A Weekend of Misbehaving (8 page)

He flashed Viola the best smile he could manage. “I can hardly wait.”

“D
ad, have you heard from Alice?” Cara asked on the other end of the phone.

He paced the suite. Well, wouldn’t he have liked to? An hour ago, a maid had entered to gather the box containing Alice’s dress for the party, saying she would get dressed with the other women. Somehow, Alice was getting more access to Viola than he. That was an advantage, he tried to convince himself. As long as she avoided Joan’s claws. “Why?”

“I wonder if she’s been by to make sure Nibbles is okay.”

The bird that started it all. He put on the costume’s long, knee-length white socks, then shook his head at the tan and brown striped pants. The sacrifices he had to make to protect himself and his daughter from disgrace—ironically, they included sporting these ill-fitting clothes from the eighteenth century. “I assure you the bird is fine, honey.” He had summoned his secretary to go over and check on things in his absence.

“Good. I miss you, Dad.”

“Me, too. I will see you in a couple of days.” And hopefully within a few weeks he’d be with her in New York. He hadn’t broken the news yet but would as soon as she returned from the camp. He imagined she would be sad to say good-bye to her friends but excited to get to spend more time with him, too. “I love you, Cara. Don’t ever forget it.”

“Love you, too, Dad. Talk to you later.”

A fuzzy sensation tightened his throat, and he ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. He pulled on a white textured shirt, then a heavy cloak that had all kinds of tiny golden patterns embroidered throughout. He glanced at the white wig and container of facial powder that Alice had ordered to complement the costume.

Nah. That was a bit much. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffled it, and decided that was it.

It took him a bit longer to get to the ballroom on the south wing of the villa than he had expected. Obviously, Viola had invited half the island—or perhaps, the entire population of Capri. A line of people funneled around the entry, all of them dressed like nobility. Quite a few of the men sported the damn wigs and face powder. He tugged at his collar and wrestled with the idea of opening the top button. Last thing he needed was to look like an eighteenth-century vagabond.

“This way, Mr. Baldi,” the hostess announced. He nodded and followed her to the reserved table. The decor was like a time travel to another era, but he didn’t waste much effort fussing over the details. Anticipation brewed inside him, every step he took making his heart race a bit faster. Alice. Where was she?

A
lice adjusted the corset, her breasts about to pop from the cruel confinement. A different concern knotted her stomach, though. Her mother had messaged her earlier, saying a friend named Buck had called the home phone yesterday. So that’s how he had gotten her cell phone number.

She decided not to tell Mom anything about Buck’s reason for wanting to reach her. The last thing she needed was to freak out her mother and sister. Instead, she texted Buck and confirmed he’d get his cash in four days.

Phew.
Relax, woman. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Enjoy what’s right in front of you.

Studying her surroundings, she smiled. If there was a place to run from your problems, this was it. An eighteen-piece band played songs that favored the waltz. Some couples danced in the middle of the room, and Alice assumed at least a few pairs were professional dancers.

She glanced down at her dress. Hey, as long as she didn’t flash her nipple it would be okay, right? Last thing she wanted was to Janet Jackson the guests. Although the salon was air conditioned, sweat slicked her thighs. She’d chosen not to wear panties or the old-fashioned garment that came with the outfit. Not like anyone would notice beneath that heavy set of skirts.

The only one who would notice… She blushed, and her eyes skimmed the salon, searching for Lorenzo. She had been pampered, plucked, and massaged for hours, and now she sashayed into the party in full swing.

She touched her lavender wig and twirled her finger on one of the sideswept curls. Male guests smiled at her and bowed their heads when she passed them. She wanted to remember every detail to tell Brenda. Her niece would love to hear all about this fairy-tale party.

She played along and did a flirty curtsy, although her attention was caught by the gorgeous ice sculptures, the dresses the other women wore, and the amount of handsome men, many of them who could kick Brad Pitt to the curb.

One of them, however, was sexier than them all. In the middle of a small group, Lorenzo spoke in Italian, and the other men listened intently. She strolled his way, her stomach fluttering faster with every step. When his gaze pinned hers, a lump formed in her throat. She licked her lower lip. The several feet between them seemed to vanish, and the dozens of people faded into the background. A shot of adrenaline charged through her veins all the way to the back of her knees, which were wobbling. Inhaling, she willed them forward and inched toward him.

Without breaking the hypnotic stare for a second, he said something to the others, maybe excused himself, and they nodded, then resumed their chatter. In a blink, she faced him, her eyes trailing down the planes of his face, and stood mesmerized, like this was the first time they had seen each other.

“Mademoiselle Alice.” He offered her his arm, and she gave it a glance before snaking her arm in his. Why was he charming all of a sudden? And for how long would he be able to keep it up?

She curtsied. “Monsieur.”

“Would you care for macarons?” a waiter asked, and she accepted one of the pastries.

She closed her eyes and brought it to her lips.
Hmmm…
It tasted like a strawberry-flavored cloud. Light and crisp. When she opened her eyes, she licked the corner of her mouth and caught a hint of the sugary taste. What she also caught was Lorenzo’s stare. Squaring her shoulders, she coughed.

Never had he looked at her with so much resolve. Well, none of it was good, she could tell. Perhaps good sexually. But that was it. Still, a tremor went through her, and her blood shifted to a dangerous low simmer.

Shit. She knew wearing no panties had been a bad, bad idea. Pretty soon, her thighs would stick together. “These are good.” She injected an extra perkiness in her voice. “They’re the real deal. Not like that crap from the supermarket back home that tastes like artificially colored cookie dough.”

He looked at her like she was painted in gold. “Have as many as you’d like,” he added, then shook his head and his expression hardened again. With concern—she assumed. He always had something on his mind, didn’t he? The man’s facial expressions were often so grumpy it was hard to tell. “How was the spa this afternoon? What did Joan say to you?”

“She’s nice, actually. She asked me if I had brought any of my sketches with me, or if I had some kind of virtual portfolio to show.” Which she hadn’t, but added it to her list to put together. Man, how could she pass up an opportunity like that? According to Joan, her cousin was seeking plus-size, high-end clothes for a growing, demanding market.

“You don’t think she’s really interested in helping, do you?”

She drew back, hands perched on her waist. Not that she could take any more squeezes, what with her corset slowly killing her breath by breath. “Excuse me?”

“Listen, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. There’s a chance she’s only doing that to get you to like her, and she’ll use that to cement Paul’s chances to get ahead in the competition.”

Was he serious? Did the man always have to be so cynical? Her spine locked into place, her muscles a bunch of tension and disappointment. “She didn’t mention him once during our conversation.”

“Of course not. She wants you to think you two are new best friends.”

She waved him off. “You’re being paranoid.”

He shook his head. “I’m being realistic.”

“Then you know what, Lorenzo? Your reality sucks. If I didn’t need the cash to pay that stupid loan shark, I would go back home right now.” Even though she didn’t raise her voice, she threw back her shoulders, and damn it, realized what she had said too late. His eyes widened for a beat, no doubt digesting what he had just heard.

A few couples around them threw glances their way. She doubted they had been able to eavesdrop, what with the band and the general buzzing. But still, she knew their body language probably gave them away.

Viola appeared before them. “Everything okay?” she asked, and gave Lorenzo an accusatory look. Oh, great.

“Yes. He’s just being a guy. Sorry.” Alice managed to wink at Viola and wave it off.

“No, I am sorry.” Lorenzo stepped forward. “I didn’t want to make a scene. Not when Alice means so much to me,” he said, and lifted her hand to his lips.

The kiss on her knuckles warmed her even though she would prefer to ignore that invasive sensation.
Crap, crap, crap. He knows about Buck. How do I get out of this one?

“Excuse us for a moment, Viola.” He stretched out his hand. “Come with me, Alice. Let’s get some fresh air.” He squeezed her palm and led her out to the balcony overlooking the dimly lit garden. A few guests smoked outside; he increased his pace, and she found herself doing the same.

What an actor he was! To think she had wondered if she had been too hard on him earlier that day when she asked him about his late wife. She had yearned for more, for a way to connect with him. Crazy. Why would she even waste her time? The Lorenzo from her fantasy was just that—a fantasy. The real Lorenzo’s only priority was to secure the sale, and she was just the means to that end. Plain and simple.

“Was bringing me out here damage control? So the other guests wouldn’t see us arguing?”

“Some of it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me about the loan shark,” he said.

She plopped down on a stone bench, for the first time all night happy that the damn dress was so fabric heavy. “My sister owes him money. He knows Rachel doesn’t have her act together, so he came to me instead to pay him twenty thousand bucks.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

Because I’m used to fixing my own problems.
Wasn’t that the truth? “What good would it do? I was worried you’d think I was too much trouble, especially because he showed up at your building.” Plus, she didn’t want to put her job in jeopardy. She twisted her hands together. Oh, the irony.

His expression was as taut as a slab of marble. “He was the guy talking to you. The day when you went skinny-dipping at my place.”

She let out a sigh. “Yes. Yes.”

He ran his fingers through his already ruffled hair. “Christ, Alice. He’s putting you in danger, and if you had Cara with you, she would have been, too. That wasn’t responsible.”

She rubbed her temples. “Okay. Now it’s my fault. See why I didn’t say anything?”

Shaking his head, he paced in an invisible circle. “I will pay this guy. I will deal with him myself,” he said, using that tone that didn’t allow for disagreement. Well, he had one coming.

“No.” She surged to her feet. “I’m dealing with him. You don’t have to get involved.” Low-life Buck would love to have access to a rich fellow he could extort money from in the future. Besides, what guarantee did she have things wouldn’t get exponentially worse by having Lorenzo in the mix? Buck knew where she lived, and he could get mad at her for involving a third party, and BAM. Who knew what that dirt bag was capable of? She had enough on her plate as it was.

“Was that why you blackmailed me into giving you the money?”

“Yes.”

“Damn you, Alice. Damn you!”

She lifted her hand and pushed it against his chest. “Wait a minute. Since I got here, I’ve been treated like a simple commodity. You blackmailed me back by threatening I would never find a job if I didn’t follow the plan. You second-guessed Joan’s interest in my creative talent. And now you give me this ‘damn you’ crap—”

Her intention wasn’t to sound so emotional. Perhaps it worked, because he drew back and watched her in silence for a second. The gleam in his eyes could lighten up a dark forest. Why was that man still hot even when he was so undeserving of her?

Forget Rachel. I’m the one who needs therapy.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “You are right. I’m sorry.”

“You just said that back at the ballroom.”

A smile she found hard to resist curved his lips. “Now, I mean it.”

Hell no, she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily, even though a part of her was foolishly warm and fuzzy, like she had been wrapped in a hot blanket. “Keep going. That was a very short apology.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I’m not good at apologies.”

“Obviously.”

He gave her a quick glance, and something flickered in his eyes. “Getting these paintings is extremely important to me.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you. What I can say is”—he paced again, as if searching for the right words—“ever since I saw you naked, I get distracted when I think of you.”

A wave of female empowerment washed over her. “Is that so?”

“I never felt like this before. The way I do right now,” he said, with the excitement of a man about to hear his death sentence.

“What do you feel right now?”

He tipped her chin up, and the brush of his fingers seared her skin. “Like I can’t breathe if I don’t fuck you,” he said, his voice coarse, his accent more pronounced. Crap.

By all means, breathe. Like, right now
. She cleared her throat. “That’s…strangely romantic.”

“It’s annoying,” he mumbled, cupping her chin and lowering his lips to hers. “Painfully annoying.” The words flew from his lips before he flicked out his tongue. She was about to open her own mouth to either agree with or protest his assignment—she wasn’t yet sure. Thoughts tangled in her mind like a long braid. He stroked her lips with his tongue, and she let out a sultry moan. Even though the kiss wasn’t rushed, her nerve endings seared with anticipation, as if somehow the languidness was even more heart attack–inducing.

She linked her arms around him, shamelessly rubbing her body against his. Even though she was wearing an absurd amount of skirts, there was no missing his bulge. He caressed her cheeks and intensified the stroke of his tongue. When she nipped his lip, he drew back. Her sex throbbed. Harder.