Her Sicilian Arrangement (10 page)

“
Your home?” she questioned. “We only got here this
morning.”

“
And
it has been long enough.”

“
Did
you have an argument with your father?”

“
We
spoke… Anyways I do not wish to disclose our investigation to my
family’s knowledge until we find something. That is why I prefer we
go to my house. We shall leave in the morning. It is only half a
mile away.”

“
So
what? I am no fan of travelling…I only took this case because it
would add fireworks to my resume.”

“
And
if you can help me prove that someone is sabotaging me, your resume
would look even better,” he reassured, his eyes hard on
hers.

“
I
still don’t know if I should even be agreeing to this. I mean—what
if it turns out to be dangerous?”

“I
have the resources to guarantee your safety,
mia tesora
,” he muttered, brushing her left cheek
with the back of his hand, causing her to close her eyes for a
couple seconds. “And that is what I shall do.”

“
Fine—whatever.” She brushed away his hand again and then
looked away. She then felt his intensity growing on her and she
turned to see that he had moved even closer to her. His body was
only an inch away from touching hers and his breath was tepidly
fervent on her face.

“
There is no need to be withdrawn…I seek no prospect to hurt
you or do anything that might dishonour your
femininity.”

“
What? You…I—listen I am not shy,” she stuttered to him. “You
think that I am shy around you? That is just crazy!” And she
frowned.

Marco chuckled. “You never cease to amuse me,
mia
tesora
. It only
makes my desire to kiss you increase momentarily.” Meagan slipped
from in front of him and then chortled nervously.

“
I’ll be on the lawn with your family. I guess I have to tell
them now that you’re dragging me off to prison.”

“
Wait—there is one more thing,” he halted her fidgeting and
then moved towards her where she stood near the door.

“What is it
now
?” she
groaned.

“
There is something I forgot to tell you.”

“
Well, go ahead.” Marco looked her over and then locked his
eyes on her before he grabbed her into his arms and locked his
mouth on hers. She wiggled and writhed in his grip but he held her
steadfastly, exploring her sweetness meanwhile enjoying the
priceless glare that she was currently giving him. This was now the
third time he had kissed her—and by God—it felt like his first.
“You son of a--,” she snapped, swinging her hand to slap him across
the face when he caught it firmly.

“
I
don’t think so,” he chuckled, shaking his head from side to side
slowly. “Please remember the story you so desperately
want.”

Meagan heaved furiously and then spun around quickly on her
heel, slapping him in the face with the stinging contact of her
flashing hair, and then left the compartment in a huff. Marco
winced and rubbed his jaw where her hair had stung him and then
chuckled to himself. He could not wait to make her his!

CHAPTER 7

“
Oh…don’t you worry at all,” Alessandra smiled, sweetly and
then kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “I shall visit you if you
wish me to.”

“
I
would love that,” Meagan responded, sincerely. As much as she had
not initially liked the idea of pretending to be Marco Mussolini’s
fiancée, she had very much begun to like his family—well, she
hadn’t seen much of his father—but they were all so candid in a
very refreshing way. It was definitely something she could have
gotten used to. Too bad a few weeks from then, she would be back in
New York and bidding goodbye to the Sicilian fantasy.

“I
will see you soon, Mother,” Marco said and then hugged her. He then
turned to his sister. “Tell Celine that I won’t forget that
bambola
she asked me
for.”

“
I
will tell her,” Maria said, looking as radiant as always and then
hugged her brother. “Felipe did not return last night. I know he
would’ve liked to see you before you left.”

“
Well, you know Felipe,” Marco chuckled. “He must have run into
some old friends who decided to have a grand time.”

“
Have a safe drive,” Alessandra inputted.

“We
will.
Arrivederci
!”

“
Goodbye,” Meagan waved as she saw Marco bend to pick up their
travelling bags and then they exited the house and out into the
bright sunlight.

There was a black tinted SUV waiting in front the mansion, and
his bodyguard standing firmly in a dark suit and matching aviator
glasses. “Isn’t that the guy you had sent to lure me into your trap
the other day?”

“Sí
. That is
Fabio.”

“
Well, I don’t like him one bit.” Marco chuckled and then moved
up to the vehicle, opened the trunk and placed the bags inside.
Fabio then opened the door for her when she glared at
him.

“Buongiorno, Signora
!” he greeted her, his smile incredibly whiter than
she had last noticed.

She
gave him dubious look and then moved around him to enter the
vehicle. She then pulled the door close and waited until Marco came
in through the opposite door.

“
You
needn’t be hostile,” Marco said. “Why don’t you like
Fabio?”

“
I
don’t know. I just—I just didn’t like the look in his eyes the
other day. Maybe I’m overreacting but…that’s my
opinion.”

“
And
to it you are always entitled to.”

In a
moment, Fabio slid into the driver side of the SUV and then drove
out of the large wide yard and into the clear neighbourhood street.
Meagan sighed as she contemplated another ‘journey’ with Marco
Mussolini. She felt as if she was in captivity…and he was her
master; her source of food and shelter. But she needed that story
so badly it hurt and she did not want to return to New York to be
judged as the failure Miles Hart thought she was and would ever be.
She needed that position as Senior Editor more than anything else
in the world…and she just had that feeling she was definitely going
to get it. She just hoped that Marco Mussolini was a man of his
word.

So…he wanted her to help him clear his name. She had
absolutely no idea how she was going to do that but she had to
accept his request for the sake of her ever seeing that large
spacious office on the East wing of the sixth floor. A personal
assistant…secretary and enough privileges to keep a bright smile on
her face…not to mention the fat delicious cheque she would be
receiving every month. Whatever else could a girl ask
for?

She
sat there counting down the minutes that passed by as she felt as
if she had been sitting down for hours. Meagan glanced ahead at the
man steering them through the smooth moderately bust streets and
then at the one sitting next to her. There he was…so perfectly
attired and looking softly ahead of him as if he was looking at
something that only he could see. His shoulders were incredibly
muscular—she could tell even beneath his white cotton shirt—and
relaxed, and his stomach seemed hard-yet-soft that she wouldn’t
mind resting her head there for a while. Long strong legs caught
her eyes as he gaze travelled lower to peer at the flat white suede
shoes which seemed as if they had not ever been worn before. But
nothing had ever caused her stomach to twist and writhe like the
sight of that small yet very clearly visible mole which sat at the
corner of his mouth. She had developed a rather strong and somewhat
surprising urge to lick it gently with her tongue and then knot her
fingers in that thick beautiful hair of his. What was she
thinking?

She
quickly caught up with herself before she allowed her imagination
to carry her any further. Meagan looked outside through the window
and sighed quietly to herself. But would it hurt to explore the
reckless yet passionate course that a male and female was known to
share? She had no idea. Would it even be worthwhile to take on an
impassive affair with Marco Mussolini? She could hardly ever
remember the last time when she had gone first base with a man? She
had kissed a couple guys in her lifetime…her experiences were never
sensual…and the first guy that she almost ‘did it’ with, when she
was twenty two years old, had only turned out to be a major scumbag
who had tried to rush her through the entire process. She
remembered crying as he had tried to penetrate her so painfully
that tears had come flooding down her face. It was at that point
that she had yelled at him to ‘get the hell out’ and she hadn’t
seen him since then.

From
that awful incident, she had dropped the act of dating entirely and
sought after making her career a story to talk about. But here she
was now, still not knowing the true essence of love-making, and
still pursuing that career which had completely taken over her
life. She sighed once again and then shook her head slightly. She
then, as if involuntarily, moved her eyes back to Marco when she
noticed him staring at her. His eyes were reassuring yet
pleading…asking for a VIP ticket to her thoughts.

“
You
seem worried...”

She
shook her head again. “It’s nothing…” And she glanced at the
driver, Fabio, again.

“
It
surely can be nothing. Tell me…what are you thinking?”

“
Trust me, it wouldn’t interest you.”

“
How
do you know? Tell me anyway…” She sighed and looked up at him. She
would never surrender her true feelings to man, especially to one
whom she hardly knew much less one who was unfortunately profiled
as a drug smuggler. She hesitated for a while and then felt his
fingers cover her smaller and much more delicate ones. For a moment
there, she felt safe…protected, and her cheeks burnt hotly with
blush. “You are nervous?”

“
I
can hardly imagine any woman who wouldn’t be nervous around you.”
And she pulled away her hand.

Marco’s eyes lit up with delight and he was more than
fascinated by her boldness. In fact, it aroused him in more ways
than he had expected. She was a very admirable woman with strong
qualities he would love to be bred into the characters of his
future children. She was more than ideal to take up the position of
being his wife but he had to know if she really was the type of
woman he could spend the rest of his life with. They already had
the physical attraction…but did the share similar morals and
beliefs? Was she the type to give him the commitment of genuine
matrimony and to bear him the children he would have promised to
guard with his life for as long as he breathed?

“
Do
you like children, Meagan?”

She
looked up at him as the question finally seemed to register in her
brain. “
Children
?” She
had never thought about that before…of whether or not she liked
children. She had never been around much except for that one boy
who had kept on visiting her mother on Sunday evenings when she was
fifteen. But while all that had been happening, she probably had
been locked in her room listening to N’sync or Backstreet Boys.
“Children are okay…I guess.”

“Hmmn,” he murmured and chuckled. “I believe children are like
the very air we breathe, no? They are so innocently refreshing but
we can never really see or begin to understand what they are
thinking.” He then glanced at her and continued, “They can teach us
a lot yet we never take the time to pause from our daily routines
and just…listen. My niece, Celine, saw me one day and she pointed
at a pair of birds picking on a piece of wheat bread, and she said,
‘Uncle…why can’t you and
Nonno
Torre be like them?’ At first, I didn’t know what she was
talking about because I hadn’t the clue that she was aware of our
disagreement. But I lifted her in my arms and said to her, ‘Because
he likes wheat bread and I like mine white.’ And she sighed with a
sad frown, saying, ‘Then we should bake one made from
both.’”

Meagan stared at him as he smiled to himself and then smiled.
“She’s a smart girl.”

“
Very smart. I adore children. I hope to have as much as I can
running around that big lonely house.”

Meagan chuckled and then cleared her throat when he noticed
his surprised glare. “I wish luck to the woman who will win your
heart!”

“
You
wouldn’t want a lot of children?”

“
A
lot is way too much,” she chortled with amusement. “If I am to ever
have children…two would be enough.”

“Two?” he exclaimed. “
Due
?”

“
Of
course... No offence but men don’t know a thing about pain; and I
personally am not a fan of it.”

Marco’s eyes widened with thrill and it was at that moment
that his eyes blazed with an erotic heat that she had no intention
of putting there.

“Here we are,
Signor
Mussolini,” Fabio said in an instant as they pulled up to a
large sliver gate.

“We
shall continue this conversation privately,
mia tesora
,” he smiled and then turned to look at Fabio through
the rear view mirror. “Go ahead and enter the password.”