Page 34 of Destino

“I’m Mary Ellison’s granddaughter.”

“And what does that mean?” He pried at her in a voice both comforting and compelling.

The sadness surfaced as it always did when she thought of her long dead grandparents. She opened her mouth to explain her doubts and couldn’t find the words. To talk of them in the past tense only made the present bleak, void.

“She’s gone? Mary?” he pried.

Mira glanced away. The invisible hold he had on her lessened when she looked away from his eyes. How the hell did the conversation take this turn? His hand eased across the table. The tips of their fingers touched. He didn’t take hold of her hand. She forced herself to return her gaze to his. The man preferred it. She could tell. Swallowing a dose of courage she spoke but her voice sounded shaky and small. “I lost my mother when I was a baby, and I never knew my father. My grandparents raised me. I had no other siblings. My extended family wasn’t around me as a child, so I didn’t get to know my cousins or aunts. I spent a lot of time with her. I called her Me-ma.”

“I wish I could see you as a girl. I’m sure you were quite excitable.”

“I could be. My grandmother said I was inquisitive. She taught me to sew. Together we created so many pretty things for us and the women in our church. She never had her own store, but she had the talent. She taught me so much with a sewing needle. Designing women’s clothes comes naturally to me, and it’s who I am.” The admission was dredged from a place of pride and strength and suddenly the truth of her past didn’t hurt as much. However, he had no right to those memories. No one did. She pushed back from her table and rose. “I need some air.” She mumbled and walked off. Her steps became a bit hurried once she left the glass house and entered the villa. Sometimes being alone in her life suited her. She had her work, and she had her friendship with Fabiana. To not have a family to share her success with was a price she had grown to accept, until she met Kei. He helped her believe they could achieve more, but when he tried to offer it she realized that even with him she felt alone. What did that make her? Cold? Lost? Incapable of happiness?

“Mira?”

She wiped at the corners of her eyes and turned to find him in the hall with her. Lost in her thoughts she hadn’t considered where she was walking to, just that she needed to get out and into some fresh air so she could breathe again. “Give me a minute.”

She faced away and wiped at the tears brimming in her eyes. He walked up behind her so suddenly she whirled to fend off his closeness. But he kept his pursuit until she was flush against the wall.

“I said give me a minute.”

“I upset you. I seem to have a habit of doing this. What makes you cry now?” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid and her breath caught.

“Now? I wasn’t crying in there.”

“You know what I mean.”

“All I know is I need a minute. It’s personal, okay?” She tried to shift aside and away from him but he crowded her. Her cheeks burned hot with shame but the dominant reaction was regret. She regretted exposing this wound to him; he seemed like the kind of man that could turn her inside out if she allowed it.

“What can I do?”

Mira wanted to laugh in his face. Instead she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. There was little left of her grandparents now. Just memories. She had her damn purse snatched and lost the picture she had of them and the bracelet she’s carried all of her life. Dumb. Stupid. How could she be so careless with her treasures? A sob wedged in her throat and she neared tears again. The sensual rub of his palm against her cheek was shockingly comforting and she found herself turning her head toward his touch instead of away. Despite the warning of her inner voice not to do so she lifted her gaze to him. Mira couldn’t break the instant connection between them. It felt like her life depended on maintaining his stare.

His chest rose and fell a little more deeply and her nipples extended from contact. Each brushed hard ridges that sent sweet quivers through her abdomen. She drew a deep breath to ask him to step aside, and he obliged by stepping closer to kiss her.

The brush of his lips over hers was more persuasive than she dared to admit. His moist firm mouth demanded a response, and she gave it willingly. Her arms slowly lifted and his hands smoothly traced down her sides to grip her hips and bring her up against him once their tongues united. The smoldering passion she found in his kiss was hotter than a thousand suns. She held to him by his nape, her head went back, her eyes lowered in submission. A deep intake of breath filled her lungs with his strong aftershave and clean male scent. Giovanni covered her with his broad chest and powerful arms. She felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended with a series of slow shivery kisses along her neck.

How could she abandon everything for a kiss? Easy. One kiss from this man and all her long suppressed feminine desires surfaced. A fresh, uncharted arousal stirred and made her moist between the thighs and achy at her core. Mira sighed. His mouth returned to hers. He crushed her up against the wall. Taking one of her hands by the wrist he pinned it above her head while he pressed what felt like steel against her lower abdomen. She wasn’t prone to giving into a man so easily. He’d seized on her weakness and became her conqueror. As his firm demanding lips caressed hers, and his tongue darted in and out of her mouth, he whispered in Italian, words of desire so decadent they melted her insides.

“I don’t understand all of what you’re saying,” she groaned.

Once more her head began to spin. Raw lust and frustration clashed within her. She could barely move, but her legs parted under his instruction allowing him greater access. She bent her knee to place her foot on the wall and steady herself. Otherwise she’d slip in a puddle of emotions to the floor. There would be no escape. The hold on her wrist tightened, and she tugged on his grip to no avail. So she pushed at his arm with her free hand and then his shoulder, all the while deepening their kiss.

For air and some sense of control, she turned her mouth from his, but his lips across her neck were just as lovely. She groaned deep in her throat and summoned a single word.

“Stop!”

He did.

Giovanni’s head lifted, and he blinked, a bit confused, trying to look into her face to understand her command. It was then his grip lessened enough for her to pull her wrist free and press hard against him. “I said stop. Don’t kiss me again!”

“Why?” he demanded, keeping her pinned to the wall.

“Because it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Never pegged you for a liar, Bella.”

She glared. “I’m serious. Let me go.”

---