofas and armchairs dotted the length of the hotel’s spacious ground floor lobby, while colossal crystal chandeliers soared from the towering height of the domed ceiling. A row of exclusive shopping boutiques and specialty cafés lined the rear wall of the main foyer. Behind the bustling scene, five star chefs created extravagant dishes to appease the finicky pallets of the affluent guests and a superior support staff catered to the visitors’ every necessity.

  While the ladies tapped their tall heels against the luxuriant foyer’s swirling black and white patterned marble floor, several pairs of intrigued male eyes followed their feminine figures. Marissa’s slim black uniform skirt and three-quarter-length button top hugged her curvy shape perfectly. Ordinarily, she would have accepted the admiring glances as compliments, and would have offered a demure smile to each of the tailor-suited gentlemen as she passed by. However, the events of today and the previous evening were nothing similar to anything the twenty-eight-year-old had ever experienced in her lifetime. For this reason, the roaming eyes of the males only added a heavier weight to her unbearable anxiety. The sooner the nervous woman reached the safety of the concierge desk, the faster her erratic pulse would be stilled.

  As Marissa and Lysette approached the reception area, dozens of patrons, who were impatiently waiting to be serviced, continued to stream through the hotel’s front doors and line up along the length of the receiving desk. Piles of expensive luggage were stacked near the feet of each new arrival. This last weekend in November was heralding in a massive influx of guests. Visitors from around the globe had started to swarm New York in anticipation of enjoying the city’s dazzling Thanksgiving and Christmas festivities, and the internationally famous La Grande would be the first stop for many of the high society tourists.

  “Which one is it?”

  Marissa asked the question as the women began to slow their paces several inches away from the crowd. She needed to mentally prepare herself to welcome the guest. Although she was not eager to greet anyone with a smile full of false cheer, hotel policy required her to do so.

  “Mr. Blue Eyes is right there.” Lysette’s tan finger pointed in the direction of a man standing with his back toward the two women. He was dressed in a designer charcoal gray suit, which flawlessly outlined his wide shoulders and trim waistline. “He’s been patiently waiting to meet you,” she teased.

  As if on cue, the man turned his golden head toward them. Bold and mesmerizing ice blue eyes captured Marissa within the grip of a thrilling spell. A long pause hung in the air. In the background, the steady murmur of the crowded lobby faded from her ears.

  Where had she seen these intoxicating eyes before? The memory was begging to be released from her mind and satisfy her runaway thoughts. Seconds before Marissa locked in on the identity of the man behind the familiar gaze, a rich Italian accent rolled over her senses, silencing her curiosity and flooding her secret places with a warming glow.

  Marcello’s heart pounded in his chest. Was there a hint of recognition floating within the woman’s stunning hazel eyes? He studied Marissa’s expression, carefully watching every movement of her lovely features. Her cinnamon skin shimmered under the bright glare of the chandeliers’ glittering light.

  The guilty hope that she would immediately recognize him was also a nagging foolishness. To save his cover, the covert agent had to prevent the female from remembering it was his face that she had encountered on the street last night.

  “Ciao, buon pomeriggio.” Marcello spoke the words of his native tongue with ease.

  He offered the woman a broad smile, hoping that the unfamiliar greeting would disrupt her thoughts. From the surprised look lingering on her shaded cheeks, he had been successful. To further distract her, Marcello folded his right arm across his lower torso then offered the pretty woman a slight bow. Afterward, he opened his right hand and extended his palm toward Marissa. Hesitation clung to her face, and a short delay followed. Slowly, with much uncertainty in her eyes, the woman placed her fingertips into his hold. A slim silver band, with a small watch face at its center, slid along her tiny wrist. Once her palm was under his control, Marcello gently folded his fingers around hers. He lifted the backside of Marissa’s soft hand to his lips. While pressing a chaste kiss on her hand, the charmed man quietly savored the taste of her warm butterscotch skin against his mouth. Abruptly, her fingertips slipped from his grasp all too soon, but he should have been thankful for the interruption. The rush of desire was stirring up inside his chest, and he had to hastily shove the simmering emotion away.

  When he straightened his posture, Marcello saw that the woman’s cheeks were painted in a heavy blush. Marissa’s bowed lips, tinted with a delicious raspberry hue, parted slightly then snapped closed again. The impromptu diversion had worked in his favor. All the questions hovering behind her diamond-dotted irises appeared to quickly blink away.

  “Mi scuso,” he said, touching his hand over his heart. “I…apologize…I sometimes forget I am no longer in my native Italia. If I have offended you with my gesture, please forgive me.”

  Marissa lifted her cocoa cheeks into a polite smile, which Marcello eagerly returned.

  “No…not at all,” she said in a small voice. A fresh hint of crimson crept into her cheeks. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. My reaction was slightly rude. I wasn’t prepared for such a gracious greeting. Thank you.”

  As he stared down at her, the embrace of her alluring beauty trapped him. Completely focused on the light brown tint of her almond eyes, Marcello’s concentration slipped once more.

  “You are most welcome,” Marcello widened his grin. “It was a joy to bring a lovely smile to a lovely face.”

  Even in tall heels, Marissa’s height was significantly smaller than his; this difference intensified Marcello’s yearning to protect her. As his eyes slid along the graceful curve of her face, he saw the fear still lurking behind her soft gaze. A sharp impulse to gently stroke her cheek and soothe away her fright sent tingles of anticipation to the tips of his thick fingers. In spite of this strong craving, important matters – far more urgent than his adolescent crush – prevented him from comforting the distressed woman. Marcello held his hands at bay and did not reach out to lay a warm palm against her flawless skin.

  To cool his burning thoughts, he immediately turned his focus back to the reason for his trip to the States. La valigetta. The word hummed across Marcello’s mind, and he clutched the handle of the brown leather attaché case tighter in his grip. Now that he was stationed at the hotel, his mission would begin moving at an accelerated pace. The agent could no longer allow matters of the heart to sway him further off course from his duties. The pawns were finally being positioned into their appropriate places on the chessboard; he could not afford to make any more errors in discretion. Marcello pushed the conversation forward, forcing himself not to linger in Marissa’s sweet gaze any longer.

  “Are you the one who will help me?”

  He glanced down at the briefcase in his hand, and Marissa’s eyes followed his lead.

  “Yes, of course.” She smiled politely and resumed a professional tone. “Marissa Stiles. I’m one of the supervisors here at La Grande Roi.”

  “It is my pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Although the woman would not understand the significance of this statement, the unsung hero was perfectly aware of its true meaning. “Il mio nome è Marcello Antoni Rossi,” he said then nodded his head respectfully. “However, I ask that you call me Marco. All of my friends and loved ones address me this way, and I would be pleased if you would do the same.”

  “Marco,” she whispered. When Marissa spoke his name, a trace of d
esire dripped from her beautiful lips. Before she continued on, probably once she realized how sensually she had said the word, Marissa flattened her tone and emptied her voice of all emotion. “Welcome to our hotel. You may call me Marissa, if you wish. How can I assist you today?”

  “I need to deposit this briefcase as soon as possible, Marissa.”

  At the sound of her name leaving his light cranberry-tinted lips, a bright flame sparked to life in her eyes. Deep in his heart, in the concealed place where Marcello kept his true feelings masked from the world, it pained him to know that he could never pursue the attraction they shared. If he permitted his fondness for the American woman to become too intense, dangerous consequences would surely follow.

  In spite of this dire possibility, the smitten man suddenly surrendered to the inescapable pull of her magnetic loveliness. Marco stepped forward, sealing the distance between their two bodies, daring fate to do its worse. In response to his consuming closeness, a tiny quiver raced across Marissa’s bottom lip, and she stepped one pace backward.

  “If you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes, I can help you with your request.” A breathless tremble was hiding in her voice. The woman quickly tried to straighten her stuttering words. “The lock on the vault requires two keycards. The other supervisor on duty has the afternoon off, so my manager has to bring his access card to the deposit room. When I get back, we can start your paperwork.”

  “I await your return,” Marco replied casually in a low bass.

  She had announced her departure, but Marissa seemed unwilling or unable to walk away from him. An unseen bond held the couple in a steamy gaze.

  With one unexpected motion, the spell hovering between the pair was abruptly broken. Two milky arms slithered around Marco’s waist, followed by a red-coated kiss to his right cheek. A raven-haired woman with creamy skin wrapped her tall, slender body around his broad frame. Once she was facing him, the emerald-eyed woman tipped her sharp chin upward.

  “Marco…il mio amore…I have been searching everywhere for you. I thought you had abandoned me,” she purred out with a heavy accent.

  While the newest arrival beamed a gorgeous pearly-white smile at him, Marco made fast work of removing the second woman’s arms from around his waist. Without responding to her, he kept his full attention on Marissa.

  “Marissa, this is my…companion…Katerina Corvino.” He smiled apologetically. “She is accompanying me during my visit in your city.”

  Silently, the special ops agent scolded himself. The sultry woman clinging to his left arm was part of Marco’s masquerade. He had to remember to be more convincing whenever they were seen in public together. In the future, he would have to avoid hesitating when introducing her. Marco would also have to resist the urge to explain any further details regarding his relationship with Katerina to Marissa. Revealing too much information to anyone outside of his unit would be a critical error.

  “Of course, Mr. Rossi.” Marissa pasted a thin smile on her face. The affection that was swimming in her eyes mere seconds ago had completely washed away. “If you will please excuse me, I’ll go see to your request. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. In the meantime, please feel free to browse around and enjoy our full services. I’m sure your companion will be very satisfied with the extensive shopping choices available in our Grand Foyer.”

  Once she finished saying her rushed statement, Marissa made an agitated about-face and marched away. As Marcello watched the retreating woman weave between the patrons standing nearby, his chest sunk. A dull ache was pounding against the wall he was frantically trying to raise around his heart. Within seconds, Marissa disappeared behind the crowd gathered at the front of the lobby and he lost sight of her.

  Although Katerina was clutching his arm and flashing her signature green-eyed gaze at him, Marissa was the woman who held Marco’s mind and body captive. Even so, the sooner he accepted the plain truth of this frustrating scenario, the better he would be able to carry out his assignment. The team leader needed to increase his efforts to stamp out the distracting passions that were still lingering in his mind. Any pursuit of a true romance with Marissa would ruin his mission, and possibly cost thousands of lives around the world.

  Chapter Five

  Phone Calls

  From his seat in the oversized lounge chair at the rear of the crowded lobby, the smuggler could easily observe every footstep and monitor every word spoken within fifteen feet. His years of service in an elite Special Forces unit had heightened his senses; it had also trained him with the ability to hide in plain sight in almost any environment, including a ridiculously overpriced Manhattan hotel. To a causal onlooker, he was simply another wealthy executive idling in the lavish atrium and waiting to be escorted to his suite. In reality, he was a rogue agent who was in the process of ensuring that his precious cargo was delivered on time. Once his co-conspirator made the drop, he would telephone his second accomplice, who also served as the thief’s investor, to provide him with another update.

  While sitting cross-legged with a newspaper lying over his lap, the guilty man watched Katerina sashay her slim hips through the heavy throng of people. Without ever having to glance directly at her, the villain surveyed the sensual woman’s every movement. Even though her perfect figure enticed his wicked lusts, his casual façade never faltered. She tucked her clutch purse under her arm as she passed by; a look of seduction was painted on her exotic face. The gorgeous woman winked a sparkling jade eye at him then glided further away. She knew better than to stop, which would have drawn unwanted attention on the former spy. With a subtle stare, he followed her flawless profile until she disappeared into the atrium’s extravagant jewelry shop, about twenty paces to his left. Once she was gone, he retrieved a cell phone from his suit jacket’s inside pocket and dialed the contact number.

  After several rings, a man’s voice, still hoarse and ragged, answered.

  “Yes?”

  “The drop is being made as we speak.” The villain glanced at his gold-faced watch. “We can complete the exchange in one hour.”

  “Okay.” A harsh cough crackled over the line. The second man cleared his throat before continuing. “I’ll arrange to have the balance due wired to your account.”

  “Bene.”

  “Hold on for a minute.” Shuffling noises filled the thief’s ear; afterward, muffled voices began talking in the background. An entire minute dragged by before the second conspirator returned to the phone. “I’m back. Keep in mind, the transaction won’t be approved until I have the merchandise in my hands.”

  “Understood,” the thief replied flatly. “Be sure that you keep my condition in mind. Once I fulfill my end of the arrangement, should I not receive my payment, something most unpleasant will happen to you within one week’s time.”

  “Don’t threaten me!”

  “Never threats, signore. Promettono sempre…always promises.”

  Without saying another word, the villain ended the call. Casually, he removed the back plate of the mobile device, slipped the SIM card from its holder, and then placed the phone onto the polished black oak table in front of him. As he ran a hand through his hair, the silky blond strands immediately fell back against his scalp in perfect order. On the surface, the man was the epitome of calm and charisma. Beneath his hot skin, however, the villain’s patience was boiling to its lethal limits. He was growing weary of his associate’s cocky attitude. No further debating was necessary; the dangerous mercenary quickly decided to kill the little weasel once the last payment was deposited into his untraceable bank account. The thought of snapping the other man’s frail neck – strictly for laughs – brought a fiendish smile to his handsome face.

  A sudden wave of annoyance flashed through his mind causing the rogue to clench his fist tight. He glimpsed over his shoulder at the quaint shopping lane, which wrapped around the lobby’s interior wall.

  What was taking Katerina so long to return?

  A few feet before Mari
ssa reached the door to her manager’s office, the smell of cigarette smoke began to drift up her nose. She was not surprised to catch the distinct scent of nicotine hovering in the air. The hotel had a strict no-smoking policy; however, her boss, Dennis Schaeffer, was the type of person who believed that if a rule did not suit his needs or his lifestyle then it did not apply to him.

  Marissa paused in front of the closed door and prepared her mind to do battle with the ogre waiting on the other side. A stern face and nerves as hard as steel were her best defenses against Schaeffer, a sloppy man who freely abused his high position and prided himself on provoking fear in others, especially the female staff. Above all else, no matter what rude or ruthless words passed from his filthy mouth to her ears, she wanted to maintain her cool composure. Foolish and angry words paved only a legacy of shame; the sign of a true lady is wearing a veil of grace in the face of an enemy.

  She knocked on the wood sharply, but only silence followed. A heavy cough erupted from behind the varnished door; however, there was still no response to her taps. Marissa folded her hand to knock again then stopped. He’s asleep in there, she thought. The hands on her watch showed that it was nearly twelve-thirty, the customary time for the sloth to disappear for a long nap.

  Marissa moved her ear closer to the door, fully expecting to hear beastly snores; instead, a gruff voice was locked in an intense one-sided argument. She stepped back and considered waiting until the man was finished with his phone call before trying to get his attention again, but quickly abandoned the thought. Since he glorified himself as an overseer, not a respectable manager, he would have to accept all the inconveniences tagged to that asinine title as well. Marissa folded her hand and pounded on the door. There was no way Schaeffer would be able to ignore her loud banging. After another moment of dead silence, heavy footsteps thundered nearer, and then the door swung open wildly.