Mi Carino - Risky Love Read online

  “Mr. Pachelli bought two paintings. Very well done, Marcella.” Susan smiled waving a signed bill of sale. Marcella dropped the phone in her front sweater pocket. “Good. Have you spoken to Garrett?” she said, turning so Susan didn’t start to ‘read’ her emotions again. Whatever this thing with Diego proved to be she didn’t want to discuss or analyze it or talk herself out of it.

  “I spoke to him but of course he only wants to talk to you. Bailey hurt him bad. They’re really over.”

  “I’ll call him.”

  “So what do you think? Should we close early today, go to the mall and celebrate by spending Garrett’s money,” she joked.

  Marcella shook her head, smiling. “Let’s get back to work.”

  Marcella finished up paperwork during her wait, and made several more calls to Edward Katchner’s office to no avail. She perused the top level of the gallery to inspect fixtures recently installed by Sam when she heard the bell chime over the door—a soft echo through the silence of the closed gallery. He arrived an hour later than she expected. Sam and Susan had already left. She walked toward the end of the gallery loft where she could see the lobby. Diego strolled in confident, dressed neatly in a charcoal grey cashmere trench. The front of it parted to reveal his tailored suit. From her elevated position, she observed him curiously as he moved about the gallery. He inspected each of their pieces with mild interest.

  Then he stopped. As if he sensed her. His head lifted and so did penetrating soulful eyes. A smile tipped the left corner of his mouth, sly and seductive. He dropped his hands in his pockets, parting his coat, as he held her gaze.

  “On my way,” she said.

  “No hurry,” he mouthed back up to her.

  Marcella hurried anyway. She went down the stairs into her office and filed away the last of her paperwork. She grabbed her coat, and with purse in hand she had to force herself to remain calm. Diego waited for her to turn off lights and draw the blinds. They left together, in his chauffeured car. The ride had been disappointing so far. He spent most of it on the phone, cutting her sexy looks. The call ended and she finally had his undivided attention. And the man wanted to know everything about her day. He listened intently to her excitement over Katchner’s discovery. Marcella could tell he understood most of what she said. Diego was however a man of few words, so his touch to her cheek with the brush of the back of his hand and his gentle massage of the nape of her neck as she spoke was so pleasing. She regretted the break in their connection when the chauffeured car finally drove to his house.

  It was a very cozy three level beach house off the cliffs of Delgado. He helped her from the car and escorted her to the door. She entered the warmth and darkness a bit nervous. She’d agreed to dinner. A meal at his home promised a bit more. “This is nice. I’m sure it gets pretty cold out here in the winter.” She walked through his place, absorbing every detail no matter how small.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No. I’m fine.” Marcella shed her coat and handed it to him. He left her alone just long enough to secure their coats in the closet. The space and distance gave her a little room to breathe. She wanted to let her eyes take it all in to glean more about the man. Her hopes were quickly dashed. The decorator captured a neat and orderly setting but nothing personal. The floors were as polished and bland as the few unpainted inner walls because his home seemed to be made mostly of glass. None of the chairs and sofas looked as if anyone had ever sat on them. No pictures, plants, hell she didn’t even see a television. Marcella rubbed her palms together. Turning, nibbling on her bottom lip she noticed Diego had chosen a painting of a red stripe on a white background with a black frame. It was a stark contrast against the white, almost like blood. She felt empty looking at it. Art reflected a person. He put nothing of himself in this choice. The painting probably had been a stock piece of artwork he never even glanced at.

  His voice was deep but whisper smooth right behind her. “Hungry?”

  “Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come back in.”

  Diego stood so close she took on his body heat, knocking off the chill that cloaked her while staring at the painting. Maybe she couldn’t throw his confidence like he did hers. From a simple look, his arrogance convinced her that he’d have her legs in the air pointed east to west when the opportunity presented itself.

  “Admiring your artwork.”

  Diego’s gaze shifted to the painting.

  “Interesting choice. What does it represent for you?”

  Diego shrugged. “Strength.”

  “It does seem bold, mysterious, sort of like you,” she said.

  “How am I mysterious?” Diego asked.

  “Oh I don’t know, where were you born, do you have any siblings? Ever been married?”

  Diego laughed. “Do you want my passport too? So I’ll ask again, are you hungry?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m hungry.” She lifted her chin and gave him a challenging stare. He didn’t blink. Then she attempted to step around him but he captured her hand.

  “Then let’s eat,” he said as his lips lightly brushed her ear. He led her to the back of the empty house. That’s when her nose detected the faint aroma of mesquite and roasted veggies. The unveiling of the intimate setting caused her stomach to flutter with nervous flattery. Everything was so sweetly arranged with long cylinder candles and red and white roses circling the base, gold cutlery on blue linen table cloths, the view of the sea and the sun setting as the backdrop. It was breathtaking. Marcella had to force her mouth to close, for fear of drooling.

  “You did this? For me?”

  “For you.”

  Diego escorted her to her chair drawing it back for her to sit. He walked away and she seized the opportunity to observe him. His suspenders were sexier than his vest and tie. She liked the way they joined over his back in braided leather and extended straight up the hard layered muscle of his shoulders then down the chiseled cuts of his abdomen.

  Marcella wore a simple peppermint green blouse and grey A-line skirt, her usual work attire. Diego’s appearance had such polish that she kept tugging at the hem of her skirt under the table and scooping her hair behind her ears in comparison.

  “Salmon?” he asked, as if seeking her approval. The fish was blackened and flavored with a mesquite aroma that drew her in. “My favorite. How did you know?” Marcella thought he may have guessed, but something in the way he looked up at her told her he actually knew. Her brows drew together. Her gaze narrowed. “Diego, I am curious. I’d like to know more about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked again choosing to stare at her as they dined.

  She picked up her fork, “For starters, how long have you lived here in Port Delgado?” she asked.

  “Two days.”

  “Excuse me?” she lowered the fork back to the table.

  “I’ve lived here two days.”

  “Ah, so this is new?”

  “This, Marcella,” he looked around then back to her. “Is a lease. Temporary.”

  Marcella had to mask her disappointment. Diego leaned forward. The flames from the candles softened his strong features and highlighted his brown eyes. She could see every detail from the tiny mole just above his chin to the finely trimmed hairs of his mustache over those pillow soft lips. They had greeted each other with a kiss. What a shame it was only brief. Now she’d stare longingly at those lips each time he spoke or smirked for the rest of the night.

  “I travel a lot. Seen a lot. Home can never be four walls for me.”

  “I understand. You seem worldly.”

  “Do I?”

  “You look more like a wrestler or a boxer than a businessman.”

  Diego roared with laughter, and Marcella had to chuckle as well. She loved his laughter; she hoped to not offend him and she hadn’t. Eventually they settled into a more comfortable silence, Marcella’s eyes lifted to him once more.

  “I don’t want to be rude or insult you, but I have to ask. Are you married, Di
ego?”

  The question sparked a look of surprise in his face. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. His eyes danced in amusement. “No Señora Marcella. I’m not married, I’ve never been married, I never will marry.”

  Relief cooled the tightness in her chest but her breath hitched at his refusal to wed. She wasn’t keen on a trip down the aisle either. However, marital bliss hadn’t been the point of her question. Richard told her when she found out about his wife, that he never disclosed his marital status because she never asked. The asshole had the nerve to say he felt freer with her because she never put those kinds of pressures on a man. As if she advertised the ‘casual thing’ over a real commitment. Did Diego assume she preferred things be casual? Of course he did. She took him to bed after a trip to a vineyard. A girl looking for commitment wouldn’t go that far.

  Marcella dismissed it. Not married? Good. The beach house, his disappearance and reappearance could easily be explained by the fact that he’s a businessman.

  Focusing on her fish, she sliced off the pink flesh of the salmon. She savored the first bite.

  “How is it?”

  “Yummy.” She winked.

  The response seemed to please him. He reached for the bottle of wine checking the label to be sure it was what he requested. Uncorked, he poured her a glass. She hadn’t eaten lunch and was indeed hungry. The salmon melted on her tongue. She chewed and observed him. He told her of some of the places he travelled, his favorite being New York City. The food and mix of cultures seemed to excite him.

  The conversation eased into her revealing she had been born and raised there. She suggested a few places she knew. He listened intently. Sipping her wine, the awkwardness ebbed, and was replaced by the warm and flirty feelings she had the day she first laid eyes on him. The conversation flowed. The meal was delicious, just like the company. Diego proved to be cultured, intelligent, and charming. The night had promise. If it ended in his arms, so be it.

  Diego spoke in Spanish when he got really excited about something he’d seen or done in New York. Marcella’s eyes were glued to his lips. His tongue swept over them sinfully smooth. She picked up her wine and gulped down a big swallow. It would be nice if she didn’t have to keep rubbing her thighs together to put out the heat between her legs. He prolonged her torture with polite conversation and sexy smiles.

  The sun began to set. Shadows moved in over them under a sky-tinted red and purple. The ceiling lamps, on some kind of timer, dimly lit, made everything on the table sparkle including the golden wine in her goblet. He pushed his chair back scraping the floor. Marcella loved his height. She swallowed, unable to look away from his eyes as he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, displaying muscled forearms covered with thin dark hair.

  “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

  On autopilot she rose obediently. The warm palm of his strong hand held hers as he led her through the maze of halls and up the stairs. She turned her attention to the fading evening sun just as it slipped into the sea on the horizon.

  “This is incredible. Must be horrible when the sun rises though?”

  “The shutters close automatically, to maintain a cool temperature throughout the place. So don’t worry.”

  “I wasn’t,” she mumbled softly. Breathless once they entered the bedroom, her hand dropped from his and she crossed the carpeted floor out to the redwood deck. He soon joined her. Marcella leaned over the rail. She gazed out across the rocky slope. A bout of dizzying vertigo took hold of her and she strangled on a startled cry of shock. The ocean swirled below them. Waves crashed over a sandy cove accessed by a steep wooden staircase anchored into the cliff. Secluded and spectacular, the beach house seemed to cast almost as potent a spell as the man, whose body pressed against her backside once he joined her in taking in the beauty nature displayed.

  Marcella swayed. She fell a step back from the balcony resting against him.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yes. I have a thing about heights, well I thought I had conquered it with flying, but no, um, I haven’t,” she said anchoring her hands on his arms. “Sorry, I’m okay now.”

  “You are always safe with me. I wanted you to see this view. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  Marcella nodded in agreement.

  “Come inside, it’s a bit chilly.” He pulled her up against him, nuzzled the side of her neck, sliding one hand across her abdomen. He rubbed her gently through her skirt. Marcella gripped the railing so tight splinters cut into her fingers.

  “O-okay,” she stammered.

  Diego kissed the back of her head and then released her. A deep intake of breath filled her lungs with the salty ocean breeze. She knew each minute she spent with him she would want more. The truth hammered the risks of a new romance into her brain. Her heart couldn’t stand another failure.

  Chapter Nine

  “Marcella?”

  She looked up curiously. “Yes?”

  Diego motioned to something behind her. She turned to a carefully placed black box on the bed, fastened with a red ribbon. “A present?”

  He dropped his hands in his pockets “Open it.”

  Marcella went to the bed. She sat on the edge placing the box on her lap. Why buy her presents if this was casual? She removed the ribbon, pulled back the lid of the box. Her breath caught at the sight of a pair of pear-shaped diamond earrings perched in deep velvet, sparkling remarkably bright.

  “I can’t accept this,” she frowned. “It’s too extravagant of a gift.”

  “You can. My apology for not calling you sooner.”

  “Fine, then let me put it another way. I won’t accept it.”

  The flowers were one thing but diamond earrings from a man she barely knew made her uncomfortable. To receive them before they were intimate felt wrong on many levels. How could she explain and not insult him? He knelt, forcing her to gaze down into his eyes. “I’ve been unable to stop thinking about you, about us. Yet I let time pass and made no effort to tell you this. That is on me.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “I have a request.”

  Marcella lowered the box. Her heart hammered in her chest. What would he ask? What could he ask at this point? They were beyond the point of refusal. She was here, and willing. He wanted no marital commitment, so what then?

  “I won’t forget you again nena, as if I ever could. I need to know you won’t either.”

  He eased her knees apart. Fingers slowly inched up along the inside of her thigh. When the tips of his fingers brushed her intimately she parted her knees a fraction wider for more of his touch. He then ran two fingers up and down her center stirring heat beyond the seat of her panty. “Can I add to your beauty? Will you wear the earrings and allow me the pleasure?”

  The question burrowed through her brain and became rooted in the deepest conscious part of her. Two digits eased her panty aside and she felt his fingers next. Marcella dropped the box. Her hands landed on either side of her and her head fell back as he opened her and fondled her clitoris in circular motions with his thumb. She prided herself on being fiercely independent. Always. Part of her wanted to make it clear. To keep their love affair in perspective and not be the ‘U type’ of woman Susan joked about. Now her brain screamed: submit, submit! It would be impossible to turn away from him now.

  Diego released her and he rose with a satisfied smile.

  “You’re a cruel man.” She opened her eyes, flustered, short of breath. “What are we doing? Are we just sleeping together or are you looking for something…something meaningful?”

  “I’m looking at you. That’s all, Marcella.” He ran the back of his fingers over the side of her face in a soft stroke, captured her chin, and tilted her head back so he could lock eyes with her once more. “I told you, Marcella. I see you.”

  She stood and faced him. “What do you see? You don’t know me, not really. We end up here. It’s physical. Dinner was great. You…you look and smell…great.” She swallo
wed. “You touch me and it’s hard not to touch you back. You’re very charming Diego, but I still don’t trust how easy this is.”

  “What’s wrong with easy? I know you’re smart, talented.” His eyes lowered to her chest. He moistened his lips. “And sexy. So, so sexy. I know you want me just as much as I want you. It’s in your eyes, beautiful.” He moved a loose curl from her face, replacing it with the others that ran along the side.

  “I see you, Marcella. The soulful beauty of your eyes as they dissolve into rings of amber around the irises when you’re aroused like me. And your lips get plump. Full.” He touched them as his face came in so slow that her vision blurred and her eyes crossed before they closed. He pressed his lips to hers and he bit her lower lip, delivering a sting as his thumb and forefinger skimmed down her neck. “Your breathing is rapid too. Like this. Breathe for me.”