Page 27 of Under Her Skin
Hero—God, she was so beautiful—looked down at her feet, her face reddening, and Galiano looked smug. What the hell was she doing withhim?
George looked triumphant, his eyes shining with malevolence. “Bachi. Armley,” he added to Peter, who was standing behind Arturo. Arturo cut his eyes back to Hero, who looked up and met hisgaze.
No one said anything for a long moment, tension crackling in the air between them. Abruptly, Hero, her hand at her mouth, stepped away from all three of them, ran across the piazza, and disappeared into a sidestreet.
Arturo stared after her, his heart breaking.Come back. Come back, I love you, I’msorry…
“You were careless with that little girl’s heart. Just like you were with Flavia’s.” George Galiano’s voice seared into his brain, and Arturo turned back to him, fistsclenching.
“You leave her alone, Galiano. Hero Donati is not a game you can use to win points fromme.”
George laughed. “I’m not playing any sort of game, Arturo. I’m just stating a fact. And besides, you probably gave up any right to her heart by dumping her at the hospital. What kind of man doesthat?”
Arturo didn’t reply because he was too busy punching George from across the table. George slammed backwards into three more, tipping them over, causing patrons of the café to jump to theirfeet.
Pete practically threwArturo into his car, and he drove away before Arturo could get out and pound on George some more. “Jesus, Turo.” He shook his head as they sped out of town and towards Arturo’s home. “You have got to get your head on straightagain.”
Arturo, his anger dissipating slumped in the driver’s seat. “Did you see her? God, she looked sohurt.”
Peter sighed. “Turo, you’re not going to like what I have to say…but you two together…it’s toxic. You’re bad for each other. Stay away fromher.”
Arturo wanted to argue,but he had no strength left. His misery was consuming him. After Pete finally extracted a promise from him later that evening that he wouldn’t seek her out, he was left alone. Arturo couldn’t stop thinking about her though: the still-vivid bruises on her face, the sorrow in her eyes. He knew she loved him—knew it—but maybe Peter was right. Maybe theywerea disaster together. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, or threatened, if she’d had nothing to do withhim.
He leaned his head on the cool glass of his villa window and looked out at the lights of the town. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and closed hiseyes.
The next morning,Hero awoke to raised voices. Blinking in the pale morning light, she pulled her robe on and went to find out what was going on. Fliss met her in the hallway. “You have a visitor. I told her you were asleep, but she told me to wake youup.”
“She?” But then the door opened, and Hero saw her. “Melly?”
“Whoelse?”
Hero jumped out of bed and tackled her startled sister in a fiercehug.
Fliss,apparently terrified of Imelda, made her excuses and went to work. “Help yourself to anything you need,” she told them, then said in an undertone to Hero, “Valium, heroin,morphine…”
Hero hid a smile. “Thanks, Fliss. I’m sorry if it seems I’m taking over your wholelife.”
“Hey,mi casa es su casa. I’ll see youlater.”
Hero sucked in a deep breath and went to face her sister. Imelda was making coffee, opening the fridge and searching out some cream. She stopped when Hero came in and leaned against thedoorjamb.
“So,” Imelda stuck her hand on her hip and fixed Hero with a laser beam stare, “who didthatto you?” She stabbed a finger at the fading bruises. “Why didn’t you call me when you were in the goddamn hospital…and who is this billionaire you’ve beenfucking?”
Arturo walkedthrough the Villa Claudia trying to focus on what he wanted to do with it. The worst of it was…he had seen his future here, and it was with Hero. He could imagine her: trailing her fingers through the wisteria and the jasmine; the scent on her skin later as they danced under moonlight; candles guttering on the long stone table; the remnants of their supper; empty bottles of wine; Hero, barefoot, in a light cotton dress, her hair streaming down her back; in his arms, her lips againsthis.
Arturo closed his eyes and dreamed the rest ofit.
Kissing her eyelids, her dark lashes sweeping down on her cheeks. Her whisper of “I love you.” His fingers sliding the thin straps of her dress down her arms, the dress slipping to the ground. Her breasts, so full, so soft in his hands, the nipples hardening as his tongue swept over them. Laying her back on the thick grass of the lawn, burying his face in her sex as she writhed and gasped under him. Sucking on her clit until she was begging for him and sliding his ramrod hard cock into her softness. The flush in her cheeks when shecame.
Arturo groaned and sat down on the cold stone floor. How had this happened to him? He didn’t get hung up on a woman; he fucked around and never called them back. He neverevergot involved. And he certainly never felt like this after knowing a woman for twoweeks.
Fuck this shit.He would make this place into the home he imagined anyway. He would live here alone and never, ever let any woman affect him like thisagain.
No. No. That wouldn’t work for me. Forus.
Damnit.
He raised his head and looked around once more at the space, hearing Hero’s soft laughter echoing through it. That didit.
