CHAPTER 11
Enrico summoned Ruggero to his office. He’d put off disciplining him over the lapse at the orphanage for too long. When he thought about how close Kate had come to death or grievous injury, a nauseating dread pierced him, as if he’d run out of bullets during a firefight.
When Ruggero walked in, Enrico took a deep breath. He needed a clear head for this discussion. “You know why you’re here.”
Ruggero nodded and started disarming himself, removing a 9mm from a shoulder holster, another gun and a switchblade from his jacket pockets, a small snub-nosed revolver from an ankle holster, and two wicked looking knives from sheaths on each wrist, placing them all on the desk. Enrico silently watched the process, saying nothing. Ruggero stepped a couple feet away when he was done, clasping his hands at his back, settling onto his heels to wait for Enrico’s pronouncement.
Enrico studied his bodyguard as if he’d never seen him before. Ruggero stood in front of his desk, his posture straight but relaxed. A hard slab of man, not overly large or tall, but a solid mass of muscle with a face hewn from granite. A scar that slashed across his left cheekbone spoke of a knife he took for Enrico’s father. That was when Ruggero was shadowing his own father, Livio.
He’d known Ruggero for over twenty years, and the guard had been his constant companion for the last fifteen. They weren’t friends and they never would be—Enrico was Ruggero’s boss, first and foremost. Ruggero was a little too bloodthirsty for Enrico’s taste, but until now, he’d always seemed stable, trustworthy. And most of all, loyal. If he couldn’t rely on Ruggero, who could he trust?
“I’d like an explanation for what happened yesterday.”
Ruggero met Enrico’s eyes. “There is none.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Sì.”
Had he expected anything different? The answer was classic Ruggero. But the events of the last twenty-four hours were not. The incident at the hotel in Rome. What Ruggero must have said to Dom about Kate. What might have happened to her due to Ruggero’s laxity. Most of all, the possibility that Ruggero was a traitor. The anger he’d been holding back filled his voice with venom. “You have failed me. Twice now. And poisoned Dom against me. Explain yourself.”
One of Ruggero’s eyebrows twitched, the only sign that he was rattled. “I’m disappointed in myself, signore. But how could I have turned Don Domenico against you?”
“Somehow, he got the impression that Kate and I… that my bringing her here was about sex. What did you say to Dom about what happened?”
“Nothing. Antonio’s the one who called him. I was too angry with myself to make the call.” He frowned, looking down at the floor. It was more expression than Ruggero normally showed.
“How am I to trust you again when you nearly got her killed?”
“You yourself were in danger. That’s the part I can’t forget.”
Enrico sighed. “You’re not going to defend yourself, are you?”
Ruggero didn’t move.
The man was holding something back. “Look at me.” When Ruggero met his gaze, he said, “What happened? Truly.”
Something flickered through the guard’s eyes. If Enrico hadn’t been watching him so closely, he would have missed it. But what was it? He waited for an answer and got none. “Ruggero, speak to me.”
“I allowed myself to be distracted. It won’t happen again.”
“Why were you distracted?”
Ruggero shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“What are you hiding from me?” He tried to inject the full force of his authority into the question.
The guard took a breath. “I swear it’s nothing of importance to you or the cosca. Only to me.”
Enrico felt like he was struggling to open a clam and losing the battle. “Are you working for the Andrettis?”
Ruggero blinked and his head jerked back. He spoke with fervor. “Never.”
“You swear it?”
“Upon my father’s grave.”
Enrico tapped his fingers on the desk in a slow cascade from the pinky to the index finger, waiting for more. Everything Ruggero said felt like the truth. He’d never known the man to lie. “Will this ever happen again?”
“No.”
“Your punishment is one month’s wages.”
Ruggero looked at him. “I expected much more.”
“What do you think is appropriate?”
“I expected to be dismissed.” Which was a nice way to say he expected a bullet to the head.
“Truly?”
“You could have been killed.”
“So, you would fall upon your own sword?”
Ruggero nodded. “It is only fair.”
Enrico took a breath and let it out. If all his men were like Ruggero, he would be a lucky man indeed. “Everyone makes mistakes. Even you.”
“I can’t afford to.”
“The day will come when you will fail. There is no stopping it.”
The guard let out a puff of breath. “If I do my job well, you’ll live to be an old man.”
“There are few old men in the malavita, and you know it.”
Ruggero shrugged.
“You can go.” He watched Ruggero re-arm himself. “Do not let this happen again.”
“Sì, capo.”
Ruggero left. What could possibly be preoccupying the man? He’d always been a rock. Once the immediate crisis was resolved, he’d ask again, and he’d accept nothing less than a full disclosure. For now though, he was satisfied. Ruggero would do his job, as he always had. As he always would.
Or they both would die.
Kate passed much of the afternoon roaming the grounds of the estate. At first she’d wandered about the house, but after encountering pictures of Antonella in nearly every room, exploring the gardens had held more appeal. Enrico had insisted that Antonio accompany her outside.
She hadn’t known what to say to the young guard at first, but his English was serviceable, and he proved to be an enjoyable companion. She almost might have thought she was on vacation, but whenever she caught sight of the machine gun hanging from a strap across his back, reality confronted her.
They were strolling through the hedge maze when she decided to ask him about her host. “How long have you worked for Enrico?”
“Not long. A few months more than a… year, yes?”
“Yes, that’s the right word.” She looked at the sky for a moment. “Is he a good man?”
“Signor Lucchesi? No. He is not a good man.” She looked at him in shock, and he smiled slyly. “Signor Lucchesi is a great man. My life would be nothing without him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My parents, they died when I have ten years. There was no one who could take me. After much struggle… I went to the Lucchesi Home.” His voice grew hoarse. “Signor Lucchesi, he is like my own father.”
“Is that why you work for him now?”
Antonio nodded vigorously. “Signore wants me to attend university, but I want to repay him for all he has done for me.”
They walked out of the maze and into the rose garden, the heavy scent of flowers overwhelming everything else as the sun beat down around them. Kate stopped and sniffed a particularly large, lush rose, admiring the perfection of its deep pink petals. “So lovely, signora,” Antonio said.
“Yes, these roses are gorgeous.”
“I mean you, signora.” She looked up at Antonio, saw the glint in his eye.
“Antonio!” She wagged a finger at him playfully. “You are too young for me.”
He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. “I have twenty-one years.”
“And I have twenty-nine.”
“So?”
She stopped walking and gazed at him steadily. Antonio had blond hair, blue eyes, a face sculpted by Michelangelo, and the body to match. She supposed he was used to women falling all over him. “Signor Lucchesi would not like it.”
He eyed her up and down. “Bellissima. Such a woman. It is hard to say no.”
“You’d better say no. Because I am. Understand?” The last thing she wanted to do was stir up trouble between Enrico and Antonio. Especially since she’d be gone soon.
He let out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on his chest, exaggerating his heartbreak for her benefit. Then he smiled. “Signore makes a good choice in his woman.”
Kate let that comment pass. She wasn’t Enrico’s woman, but why rub it in? She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask. “What was Signora Lucchesi like?”
A shadow passed over Antonio’s young face, momentarily dimming his sunny features. “She is bella, molta bella. In here,” he said, tapping his chest.
Kate’s throat constricted. How could she possibly compete with the memory of a dead woman who had a beautiful heart?
But what did it matter? She wasn’t going to stay. She wasn’t ever going to be anything to Enrico other than a fling. End of story. Even though he’d said he wanted more, even though he’d practically begged her….
He wasn’t free. Not really. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Could she risk her heart on a man who might not be able to love her?
She looked at the house and gave a start when she saw Enrico walking toward them. His lips curved up when he saw that she’d noticed him, and she couldn’t help the grin that crossed her face in response. Stop daydreaming. You’re only here for a couple more days. Enjoy it. Enjoy him. Then forget everything.
He strolled up to her and slipped an arm across her shoulders, lightly kissing her cheek. “Has Antonio bored you yet?”
“Not at all.”
Enrico raised an eyebrow. “Ah, then he has been flirting with you.”
Her smile widened. “A bit.”
Enrico glared at Antonio, but his smile undercut it. He said something in Italian she couldn’t make sense of, but she was sure it amounted to a friendly “back off.”
“He’s also told me a bit about you. And Antonella.” Her voice softened as she mentioned his wife’s name.
He stiffened, then relaxed. “All good, I hope.”
“According to Antonio, the two of you are virtual saints.”
Enrico smiled. “Tonio remembers who pays his bills, I see.”
The young guard laughed and bowed his head. “I am not stupid, signore.”
“You never were. Now leave us, please.”
Antonio left with a nod to Kate, his blue eyes lingering on her for a second too long. What else might he have said if they’d had more time together?
“So what tales has he told you?”
“Antonio thinks the world of you. And he said Antonella had a beautiful heart.”
Enrico’s eyes misted and he looked away. He nodded and cleared his throat. “She did.”
“I’m glad you had such a good marriage. It’s rare to find that kind of love.”
“I am glad too. Even though it aches to be without her.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I am not. I was the luckiest man alive. How often does that happen?”
“Not often enough.” She paused. “Probably not twice in a lifetime.”
He looked at her. “That is where you are wrong.”
“Am I?”
His eyes locked on hers. “I think so, yes.” He flipped her hand over, his fingers feathering over her palm. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “Come to bed with me, Kate. Let me show you,” he murmured against her cheek, his breath tickling her skin.
She hesitated. She shouldn’t do this. “Well, it will make the time pass faster.”
“You are concerned only with passing the time?” he asked mildly.
She gave him a naughty smile. “I suppose not.”
When she woke later that afternoon and thought back to what had happened between her and Enrico, Kate hardly remembered the trip into the house, up the staircase, into his room. But she did remember the feel of her palm against his, his large fingers clasped over hers, his pulse and hers throbbing in time.
The next thing she remembered was his eyes, the way they burned into hers, the way they devoured the sight of her breasts, her sex, as he undressed her. She had never felt so wanted, so desired.
And then she remembered his lips, his mouth taking hers, his tongue exploring, insistent, finally demanding. His mouth trailing down her neck, her skin tingling wherever his lips descended. The fire those kisses stoked between her legs.
His hands, stroking her shoulders, twining in her hair, cradling her waist, crushing her to him. His fingers plucking her nipples into points, his mouth taking over then, making her arch and moan, finally almost scream when he grazed her aching peaks with his teeth, when he bit down just this side of too hard.
Then his knee urging her legs apart, his mouth on her sex, his lips, his tongue, his fingers on her, in her, slipping in her wetness, making her scream and pant, and call his name, and beg him to take her, to fuck her.
And finally she remembered him sinking into her, making her open wide, his hips slapping against hers, harder and faster and deeper, until she came again.
But the thing she remembered most was the tender look in his eyes when he withdrew from her, when he rolled over and pulled her on top of him, when he brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her. When he said, “I believe it can happen again.”
She almost believed it too.
Sunlight slanted golden and low across the bedroom as Kate slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Enrico. Wincing at the soreness in her thighs and lower back, she smiled at the memory, almost a fever dream, of their sex. She corrected herself: their lovemaking. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d never lost herself entirely to sensation, to the moment. To the man. To the way he made her feel, inside and out. She felt cared for, wanted, protected, needed. Maybe even… loved. He’d implied it, there at the end. I believe it can happen again.
She stumbled into the shower, grateful for the warmth as the water ran over her hair, her arms, her back. This was all happening so fast. Too fast. It had to stop. She had to stop. But her mind kept racing down the one track she didn’t want it to pursue.
Soaping up, she allowed herself to daydream for a moment. If she wanted to be with Enrico, how could that happen? Vince wasn’t about to give her a divorce. The only way he intended to let her go was in a coffin.
Enrico opened the door to the shower and stepped inside. “Mmm,” he murmured, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His cock rubbed against her buttocks. He was hard again.
“Already?” Her voice came out sharp. Couldn’t he leave her alone for one minute?
He stopped rubbing against her. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” She sighed. “We can’t possibly be together.” How raw her voice sounded. How could she care so much already?
“Kate, we will get through this.” As he spoke, his lips moved against her neck. “We will. I promise you.”
She turned around in his arms. “What about Vince? What about Carlo? How the hell can this possibly work?”
He regarded her somberly, his face beaded with water, his thick lashes heavy with it. “Let me worry about the Andrettis.”
She pressed her hands flat against his broad chest. He wasn’t seeing reality. “If you say so.”
He hugged her tighter. “Trust me. If I did not think there was hope for us, I would not try for it.” His voice went soft. “I do not want to get hurt either.”
Her heart contracted. How did he know that was troubling her when she hadn’t even known it? He stared at her, his eyes locked on hers, but he remained silent.
She took a deep breath. “Just remember I’m not making any promises.” It was the best she could do.
“Good enough.” He lowered his mouth to hers. His hips twitched, and she was again aware of his hard cock pressing into her belly. She slid her arms around his neck. Maybe they couldn’t have forever, but they might as well have right now.
They were drying off from a second shower when she noticed the tattoo on his right bicep again. She’d been so caught up before, she hadn’t taken more than a glance. It was all black, a small circle of roses with a design inside. She held his arm still to peer at the tattoo, conscious of his eyes locked on her face. The design turned out to be words done in a fancy swirling script. “Quattro in tre,” she said aloud. “Four in three. What does it mean?”
“I do not want to talk about it.”
“Why?”
His face darkened. “It has to do with the accident.”
“When your mother and brothers were killed?” He nodded. “I still don’t understand the reference.”
“May we not talk about this now?”
His face was turned half away from hers, but his sorrow was still apparent. “All right,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” Only a bitch would continue to press. And besides, the more she knew about him, the harder it would be to leave.