Shadow Warrior, page 10
part #4 of Shadow Rider Series
At once his eyes darkened and every hint of his white teeth disappeared. “Didn’t you hear the doctor say you couldn’t make any sudden movements? He wants you as still as possible for the next week.”
“I forgot.” It was a lame excuse as excuses went, but it was the truth. She knew Dr. Arnold had insisted on an x-ray before she left the hospital. She had the feeling that he would have been happy to lock her up in a tiny room where she couldn’t move or see the light of day for the next few weeks. Fortunately, Vittorio had insisted she go home with him.
“Here’s what we’re going to do for the next few days, gattina bella. You’re going to let me take care of you while you get better and you’re not going to worry about Haydon Phillips, the police or anything else.”
“That sounds like you’re taking over my life. I can’t just let you make all the decisions for me.”
“Why not? Would that be so bad?” His low, velvety voice stroked over her skin. “I’ve been making the decisions for the last two weeks.”
That was true. Someone had to have made a lot of decisions for her. She was fairly certain she wouldn’t have an arm if it hadn’t been for Vittorio. Would it be so terrible to let him take over for another week while she rested? The idea was very tempting. Still, there was the matter of Haydon Phillips.
She steeled herself to do the right thing. “You know you’re not really my fiancé. You don’t have any responsibility to me at all. In fact, you’ve done more than anyone else would have done under the same circumstances, and I appreciate it more than you can possibly know. I can’t let this continue no matter how much I want it to. Haydon Phillips will kill you if I stay with you.”
“Grace, you aren’t thinking straight. I’ve been with you for two weeks. I’ve rarely left your side. He’s going to come after me anyway, whether you’re with me or not. Am I right about that?”
His deep blue eyes looked directly into hers and she couldn’t look away. She nodded, because it was the truth. Her heart started beating faster for no reason at all other than whenever she looked at him like this, she felt almost as if she belonged to him. For a woman who had been alone her entire life, isolated and afraid, feeling that way was shocking, frightening and exhilarating all mixed together.
“Then, la mia ragazza molto coraggiosa, be brave a little longer and give me your trust. My home is a fortress. He is welcome to try for me there, but he won’t succeed. Let me have the privilege of taking care of you until you’re well enough to take care of yourself.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She blurted it out, terrified she was going to give in. To let the prince take her to his castle like some absurd fairy tale.
“Nothing will happen to me.”
He absolutely looked invincible.
“I don’t know you.”
He bent his head and gently brushed a kiss across her forehead. “You know me, gattina, you’re just conditioned to think you can’t trust anyone. He did that to you. Don’t let him interfere with us. You have the right to live your life, Grace. Don’t let him take that away from you any more than he’s already done. You’re safe with me. I give you my word, and a Ferraro never goes back on his word. Keep trusting me. I swear you won’t regret it.”
Her wild imagination immediately interpreted his statement as him claiming her, making her his, letting her know no matter what, he would stand for her. A million butterflies had taken wing in her stomach at the touch of his lips on her skin in spite of the pain threatening to swamp her. He could do that. Make her forget, even if it was just for a few seconds. She couldn’t stop the slow nod of assent. Relief swept through her and she put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t have to think anymore.
His hand went to her scalp, his strong fingers doing a slow massage that somehow kept the throbbing pain at bay enough that she could tolerate the rest of the ride without wanting to be sick. Neither said anything more until she felt the car slow.
Opening her eyes, she saw the vehicle was going down what was obviously a thousand-foot driveway with woods on either side. She started to sit up straighter to get a better view. She’d heard of places like this one along Lake Michigan, but she’d never actually seen one of the beautiful wooded estates. The moment she moved, wrenching pain radiated from her shoulder throughout her body. Her stomach reacted with a frightening lurch and she couldn’t quite suppress the sound that was torn from her throat in spite of her every effort not to cry out.
Vittorio immediately caught her body and steadied her. “You can’t move around yet, Grace. Dr. Arnold was very clear that the car ride had to be smooth. No jarring you. That means when you shift positions, you have to take it very slow. Let me know ahead of time so I can help you.”
She bit down on her lip and struggled not to cry. She refused to be a baby in front of him. She was exhausted and wanted to lie down. More, she wanted the pain to stop, just for a few minutes, just long enough to allow her to catch her breath.
“It looks so beautiful, Mr. . . .” She hesitated. She was unsure what to call him. “Mr. Ferraro” sounded a little formal for being engaged—even when the engagement was pure fiction.
“Vittorio,” he supplied, his hand moving to the nape of her neck, massaging slowly to help ease the tension from her. “It isn’t that difficult to say my name, is it, gattina?” Amusement spilled over from his laughing eyes to his voice. “I’ve been waiting to hear the way my name sounds when you say it.”
She didn’t understand how he could look and sound and even smell so sexy and still, somehow, make her feel beautiful. Desirable. How did he do that when she was such a mess?
“The property looks so beautiful, Vittorio. I wanted to see it better.”
He smiled down at her and once again leaned in to brush a kiss along her temple. “Saying my name wasn’t that hard, was it?”
The car had come to a halt, but she was caught in his eyes, staring up at him, feeling as if the world around her was spinning and he was the calm center. “A little,” she admitted truthfully. “I feel like I know you, but the reality is . . .” Again she trailed off. The reality was he’d been her fantasy man for so long, she felt like she was caught in a bizarre dream. Between the painkillers and her overactive imagination, she was a little afraid of what she might blurt out.
His smile twisted her insides into knots of anticipation. She loved to see that smile, the way it transformed his face from rugged, dangerous, very masculine beauty to something much softer and approachable. She could pretend he was hers alone and that look was reserved for her. Still, she knew the difference between fantasy and reality and she wasn’t going to be so ridiculous as to believe in something not real. In the meantime, she was going to keep pretending.
“Don’t move, Grace. Let me come around and get you. I’ll describe the house and property to you, if you’d like.”
He slid across the seat, putting distance between them as one of the bodyguards she recognized—Emilio—opened the door for him. She was familiar with quite a few of the Ferraro bodyguards because they accompanied each of the Ferraros to the fund-raisers KB Events put on for their clients. The names were always on the lists and their faces became familiar out of necessity.
The moment Vittorio slid across the seat to the door, she felt unsteady and alone. Once again, the pain in her shoulder and arm was overwhelming, as if somehow his mere closeness had taken some of the agony from her. She watched him go around the hood and then he was opening her door and bending in, those incredible eyes of his moving over her face, assessing how bad the pain was just from the ride to his home.
“I’m so grateful to be out of the hospital,” she assured him, wanting to take some of the worry from his eyes.
“You don’t have to pretend everything is all right with me, Grace.”
Vittorio very gently unsnapped her seat belt. She tried not to feel like a child, wanting him to see her as a woman, not a broken thing that he had to take care of. She inhaled his scent, all that alluring woods and spice that shouted pure power and danger. Grace pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out again how good he smelled. Instead, she took another deep breath, wanting to concentrate on him and how good it felt to be cared for when she knew the lift out of the car was going to be excruciatingly painful.
“Don’t tense up, bella. Let me do the work. Just slide your arm around my neck and I’ll bring you out. We don’t want your shoulder jarred at all. Doc said he stabilized it very well, but you weren’t to move it yet.”
“I can’t believe you call him Doc.” She had to say something. Anything. She didn’t want to feel what was coming.
“Look at me.”
He waited until she did, his arm around her back, the other arm under her legs, his face very close to hers. That close he looked . . . intimidating. Reassuring.
“Breathe, gattina. I’m not going to hurt you.”
It was almost automatic to follow his order. She was used to trusting him when she didn’t trust anyone else, and she didn’t even know how she got that way. The moment he told her to breathe, to relax, her body was already doing it. Tension eased from every muscle and air filled her lungs and exited. His smile sent familiar heat swirling through her bloodstream. As a reward, she thought it was an excellent one.
He slid her out of the car as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain there was. She was out and blinking up at the clear blue sky before she realized he’d moved her. She’d been lost in his smile. In his eyes. The shadow on his jaw, all that delicious dark stubble she was tempted to touch.
Grace hadn’t thought it was possible to move from the car to the outside without jarring her shoulder, but somehow, Vittorio managed to do it. He cradled her against his chest, turning her so she could see the house. She knew her mouth dropped open and she wasn’t even embarrassed.
The exterior of the structure was blue-gray stone. A New England–style two-story house with a rounded turret that gave it the feeling of a castle—at least to her. It was a sprawling mansion complete with a five-car garage.
“You live here?” Her voice came out a squeak. “Alone?” Anyone would get lost in that house.
“I do. I like privacy and peace. This house has both.”
“It’s massive.”
“I have a staff.”
“A staff?” she echoed faintly, her fingers involuntarily curling around the nape of his neck. They were moving closer to the front entrance, where a very ornate door drew the eye. The car had driven up the circular drive in front of the house to allow Vittorio to get close to the door. She could see it looming up in front of them and she suddenly had the desire to leap out of his arms and make a run for it.
“What’s wrong?” He stopped moving instantly. “Grace? Talk to me.”
The rounded turret was to their left and he began walking that way, taking her into a private patio space that was large enough to have not one, but two double glass doors separated by several feet. In the center of that space set into the blue-gray stone was a very large shield carved out of wood. Before she could get a good look at the shield, he took her to one of the chairs set up for an intimate conversation. He sank down onto a wide glider facing the forest.
The sounds of birds and water reached her. The wind rustled the leaves on the trees and turned them into a silvery dance. She was acutely aware she was out of her depth here, but how did she say that to someone who was being so wonderful to her?
“Grace, talk to me. Something is upsetting you. If you don’t tell me what it is, I can’t fix it. Look at me, gattina.”
She both loved and detested that command. It didn’t matter that he spoke in a low, gentle tone, it was definitely a demand and one she couldn’t seem to resist. She also knew that once she looked into his eyes, where all that liquid blue was, she would be lost.
“If I do, you’re going to get your way.” She made a small attempt to save herself. She could fall hard for Vittorio Ferraro and that would shatter her heart. Probably her soul as well.
“Most likely, but is that so bad? What’s the worst that can happen? You look at me and tell me what is upsetting you and I fix it. That can’t possibly be so bad.”
“That’s what’s bad, Vittorio. I don’t belong here. I wouldn’t know what to do in a house like this. It’s intimidating.”
There was a small silence and her gaze jumped to his. He studied her face with eyes that seemed to see everything, see right into her, every fear she had. “Houses are just that, Grace. A place to live. This one appealed to me and I think, if you give it a chance, you’ll like it.”
Was she seeing hurt in his eyes? That was the last thing she wanted. “It isn’t a matter of liking it, Vittorio. It’s beautiful.” It wasn’t the house and they both knew it. She was used to working with wealthy clients and staff.
He studied her face and she had the urge to bury it against his shoulder, but she refused to be a coward.
“Am I intimidating to you?”
Was he? She nodded slowly.
“Because of who I am? My money? This house? What is it?”
That was a good question. A fair one. She wasn’t going to answer fast, he deserved better than that. It was difficult to think when her shoulder throbbed and burned, radiating pain throughout her body, but she was determined to think the questions through. Was she intimidated by his money? No. She was used to putting together fund-raisers, and men and women running in Vittorio’s circles were the clients her company targeted. She catered to them, designed food, drink and themes around their particular likes and dislikes.
“Not your money.” She was decisive. “I don’t even think that much about it. When it does enter my head, I just dismiss it because you can’t help what you have and I’m not in that category and never will be. It doesn’t matter.” Her world would never be about money. “I might get lost in the house, but it’s beautiful.”
“And intimidating. You used that word. So, it’s me. You find me intimidating.”
She nodded. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He gave her a small smile. “Is it so bad to be a little intimidated by me?”
“I feel off-balance.”
“It could be just the hardware in your shoulder.”
She blinked. It took a minute to register what he’d said, and she couldn’t help laughing. Real laughter. One minute she’d been afraid to go inside, and now the strange tension was gone and she was looking forward to seeing the interior, even though it honestly felt as if she was giving herself to him.
“How do you do that? You make everything okay so easily . . .” She stumbled over saying his name.
“Vittorio,” he said firmly.
She made a face at him. “You’re always ‘Mr. Ferraro’ on the guest list.” It took effort not to wince when her shoulder was throbbing.
He brushed his mouth against her temple. “You’re my guest this time and I refuse to call you Ms. Murphy.”
The touch of his lips set her heart stuttering. “I would hope not. I much prefer Grace.” Or whatever he called her in Italian. That rolled off his tongue all sexy. Like a caress.
He stood, except it was more like he flowed to his feet, not a single jarring move and with her in his arms. Lifting her with him was effortless. “Let’s go in. You need to rest.”
The inside of the house was every bit as breathtaking as the outside. She looked up at the cathedral ceilings and gleaming floors.
“There’s a very large master bedroom suite,” he informed her. “And seven bedrooms, so plenty of space for a family and guests. I’m putting you in the guest room downstairs so there won’t be the necessity of climbing up and down stairs, although there is a lift.”
“Of course there is,” she said faintly, looking around. Wide-open spaces, a stone fireplace that was enormous but fit with the size of the house. She wanted to see the house, but she wanted to lie down and rest. The pain in her shoulder was difficult to ignore.
“Nine thousand square feet of house, plus a temperature-controlled garage. The pool is heated, of course, and the views of the lake are outstanding. I purchased the properties on either side of this one, so we have complete privacy, and the staff have homes they can live in as well.”
She might have to take it back that his money didn’t intimidate her. He said it all so casually, as if everyone could afford to buy multimillion-dollar properties. The problem was, she was at her limit. If he didn’t get her somewhere she could lie down and take more pain meds, she was going to start vomiting all over his beautiful house.
“Vittorio.” That was all she could get out before she had to clamp her lips together.
He took one look at her pale face, the sweat breaking out—so attractive—and picked up the pace, using long strides to take her down a very wide hall to a room at the end. She managed to look around as he placed her on the side of the bed.
Her bedroom was huge, glass on one wall, giving her an incredible view of the lake. She caught a glimpse of the dazzling blue as the sun danced off the surface when Vittorio lowered her to the bed. All she wanted to do was lie down, but she realized immediately she was in trouble. She looked up at him a little helplessly, her tongue touching her upper lip.
“I really need to go to the bathroom.” She had no idea why it was so embarrassing to admit it. Everyone had to use a bathroom, but it wasn’t a glamourous function. Admitting it to the sexiest man she’d ever met just added to her growing misery.
“I should have thought of that,” he said immediately and lifted her again.
Grace slid her arm around his neck, her mind racing frantically. She was dressed in a skirt, and a top with the sleeve cut out of it. There had been nothing easy about getting into the top or skirt and she didn’t want to ever have to take them off. Still, going to the bathroom wasn’t going to be easy, either, and she hadn’t done it yet on her own.
