Page 9 of Bite Marks

Entering the dark space where the only lights were lasers, neon, or sparkling, she let the music fill her. She skipped ahead of him a few paces, her hands raising up over her head before she let the sounds cascade down through her, swaying her whole body.

She reached out a hand that Nunzio took and reached up to his chin. She had to shout over all the noise, even being so close. “Okay, one drink, and then we’re dancing, got it?”

Nunzio nodded, pulling her into his side where she fit nice and snug. They headed to a booth that could seat four at the most but was much more comfortable with only the two of them. They ordered drinks, but she had to admit that the music and sex-laden atmosphere were already getting her a little tipsy. It’d been a while since she had gone to a club, and she had never imagined getting into XO. She drank her martini slowly.

She stared across the tiny table, only meant to hold a few cocktails, at this big, loud, brute of a man. Or at least that’s what she’d thought before. But her little comment at dinner wasn’t a lie. Nunzio could be charming. Especially in Italian.

“When we met at the café, was that on purpose?” she asked in Italian, wanting to hear him speak it more than anything else. “Was that a setup so you could come around and ask for my help later?”

He laughed, a deep and rich sound that hit her like the club’s music, bouncing around inside, making her want to move her hips. “No. I would never have chosen to have my name butchered as a first impression.”

“So, what made you think to offer me the Monet? You didn’t have my other one pulled so you could swoop in and save the day, did you?” It was a question that had been bugging her. His perfect timing. It would disappoint her if he had, but not surprise her. He seemed like the type, and that was what her hope clung to, that he wasn’t the big, loud, brute of a man that he seemed, that he could surprise her.

His brow narrowed. “You had another Monet? I only figured since he was renowned that you would want it.” His jaw slowly lowered as a half-smile took over. “That was why you were so mad that day I came to see you. That was your crisis.”

Vanessa nodded. “How do you even know who Monet is?”

Their drinks arrived, and Nunzio, his eyes dark and stormy, toasted, and Vanessa clinked her glass to his. “Well, I’ll be honest, I didn’t until I had my grandfather’s painting in my hands. I knew I should learn about it, so I looked it up and did some research on Monet. Nothing as extensive as you. I’m sure you’ve forgotten more about him than I ever learned.”

Vanessa looked out to the dance floor, the music grabbing hold of her for a moment, begging her to join the fun. She had other questions for him, though, and here, a place where he felt he was in charge, would be the best place to get him to answer. She pointed to the gyrating bodies and waving hands. “There’s a lot of upscale ladies out there. Why didn’t you just come here to get your girl? Why rope me into our little arrangement?”

Nunzio shrugged. “It’s hard to see who’s Italian till the next morning. Not a very good way of settling down by steamrolling half a club.”

“Oh? You think you couldsteamrollhalf the club?” She grinned before taking a sip.

“The female half.” He took a sip of his drink before leaning forward, crossing the already small space, and closing her in even more. He was at least kind enough to lean in on the side with the booth wall rather than cut her off from the rest of the club. “You’re perfect for the role, little butterfly. Not a single one of them could have made me look as good tonight at the Capo’s house as you did. Not a single one could have made me as proud to have on my lap. Not a single one makes me as excited as I’ve been this week.”

Vanessa turned her face from the crowd to his. So close she could almost jump into the storm in his eyes. Their kiss earlier had been like kissing a thunderhead. A man like him, with all the experience in the world, had used it on her to make her feel something that couldn’t possibly be real. This was all for show and pretend. The way her heart had pounded in her chest the whole ride after wasn’t anything more than him laying it on thick and the speed of his Ferrari. Right?

“Are we still pretending?” she asked.

Nunzio swallowed so hard that she was certain she heard it over the deep base of the music. “We might be on stage, but I meant what I said.” Then he pulled back, sitting upright.

Her dry mouth begged for something wet, maybe Nunzio’s kiss, but she swallowed a large gulp of her drink instead. “So, tell me more, Nunzio Sarducci. What things outside of business are you interested in?”

He grinned that sly grin he did so well. He slid to the center of the booth, and, hiding her smile, she did too. “Well, I have a deep passion for cooking. Italian food only, of course.”

“Ah, of course. Wouldn’t want to broaden your horizons at all, would we?”

“What’s there to broaden when you start at the pinnacle?” He chuckled and pulled on her hip, shaking her a little. “I also like kickboxing.”

“Oh, yeah. Very manly.” She nodded but laced her words with enough sarcasm to down a bull elephant.

“It helped me when I was growing up. I didn’t have my parents. Just my grandfather, and he was a busy man. So, the trainers, they helped me learn to control the rage of a boy who’d lost his parents and accept the responsibilities of becoming a man.”

Whoa. Jeez, talk about shooting myself in the foot.“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it. It sounds like it was really good.”

“It was. It also got me very in touch with my body.” His hips slid from side to side, gently bumping into hers in time with the music. “That led me to dancing.”

“Dancing?” Vanessa gasped. “You do not dance.” If that were true, it might be a fake relationship, but at least it could be fun. Vanessa found nothing sexier than a man who could dance and not just thrust his crotch, raise his arms, and hop in one spot or sway a little, butreallydance.

“I do. I’ll show you as soon as you’re ready.” Confidence poured off his words like a waterfall. Flowing over the edge in a rush that spilled down over her.

“I’m smiling too much.” She leaned into him, placing a hand on his hard abdomen.

“And why is that so bad?” He leaned in, pulling her hips against him.

“If someone’s watching us, they’d be wondering why you’re not kissing me yet.”

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