Giovanni, My Love Page 8

  Chapter Eight

  Last Dance

  On the backseat of a stretch limousine, Agent Marcello Rossi sat in deep meditation. Gloom hung on Marco’s face while he contemplated the world’s affairs as if they were all his personal burdens to bear. His shoulders were slumped and a large lump clung to the bottom of his throat. Jewels were only the showpiece of this crime, and the thought of Marissa – his heart’s true desire – as a conspirator in this intricate game of weapons smuggling filled his heavy chest with a dull ache. Conflict raged within his tormented mind. If Marissa were truly an enemy to his cause, would the dedicated agent have the willpower to arrest her and turn her over to an international tribunal? Or, perhaps, would he dare to abandon his sworn oath to uphold justice? If necessary, would Marco do everything within his power to protect her, possibly even aid Marissa in fleeing the authorities?

  A tap against the tinted window on his right side signaled that it was time to shake off the dismal shadow draped around him. After his chauffeur opened the door, Marco exited the vehicle and readied himself for the performance of a lifetime. Before this evening concluded, he would have to decide if it was time for his masquerade to end. He had been bold enough to entangle desire with duty, and was desperately trying to walk a dangerously fine line between the two. One misstep and his entire life would be left in splintered ruins, whether by way of heartbreak or by disgrace was yet to be determined. Tonight, his shaky balancing act would come to its conclusion; Marcello would have to choose which side to stand and fight for. There would be no turning back, so the worn man had to decide on the path he would follow – his heart or his mind – wisely.

  While he and his driver exchanged light conversation, a second luxury car pulled into the long cul-de-sac driveway of Le Salon Au Soleil, a French restaurant in Midtown. After the car was parked, a cheerful young man stepped out of the dark vehicle and jogged toward them.

  Marco greeted the driver with an easy smile and a firm handshake.

  “How was today, Alex?”

  “Everything was perfect, sir,” Alex replied with a confident grin. “Ms. Stiles and Mrs. Raven had an excellent day. Spa, shopping, lunch…exactly as you requested.”

  “Bene,” Marco nodded in approval. He tipped his head toward the dark sedan behind the men. “Ms. Stiles is inside?”

  “Yes, sir, she is, and Mrs. Raven is already dining at the restaurant you picked out for her.” Alex quickly lifted his sleeve to check his watch. “I’ll be going to pick her up in about an hour and a half.”

  “Well done, Alex,” Marco said as he patted the younger man’s shoulder. Afterward, he placed several folded US bills in the driver’s palm. “Please escort Ms. Stiles this way.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Rossi,” Alex said with a wide grin. As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on the large sum of cash in his gloved hand.

  The chauffeur wasted no time in returning to his parked limo as directed. When he pulled the rear passenger door back, a set of shimmering brown fingers dropped into the center of his open palm. Marcello’s chest squeezed tight and a lungful of air rushed from his parted lips. The captivated man stood motionless as seconds crawled to a halt. His hungry gaze eagerly consumed the sensual and flawless vision as she appeared before him. Two high-heeled peep-toe sandals, adorned with sparkling white gems, gently tapped the asphalt below. A pair of deliciously shaded calves soon followed. His passionate stare glided up the full length of the silver evening gown’s generous split, which climbed from a delicate right ankle up to a thick chestnut-coated thigh. Next, he slowly traced the hourglass curves of two round hips. His wandering gaze was soon filled with the sight of plump milk chocolate breasts. Marcello wordlessly caressed their supple skin as the round arches spilled teasingly over a plunging strapless neckline. A bejeweled mini tiara sat atop an elegant French twist, while sparkling white gold bracelets dangled from tiny wrists. Earth tones highlighted the beautiful woman’s angelic face, which was framed by thin spiral curls draping down to her smooth shoulders.

  Once the couple’s fiery stares connected, no words were necessary. Marcello simply opened his arms to her and Marissa glided toward his embrace. All they had was this one night together, unhindered from the demands of the outside world. Under the frosty sky, Marissa was truly Marcello’s princess – his living muse – and the love-struck man had become her endlessly devoted prince. Even now, his heart was pounding with an audacity to hope – to fantasize against all odds – that someday she would become his loyal queen.

  “You are…magnificent, Marissa,” Marco whispered down to her, beaming with a forbidden pride. “In all my days, I have never seen a vision more lovely than you.”

  “Thank you, Marco,” a shy smile lifted her painted lips, “for everything.”

  Hypnotic hazel eyes looped around his mind, pulling Marco under a magnetic trance. Every breath flowing from his body begged to kiss her luscious almond-tinted lips. As if she had heard his exact thought and was awaiting his tender affection, Marissa’s eyes drifted closed. Swimming with desire to capture her mouth, Marco followed his urge and leaned in. At the very last second before their mouths cascaded together, in spite of his dizzying craving, the dutiful agent settled for a polite taste of her soft cheek instead.

  Sinister thoughts about falling victim to a ruthless trap of seduction swiftly flooded Marcello’s mind. His trained instincts forced him to smother the joy swelling inside his lungs. He had to remember that his objective for tonight was to extract information – not to fall in love. One sealed kiss and he would surely become the tempting woman’s willing suitor for always, forsaking all else, even his career, to please her.

  Reluctantly, Marco stepped out of their shared embrace. From several inches away, he allowed his gaze to dance over the alluring features of Marissa’s natural grace once more. Quietly, he tried to memorize every curl in her hair, every shade of her skin and elegant gown, every glint of her sparkling eyes. Once he had appeased his silent appraisal, Marco held out his arm to the stunning woman.

  “Shall we, mia signora, Marissa?”

  Marco’s velvety accent instantly cast a powerful enchantment over Marissa. She quickly memorized how her name dripped from his lips like a sweet treat. Ma-ree-sa, she repeated his low bass in her spellbound thoughts. She would never forget the lingering hum that filled her body as he spoke the word with highest honor.

  Marissa’s eyes drifted over Marco’s strong body. She carefully traced the image of the robust man standing so near – ready and willing – to attend to her every need or whim. The colossal man’s stylish evening tuxedo framed the square cut of his brawny physique with absolute perfection. Hair that was only a single shade shy of finely spun gold dazzled her eyes. His hungry pink smile lured her lips into a soft quiver, while his regal face – almost as flawless as a marbleized Greek soldier – stirred Marissa’s heart to strum like a faint and haunting murmur in her ears.

  Her nobleman offered her his bent elbow then stepped forward to gently drape her hand through. Marco pressed her tingling fingertips into his own, twining their hands together in an unbreakable hold. The bond that sealed their two palms was so secure it seemed as if he held even her heartbeat under his protection and control. Afterward, Marcello glided Marissa beneath the restaurant’s sprawling lattice archway and gently swept her into the center of a fairytale ballroom. Under the grand dining hall’s massive glass dome, red wine and rich foods flowed freely, and the awestruck woman became mesmerized within a late twilight fantasy.

  While the waiters rounded the table to clear the last entrée, Marissa raised a long-stemmed crystal flute to her lips. From behind the clear glass, she watched Marco glance at her with a curious frown. The intense expression disappeared the instant he realized she was staring back at him. Even when it was gone from his handsome face, the look rattled the woman’s nerves, pulling her mind from beneath the enchanted haze it had been shrouded in. Before the house of cards Marissa had stacked against herself came crashing down, the time had
come to find out the exact reason why she had become the object of this man’s intriguing affections. What were his true motives for heaping all these lavish gifts upon her, and why did Marcello seem to be pining for Marissa’s attention in place of his beautiful and exotic traveling companion?

  “Katerina is…stunning,” she said, finally speaking her anxious thought aloud.

  Marissa’s hand trembled slightly as she sat the delicate glass down on the linen tablecloth. Marco did not reply; however, his eyes followed her shaky movements. A low sigh slipped from her throat. There was no easy way of digging into a truth that would probably chill her to the bone, so Marissa forced the words forward.

  “Marco,” she lifted her solemn gaze to meet his, “why did you bring me here tonight? You and I barely know each other. All these gifts…all this attention for a woman you met in a lobby yesterday.”

  Marcello remained silent, but Marissa’s mind began to supply its own version of the answers she was seeking. Against her better judgment, Marissa had succumbed to the thrill of the attraction she felt for the appealing man sitting across from her, and now she was going to pay the price for her mistake. Was she only a pawn in a flirtatious playboy’s schemes? If so, she deserved to know the whole truth, no matter how bitter it might be to accept.

  “None of this makes any sense to me.” The exasperated woman released a loud sigh. “People don’t fall in love at first sight…it just doesn’t happen that way.”

  Marissa’s voice drifted off to silence. She leaned back and hugged her body as close as possible against her high-backed chair. Her eyes darted away to a distant corner of the room, while embarrassment stamped itself across her drained face. A frantic wave of panic rolled over the woman. Love. What had stirred her spirit to speak that passionate slip of tongue?

  Suddenly, a rapid motion caught her attention. Marcello’s movement was too fast, and Marissa couldn’t pull her hand away in time. In a flash, he reached out and cupped her fingers in the strength of his own. She made a slight attempt to free herself from his grasp, but was glad when the man she privately craved held on to her tightly, refusing to let go.

  When he finally spoke, Marcello’s ice blue eyes flickered to life then pulsed with a cool azure glow. A surge of prickly energy coursed from his skin, flooding her palm with satisfying heat.

  “What if love does happen in such a way?” Marco’s blue flames searched deep into Marissa’s eyes, impatiently awaiting her response.

  “Impossible,” she whispered. The defiant word hung somberly in the warm breaths they shared.

  Though Marissa refused to speak her hope into existence, she finally understood the secret that bonded her spirit to Marcello with such startling intensity…almost at first sight.

  “What I say at this moment is true, Marissa.” Marco cupped her hand with more urgency, pulling her slim fingers closer to his chest while he poured the staggering confession from his rosy lips. “Since the very first moment I saw you, you have held me captive beyond my own understanding. No other woman has ever touched my soul this deeply. The more I try to push away what I feel for you, the more passionate these emotions grow inside of me. You are the only woman I see, Marissa. Tu sei il mio amore bello…you are my beautiful love.” Marcello pressed her fingers against the side of his tan face. “You are the only woman I would sacrifice everything to protect.”

  From somewhere nearby, the house band struck up a slow rhythm. Sexy piano keys blended in with the hypnotic sway of a low saxophone. The atmosphere all around the enraptured pair became electric with anticipation. Small screeches echoed in Marissa’s ears as chairs were pushed away from surrounding tables. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the dance floor at the center of the large dining hall was quickly filling up with loving couples. Each duet began to move at a gentle pace in time with the sultry medley.

  “The final dance of the evening.” Marco’s sensuously low tenor pulled Marissa’s thoughts back to him. As soon as she was facing him again, he placed the thick fingers of his second hand at the curve of her naked neck. In response to the delicate touch, Marissa’s eyelashes drifted down. She immersed herself in the warmth of his palm pressing into her bare skin. “May I have this dance, Marissa…mio amore?”

  Her head lifted from his soothing embrace.

  “I…can’t dance…not like this…” she stuttered.

  “I promise your feet will never touch the floor. I will hold you in my arms, and will never let you slip.”

  Marco rose from his chair and kneeled before Marissa. He lifted one of her petite feet into his hands and slipped the strap of the jeweled shoe under her heel. Then he repeated the same motion with the other foot. With a lover’s tender touch, Marcello’s long fingers tangled Marissa into their adoring hold. He pulled the glowing woman up from her feet and into the fold of his big arms. Her suave Italian man brought Marissa closer to his chest and clutched her tight. The charming gentleman twirled his lady in smooth motions that were in sync with the sultry tune until their bodies drifted into the middle of the crowded ballroom. As they swayed, Marissa’s lengthy silver gown barely touched the floor below.

  On all sides of them, specs of silvery glitter danced across the walls of the dim dining hall. A loving blue gaze caressed Marissa’s face, stroking her emotions and urging her fingers to clamp onto the hard bicep muscles hiding beneath Marco’s dinner jacket. Marco responded to her feverish hold by wrapping an equally possessive grip around her slim waist, pressing Marissa’s shivering belly flat against his muscular body. The rhythm of the sultry jazz melody lured Marissa into laying her head on the wide span of his chest. As she listened to the soothing patter of Marco’s heartbeat, her hands began to roam up the collar of his pressed shirt. Eager fingertips quickly twined themselves in the groomed and glossy tresses of his blond hair. Silky strands that glinted like sun streaks slipped through Marissa’s greedy palms. Again and again, the infatuated woman swept her hands through Marco’s short hair. The pads of her fingers massaged his pale scalp, and every caress evoked a sensual groan from her man’s throat. The faster Marissa’s fingers played in Marco’s golden locks, the quicker he tossed their waltzing forms around the ballroom, and the tighter he cuddled her rocking hips to his colossal build. Thick fingers pressed deep into the sensitive spot on her narrow back, just above her round bottom cheeks. When Marissa lifted her face to Marcello’s gaze, she was immediately immersed in a sea of erotic blue. There was true love for Marissa swimming in Marco’s longing stare. Nothing else could have been as perfect or more fulfilling than this blissful moment.

  All at once and unexpectedly, the music ended and so did the entangled couple’s twirling courtship. Marco dipped his head closer. After an eternity of aching for this moment, his burning lips brushed ever so lightly across Marissa’s trembling mouth.

  “As promised,” he said. The whispered vow sent a soft stream of warm breath past her lips. “You moved flawlessly, without ever touching the floor.”

  Every second of Marissa Stiles' entire adult life had been leading up to this one exact pause in time…This was the man…this was the feeling…this was the romance she had secretly dreamed of. More than empty ghosts from a half-forgotten dream, this was Marissa’s breathtaking reality, wrapped up in the strong arms of Marcello Rossi and consumed by his heavenly love.

  Marissa cupped Marco’s face. Words were no longer enough. She pushed away her hammering suspicions and silenced her hesitations. In a dizzying rush, two pairs of wet and probing lips collided together with inflamed passion and feverish curiosity. A pulsing ache drifted through the valley between her moist breasts, and a puddle of slippery dewdrops trickled between Marissa’s heated thighs. The delicate strings of a violin began to serenade Marissa and Marco, pulling the future lovers outside of time and space. Silently, the couple daydreamed of all the promises that lay before them. All too soon, sharp applause thundered across the open air and called them away from their first taste of eternal love’s kiss.

  As
Marco’s limousine approached the arching driveway of La Grande Roi, bright flashes of blue and red filtered through the vehicle’s tinted windows, catching Marissa’s attention. At the sight of the fleet of police patrol cars parked in front of her hotel, Marissa’s amorous emotions were rapidly switched with razor-sharp panic. Had there been an accident? Had one of the guests or one of her staff been hurt? It suddenly occurred to Marissa that she had neglected to call Nichole in over two hours. Could she have gone into premature labor or had a complication? Worry after worry raced through Marissa’s frazzled mind.

  As soon as the vehicle stopped, Marissa pushed the lock back, swung the limo door open, and ran toward the hotel’s sliding glass entryway. When she was within six inches of crossing the threshold, an African-American man dressed in a navy blue uniform stepped forward and blocked her path.

  “What’s going on?” The question rushed from the woman’s dry throat. Her heartbeat pounded like a jackhammer inside her chest.

  “I can’t let you go any farther, miss, this is a crime scene. You’re going to have to wait until we’re finished before you can enter.”

  “But I work here.” Terror filled Marissa’s mind. Her eyes were wide with fright, and an urgent need to push past the large man consumed her instincts. “I’m one of the supervisors. You have to let me in. I need to know what’s going on.”

  The officer scanned her dress. A look of doubt floated over his face.

  “I live here, too,” she said, answering his unspoken questions. “I’m returning from dinner.”

  “And your name?”