The Moretti Heir (7 page)

She was really here. After they’d made love she’d fallen asleep in his arms. And he hadn’t minded. Because the last thing he’d wanted to do was question her when he felt so vulnerable. Damned if this woman didn’t make him feel…weak.

Well, out of control. Like he had the very first time he’d gotten behind the wheel of a Moretti F1 racing machine. Virginia lay curled on her side facing him, one of her hands reaching toward him, the other curled under her chin.

Asleep, he could study her without having to admit to anyone that he was obsessed with her. He knew that Dominic had been particularly glad when they’d met that morning in Melbourne and Virginia hadn’t been with him.

Had his brother seen something in Virginia that had made him wary of the attraction she had for Marco? Or was it simply Dom’s normal fear that a woman would distract him from the quest to take Moretti Motors to the top?

It wasn’t like Marco was ever really alone. There were always beautiful women who were more than willing to hang on his arm and go back to his place for a night. What had been different with Virginia? Or had it been
his
reaction that had made Dom more watchful?

Marco didn’t know if he and his brothers had made a wise decision when they’d vowed to avoid women who could make them feel. Marco couldn’t speak for his brothers, but he was tired of the emotional wasteland that was his past relationships.

He let no one close to him. And at the end of the day, he was alone. Of course he had his brothers, and together the Morettis were strong—but there were times when he longed for the happiness his father had found with his mother.

The kind of happiness that stemmed from love. He shook his head to clear it. He wasn’t the kind of man who needed love. He needed a powerful engine under his control. He needed the thrill of pitting himself against the other top race car drivers in the world. But
love?
He didn’t need that.

He pushed himself out of the bed and flicked off the light so he wouldn’t disturb Virginia.

Why did she make him feel? He was thirty-six years old and he had a good life. Why was he suddenly asking questions and looking harder at the choices and decisions he’d made?

He walked to the wet bar and poured himself a Di Saronno. He tossed the drink back and walked around the darkened living room. The lights of Barcelona competed with the stars in the sky. He’d like to blame his restlessness on Virginia and the questions he still hadn’t asked her, but he knew it was more than that.

He leaned against the French doors, staring out at the night sky over Barcelona. It was quiet now, and he had the feeling that he was alone in the world. His thoughts swirled and he realized that winning the Grand Prix World Championship this year wasn’t going to be enough for him. Because once he had another championship under his belt, there would be nothing left for him in the world of Formula One racing.

He felt sometimes as if he didn’t know who he was if he wasn’t behind the wheel of a race car. Being the face of Moretti Motors was fine, but that wasn’t much of a career. And to be honest with himself, he’d known he’d always been a little bit embarrassed by the way women flocked to him and photographers sought him out.

He walked back to the bar and refilled his glass again.

“Marco?”

He turned to see Virginia standing in the shadows of the hallway.

“
Sì?
”

“What are you doing?”

“I could not sleep. Did I disturb you?”

She walked toward him and he saw that she wore his shirt. He liked the way she looked in his clothes. When she was close enough, he reached out and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin and simply holding her.

“What are you thinking about? The race earlier?”

He was tempted to say yes. It would be easy to say that he was rerunning the race and trying to figure out when he’d lost, but his mind wasn’t on Formula One or even Moretti Motors. It was on this woman.

“No. I’m not dwelling on the race.”

“What then?” she asked, pulling back to look up at him.

“I was thinking that I don’t know your last name or what you do for a living. Yet, you know what my mother’s career is and a million other details of my life.”

She flushed. “Is that important to you?”

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

She hesitated. Then, “I’m Virginia Festa. I was born in Italy, but moved to America when I was a year old. My mother, Carmen Festa, was a school-teacher.”

“What about your father?”

“I never knew him. He died before I was born.”

The name Festa sounded familiar to him. “Where in Italy were you born?”

“In Chivasso.”

He stiffened. That was where Cassia had been from. The woman who’d cursed his grandfather and by default all of the Moretti men. He had no idea what the old witch’s surname was, because his grandfather always just referred to her as that witch. But there was something about hearing the tale of Virginia’s life that put him in mind of his own family’s curse. He hadn’t believed in the curse until Dom’s doomed love affair. That had been the incident that had made both him and Antonio consider what their
nonno
had believed.

Lorenzeo had told the tale of a girl from his village whom he’d promised to love, a girl whose heart he’d broken. In return, that girl had cursed him.

“So it was just you and your mother?”

“No. My grandmother lived with us, as well.”

“Just three women?”

“Yes. My grandmother had done something rash when she was a young girl, and I think her actions doomed us all.”

Virginia didn’t know if it was because they were standing in the dark or because of the comfort she drew from standing in Marco’s arms, but she suddenly wanted to talk about her past. Talk about the path that had led her to his bed so that maybe, at some point in time, he’d understand what she’d done.

“What does this have to do with the secrecy you’ve kept?” he asked. He drew her over to the leather couch and sat down. She sat next to him, drawing strength from him.

Virginia realized that she was saying too much. That she should just retreat back to the bedroom or use sex to distract him and then disappear again in the morning.

Except the last month had given her too much time to think, and retreating to her lonely life wasn’t what she wanted. She liked Marco. That was something she’d forgotten to factor into her calculations—the human emotions part of the curse-breaking. She’d always understood that her grandmother had been truly heartbroken when Lorenzo had refused to return to their village and marry her. But she hadn’t realized that emotions might be the one key component to spell-casting that she hadn’t accounted for. To be fair, she wasn’t a witch and didn’t regularly practice magic. Her entire training—if you could call it that—had simply been to study the practices to find a way to break the curse.

It was a basic thing, using emotions, and something she shouldn’t have forgotten. But this spell, the only spell she’d ever tried…

“Virginia?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked you a question.”

She smiled up at him. In the dark, his obsidian eyes were fathomless and she realized that she was falling in love with him. Was it only because she’d selected him to father her child?

“That’s right, you did,” she said.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the Italian accent making his words seem more carefully spoken.

“Yes, I am…Actually, no, I’m not. I guess because it’s the middle of the night, I thought that telling you about the past would somehow make everything okay, but now I’m not sure.”

“I’m not following,” Marco said.

“You asked me whether the mysterious way I’ve acted about my life has anything to do with everything between us…. well, it has nothing, and everything. I’m not sure how to say this,” she said, losing her nerve. The middle of the night was a stupid time to make decisions. She knew that, but here she was anyway, about to tell Marco…

“
Mi’angela,
don’t do anything you don’t want to. I simply asked because…hell, I asked because I want answers. I’m tired of searching for your face at races and realizing that you aren’t there—and that I don’t know enough about you to find you.”

“I guess that my second thoughts aren’t fair to you.”

“Second thoughts about what?”

“Telling you the truth.”

“Have you been lying to me?”

“Not really lying, just omitting stuff. Actually, I wish you’d just figure it out so I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

“Figure
what
out?”

She took a deep breath as Marco shifted on the couch and moved away from her. She was on her own any way she sliced it, and she had to remember that only a child would change either of their lives.

“I’m the granddaughter of the woman who cursed your grandfather. Cassia Festa, my grandmother, was heartbroken when your grandfather, Lorenzo, refused to marry her.”

He stood up, cursing as he paced away from her before returning to stand in front of her, hands on his hips.

“I know this story. So, out of spite she put a curse on my family—on the men—so that no Moretti man could have both happiness and fortune.”

Virginia nodded. It was hard to explain Cassia’s actions to someone who’d never known her. “She wasn’t a happy woman.”

“Yeah, like the Morettis have been happy…we lost our home, Virginia.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t like she prospered after doing such a thing to your family.”

“Why are you here?” Marco demanded. “Did the women of your family think of another curse to heap on us? I have to warn you, Virginia, it’s too late. My brothers and I have made up our minds that love isn’t something we aspire to.”

She shook her head. He was angry, and she acknowledged that he had a right to be. But that didn’t mean she liked the way he was yelling at her. She took a few steps away from him then stopped. She knew Marco wasn’t going to reach out and hurt her, and she had lied to him.

“I am not here to place another curse on you. The women of my family…well, there’s just me. Cassia died a lonely, bitter woman, and my mother lost the only man she loved. And I…”

“What?”

“I have spent the last two years of my life studying the curse and trying to figure out why my grandmother never married and had only one child, a daughter—my mother. And why my mother’s life followed the same pattern. And I realized something as I looked at my family and the curse my
nonna
put on you. She cursed you with an ancient spell. One that has a backlash to keep the balance.”

“I’d like to say I care, but right now I’m too pissed off.”

“I don’t blame you. But you are hardly a man who hasn’t had affairs before.”

“True enough. But I’ve
never
left woman in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry, but if you will just hear me out. There is a silver lining to this.”

He shrugged again. “What did you mean by balance?”

“The balance of justice. The balance of everything in nature. The curse gave my grandmother what she desired, but it also required that she give up something to get her wish. And she craved Lorenzo’s unhappiness. She needed him to feel the same heartbreak that she had felt….”

Marco went to the wet bar and poured himself two fingers of Scotch. “Cassia sought revenge because she was jilted. And she got it. My
nonno
was unhappy in love all the days of his life. His marriages failed, though he did get sons whom he worshipped. My own father couldn’t make the business successful, but he had the love of my mother to make up for it.”

“I had heard that about your family. I’m glad that you and your brothers grew up in a house filled with love.”

“Are you?” he asked caustically.

“Yes. My own home was filled with bitterness. With that expectation that life wasn’t anything but a series of disappointments.”

“Indeed, it can be. Why don’t you tell me why you are really here? Is it for money?”

“No, Marco, I don’t want your money. I want your progeny.”

Marco wasn’t sure he could handle any more surprise announcements from Virginia.

“My prog—You want to bear my child?”

“Yes,” she said.

Marco poured another glass of Scotch and tossed it back. His emotions were in turmoil. This night was turning into an all-out high-speed ride. It was something he’d only ever experienced with Virginia. With her, he never knew what to expect and couldn’t plan beyond the road he could see in front of him.

Then he realized what she’d said. She wanted his baby, so did that mean…

“Did you lie to me when I asked if you were on the pill?”

She flushed and turned away.

That was all the answer he needed. “God, is there one thing you’ve said to me that is the truth?”

“It’s not like that. I mean—well, it is like that, but I’ve been lying to make things right. Doesn’t intention count for anything?”