The Italian's Suitable Wife. Lucy Monroe
for a kiss of gratitude.
At least that’s what she assumed it was supposed to be, but Rico kissed her lips, not her cheek and the moment their mouths connected, their surroundings ceased to exist for her.
CHAPTER THREE
COLORS in every hue swirled around her as Gianna’s lips tasted Rico’s for the first time. His mouth was firm, warm and tasted faintly spicy. She inhaled and was engulfed in his masculine scent. Rico. She ached to run her fingers through his hair, to explore the contours of his chest under the pajama jacket. She probably would have, if he didn’t have such a firm hold on her wrist.
Her other hand was gripping the bedrail with white-knuckle intensity.
He broke the kiss and she hung there, suspended in a world of sensation she was not ready to leave. Her eyes opened slowly to see him smiling at her.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you?” For what? For kissing him?
“For staying,” he replied, not without some amusement.
And it hit her. It had been a kiss of gratitude. Here she was, poised to reconnect with his lips and he was smiling at her like an indulgent older brother, pleased he’d gotten his own way. She straightened and spun away so quickly the long braid down her back arced over her shoulder to land against her left breast. “N-no problem. I’ll call the college and let them know I won’t be returning right away.”
She had a feeling that phone call wouldn’t go over very well, but even if it meant losing her job, she wouldn’t leave Rico. Not as long as he needed her.
Andre arrived with dinner and Rico ate the beautifully prepared pasta dishes and steamed vegetables with fervor. “This is a great improvement over the food served here.”
“You could have your meals delivered,” Andre replied.
Rico shrugged. “It has not been my main concern.”
No, Gianna thought, that would be reserved for business and walking again. Maybe even in that order.
“Something that does concern me is Gianna staying in your hotel room. I do not like this.”
Andre gave his brother an interested appraisal. “Why not?”
“It is not good for her reputation.”
Gianna couldn’t help laughing at this. “Rico, you’re a total throwback. No one cares if I stay in Andre’s suite.”
“I care,” Rico informed her with an attitude that said that was all that should matter.
“Well, you are not my keeper. I haven’t got the money for a prolonged stay in a hotel room.” Particularly if she lost her job.
“I will pay for it.”
She glared at him. “No, you will not.”
“Besides, there is no need,” Andre inserted. “My suite has two bedrooms and since you won’t call Papa and Mama back from their cruise, the second one will go empty if Gianna does not stay in it.”
She thought Andre’s argument had merit. From the angry tilt to Rico’s chin, he did not agree.
He pinned her with a look that sent shivers to places she had yet to discover. “You will allow Andre to care for your needs, but you refuse my help?”
She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s not the same thing. It doesn’t cost Andre anything more to give me the extra room in the suite.”
“You think I begrudge you this trifling amount?” Rico demanded.
Why was he being so obtuse? “No. Of course, not. It’s simply that I’m already there.” She laid aside her fork and allowed herself to make direct visual contact for the first time in an hour. She’d perfected the art of talking to his shoulder since almost making a complete fool of herself over that kiss.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about, Rico. My name doesn’t make it into the social columns on a regular basis. No one cares where I sleep or who I do it with for that matter.”
His expression turned feral and she found herself scooting to the back of her chair, her body posed stiffly away from him.
“You have shared your bed with a man?”
Heat scorched up her cheeks until they burned like the Chicago fire of 1908. “That’s none of your business.”
“I do not agree.” He looked ready to get up out of the bed and shake an answer out of her.
Even knowing that was not possible did not suppress the shiver of apprehension that skittered down her spine. She swung her gaze to Andre, appealing to him for help with her eyes, but he was obviously enjoying the conversation too much to step in on her behalf. She looked back at Rico.
His expression had not softened at all.
“I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“You will tell me the name of the man.”
Heavens. When had her silence become an affirmative answer? And what right did he have to grill her like this? If Chiara were still a virgin, Gianna would dance naked on the top floor of the Empire State Building. “Are you saying you and Chiara don’t sleep together?”
“This is not under discussion.”
“Nothing is under discussion,” she came close to shrieking.
“You are very red. You are embarrassed, no?”
Why bother denying it? He’d know she was lying. Her blush had already given her away. “Yes.”
“A woman of experience would not be so discomfited,” he said with smug assurance.
That set her over the edge. “Are you sure about that? Maybe I’ve slept with tons of men. Maybe I’m even sharing Andre’s bed now and the two room suite is only a ruse.”
She realized she’d let her temper lead her into deep, dark waters a second before he exploded. Mr. Cool Italian business magnate sent the portable table with his dinner on it careening across the room and started shouting at Andre.
Gianna spoke fluent Italian, but she didn’t recognize some of the words. From the ones she did, she guessed they were curses. Andre’s usually smiling face was stiff with shock. He tried to tell Rico it was a joke, but Rico’s fury did not abate. His hands pounded the air, punctuating his angry speech and if he had been mobile, his brother would have been flat on his back. She was sure of it.
“For Heaven’s sake.” She jumped out of her chair and crossed to the bed, standing between Rico and Andre. “Calm down. I said what if, not that I had. Rico—”
His arms snapped around her waist and she found herself sitting next to him on the bed, her chin cradled in a surprisingly gentle but firm hold. “Do you sleep with my brother?”
“No. I’ve never been with any man,” she admitted, thinking nothing but the truth could completely diffuse the situation.
Rico’s glare was sulfuric. “Yet you taunted me with the idea you had.”
She couldn’t begin to understand why it mattered so much to him. Perhaps he felt responsible for her in some way since her father had died. She wouldn’t have known it by the way he’d ignored her for the past year, but maybe the feeling was there all the same.
“I wasn’t taunting you. You embarrassed me and made me angry. Most women are not…not…” She couldn’t make herself say the word. “Well, by my age, most women have some experience.”
“But you do not.”
“I do not.” She agreed and stifled a depressed sigh. With him marrying Chiara, that wasn’t likely to change, either.
He