The Moretti Heir (2 page)

Melbourne, Australia, was steamy in March—something that she had anticipated before she’d left her home on Long Island. In fact, she’d planned every detail of this trip with excruciating precision, knowing that timing was everything. But she hadn’t anticipated the human element. A mistake she was sure her grandmother had made, as well, when she’d placed the curse on the Moretti men.

She suspected that her grandmother—who had only a rudimentary knowledge of the ancient
strega
witchcraft—hadn’t realized that when she’d cursed her lover, Lorenzo Moretti, and his family she was also cursing the Festa women. Virginia had spent a lifetime studying the curse her grandmother had used, trying to unravel the words so she could break it. There was no way to just take the curse back, since her grandmother had been the one who’d spoken the words and she was now deceased.

It totally ticked her off that she had panicked after coming this far. She was putting into action the plan she’d been thinking about since she was sixteen, since the moment she’d discovered the curse her grandmother had placed on the Moretti men and, by accident, the Festa women.

She wiped her damp hands on her classic Chanel gown. She was going to have to try to find Marco again—find him and charm him without giving away her plan. The key was to be vague. She had spent hours studying books on the
strega
spell her grandmother had used to curse the Morettis and looking for a way to break it. She’d determined through her research that to put the plan in action, she had to be anonymous.

She had only her grandmother’s memory of the words she’d spoken—words that Cassia had written in her journal and that Virginia had studied. Her grandmother had demanded retribution for her own broken heart, and in doing so, she’d doomed the Festa women to always have broken hearts.

There could be no joining of Festa and Moretti hearts. They had to stay forever apart. But their blood…As she’d studied curses, Virginia found a loophole. Separately, both families were doomed forever. But a child of Festa and Moretti blood could break the curse. A child given to her freely from a Moretti would repay the broken heart her grand-mother had received from Lorenzo Moretti two generations ago and lift the curse on the Morettis and the Festas.

Now that the moment was here, she was really nervous. It was one thing to sit in her condo and make plans to seduce a man. It was something else entirely to actually fly around the world and put the plan into action.

She stepped out of the crowded room and onto the terrace that overlooked downtown Melbourne. Until now, the places she’d seen had been only the small town in Italy where her grandmother had grown up and her own home on Long Island.

Tonight, standing on this terrace looking out at the black sky dotted with stars, she felt like she was on the edge of starting something new. All the
strega
magic that her mother and grandmother had taught her had its basis in being outside. She looked up at the moon shining brightly down on her and took strength from it.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not?”

The deep, masculine voice sent a tingle down her spine and she wasn’t surprised when she turned around and saw Marco Moretti standing there.

The panic she’d felt inside the party didn’t return. Instead, as she looked over her shoulder at him, she felt a sense of power come over her.

“Yes it is,” she said.

“May I join you?”

She nodded.

“I’m Marco Moretti.”

“I know,” she said. “Congratulations on winning today.”

“That’s what I do,
mi’angela,
” he said, grinning at her.

“I’m not your angel,” she said, though she loved the sound of him speaking in his native language.

“Tell me your name and I shall call you by it.”

“Virginia,” she said, very aware that her last name would give her away. So she kept it to herself.

“Virginia…very pretty. What are you doing here in Melbourne?”

“Watching you win,” she said.

He laughed out loud, the sound washing over her senses like the warm breeze that stirred around them.

“Will you join me for a drink?”

“Only if we can stay out here,” she said. She didn’t want to go back into the craziness of the party. Out here, she felt in control and better able to concentrate. Plus, she needed all the
strega
magic she could summon. The night sky filled with stars and the bright moon would help her.

“Certainly,” he said. He signaled one of the uniformed waiters and they placed their drink orders.

Once their drinks came, Marco took her elbow and led her farther away from the people lingering on the terrace. The terrace spanned the entire side of the building, and as they walked along, she became very aware of his hand on her arm, of the subtle brush of his fingers over her flesh.

When they reached a quiet area with no one around, he stopped walking and dropped her arm. Leaning back against the railing, he looked at her, his dark brown eyes intense. She wondered what he saw, she hoped she seemed mysterious, sexy, sultry. She was afraid she was going to give up the game she was playing by betraying her nervousness.

“Tell me about yourself,
mi’angela bella
,” he said.

She hadn’t counted on her senses being engaged by Marco. She’d figured she’d come here, flash some leg and a hint of cleavage, and that he’d be turned on and take her to bed and she’d leave in the morning.

Instead she found that she liked listening to his voice. She loved his accent and the rhythm of his words as he spoke. Liked also the scent of his cologne, and the way that he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. And of course, that fit what she’d learned about him—that his relationships, while short-lived, were very intense.

“What do you want to know,
mi diavolo bello?
”

He laughed again and she understood why he was considered so charming. Charm imbued every part of him. “So you think I am handsome?”

“I think you’re a devil,” she said.

“I love the sound of my native tongue on your lips,” he said. “Tell me about yourself in Italian.”

“I only know a few phrases,” she said, “What is it you want to know about me?”

“Everything,” he said.

She shook her head. “That would be a very boring tale. Nothing like the famed story of the Marco Moretti.”

“I bet that’s not true. What do you do?” he asked.

“Right now I’m on sabbatical,” she said, which was the truth. She had taken six months off from her teaching job at a small liberal arts college to follow the Formula One racing season and meet Marco.

“Why?”

“I’m going to be thirty next year and I decided it was time to see the world. I’ve always wanted to travel but never had the time.”

“So it’s just a happy coincidence that we are both in Melbourne?”

“Yes,” she said. A very happy coincidence, put in play by her own actions.

“Melbourne’s only the first stop. This is one of my favorite cities.”

“What do you like about it?” she asked. She knew little about the man beyond what she’d read on the Internet and in magazines.

“Tonight, I like that you and I are both here.”

She shook her head. “That’s a corny line.”

“It’s not a line, but the truth,” he said. “Come and dance with me.”

She took a sip of her Bellini. She’d caught his attention, diverted the conversation away from herself, and now…“Okay.”

“Did you really have to think it over?” he asked, taking her hand in his and drawing her near to him.

“Not really. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“Expecting what?”

“To find you so attractive.”

He laughed. “Good. I wasn’t expecting you, either, Virginia.”

“What were you expecting?” she asked.

“Another victory party where everyone pretends that they are happy for me, but no one really cares.”

“Is that usually a problem for you?”

“Not really. That’s just the way this crowd is. Everyone is here to see and be seen.”

His words revealed more than she was sure he intended them to. But before she could ask any more questions, he leaned in, cupped her face and brought his mouth down to hers.

The scent of his Scotch was sweet as he parted her lips with his own. She felt the warmth of his breath and then the gentle brush of his tongue against her mouth.

And in that moment she knew—
strega
magic or not—this was a dangerous mission she’d set for herself. Because not falling for the charming Marco Moretti was going to be harder than she’d ever imagined it would be.

Since they’d come in from the terrace, she tried to leave a few times, not being comfortable in the spotlight. But he kept her by his side, his fingers linked loosely with hers as they moved through the crowd.

She didn’t have to try to be mysterious here. No one knew her, and to be honest, she didn’t think anyone wanted to know her tonight. She was simply a pretty woman hanging on Marco’s arm.

The feminist in her was a bit outraged to be delegated to nothing more than arm candy.

“I am sorry,
mi’ angela,
but winning always means that my time is not my own.”

“It’s okay,” she said. She was learning a lot about Marco from watching him. She wondered if her grandmother had realized what the Formula One lifestyle was like. Was this why Lorenzo Moretti hadn’t wanted to settle down with her grandmother? Maybe having experienced the high life, he hadn’t been ready to give it up for home and family.

“What are you thinking,
cara mia?
”

“I’m thinking that you can’t remember my name so you keep calling me by endearments.”

“Virginia, you wound me.”

“Doubtful.”

He smiled. “I do want to know what you are thinking. You look too serious for a woman at a party.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. She wanted—no,
needed—
to be mysterious. She couldn’t allow herself to forget for one moment that she wasn’t here to fall in love with Marco Moretti. She was here to break a curse.

But when he pulled her into his arms on the dance floor, she forgot about plans and curses. She forgot about everything except the way his arms felt wrapped around her. The way his shoulder was the perfect place to rest her head, which she did for only one second, because the sexy scent of his aftershave was too potent that close.

“I was thinking that at this party, everyone wants something from you.”

“Including you?”

Yes,
she thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

“It’s okay, I know you do. Everyone wants something, I want something from you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Another kiss.”

Of course he did, and that made her agenda so much easier because she wanted him to want her. But at the same time…

“You’re doing it again,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m going to think that you aren’t happy to be with me.”

Shivers ran down the length of her body from her neck to her toes. Her breasts felt heavier all of a sudden, and her nipples perked up, as if they wanted the warmth of his breath against them.

“Of course I’m happy to be with you, Marco. You are the man every woman wants…all you have to do is beckon and any woman here would come to you.”

“I don’t want any other woman tonight, Virginia, only you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I could say that it is the hint of mystery in those deep, chocolate-brown eyes of yours. Or the smoothness of your skin against my hand.”

“But that’s not it?”

“No,
cara mia,
it’s not. The reason I want only you is much more base and too demanding to be tamed by words.”

“Lust.”

“You say it with disdain, but there is a power to lust and to attraction at first sight. From the moment I caught sight of you, I have been unable to think of anyone else.”

She smiled up at him and let go of those silly girlish dreams she’d secretly harbored about love. Lust was exactly what she wanted from Marco, and she should be very happy that he felt it.

“It’s the same for me.”

“Is it?” he asked, drawing his hand down her back. Her skin was exposed by the plunging V at the back of her dress and his fingers felt big and warm against her skin.

He pulled her closer to his body as he spun them around the dance floor. His mouth touched the exposed skin at the nape of her neck. His lips felt warm and moist against her skin as he said something she couldn’t understand. All she understood at this moment was that she wanted Marco Moretti.

Her flesh was sensitized to him. She felt alive in this man’s arms. Perhaps it was the magic of the night, or maybe it was the peach Bellinis she’d drank going to her head. But deep inside her, where she kept the superstitious part of her soul, she knew it was the curse coming out. She knew this attraction went beyond her and Marco.

It was something cosmic and wonderful, she knew. Especially when he lowered his head to hers. She didn’t wait for him to kiss her, but instead rose on her tiptoes and met his mouth with her own.

He brushed his lips over hers before opening them the slightest bit. She felt first the barest rush of his breath over her sensitive lips and then the smooth taste of his tongue.

He kissed her with the kind of passion she’d only read about in books and seen on movie screens. She clung to his shoulders as everything feminine inside of her responded to everything masculine in him.