Player's Ultimatum (10 page)

Have I lost my ever living mind?

She’d acted like a slut, with Paolo Saito of al people, that’s what! In a moment of madness, she’d committed a grave mistake that would have far reaching consequences.

Yvonne pushed away from him, taking him by surprise. Quickly, she scrambled over the side of the pool, pulled on her spa robe and tied the belt around her waist, creating a barrier between them. For good measure, she spun around, intending to put him in his place, but she choked.

Paulo stood in the middle of the pool, al golden skinned and rippling muscle like a god rising from the sea. But his body wasn’t what drew Yvonne’s regard. It was the intensity of his dark gaze. He looked seconds away from storming out of the pool and taking her right then and there. Up against the wal , on the floor, hel the look he gave her he’d probably just wrap her legs around him and pound away.

Yvonne swal owed the lump in her throat. “This can never happen again,” she declared flatly with more bravado than she actual y felt.

“If you say so.” Paulo chuckled softly as he lay back on the water’s surface. How could he be so nonchalant when her body was consumed by guilt? “Until we meet again, Yvonne Floyd.”

Yvonne watched him float on the surface of the water, her eyes immediately drawn to the huge bulge tenting the front of his black swim trunks. Her mouth suddenly felt parched and dry as the Mojave Desert. Before she committed a second offense, Yvonne escaped the room and Paolo Saito—at least for now.

*****

“Eww nasty.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Yvonne sat up on the living couch as Robbie stepped into the room. Since she’d returned home from the Roman Bathhouse she’d been on edge.

Robbie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? You ate al the gelato again didn’t you?” They
were not
on the same page. And if she had anything to do with it, they would stay that way. Unable to sit stil any longer, Yvonne got up from the couch and fol owed Robbie back into the kitchen. “I’l buy another quart in the morning. So, what’s so nasty?”

Robbie handed her his cell phone. “The half-a-mil ion euro counteroffer Nico Acqua just presented to my agent. It’s so nasty it’s good.”

The guilt and fear holding Yvonne rigid seeped out of her with a sigh of relief and she slumped against the cushions. She and Robbie might be best friends, but she would take what happened this afternoon to the grave.

“Chump change compared to the money they’re going to make on your image. They’l be in the black before the end of your contract. Face it, you’re a hot commodity, baby.” Yvonne placed a finger on his forearm and made a sizzling sound.

“You’re the one that’s hot. I would have never been able to pul off any of this without your help Yvonne.” Robbie leaned down and planted a kiss on the end of her nose. “You did this not my agent.”

“The offer would have come eventual y, with or without my help.” Yvonne yawned. Her afternoon of lust and relaxation was final y taking its tol .

“What am I going to do when the season is over?”

“
No problemo, papi
. I’m going to make you so freakin’ popular you’l be a force to be reckoned with. It won’t matter if you like to wear black fishnets and pink stilet os while strol ing down the Via Condot i.” Yvonne scurried out of harm’s way when Robbie moved to whack her on the behind. Just to be safe, she turned her back to the refrigerator. “So when do you sign the contract?”

Robbie pulled out the blender from one of the cabinets and set it on the counter. He dumped spirulin, protein powder, natural peanut butter and a cup of water into the blender jar, and then hit the power switch. “Two weeks from now at his offices in Venice. He wants us to stay the entire weekend and attend a masked ball he’s hosting for
Carnivale
. Prepare yourself for three days of non-stop debauchery.” Robbie wiggled his tongue at her.

Her interest piqued, Yvonne asked, “What’s
Carnivale
?”

“It’s Mardi Gras Italian style.” Robbie cut off the blender and poured the slime/drink into a large tumbler. Yvonne turned up her nose.

“You can’t be serious. That looks like slime.”

Robbie took a healthy swal ow. “This slime keeps me ful of energy and makes me a monster on the pitch.” Growling, Robbie tipped his head back and downed the contents of the glass.

Yvonne imagined his concoction tasting like green chalk and smel ing like sewage. “I’m sure. You can practical y kil your opponent with your breath.”

“You know I left some just for you.” Robbie took a step toward her. “Want a taste?” Yvonne pushed up against the door frame. “Stop, Paolo! If you come anywhere near me with that liquid seaweed, you won’t be able to play the rest of the season.”

Robbie glanced down at the cup and swirled what looked like more than a swal ow. When he looked back up, his brown eyes twinkled with mirth. “You just called me Paolo.”

Yvonne stiffened.
Had she?
More than likely, she couldn’t get him out of her head to save her life. If she didn’t know any better, she was becoming obsessed with him.

Robbie cocked his head. “You’ve got the hots for him don’t you?”

Yvonne’s toes curled in her house slippers, but she played it off with a snort and a roll of her eyes.

Robbie closed the distance between them. “You can try to snow me al you want. That blush tel s it al , honey.” Yvonne slapped her hands over her cheeks. She been so sure her skin was too dark to give away the tell-tale flush heating her cheeks.

An ‘I gotcha’ smile lifted the corners of Robbie’s mouth. “Want to come clean?”
No.
“How clean?”

One of Robbie’s eyebrows shot upward. “You want to play twenty questions.”

“Um, no.” Before she spilled her guts and did irreparable damage to their friendship, Yvonne spun around. Robbie impeded her escape by throwing his arm around her shoulders.

“How about
three
questions?”

Yvonne flung his arm off. “I’l pass.”

“Just one?”

“While you wash the dishes, I’l be in my bedroom reading.”

She almost made it to the hal way. “What am I worrying about? I know you wouldn’t act upon your at raction to my arch enemy. You’re too good of a friend and too intel igent to do something so stupid.” Yvonne prayed Robbie was right because this afternoon her IQ dropped several points.

* * * * *

After Yvonne’s departure, Paulo jumped out of the pool. No sense in remaining since she’d taken al the heat. He grabbed his robe and yanked it on. His dick was so hard he could pile-drive a box of nails. He hadn’t had a hard on like this since he was a kid.

An hour and one long, cold shower later Paolo pulled his black Bentley into traffic.

He barely made it three blocks before his cel phone rang.

“
Signor Saito
,” a gravel y voice rumbled through the other end.

“
Chi è questo
?” Paulo asked, answering in perfect Italian.

“This is Malfi. I tried cal ing you at home but your butler told me you were out.”

“What do you want?” Paulo bit out, unable to keep the growing impatience from his voice. He needed to get laid! Yvonne Floyd had him tied in knots.

“Gutierrez.” Malfi paused for dramatic effect. For goodness sake, the man had taken his job too seriously. At times he felt the Malfi actual y thought this was some game of intrigue.

“What about him?” Paulo sighed unable to escape his nemesis.

“I toured his vil a this morning and took pictures of him and his fiancée for an upcoming pictorial for
Arrivederci
magazine.”

“And?” Paulo asked trying to keep his voice calm. Shifting the gears violently, he changed lanes.

“Other than the man is a clothes horse with a shirt in every color of the rainbow. A regular Valentino he is,” Malfi chuckled.

His humor wasn’t shared by Paolo.

Malfi continued hurriedly, “I did notice something of interest. When Bracci went to look in the master bedroom’s second closet, they dragged her downstairs.

Once alone, I took a look and there was nothing there.”

Paolo almost pitched his cel phone out of the window. “You called me about an empty closet?”

“An empty closet proves they do not share a room together. The woman is nothing but a red herring to divert the media’s attention away from the rumors.”

Now it was Paulo’s turn to laugh. “Don’t be sil y. No one would go to such lengths. I’ve got to go. I don’t like to talk on the phone while I’m driving. Find something else to dig up Malfi, c
iao
.” Paulo hung up, but didn’t set his cel down. He scrolled through the directory in search of a possible companion for the evening. From beginning to end, Paolo found no one who caught his interest. His fondness for the beautiful, tal and unat ached had suddenly paled to a very much taken dark-haired, brown-skinned vixen.

*****

“Did you make sure you packed the kitchen sink?”

Yvonne glanced at the three Louis Vuitton bags at the bot om of the stairs. They were only going on a three-day holiday to Venice, but Robbie had packed enough clothes for a month.

Robbie looked down at the bags and cocked his head. “I’m still deciding on whether or not to pack that along with my black leather skinny jeans.”

Yvonne rolled her eyes. She might look high maintenance, but she was stil plain ole’ Yvonne Floyd underneath the fashionable clothes. Thus the reason why she’d only packed a change of clothes for every day and managed to fit them into one hanging bag.

“The car’s here to take us to the airport, so you’re going to have to leave both of them behind.” Robbie snapped his fingers. “Damn! The double sink would have looked so good with my Lost Sheep costume.” Yvonne cringed. A self-professed diva, Robbie had taken the lead and with Lit le Bow Peep as his theme, he’d chosen their matching outfits for Matteo’s masked bal . For her, he’d selected a white frock with a pound of crinoline that made the abbreviated skirt flare out from her waist. The only thing, which kept her from being arrested for indecent exposure was a pair of white hot pants he bought to go underneath.

He completed the costume with a bonnet, white face mask called a
bauta
, shepherd’s staff and thigh high stilet o boots. She would be the naughty version of every child’s favorite shepherdess.

Robbie on the other hand would be
International Male’s
version of a lost sheep in a pair of buttery suede pants which laced up the front and shameful y emphasized his manhood. The custom-fitted pants were so tight he needed to jump from a roof to get into them. Opting to go shirtless, Robbie’s only other adornment would be a hand painted mask.

Not wil ing to start an argument she knew she couldn’t win, Yvonne toted her belongings outside. She handed the driver her bag and climbed into the back seat of the hired Mercedes, while Robbie juggled the disgusting excess he called ‘necessities’.

He climbed in beside her and gave the driver their flight information.

They left slightly before noon to beat the midday rush and arrived at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport with time to spare before their flight. And before Yvonne could finish her complimentary champagne, they were landing in Venice.

Shut led into a private water taxi, they set off for the city center and Matteo Matteo’s palazzo,
Villa Reale,
hunkered on Venice’s Grand Canal. Due to the holiday, the city teemed with people many of them costumed or wearing painted masks.

During the twenty minute ride, they passed other boats and Venice’s famous gondoliers along the narrow canals flanked by centuries old buildings that seemed to stand the test of time and a wet geography.

“It’s beautiful,” Yvonne whispered, awe struck by the ingenuity of the Venetians and the beauty of the palazzos, which emerged directly from the lagoon.

“Wait until you see Matteo’s mansion. Comprised of four stories,
Villa Reale
takes up an entire street block.” Upon their arrival, two servants greeted them at the docks. One stayed behind to handle their luggage while the other ushered them to their suite of rooms. Given two hours to rest before dinner, Yvonne decided to take a tour of their host’s property.

Considering the price tag of Robbie’s endorsement deal, Yvonne expected Matteo to have more money than King Midas. And after taking a brief tour of the estate, his wealth was confirmed. One of three properties Matteo personal y owned
Villa Reale
was by far the largest at sixteen thousand square feet.

After completing her tour, Yvonne bathed and then dressed in an emerald green cocktail dress handpicked by Robbie, of course. As they descended the stairs to the formal dining room, they rehearsed al the pertinent information regarding their

‘relationship’.

“Now don’t be nervous,” Robbie assured her before they entered the dining room. “I’l be right by your side the entire time.”

*****

“I’m going to steal you from Robbie?”

Nico Matteo chuckled as his green eyes dipped to the décolletage of Yvonne’s cocktail dress.

Yvonne clutched the dinner napkin folded in her lap. For the better part of the evening, she’d suffered their host’s advances.

Robbie wasn’t much help seated several chairs down the table and ensconced between an Italian duke and a Bavarian heiress.

Remembering Robbie’s unsigned endorsement contract, Yvonne plastered on a smile and bore the other man’s company.

“What would you do with me once you had me?”

Matteo’s expression grew serious and Yvonne tensed. “I would put you to work within my organization as the Vice President of International Marketing. I’d use your aggressive tactics to my advantage.” Matteo chuckled at Yvonne’s surprised expression. She definitely wasn’t expecting a job offer, more like a tumble under the sheets.

“So what do you say? Would you like to come and work for me, overseeing my North American division?” Yvonne found herself at a loss for words. What could she say to an offer that was equivalent to her dream job? Unfortunately, she couldn’t accept. Her commitment to Robbie was her first and only priority.

“I’ve shocked you, no?” Matteo reached out his hand and placed it over hers. “Normal y, I do not discuss business during dinner, it ruins the digestion. But since the weekend wil be a whirlwind of activity and with al my guests arriving, we won’t be afforded the same opportunity to speak on a one-on-one basis.”