Chapter Seven #3
One of those devilish brows hitched up at her leisurely perusal of his face. Cheeks burning, Mimi took a hasty sip of her coffee and nearly hissed when the hot brew hit her throat.
“Is there something particular you want to see?” he said after long, suffocating minutes of staring at her.
“Do you have only one boat?” she snapped, reacting to that high-handedness like a child.
His frown deepened. “No. I own six boats, cara, and they are all at your disposal. Transportation, as you should know, is not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“I can’t have you roaming the city by yourself. For one thing, you’re new to it. For another, you will be recognized and mobbed, and you are…”
“I’m what? A foolish, bug-eyed tourist who can’t look after myself?” It was her turn to raise her brow, and she did it magnificently. “Also, I really don’t have that memorable a face.”
“You’re my wife and a DiCarlo. There will always be someone who’s interested in you.” He put his fork down with exaggerated patience and then set that gaze on her. Mimi felt like a target in some survivor game. It was crazy how dizzy his gaze made her. “You’re picking a fight with me. Why?”
That perceptive statement took the wind out of her sails. And she knew, in her sloshing belly, that he was right. That she wanted more from him and didn’t want to. Didn’t even know how or what to ask for. “I just want to do something for myself,” she said, neither confirming nor denying his claim.
“Something for yourself…” he repeated, as if tasting and testing the words on his lips.
“Is it such an alien concept?” she said softly, irritation building in her chest. “I’m going stir-crazy waiting for Luca to come home.
I need to do something to break the monotony, to get back to my work.
And Venice is such an interesting city. Just for collecting some footage.
And all I’m asking you for is some guidance as to where to start. ”
“You don’t want to take it easy for a little longer?”
“Can you imagine sitting around at home for days on end without nothing to do? Caught in this strange limbo where life isn’t moving forward?”
The concept must have sounded so bizarre to him that he nodded. “I see what you mean.”
“I’m not used to doing nothing. Wandering the city’s just an idea.”
“If you can wait until the weekend, I will show you around.”
Her hackles rose immediately. “You don’t have to babysit me. Nor do I want to force my company on you.”
A sudden flash of anger danced in his eyes, but of course, he didn’t let it rise.
And she wondered, for the hundredth time in the last couple of months, what would happen if Renzo lost control.
If he let his emotions, and desires, rule him instead of his head.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we are married, cara.
Spending time with you is hardly an imposition.
If anything, it’s one of the requirements of this marriage, sì? ”
And there it was, that word, imposition.
She was an imposition on him, his lifestyle, his space, no matter how much he denied it. It was only duty and honor that dictated his behavior.
She had been an imposition on her mother who had only wanted to purse her acting career without a child holding her back. An imposition on her MIA sperm-donor father who hadn’t wanted anything to do with an unexpected baby.
She had been an imposition on Pia when all she had wanted was for father to remain hers.
God, just when she thought her hormones had flatlined and she could return to normal, these…twisted feelings snuck up on her.
But she knew, as surely as the longing in her body, that things were changing each day, and she was running to catch up to her own feelings. “I appreciate your offer. But I would like to do it alone,” she said, keeping her tone steady.
His jaw ticked as seconds slowly rippled by.
“You do realize I don’t need your permission, right?”
“You’re forever trying to push the boundaries between us, sì?” he said silkily.
“I’m trying to stay behind those boundaries, Renzo. You’re the one who…”
He leaned forward, the predator ready to pounce. “I’m the one what, bella?”
Mimi shook her head. She was being unfair to him. Just because it was possible that he had lost all the interest in her that he had claimed before their wedding. Maybe seeing her give birth had put him off, she thought with a hysterical edge.
Falling back into her seat, she closed her eyes, arresting the ridiculous tears that came knocking.
Firm fingers on her shoulders made her straighten and then moan as they kneaded her muscles with the perfect pressure. That delicious, decadent scent of him coated her throat, making her body tingle. She was so helpless against his simplest touch.
“How about we make a deal?” he said. Something droll danced in his tone. “It seems the best way for us to navigate this…partnership.”
Her eyes flicked open. The dimple by his upper lip beckoned her touch, the perfect bow shape of his lips alluringly close.
He was upside down to her gaze and just as gloriously gorgeous. There was a part of her that wanted to commit this spiraling attraction, this simmering desire for him, as her own body and mind trying to find the normal again after the life-changing event of her son’s birth.
But Renzo DiCarlo, she had to admit, would always render her knees weak, make her body hot and drown her heart in foolish longings. The first two she was fine with. It was the last that gave her pause.
His eyes seemed infinitely deep as he said, “That way, you can feel like you’re in control of this.”
“What kind of deal?” she said, feeling as if she were splayed out for his amusement.
His fingers moved up to clasp her cheeks. “You join me for an intimate dinner with two of my closest friends, and I will let your bodyguard, Enrico, take you to an antique notebook shop that’s been standing for nearly a hundred years. You’re interested in history and culture and art, right?”
“You’re a tease,” she said, her breath a wispy thing.
He laughed, and the lines fanning out across his sharp features looked like a map to a treasure. Her very own private treasure, if only she could reach her hand out towards it. “You’re easy to tease, cara.”
“Just two friends?”
“Sì.”
“Okay. This antique notebook shop, can you arrange an interview for me with the owner? Perhaps I could document the history of the shop.”
His eyes gleamed as if he had known she would ask exactly that. “Will you promise to stick to that one place for today?”
“Fine.”
“Good girl,” he said with a tap to her cheek, then released her.
Dampness bloomed between her thighs, and Mimi gasped at the sheer pleasure of the sensation curling deep within her. It had been a while—a long while—since her body had reacted with such a jolt of need that she felt dizzy.
Renzo’s hand waiting to pull her up was less an anchor and more another stimulus.
Straightening, she watched him as he finished his coffee, collected his suit jacket, pressed another kiss to that spot on her cheek and hurried out.
She didn’t want to read much into the fact that he had known how much she would like to visit the antique notebook shop. But she had a feeling he’d been holding that card for a while.
With the intention of…persuading her to meet his friends? Or to simply give her the pleasure of the visit? Could her ruthless, powerful, busy billionaire of a husband have given thought to what would make her happy?
And more importantly, why did her heart flutter like a caged bird at the thought of Renzo caring about her?