Rare and Precious Things (7 page)

“Seriously, money well spent all the way ’round. Seeing Blackstone’s logo on number eighty-one was quite
the defining moment for me. Truly.”

I took a stab at a guess
and interrupted. “Are you a race car driver, Dillon?”

“I am in racing, yes.” He tilted his head. “
I could get you driving lefty in no time, Brynne,” he answered, a charming smirk lighting up his eyes as he teased me. “You just say the word if you ever want a driving lesson.”

“Fat chance of that happening, Dillon.
I believe I’ll do the honors of teaching my wife to drive British, thank you very much.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see how well you’
ve come along with your lessons by the time we meet up again in October for Neil and Elaina’s wedding, because I will be checking in with Brynne,” Dillon challenged with a wink in my direction.

“Oh, you will be there?”
I asked him.

“I will be
.” He gave a slow nod. “Neil and I go back to our school days. Elaina’s brother, Ian, too. Good mates of mine.” Dillon looked over his shoulder in the direction of his table. “My guest is here, so I should go and leave the two of you in peace. So lovely to have met you finally, Brynne.” He bowed his head to me. “And you, Blackstone, have done
very
well, you lucky bastard.” He shook his head with a devilish grin.

“
Astute as always, Carrington. Thanks again, for the wine, and we’ll see you up in Scotland very soon.”

Dillon gave us a wave and
returned to his table, his striking looks grabbing the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant as he greeted his date, an exotic, leggy brunette with obvious enhancements of the silicone variety, staring our way quite intensely, probably annoyed at us for monopolizing her boyfriend.

“He seems nice,” I said.
“He’s really famous, isn’t he?”

“Ah, yeah, slightly.
You were just offered driving lessons by a Formula One World Champion, my darling.”

“Wow. He
is
legendary. I knew I’d seen him before, I just didn’t realize it had been on TV and at the newsstand.” I glanced over at Dillon’s table. “I don’t think his girlfriend liked him talking to us though, because she’s throwing off some pretty toxic vibes.”

“I don’t think that’s his girlfrie
nd.” The sarcasm in Ethan’s comment was impossible to miss.

“Why do you say that?”

“Baby…” The censuring look he set on me spoke volumes. “I can say it because I
know
the man. Dillon Carrington doesn’t have girlfriends. He has dates.” Ethan nodded his head toward their table. “And
that
is a date.”

“You know this how exactly?” I persisted.

“Because I used to be just like—” He shifted in his seat and looked like he wished he could bite off his tongue. “Oh, forget it. I really don’t want to talk about Carrington’s social life on my honeymoon.”

“Me either,
” I said. And I really didn’t need to know any more, because I was confident that Ethan knew exactly what he was talking about, because he’d just let slip the reason.

After all, he
had
been just like Dillon Carrington before he’d found me.

“
AS
much as I’d love to stay swimming out here with you, we’d better go in and start getting ready for the party. I have to wash my hair.”

I groaned my protest with plenty of displeasure, hoping it might work
. “Not that fuckin’ thing, please.”

“Ethan, come on, you know we have to go.
I
have to be there. Marco said we are his honored guests, and he’s planned around us being here, specifically. How rude would it be to just not show up?”

I pulled her legs around my hips and trapped her against me as I tread the sparkling water of our little beach cove. Maybe denial would be more effective since she wasn’t buying my complaints. “I’m keeping you out here in this beautiful sea with me forever.” I nipped at the shell of her ear and flicked the lobe with my tongue, tasting the mix of her skin and the salt of the water.

“Forever, huh?”
she answered, allowing me access to her neck by tilting her head to the side.

“That’s right
.” I took her offer and sucked at her beautiful neck, the mark I’d made on our wedding night now just a faint blush. With her hands gripping my shoulders and her long legs wrapped around my hips, I had her exactly where I wanted her. Now, if I could just get her mind off the motherfucking cocktail party she was demanding to attend, my immediate future would be sorted out perfectly. Floating in the sea and soaking up the sunshine with my sweet girl in my arms. “Yep. Forever here with you, not some sodding party crawling with idiots.”

She sighed heavily, most likely thoroughly fed up with me, but she brought her forehead
to rest against mine, and rocked from side to side. “What am I going to do with you, Blackstone?”

“I have some good ideas if you’re really stumped.”
I squeezed both luscious halves of her arse and pulled her against my cock.

“So, sex in exchange for taking me to the party?” She thr
ust up and down my length with a few grinds of her hips under the water, giving me an instant hard-on, and heading for the shore.

I’d done this grab and carry from the beach to the house a few times since we’d come here. It always ended the same way.
Volcanic sex. Extraordinary fucking. The ultimate prize in intimacy with the person I loved, bringing me to a place of nirvana with her. A place I’d only ever found with Brynne.

With her pillowed at my neck and nuzzling as I took us inside our villa,
I was pretty confident I wouldn’t have to worry about that stupid party at all in another few minutes.

“
THAT
is what you’re wearing to this thing?”

My question earned me a
hearty scowl, and a stiff back turned on me with a toss of her silky hair.

So much for the nice after-swim shag of two hours ago.
Might as well have been two years ago, because right then we were getting ready to go to Carveletti’s motherfucking cocktail party in town.

“Why, Ethan, are you saying that I don’t look nice in this dress?”
her tone chilly, as she applied eye makeup at the bathroom mirror.

“You look more than nice, and that’s the part th
at worries me.” Brynne was off-the-charts sexy all of the time, but this little dress she had on was going to kill me tonight. Emphasis on the
little
. It was a silky tunic-like creation in yellow and blue, with a print of the Parthenon on it. That part was fine. It was the micro length of the thing, showcasing her long, tanned legs in a manner that would serve to give any man who saw her in it one thought—and only one thought.
How I’d love to get those sexy legs wrapped around my cock.

“You worry too much. It’s just a babydoll summer dress. We’re on holiday at the beach
for Christ’s sake. I am dressed for the occasion.”

A babydoll dress?
Fucking hellfire and damnation. I was confident tonight would age me permanently. For a few reasons. One was just the casualty of having a beautiful wife who grabbed attention everywhere we went in public, no matter how subdued she was in her personality. Another was the destination, and crowd we’d be mixing with tonight. I couldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but knew I was outvoted and undermined when it came to Brynne’s modeling.

I imagined what I could sa
y to the people I’d meet at this blasted party, as I sat on the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes harshly.
Hello, Ethan Blackstone, nice to meet you. My wife is one of Carveletti’s models. Isn’t she lovely without her clothes on? Smashing tits, I know. Oh, trust me, I know. *wink* Which picture of her do you prefer? The one of her tits or this one where you can really see the curve of her sexy arse?
I dragged a hand over my beard in anxious frustration.

Simply absorbing th
e content of my imagined social greeting was a little more than I could handle, so I tried to distract myself by thinking of this afternoon’s swim with her instead. Didn’t help much…

Carvaletti, one of her photographer friends, had invited us
to his home, which just happened to be in Porto Santo Stefano. Marvelous fucking luck. Brynne was determined to drag us there, so I guess I’d be cockblocking all goddamn night instead of enjoying the beach under the stars with my girl.

I
was pulled from my inner rant by her cool hand at my cheek and a worried expression on her lovely face. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just kiss her senseless into forgetting about going to this thing?

“Pl
ease don’t let this party ruin our night. It’s just a mixer of industry people who happen to be gathering while we’re here.” The pleading look she gave me tugged at me, making me feel guilty for not being more supportive of her work.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’
m trying to support you here, but am afraid I suck at it. I go mad when other men hit on you. I want to kill first and ask questions later when I see how they look at you.” I shook my head at her “babydoll” dress. “And with you wearing
that
, I know I am well and truly fucked for an evening of torture.”

“Many of my
photographers are gay, Ethan.” I could feel her inner thoughts calling me a possessive arsehole, even though I knew she wasn’t to that point yet. Not yet…but I might push her there if I kept on.

“
Carveletti’s not one of them though, is he?”

She sighed heavily and pressed her lips to my hair. I
reached for her and drew her onto my lap, burying my face at her neck.

“We don’t have to stay very long, Ethan. Just long enough to be polite and greet everyone.”

“Promise?” I knew I was acting a bloody dickhead but at least I was being honest with how I felt. “I don’t share you very well at all, and I won’t apologize for that part,” I murmured at her ear.

“I prom
ise, sweet husband.” She offered her lips to me. “Just give me a code word when you’re done and we can leave.”

“Now see? You go and say something like that to me and I feel like an insensitive brute.” I tucked a loose curl behind h
er ear. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t mean just on the outside.” I brought my finger to her heart. “Here is beautiful.”

Her expression softened
. “I love you so much, Ethan, even when you’re being an insensitive brute.” She drew me to her lips with a hand under my chin.

“I know…and I count my blessings every day that you do.”

“So what’s your code word so I know?”

I thought for a moment and it came to me in a brilliant flash.
“Simba.”

She laughed and shook her head at me slowly. “Simba it is
, then.”

“BELLA
, you look magnificent, the glow in your cheeks, everything, is utter perfection.” Marco, kissed me on both cheeks as was custom, then held me at arm’s length for a thorough perusal. “Lovely dress. I can see that marriage and motherhood are both agreeing with you, darling.”

I felt Ethan’s hand at my back soften and relax
at Marco’s friendly, but appropriate greeting. Maybe he’d get over his paranoia that Marco was trying to bag me every time he photographed me. Ethan just didn’t understand that Marco wasn’t like that at all. He was a professional photographer doing a job with me, and nothing more. Well, nothing more than a working, platonic friendship. He’d always been kind to me, and I liked working with Marco Carvaletti very much. I hoped Ethan could see it here tonight as we all interacted.

“It is, Marco, and I don’t think I could
be any happier.” I leaned into Ethan, nudging him to speak up.

“Mr. Carvaletti, thank you for the invitation. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.” Ethan lied smoothly, offering his hand, playing the
social gentleman to perfection, which he was well skilled at. I guess he did it out of love for me. I knew he didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted me modeling. I mouthed a
thank you
only visible to him. He kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget about Simba, baby.” Then he wandered off to get drinks for us.

Marco took me on a tour of his elegantly
restored seventeenth-century villa as I marveled at all of the art. He had a whole room set up as a gallery of his photographs. There were a couple of me in there. One where I sat in a formal chair with one knee up, strategically placed, my expression far away and pensive. The other pose was a side view recreation of a vintage Ziegfeld Follies girl with a feather boa and some satin pumps. It was one of the first portraits I posed for and I really thought it was nicely choreographed.

“It is a beautiful piece, bella. I knew when we did that series you had the gift.” Marco stood behind me admiring the image he had created
with me as the subject.

“
I was so nervous posing, but you made me laugh when you told me to imagine Iggy Pop in a dress.” I shrugged. “That broke the ice and I was fine after that.”

“That one works for me every time, bella.”

“Well, Iggy Pop in a dress
is
funny, so good job, Marco.” We laughed together and made our way back to the main gathering.

Where was Ethan with my drink? I scanned the room for sight of him
, but didn’t see his tall form standing out among the crowd anywhere. And I needed water.

“He is talking to Carolina
and Rogelio, my friends,” Marco said, correctly reading my quest to find Ethan. “I believe they have discovered they are acquainted already.”