Getting What You Want (24 page)

They’d definitely been the best weeks of his life. Making love, watching Erika as she sculpted him, making love some more. Oh yeah, it had been perfect.

But he couldn’t keep her locked away forever. That wasn’t realistic no matter how appealing. And comforting.

But the back of his neck prickled at the idea of their first major outing being in a crowded bar on Bourbon. What if his mother was near? What if he lost sight of Erika?

Yet, he couldn’t think of anything to dissuade her that sounded even mildly reasonable. One of her best friends was in town, of course they’d go out. He couldn’t cut her off from the world forever.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, even as every fiber in his body wanted to talk her out of the idea.

She gave him a huge smile that made him feel even guiltier.

“I’d love to,” she said. “I just need to get ready.”

“Me too,” Jo said, and both women hurried off to get all gussied up for a night out on the town. And Vittorio sat there feeling like he wanted nothing more than to whisk Erika away to some secluded, and safe, place.

“God, I love Bourbon Street,” Jo said, taking a sip of her hand grenade, which came in a large, tall, fluorescent green cup, the bottom shaped like a grenade.

Erika laughed, sipping her own far more subtle lite beer in a plastic tumbler. Vittorio held a drink, a whiskey and water, but his cup was nearly full. He’d been too busy casting nervous glances around the crowded bar to actually think about his drink.

Erika leaned toward him and asked in a low voice, “Are you okay?”

He blinked, like he was being pulled back from some faraway place. “Yes. Just a little tired.” He took a swallow of his drink, offered her a smile, then cast a look around the bar again.

She frowned, but before she could question him further, Jo caught her hand and dragged her out to the floor in front of the stage, where Ren belted out the chorus to “Carry On Wayward Son,” and Maggie played the keyboards, grinning like she’d never been happier.

Jo started singing along, nudging Erika with her shoulder to join in, which she did. Although she kept sneaking peeks at Vittorio. Something was definitely wrong.

Again he glanced around the room, looking decidedly agitated, as if he expected to run into someone he really didn’t want to see.

Even though she told herself not to read into it, her thoughts went back to Philippe’s prediction about a woman from his past. He’d denied it, but Philippe had been too accurate, and Vittorio was acting strange.

In fact, he’d been a bit odd about going out in general. A few times she’d suggested going out to dinner, and while he didn’t ever say no, he always seemed to find a way to distract her from the idea. Always in a very enjoyable way, which she’d liked very much, so it hadn’t really mattered that they never seemed to leave her apartment. But she had noticed.

“So what do you think?” Maggie said, and only then did Erika even notice the music had stopped and the band was on break.

“You were great,” Erika said, meaning it, even though she’d been distracted.

“You look so good up there,” Jo said, hugging their friend. “You look so happy.”

“I am,” Maggie beamed, her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes making her absolutely radiant.

“She’s a rock goddess,” Ren said, coming up beside Maggie and looping his arm around her shoulder. “And I’m the one who gets to take her home every night.”

Maggie made a face and her rosy cheeks brightened further, which just made her look cuter. Ren stole a kiss, then excused himself to go talk to Vittorio.

“What’s going on with Vittorio?” Maggie asked, regarding him through the crowd.

“He seems edgy,” Jo commented.

Erika nodded, then shrugged. “I don’t know.” He definitely did seem ill at ease, but she didn’t understand why. After all, he’d played with The Impalers for several years, so he had to be used to the Bourbon Street scene. And she did wonder if he’d been avoiding public places—and if it was because of her.

Or someone else.

She tried to put those kinds of ideas out of her head and focus on what her friends were saying. She really did.

“Will you chill and have another drink or something?”

Vittorio stopped scanning the bar, and looked at his brother. Ren frowned, looking mildly exasperated.

“Why?” Vittorio asked.

“Because you are being ridiculous. Mother isn’t going to attack Erika in a crowded bar with you, me and two of Erika’s closest friends around. Mother likes success, and that would be a colossal failure.”

Vittorio supposed Ren was right.

“Not to mention,” Ren said, “Erika is clearly aware of your weird behavior.”

Vittorio looked at where Erika danced with her friends to the music played by a DJ. She slid him a sidelong glance, but when she realized he was watching her, her eyes darted away as if she was uncomfortable to be caught regarding him. Not the reaction he expected. His anxiety was affecting her. He didn’t want that. Not when she should be out with her friends, celebrating Jo being here, celebrating her art show. Hell, celebrating their relationship, which was the best and potentially the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“So,” Ren said, watching the girls as they danced and chatted, a half-smile on his own lips, a drink held absently in his hand. “What makes you think Mother is even around, aware of your relationship with Erika, and willing to kill to end your happiness?” He shot a look at Vittorio.

“I’m not sure. But I do know there has been a lot of death around me, and I know Mother is a jealous woman.”

Ren nodded. “But maybe that was all coincidence. I mean, the other women were rough, right? With dangerous habits and hard lives?”

Vittorio nodded. “They were.” Except Julianne. She had been unhappy with her life, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe she’d killed herself. But it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

“At any rate, she’s safe here tonight. So why don’t you just enjoy yourself.” Ren downed his drink, then moved to join the women.

Vittorio watched them. They danced and laughed and clearly shared an easy companionship that didn’t include worry.

No, that wasn’t quite true. Erika kept directing covert glances in his direction, and he saw confusion and worry in the brief looks.

The realization that his behavior was affecting her good time and making her more focused on him than her friends bothered him. In effect, he was letting his mother affect their relationship without even being there.

And, Ren had a point. Vittorio didn’t have any definitive proof that their mother had killed those women. It was still only a hunch. And nothing strange had happened to make him think she was here and aware of Erika.

As he strode toward Erika and her friends, he decided he was being too cautious. And he needed to loosen up. Which was what Ren always said, and had said again here tonight.

God, he hated when his brother was right.

But as he stopped beside Erika and smiled at her, and she smiled back, seeming very pleased he’d joined the group, Vittorio realized he was being too cautious.

Erika was perfectly safe.

“H
ello, lovey.”

Maksim gritted his teeth at the lilting sound of Orabella’s voice in the doorway. He kept his back to her, not bothering to acknowledge her presence. He’d learned over the past few weeks that she’d just keep on chattering, no matter what he did.

“How are you today? Are you hungry?”

He was starving. Demons didn’t have to eat to survive. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still crave food. And he ate when he was bored. And this was about as boring as anything got. He’d been trapped in this room, on this bed, for days. And days. He was going mad.

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know this is all almost over.”

That got his attention. He rolled over onto his back and sat up. “You’ve finally realized I won’t help you, have you?”

“Yes.” Orabella nodded from her usual spot in the doorway. As was often her custom, she wore white, obviously an odd little bit of irony she enjoyed. Although he noted her skin had a darker glow than it had had before. She was clearly enjoying the sunlight these days.

He gritted his teeth, but otherwise hid his irritation. “So are you going to be reasonable and let me go now? I promise you I will be reasonable too.” Oh yeah, the punishment he had in mind seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

But she startled him out of his fantasies of a torturous retribution, saying, “No, silly, of course I’m not going to release you. I just thought you’d like to know that I no longer need your help.”

He glared at her, then snorted at her announcement. She didn’t have the ability to conjure the kind of demon she needed for her purposes. She’d just lucked into getting him. Using both him and his sister like pawns.

“Where is my sister?” he demanded again.

She tilted her head, her blond hair falling forward over her shoulder. “I’ve told you before, I have no idea. I got what I needed from her—the spell and the access to you, and I was done with her. You know that.”

Yes, that irked him to no end that she’d played him so easily. Leaving her name in Ellina’s apartment. He still didn’t know why there had been a second scrap of paper with Vittorio’s name on it, but now he knew Orabella did leave her name behind. To get him to come to her.

“So how exactly do you think you are going to conjure a demon of that kind of power? She will never come to you.”

“Well, you did,” she said sweetly, obviously unable to resist the jibe.

He gritted his teeth. They were going to be worn down to nubs if this continued much longer. But again, he didn’t let her see he was irked. Beyond irked.

“So what is this brilliant plan?” he managed to ask.

Orabella sighed. “Well, you know it was very, very hard to think of anything that might lure a high-powered demon to me. Not all of them are so oversexed and underobservant as you, my dear.”

The teeth. Gritting.

“But then it dawned on me, I needed to discover the most generous and yet evil gift I could bestow on a powerful demon. And it came to me. A human sacrifice.”

She giggled with glee and Maksim nearly groaned. Of course the little bitch had hit on the one thing, sans magic, that she could do to summon a demon.

In fact, he knew the very demon who couldn’t refuse an offering like that. Aosoth. She’d be there in a heartbeat and do whatever bidding necessary to see a good old-fashioned sacrifice.

“And the beauty of this idea is it really kills two birds with one stone. I show my son that I’m willing to do anything for his love. And I get rid of that pesky mortal whore, who is somehow convincing my lovely son she is worthy of him.”

She laughed again. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Maksim just stared at her. This chick was nuts, yet somehow she had managed to figure out a way to call a demon to her.

He doubted Vittorio would agree to the rest of it. But Orabella would have a demon in her control and Erika would be dead.

He dropped back onto the mattress and closed his eyes. This had to be a gigantic joke.

Erika curled against Vittorio, grinning. She hadn’t thought it would be possible to feel more for this man than she already did, but she was wrong. She nuzzled her cheek against the smoothness of his chest. Last night and this evening had been perfect.

After his initial nervousness, or whatever had been bothering him at the bar, passed, he’d joined her and Jo. He danced a little—although it was clear that wasn’t necessarily his favorite thing. They’d watched Ren and Maggie and the other Impalers. Then when the band was done, they’d all hit the street, having a great, carefree time.

Then she’d spent the afternoon at the gallery getting all her pieces set up like she wanted them. Including the one of Vittorio.

The piece had come out stunning, if she did say so herself. And she hadn’t even let Vittorio see the finished piece. Even the sculpture of Isabel had turned out fabulous, although because of Isabel herself, Erika didn’t consider it her favorite. But the work was good. She thought Isabel would be pleased.

When she’d gotten home, Vittorio told her to dress up, and he took her and Jo out to Brennan’s for a delicious and extravagant dinner, which had included crawfish and several bottles of champagne.

By the time they got home, she and Jo had been full, tipsy and very happy. Jo had immediately dozed off into a satisfied and blissful sleep on the sofa, while Erika and Vittorio had retired to the bedroom.

But they definitely hadn’t slept. And now, Erika was very, very satisfied. She idly toyed with Vittorio’s hair, smiling to herself.

“What are you thinking about?”

Erika lifted her head to look up at him. He watched her with those dark, dark eyes of his, looking breathtakingly beautiful.

“I’m thinking about how much I love you.”

He smiled, although it had that heartbreaking quality that she saw every now and then.

“I love you too.” He kissed her, and even though they’d just finished a toe-curling, earth-moving round of lovemaking, the kiss quickly deepened, becoming more intense.

Vittorio shifted their positions so he was over her, pressing her down into the mattress with his delicious weight. Erika’s hand left the tangle of his hair to smooth down over the satiny skin of his back and the hard, undulating muscles underneath.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him closer to her core, where she wanted him, buried deep inside her. But instead he skimmed downward, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as he positioned himself between her legs.

Then his mouth was on her exposed flesh.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured against her lips, and she could taste the tang of her own sex on his lips. A thrill, primal and possessive, filled her.

She kissed him again before saying, “You’ve done that lots of times before.”

“Not like that,” he said, and she realized he was right. She didn’t understand what he’d done to make the experience different, but it was more intense, more overwhelming, more wonderful than any time previously, which she couldn’t quite believe. He was always good, but this…this was just more.

She smiled at him, blinking to keep her eyes open. The combination of the intensity of her release, the champagne and her hard work of late had finally caught up with her.

She fought back a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to stay awake.”

“Don’t. Tomorrow is a big day. You need your rest.”

She nodded, her eyes closing almost instantly.

Vittorio watched her sleep, wondering if he’d done the right thing. It had sure felt right when it was happening, and God knows, he’d wanted to do it so many times before now.

He’d given her his energy. As he’d used his tongue and lips to satisfy her, he’d breathed his own energy deep inside her. And that had been as amazing for him as anything he’d done in his life.

He’d bonded with her. Made her his. And while he knew he should be worried, he couldn’t bring himself to feel that way. It was too perfect and he didn’t want to ruin it with more of his concerns.

He could care for her. And he would.

He pulled her tight against him. He would.

Fantastic didn’t even begin to cover how wonderful Erika was feeling today. She seriously had the sensation of walking on clouds. Big puffy perfect clouds.

She’d woken up early, showered, eaten a quick breakfast and then had headed to the gallery.

She centered one of her pieces on the pedestal, the original work she’d done of Vittorio. Stepping back, she studied it. She hoped the roughness of the piece would speak to people in a very visceral, elemental way.

Satisfied with how it was arranged and where it was placed among the other works, she then moved to the larger piece she’d done. The center of the whole exhibit. Unlike the smaller sculpture, this one of Vittorio was all smooth, perfect lines. Each curve of the clay and polymer showed the flawlessness of his features, of his body.

This was how she saw him as her lover and friend and as her—prince. Lounging among pillows and draped with cloth, the Vittorio of her artist’s mind was indeed a royal being. There was haughtiness and grace, but there was also just a little uncertainty in the curve of his lips, in the tilt of his head. A prince who isn’t sure he wants to be one.

She loved the piece. She knew it was the best thing she’d ever done. Stroking the curve of his bare shoulder, she then moved to the other significant piece in the show. Isabel.

Erika had to admit that despite the frequent awkwardness of working with the strange woman, she had managed to create something truly beautiful. She’d captured what she’d initially seen in the lovely blonde. The etherealness, the sweet curve of her cheeks and full lips. The piece was stunning, if she did say so herself. And she was very proud of it, and very glad it was completed.

She moved the sculpture just slightly, then moved back to see how the two main pieces looked together. They made a definite impact. And looked somehow as if they belonged together.

She frowned, seeing for the first time how almost similar Vittorio and Isabel’s faces looked. Their jawlines, the shape of their lips. She glanced from one to the other, surprised she hadn’t noted the similarities before. Then she wondered if she’d just managed to give them similarities when they didn’t really have them. Her artistic license shining through.

As she continued to ponder that idea, her cell phone, tucked into the front pocket of her purse, began to chime. She hurried across the glossy wood floor, reaching the phone just before it went to voice mail.

“Hello,” she said quickly, expecting to be greeted by dead air. But a voice replied.

“Erika?”

“Yes.” Erika didn’t immediately recognize the voice. Maybe because she was expecting it to be Jo or Maggie or Vittorio. Although she knew Vittorio was probably still asleep. Lazybones.

“Erika, it’s Isabel.”

“Isabel?” She couldn’t say exactly why she was surprised.

“I’m sorry to bother you, since I’m sure you are getting ready for your show, but I was hoping you could come over to my place.”

“Come over? Why?” Erika was busy. It was getting late, nearly 3 p.m., and she had to go back to her place, meet up with Jo, who wanted to take her to a late lunch/early dinner to celebrate. Then she had to get dressed in the gorgeous black Betsey Johnson she’d splurged on for this event. And frankly, she didn’t want to rush getting dressed up, or be back here too close to the opening of the show. She wanted to enjoy every moment of this day.

“I’m having some problems with my love that, well—” Isabel sighed as if she were just at her wit’s end. “I just think I need you here to make him understand why I’ve done what I’ve done.”

Erika frowned. That was ever-cryptic Isabel for you. “Is he not pleased with the idea of the sculpture?”

“No, he’s not.”

Erika glanced at her watch. If she ran over there, talked to this guy, although she didn’t know how her talking to him would help, she could still get home with enough time to meet Vittorio and get ready.

“I really think if he just heard the truth from you, it would make everything so much easier.”

Erika hesitated, still not understanding what exactly Isabel thought she could do. But she did sound sincerely desperate.

“It will only take a few minutes,” Isabel added, her voice nearly breaking with emotion. “He just won’t listen to me.”

“Okay,” Erika heard herself say, wondering why on earth she was getting involved. What could she say to this guy? But she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

“But I can only stay briefly,” she did say.

“Thank you, Erika.”

The phone went dead, but Erika stood there with it still flipped open for several moments. Why had she agreed to do this?

Sighing, she snapped the phone closed and tossed it back into her purse. Taking one more look around the gallery, she went to find the owner to let him know she was finished and would be back at least half an hour before the show. Then she gathered her stuff and hurried out the door.

This better be quick and not involve too much drama.

Vittorio paced the living room of Erika’s apartment. It was 6:18 p.m., and Erika still hadn’t returned. She’d left a note on the table, saying that she’d be back at 4:30 p.m. or so to get showered and dressed. At 6:30 p.m., they were supposed to meet with Ren, Maggie and Jo to go to dinner before the show. Vittorio had expected the time frame to be tight for him, Ren and Maggie, what with their need to wait for the sun to set, but he hadn’t expected Erika to be late.

Where was she?

He gave up his pacing and headed over to Ren’s. The lights in the carriage house were on, and he could see shadows moving inside. Maybe she was over there. Jo was staying there, so maybe Erika was visiting her while their nocturnal friends slept on.

He hoped.

He knocked and indeed Jo did answer the door.

She was already dressed for the evening in a vintage-looking dress with a full skirt, like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn.

“I know,” she said with a smile, “the two rock stars are running late.”

“Not me,” Ren said from behind her, coming down the stairs, rubbing his damp long hair with a towel. “I’m ready. It’s Maggie who’s running late.” He tossed the towel onto the banister at the bottom of the stairs.