Mistress By Blackmail: International Billionaires I: The Italians (16 page)

A masculine chuckle rolled through the phone. “Which is why I’m telling you that hanging out on a street is not something you need to do as an artist anymore.”

She passed by the fish-and-chips vendor and waved at him, enjoying the salty smells emanating from his stall. “I just like it down here on Bayswater. It’s fun.”

“It’s cold more likely. Are you wearing your new coat?”

“Yes.” She cuddled into the sturdy wool. “Thank you. Again.”

“Security?”

She glanced over her shoulder, spotting the man in the familiar black suit trailing behind her by half a block. They were always present when she left the penthouse, though never overbearing. She supposed it was to keep her under surveillance and in control. Yet it gave her a great sense of relief, to be honest. As long as she had Marc, she was safe. Another one of his many gifts to her. “Yes,” she replied with a note of gratitude in her voice. “Right behind me.”

There was a pause on the line. He finally said, “It is interesting to me, Darcy, that you don’t object to the security. Never have.”

For the first time in five days, one of them was brave enough to step onto the fragile bridge they’d been building between them. She stopped in the middle of the walkway, taken by surprise.

“Which is unusual for you.” His voice turned wry. “In my experience, you initially object to everything I try to do for you.”

A choked laugh came from her. “Not always.”

“
Si.
Always,” he returned. “So it’s interesting you do not object regarding the security. Why?”

His blunt one-word question echoed in her head. He was willing to confront one of the many shadows and demons lying like a heavy weight on their budding relationship. Was it a good sign he was willing to take this first step? Was she willing to meet him halfway?

“It makes me feel safe.” A tiny admission, but at least she’d tried.

Another pause. “You don’t feel safe without it?”

Could she take another tiny step onto the bridge? “No,” she whispered to him. Gave to him.

“Mmm.” The low sound was drawn out as if he were mulling over her response. And jumping to conclusions. The right conclusions.

“It's really stupid, I know.” She rushed in, trying to put the dreaded topic behind her. She didn't want her past ruining their future. She didn't want this old baggage she'd carried around for years to make him think she was weak or needy. Instinctively, she wanted to show him she was his equal and not simply another piece of business he had to take care of.

He didn't answer.

The silence was deafening.

“I d-d-don’t know why I d-don’t feel safe sometimes.” She kept babbling. “Maybe it's my childhood or something.”

“Or something.”

“Anyway.” The babble continued. “I have to go. I see a friend I need to talk to.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of.”

“Right. You're right.” Her heart bloomed at his words, at his assurance. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“How long are you going to be there?”

“Probably another hour or so.” She started walking again. Past the coffee shop doing brisk business. Past the old woman who always had her hats and bags displayed. “Until I get cold. Then I'm going home.”

She realized she'd said the word the moment it slipped from her mouth. But it was too late. She’d already confessed another of her secrets to him.

“I have to go.” A faint sound of another person's voice came from behind his words. “Something needs to addressed.”

“Okay. I understand.” Her voice wobbled with relief. He'd been distracted when she responded. Or maybe the word
 home
didn't mean as much to him as it did to her. Maybe he found no significance in her admission of seeing his place as her home.

“Darcy,” he sighed. There was a shuffling in the background, some muffled words. Then his voice came back on the line. “It might be best you return to the penthouse. I don’t like the edge of fear in your voice.”

He'd misinterpreted thankfully.

“I'm good.” She made sure her voice was strong. “No need to worry.”

More chatter in the background. His voice became impatient. “Here we go again.”

With her? Or whoever was with him? She couldn't tell.

“You arguing with me,” he continued. “Right now, however, I don't have time. I will talk to you shortly.”

The click of his phone told her she'd escaped from any further lectures for now.

Clicking off her own phone, she slipped it back into her pocket. Apparently, Marc had arrived at a point where he was no longer willing to put off the issues between them. Anxiety churned inside her. But she resolutely pushed away any worrying thoughts about their conversation. Time enough to confront his smoky gaze and be nailed by further questions. For now, she was going to delight in her outing.

For the next half hour, she thoroughly enjoyed herself. Friends greeted her with smiles. New art exhibits enchanted her. She stopped and bought a hot cocoa which warmed the pit of her stomach. She was about to call it a day and head for
home
when a tall, gangly guy stepped right in front of her.

A very familiar tall, gangly guy.

“Finally, I’ve found you.” The relief in his voice clashed with the frustration in his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

“Matt?” She stared at his dear face for a moment and then screeched. “Matt!”

For once, she was the one who initiated a hug between them. Wrapping her arms around his body, she drank in his warmth as he reciprocated and tugged her into his lanky grasp.

“Quite a welcome,” he said in bemusement. “Especially from you.”

“I know.” She pulled away and smiled at him. “It's just so good to see you.”

“So what's going on?” He frowned and instantly he reminded her of his older brother.  “What's going on with you and the Great Man?”

“What do you mean?” she stalled. The question threw her, in spite of the fact she should have expected it. So much had happened since they'd seen each other, it was hard to know where to begin. How to explain. Or geez, even know if she should explain.

“I saw the tabloids only yesterday.” His frown grew deeper. “I couldn't believe it when my momma showed them to me. You? And my brother? When the hell did that happen?”

“Um—”

“I couldn’t believe it.” His brown gaze was no longer soulful. Instead, it was piercing. “There had to be some mistake. I caught the next plane to England to see what was going on. But then I couldn’t find you. You’re not staying at my place anymore.”

“Ummm,” she mumbled. “No.”

His eyes widened as he put the pieces together. “What? You moved in with the Great Man? Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding.” She scowled at her friend. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

His hands slammed on his hips in disgust. “You gotta give me more than that, kiddo.”

“Well.” She searched in her head for some way to distract him. ”What about you? What's going on with the marriage and Viola? Did you put your foot down and say no?”

“Good try,” he snarled. ”I'm not answering anything, though, until you give me the goods.”

Glancing down at the pavement, she shifted on her feet. ”He…I…”

“Right,” Matt cut in. ”You and my brother in New York. You and him at your grand gallery opening. An opening I could have given you a year ago when I had mine. You refused me. But not my brother. Why?”

“He surprised me. I had no idea what was going on.”

“Or you would have refused it from him also?”

Yes, she would have. The fear had almost destroyed the whole opening and only by a meager strand of willpower had she managed to pull herself together. She would have put a stop to it if she’d known. For sure.

But she felt safe with Marc. His security team helped, yet it was more than that. It was the man himself. So indomitable. So commanding. So protective.

Maybe she wouldn’t have stopped it after all. Maybe she would have let him give her the dream—

“No answer,” her buddy grumbled. “You can't possibly be with him. Not my brother.”

“Why not?” Her temper began to simmer. “I'm not good enough for your brother?”

He gave her a look of pure astonishment. “Hell, no. He's not good enough for you.”

“Don't talk about him like that.”

“Oh, no.” He stared at her in horror. “Don't tell me the Great Man has fooled you into—”

“I’m not a fool.”
I’m not. I’m not.

“Darcy.” His hands grabbed her shoulders in a tight, desperate grip and almost lifted her off her feet. “The guy is going to eat you up and spit you out. You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“How can you talk about your brother like that?” She looked at his grim face with bewilderment. “I thought, deep down, you really loved him.”

“I did.” A muscle in his jaw clenched. “I do. But not for you.”

“Why not?”

“
Dio
.” He peered at her, his eyes narrowing at what he saw on her face. “You’ve slept with him, haven't you?”

“I…I…”

Dropping her back down on her numb feet, he groaned. “I can't believe it.”

Why did she feel ashamed of something that meant everything to her? She tried to find an answer, some way of telling Matt of the changes inside her, but she was stymied by his visible anger and frustration. She honestly thought maybe, possibly, he'd be happy when he found out about Marc and her together.

“Of all the guys.” His serious gaze latched on to hers. “You had to go and pick him?”

“He's w-wonderful. At first it was tough. Now, though, now—”

“Darcy.” Matt looked at her with pity. “He goes through women like tissue paper. To him, women are to be used and discarded.”

“I know. Still—”

“I think he hates women.” He swung his arm in a tense slash. “He has only one use for them. That's all.”

“Not now.” She held on to her dream with a tight grip. “Not with me.”

“Dammit.” His shoulders slumped. “I'm going to have to kill him.”

A choked, horrified laugh came from her. “Don't be barmy.”

“How in the hell did you two hook up?”

She certainly wasn't going to respond to this question. Then his desire to kill his older brother would become even more pronounced.

Matt glared at her, gaze grim. “I'm starting to get a clue here. Suddenly, I get told to take myself off to Italy.”

She stared back at him, watching as the wheels in his brain ground towards the truth.

He continued. “And less than three weeks later, I find out my best bud has developed an unexpected attachment to my ruthless brother.”

“I went to see him.” She wouldn’t let Matt think the worst of his brother. Marc needed his brother, and his brother’s love, even if he didn’t know it yet. “I was the one who initiated the contact. Not him.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed. “And what? It was love and kisses from the moment you met?”

“Something like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Rank disbelief colored his disgusted dismissal of her claim.

“I wanted him to stop your marriage.” Her hands fluttered in the air as she tried to make him understand. “I still want him to stop forcing you into this marriage.”

“Let me guess,” he sneered. “My big brother said what he always says when it doesn't suit his plan. No.”

“So far.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I kind of got distracted.”

His laugh was harsh. “Yeah. I bet. He is good at distracting women.”

“But I'm working on it.”

“Never mind about that.” All at once, the edge of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “I don't want you to stop the marriage.”

“What?”

“I want to get married to Viola.” He peeked at her, his eyes filled with a surprising emotion.

“You’ve fallen in love with her?”

“Yep.”

“Matt.” She leapt into his arms once more, smiling into his face. “I'm so happy for you.”

“I wish I could say the same for you,” he sighed. But a grin slowly crossed his face. “Ah, Darcy. You can't believe how happy I am.”

“Stay away from her.” The growl rolled straight through them. Before she could turn and find out what was going on, she was yanked from Matt's arms. Then pushed behind a man whose whole body screamed masculine outrage.

“What the hell?” Matt's face filled with stunned disbelief as he looked at his older brother. “Are you crazy?”

Darcy sensed the force of Marc's fury and reached out, touching his back, trying to soothe him. Before she could find any words to reassure him, though, he’d lifted his younger brother by the lapels of his coat and slammed him against the fence encircling the park. “You heard what I told you.” He shook Matt once more. “Stay away from her.”

Dropping him, he turned and for the first time, she saw his face. It was white with anger, taut with tension. His eyes were stormy, almost black with his rage. He grabbed her arm.

“Marc,” she gasped. “You—”

“
Stai zitto
.” He pulled her toward a waiting limo.

She didn’t need a translator to understand his meaning.
Be quiet. Shut up.
But Darcy wasn’t a
be quiet-shut up
kind of girl. He should know that by now. “You don't understand—”

“I understand completely,” he snarled, as he thrust her into the car.

The cold from outside entered her body and went straight to the depths of her soul. She knew at this instant the fragile peace between them was blown apart forever. She knew exactly what was in his head. He had never believed her about Matt, and she’d unwisely put the whole misunderstanding in the back of her head these last five days when she might have had a chance to crack through his cynicism.

Because she didn’t want to stop building the bridge. Ruin the peace. Destroy her dreams.

“Make sure he's back in Italy by the end of the day,” he stated to his security. “Watch him. I don't want this to happen again.”

“Of course, sir.”

An astonished Matt was hustled into another car and driven off.

Marcus slid into the seat beside her and the door slammed shut. Their limo pulled smoothly into the stream of traffic going in the opposite direction of his brother’s. She heard the sound of his breath, harsh and low. She sensed the heat of his anger pulsing through his body. She felt the cold glare coming from him, boring into the side of her head.