Revenge (23 page)

“Then a martini it is.”

He rang the house and placed their
request.

She waited until he ended the call. “When
were you in London?”

“From sixteen to eighteen. After my mother
and my brothers were murdered, my father sent me to boarding
school. He said I needed to improve my English.”

“But?”

“Whenever I mentioned them, he changed the
subject. I think he just wanted to be alone.”

“Maybe he wanted to keep you safe from
Carlo.”

Enrico nodded. “Even though the engagement
had been arranged by the time I left, I doubt he trusted Carlo
much.”

“Do you still miss them?” How would she
handle such a loss?

“Every day. Especially Primo. Dom sometimes
makes the same gestures, or his tone of voice will sound the same
as Primo’s, and I’ll miss him all over again.”

“I’d like to meet your cousin.”

“You will. Though not for a while.” His face
darkened.

“Did the two of you fight?”

“He was upset about what happened.” He
paused, then added, “Dom knows all my business. He knows about
Carlo. And Vincenzo.”

“Oh.” Everything that had happened the other
night seemed like a surreal nightmare. Her feelings about Vince
were a jumble—anger, relief, and yet a strange feeling of being
adrift, alone.

“What is it?” Enrico looked at her
closely.

“I don’t know the woman who shot Vince. I
didn’t think I could.”

He regarded her somberly. “We are all capable
of killing, in the right circumstances.”

“But—”

“You did the right thing. Accept it. You
saved our lives. There is nothing wrong with wanting to live.” He
paused, as if to see what effect his words were having.

She took a deep breath. “I could have held
the gun on him, I could have waited for the police.”

“I would not have. You were too close to him.
He could have taken the gun from you.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I had to accept long ago that the
Andrettis—or someone else—might force me to do the same thing one
day.”

Now was her chance to ask about Fuente’s
needling in the study. “Haven’t you already done so?”

He looked down at his feet. “I cannot answer
that truthfully.”

So he
had
killed those men. She
watched his face when he finally looked up at her. There was no
remorse, no guilt on those features. Only defiance, and a touch of
pride. “I have no right to judge you, Enrico.”

Surprise flickered across his face, then he
smiled. He pointed to the tattoo on his bicep, the one she’d asked
about. “You wanted to know what this means.”

He paused so long she said, “You don’t have
to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I do, actually. Though it is unwise for me
to be so frank.”

“Can’t we trust each other after all that’s
happened?” She caught his eyes with hers.

“What I am about to tell you, you cannot
repeat. I could go to jail.”

“I won’t say anything.”

He stroked the tattoo. “I avenged my family.
I killed those men. All four of them. In three days.
Quattro in
tre
.”

Kate couldn’t suppress a gasp. “But weren’t
you just a boy then?”

“I was eighteen. And about to marry Carlo’s
daughter to save my family. I could not go after Carlo, but I could
go after his men. I wanted him to know I would be no man’s
slave.”

Kate sat back in her chair. Well, well.
Enrico Lucchesi wasn’t just a ruthless businessman; he was a street
fighter too.

They were interrupted by Maddalena, with
their drinks on a tray. She’d brought a pitcher of ice water as
well. Enrico thanked her, then handed Kate her martini. He picked
up his drink and touched it to hers. “
Salute
.”

The ringing chime of the crystal reminded her
that they were supposed to be celebrating the day. She put on a
smile for Enrico’s benefit, and took a sip of the martini.

“How is it?”

“
Perfetto
.” She took another swallow,
feeling the gin burn her throat as it slid down. She had the urge
to get spectacularly drunk, something she hadn’t done in years.
“I’m going to need another of these.”

“You will get drunk.”

“That’s my intention.”

He glanced at her. “I did not think you would
miss him.”

She took another swallow of the martini, then
popped one of the olives in her mouth and chewed it, savoring its
salty tang. “Neither did I.”

“I think what I really meant is
why
would you miss him.”

Kate turned to look at him. “He was my
husband.”

“But—”

She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “Do
you think I was an idiot? Our marriage was good at first. He loved
me. And I loved him. Yes, he had a temper, and sometimes he scared
me. But maybe if I’d never talked to you, maybe none of this would
have happened.” To her mortification, her eyes blurred with
tears.

“Kate.” Enrico leaned forward and took the
glass from her hand. He set it on the table, then touched her
shoulder. “I have to say this.” He waited until she looked at him.
“You have nothing to feel bad about. Look at you.” He gestured to
her bruised arms and legs, his eyes lingering on her marked face
and swollen lip. “He had no excuse for his behavior. None. Your
only mistake was loving him. If it had not been me, someone else or
something else would have turned him against you.”

A wave of recognition passed through her and
she looked away, her eyes finding a bruise on her left shin. He was
right. And yet, it was all still her fault somehow. She could feel
Enrico’s eyes upon her, and as another truth hit her, a shiver ran
down her back. He’d expected her to move on from Vince quickly.
Hopefully on to him. Which gave him a motive for getting rid of
Vince. And gave Fuente a reason to suspect Enrico, not just shake
him down. She looked up. “Did you have
anything
to do with
the security breach?”

Enrico’s eyebrows flew up at Kate’s question.
He stared at the pool for a moment before answering, not sure he’d
heard her correctly. “Why would you think I would sabotage my own
security?”

“Why are you stalling?”

She didn’t miss anything. “I was taken
off-guard.”

“Well?”

“Of course not. I would never put you—or
myself, or my people—in danger knowingly.”

“How do I know that’s true?” Her eyes seemed
to penetrate into him.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Fuente wasn’t just shaking you down. He
knows something,” she said.

“I have a lot of money. That is all he
knows.”

“There’s something else.”

Dio
, she was impossible to throw off
the scent. “What are you accusing me of?”

“What did Fuente say to you outside the
car?”

Enrico sighed. He had to tell her. “He
threatened me, us. He said the investigation could go either way,
that because we were lovers, it could have been murder, not
self-defense.” He met her eyes. “I did not want you to worry.”

“What are we going to do?”

Enrico took her hand. “Nothing. The physical
evidence will clear us.”

“But what if Fuente makes the evidence
disappear?”

“There were witnesses. Ruggero. The doctors
who examined us. He cannot make them disappear.”

“Ruggero works for you; his testimony could
be dismissed,” she said.

“The doctors do not.”

“But the test results could be lost. Or
changed.”

He shrugged. “I can only worry about what
actually happens.” He took her other hand in his. “Fuente will go
away if I do the favors he has asked for.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I will handle it.”

“I’m sorry for bringing this into your life.”
She looked down at their joined hands. Her voice was soft.

“I have been dealing with the Andrettis my
entire life. I knew what could happen.”

She looked up at him. “You could go to jail.
Both of us could.”

“Please stop fretting.” He wanted to kiss
her, but settled for pressing his lips to her cheek. “And stop
arguing with me.” He spoke lightly, hoping to break the mood.

She smiled. “Can I get drunk now?”

“Why not?” He handed her the martini and
picked up the phone. “Two more,” he said to Maddalena. Then he
picked up his own glass and settled back in the chair.

A couple rounds later, they were both quite
intoxicated. Kate looked down at her skin, starting to turn pink.
“I’d better go in before I burn.”

“No need.” He fetched a large sun umbrella
from where it stood next to the house and set it up over her. Then
he picked up the bottle of sunscreen. “I thought you would
eventually need this.” He poured some onto his hand, adrenaline
starting a flutter in his chest.
What if she says no
? “May
I?”

Her wary eyes found his, the pulse jumping at
her throat. But she didn’t look away, so he waited, slicking the
cream across his palms, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart,
the silly flips his stomach was making. An eternity passed before
she nodded and pulled off the blouse. He almost smiled, but held it
in, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Instead, he
sat down on the edge of her lounge chair and smoothed the lotion
over her left arm, massaging it into her skin with both hands. When
he worked it up to her shoulders, she sat forward so he could apply
it to her neck and upper back. She shivered beneath his hands.

He stopped, his mouth going dry. “Is this too
much?” She shook her head, and he continued on to the other arm.
Her skin felt heavenly to him, silky, warm. It had already been too
long since he’d last touched her.

Hell, he shouldn’t be touching her now. Not
after he’d agreed to let Dom set up a betrothal to Delfina
Andretti. His heart plummeted to his feet. How could he possibly
give Kate up? How could he walk away from this wild and tender
creature who trembled beneath his touch, whom he wanted nothing
more than to soothe, to protect? How could he leave this fierce
woman who had captured his heart?

He would have to, if he was going to keep his
cosca
safe.

But how?

He looked at the bruises on Kate’s face and
body. He had to leave her. It was the only way to keep her safe
too. Unless….

Unless he made her his mistress, supposing
she would accept that solution. He couldn’t see Kate accepting
second place in anything. But, here she was nevertheless, even
though he hadn’t removed his ring or packed away the pictures of
Antonella.

Of course, maybe that was because Fuente
still had her passport and Carlo had his eye on her. Somehow, he
had to convince her to stay.

When he finished her right arm and her hand
slipped from his grasp, he moved down to her feet, smoothing the
cool lotion over them, between her toes, kneading the muscles of
her arches, his fingers working over the delicate bones of her feet
and ankles. Then the meat of her calves was between his hands. He
slowly worked his way up to the tender skin behind her knees, one
of his favorite parts of a woman.
Cristo
, they all were. She
flinched when he touched that soft, soft skin, and he stopped and
met her eyes. “Would you like to do the rest?”

She looked down at him, a bit unsteadily. His
heart hammered like this was his very first time with a woman. “No.
Go ahead,” she finally said.

He gave her a slow smile, then coated her
knees and thighs, his fingers working in concentric circles as he
moved toward the juncture of her legs.
Slow down
. As his
fingers neared her bikini line, she tensed and he stopped again. He
took a shallow breath; it was the first one he’d taken in over a
minute. Removing his hands from her, he sat back, his mouth
parched.
This might be the last time you ever touch her; don’t
ruin it.

She opened her eyes and stared at him for a
few seconds. He couldn’t read her. “You missed a spot.” She
motioned to her chest.

He let a lazy smile inch across his face. “So
I did.” Pouring more sunscreen onto his palms, he smoothed them
across her upper chest, his fingers running over her collarbones,
the little hollow at the base of her throat, the tops of her
breasts. His heart thrashed in his chest. How he wanted to continue
touching her.
Kiss her.
Looking into her eyes, he saw them
filled with trust. He closed his own, forced himself to breathe, to
ignore the demands of his cock. He was rock hard and ready. But now
was not the time. He rose carefully, keeping his back to her, and
waited for his erection to go down.

“Thank you,” she said dreamily. He smiled to
himself.
Mille grazie
,
Kate
. Even though it was agony
to stop. He hoped she wouldn’t think badly of what he’d done later,
when she was sober. And he wasn’t so completely besotted.