Her Sicilian Arrangement (8 page)

“Stupendo
!”
Alessandra chuckled. “I shall go make us some tea and then we can
talk some more about this wonderful news, yes? Your father and
Felipe are gone into town for a while. I’m sure they will be back
very soon. Excuse me a moment.” And walked away and disappeared
within the interior of the house.

Before he could even say a word, Marco felt the painful stomp
of Meagan’s wedge heels on his toes. At that moment, he felt as if
she had impaled him and he flashed a dangerous look at her that
matched the one in her own eyes. “Are you out of your mind?” she
snapped, trying as best as she could too keep her voice down. “I—I
can’t do this! What the hell was I thinking? What do you mean by
we’re going to plan a wedding at a later date?! How much more
arrogant can you be?”

“
Look…this is nothing to turn homicidal over!” he returned. “I
just want to make my family feel happy for a while, especially my
mother. My father still thinks I am still not man enough. I—I know
that I hadn’t said it before but he and I do not get
along.”

“
And
why is that?”

“I
never wanted to take over his business so he thinks that I think
his occupation is beneath me. But really, I just wanted to build my
own success. I wanted to prove to everyone that I am much more than
what my name implies. The Mussolini men have made a fortune from
owning vineyards…but I wanted to make my own legacy.”

Meagan sighed and then looked away. “Why don’t you just
explain that to him, then?”

“
He
is not the type of man who listens. You call me arrogant…but he is
the arrogant one. Sometimes I can do nothing but draw the
conclusion in my mind that he hates me.”

“
That can’t be true,” she said, with a sigh. “Maybe he just
felt hurt by your decision and he doesn’t know how else to handle
his emotions but to…to channel them with anger.”

She
heard Marco sigh and then turned to look at him. “Look, I really
admire you for wanting to make your own success. ‘Father has his
own, mother has her own but God bless the child who has his own.’
Right?”

“
Exactly.”

Meagan could tell that Marco Mussolini was a great man but did
that mean she was beginning to believe him when he said that he
wasn’t a drug-smuggler? She was still keeping her eyes open because
getting that story was still at the forefront of her
mind.

“
What if we can’t go along with this charade anymore? What
happens then?”

“I
will simply explain to my family that we have irreconcilable
differences and we have mutually agreed to go our separate
ways.”

Meagan sighed and looked at him for only a couple seconds. “I
hope it will be that easy. I still don’t know why I’m doing this.
Is this story really that important? I mean, you’re a
stranger.”

“
No
worries. After, you will get your story and we shall never see each
other again. But for now, I am focused on our sham of a
relationship and I do intend on enjoying it while it
lasts.”

Her
eyes narrowed at him. “Am I missing something here?”

“
I
do expect that you will treat me like a worthy fiancé as I will,
you.”

“
Define ‘treat’?”

Marco looked on and then saw his mother returning with a tray
with neatly set china teacups on saucers and a medium sized
canister. From where they were, Meagan could see Alessandra’s
almost impeccable smile and she moved gracefully as she approached
them. Upon entering the stunning mansion, she was even surprised
that she hadn’t seen a butler or a housekeeper greet them. It was
very admiring to see a wealthy family who, which was very much
rarely found, did not act pompous.

“
Let
me help you with that,” Meagan offered and took the tray from
Alessandra.

“Oh…how helpful of you!” And they sat there eating cookies and
drinking tea in the mid-morning cool atmosphere.

* *
* *

Meagan walked into the guest house that Alessandra had so very
kindly presented as Marco and hers for their stay. She had
specifically said that they might need some ‘privacy’ since they
were newly engaged. To be frank, Meagan did not even want to know
what she had meant by that because there was absolutely nothing for
her to be ‘private’ about with Marco Mussolini. Overall, the guest
house was just as beautiful as the main house and she was even more
amazed at the refined Italian architecture. But what shocked her
into an almost laughing state was that it contained only one
bedroom. ONE!! She had expected it to be of that type of
accommodation but her mind could not yet grip the reality of
sharing a bed with an alleged drug smuggler. She could not help but
burst into a giggle that made Marco flash her puzzled
look.

“
May
I ask what you find so hilarious?” he said, placing down their
travelling bags at the foot of the king-sized bed.

“
Nothing at all,” she muttered, sitting at the edge of the bed
and sighing loudly. “Your mother is nice…and your
sister.”

“
Yes, thank you. We are all good people.” And as he said that
he stared into her eyes deeply, indicating how badly he wanted her
to trust him and relinquish her horrible opinion of him.

“
Right…,” she drawled and looked straight across the room at
the ornamental vase on the small table where a transparent bowl of
sweets sat.

“You
will get to know me far better,
mia tesora
,” he muttered and rest his hands on his hips. “We both will
explore each other limitlessly.”

“There you go again with making jokes,” she chuckled, walking
over to take a sweet from the bowl. She then twisted open the
wrapper of the strawberry-flavoured token of paradise and then
slipped it quickly into her mouth.

“
I
assure you that I am not being humorous,” he snapped, moving
quickly over to her and grabbing her by the arm.

“Hey…,” she argued, glaring up at him as he pulled her across
the room and pinned her down to the bed, his weight centered
between his legs. “What—get
off
!”

Marco caught her hands above her head, pressing them down to
the sheets and looking her over as if he was examining a crime
scene. His eyes burnt through her with raw desire that made her
quiver beneath him. She had to admit, his obviously athletic body
felt absolutely wonderful pressed to her in that position but she
could not afford to jeopardize her career. How was she to know that
he wasn’t just trying to persuade, by seduction, from pursuing a
story on him? “Do I look comical now,
mia tesora
? Do you think my desire for you is a
joke?”

“
This is not a part of our agreement,” she struggled to get out
from trembling lips. “I won’t—we won’t be having sex with each
other.” She threw the words out at him as if she was afraid to.
Besides, if he had really known her sexual history, he probably
wouldn’t have wanted her so badly. She had no experience in that
department and she did not want to disappoint anyone…especially a
hot-blooded Sicilian like Marco who lived and breathed passion.
That is if she wanted to share herself with him anyway!

“
Really?” he asked as if he really hadn’t known. “Well, too
bad. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“
Ha!” she breathed in his face with a sarcastic
smug.

Marco then eased off her and straightened his clothes. “Then
it would not bother you if I went out tonight…and probably stayed
out,” he teased.

Meagan looked at him narrowly and pointed a finger at him.
“You wouldn’t dare sleep with another woman!”

He
cackled hilariously. “And why would you care,
mia tesora
? I thought this was only a ‘sham of a
relationship’.”

She
glared at him angrily and flung a pillow in aim of his head but he
ducked expertly. “Oh…it should have hit you in that big mouth of
yours!” she yelled as his laughter seemed to hurt her ears. “The
media seems to—I don’t know—have a thing for the big proud Marco
Mussolini and if I am going to be his so-called fiancée then I
suggest that you keep your member in your pants! I won’t have my
name scarred at the end of this!”

Marco leant his head and nodded with a broad smile on his
face. “As you wish. But if you are so concerned about your
reputation, then I suggest that you reconsider being my woman in
every sense of the word,” he muttered and approached her once
again. “I am like any other hot-blooded Sicilian and I have never
encountered a woman who has twisted my emotions like you have. My
well-being requires it. And it I shall have!”

“
Are
you out of your mind?” she tried not to scream, saying. She then
paced slowly across the room and sighed. “No—you know what? Take me
back to Palermo.”

“As
you Americans would say, that’s a no-can-do.”

“What do you mean that’s a
no-can-do
? If you hold me here against my will that is called
kidnapping, which is not very good for your, already, scarred
reputation.”

“Non
dire sciocchezze
!
Nonsense,” he replied, looking as arrogant as ever, holding up his
hand in defiance. “You came here because you wanted to—things
people would do for a career—and we had a verbal
contract.”

“
Oh,
that is such hot air and you know it!”

“
We
will be here for two weeks. I am not that unbearable to be
around.”

“Two
weeks?” she snapped. “Oh god!” She held her head in her palm and
then shook it sighing. “I know what you’re doing…you’re trying to
punish me aren’t you? Because I think you’re involved in drug
smuggling?”

“
As
much as that sounds like a very enticing thing to do right now,
don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to
construct such a scheme. I’d rather go the old-fashioned route…to
woo you into my arms, which won’t be very hard to do.”

“
You
know what,” she hissed, stepping up to him and scowled at him like
a witch on the hunt for her new apprentice. “Two can play at that
game, lover boy. I am going to get that story and you are going to
learn that not every woman will fall at your feet and kiss your
toes! At least not this one.” She then glanced down at his groin.
“Men like you act this way to make up for what you truly
lack.”

Marco’s eyes glistened with delight as he returned her glare
and he licked his lips lightly. “I have to say, I love the sound of
that,
mia
tesora.
I shall
enjoy every second of my lesson.”

CHAPTER 6

Marco sat out on the expertly landscaped lawn, beneath one of
the several mini outdoor cabanas, trying to relax on a lounging
chair. It was now two thirty in the afternoon; an ideal time to
have lunch but he had excused himself from the occasion. He had,
however, passed on the torch to Meagan who had more than happily—or
that was how she had seemed—accepted. He had watched her move
gracefully away from him and into the hands of his mother and
sister, swaying her hips and glancing back at him like a swan in
its glide. For some reason, he was beginning to think that she
intended on playing a game that would suck the living breath out of
him. He had not the time and patience to sit on the
sidelines…
attesa
…waiting
for her to come to her senses and notice just how eager he was for
her. It was simply not in his nature. He knew that it seemed rather
bizarre (or wacky, as she would have said) for him to feel so much
more a woman he barely knew. For the record, it was
bizzarro
for him too but he had
always known himself to be the type of man who always acted on his
feelings. And the radar on which his feelings voiced pointed
straight in her direction. He wanted her and he had to have her no
matter what he had too. Even if he had to fake their engagement and
bribe her into giving a positive response, then so it had to
be.

But
what bothered him the most is that his plan did not seem to be
working in his favour. She thought him to be a criminal and there
was absolutely no way, that he saw fit to change her mind. If he
was to have her, he had to at least make her trust him. But how
could he do that when they were in his father’s territory, he who
only served to put him down every opportunity he got, especially
when he had no proof to clear his name. Yes, he was tried by a
court…and yes, he was found not guilty. But that was all because
his prosecutors hadn’t enough evidence to convict him. If they
‘supposedly’ had, he would have probably been facing a life
sentence in prison. Someone was obviously trying to set him up, but
whom? He did not have much close friends as popular as he was. And
those that he knew weren’t who he would have labeled as ‘friends’
of his. He had no matter in drugs…ever! And even though a jury
found him innocent, some people still did not. Including the one
woman who struck his eyes’ path, and who just happened to be a
journalist who hated his guts.

He
had to find out who was behind dragging his name through the mud
because there was no way he could move on unless he did. His
conscience was crystal clear and he needed to transport that to
Meagan’s—