Scorpio Sons 4: Chase: (SF/Shifter Romance) (23 page)

Excerpt from Scorpio Sons 5: Cameron

ROME 2 Years Ago

Antonia Maggiarra laughed. It was a relief to release some of the pent-up stress that had been her constant companion since the first death threat arrived.

“I had forgotten how lovely your laugh is, my sweet. You should do it more often,” Mario Maggiarra said, with an indulgent grin, as he took his daughter’s elbow and directed her towards the glass doors that led out into the sweating chaos of inner-city Rome.

“I would if I wasn’t worrying about you all the time,” she countered, lifting her perfectly arched eyebrow and looking down her short nose at him.

“The police have been notified. They think the threats are fallacious, meant to frighten me to back off.” He waved his beefy arm up in a theatrical gesture meant to dismiss the series of messages, cut from of his own political broadsheets, which had been arriving on his desk with alarming regularity over the last few weeks.

“Maybe you should. The Guild is powerful and deadly, you of all people know that.” Antonia rested her head on her father’s broad, well-cushioned shoulder as they walked.

They had always been as close as father and child could be, particularly since Maria Maggiarra had been killed in a suspicious accident ten years ago. Though she’d always known she wasn’t the Maggiarras’ child by blood, she had always felt like theirs by love. And after Maria died, instead of half as much love coming her way, Mario had increased his contribution so that the then twelve-year-old girl didn’t feel as keenly the loss of her beloved mother. Her cup had always been full to overflowing with affection.

“The Guild isn’t this amateur. The threats are unprofessional, almost childish in their presentation. No, this is some low-level Mafioso who thinks to stop my investigations into organised crime in Napoli. Believe me, my sweet, if the Guild had me on their radar I’d be dead by now.”

They’d reached the sizzling, overly-bright street, and Toni pulled out her Gucci sunglasses. Her position as a rising star of
Gia
, a monthly fashion and lifestyle magazine, granted her access to a wealth of fashionable clothing and accessories, courtesy of the industry. Though she enjoyed looking good and dressing her long, slim body in expensive fabrics, she kept her wardrobe low-key. Her role in the industry wasn’t to shine bright, but to shine the light on others. To do that she needed to be respected for her dress sense, without being lauded for it.

“Are you meeting that lovely Scottish lassie today?” Mario said in a blatant effort to change the topic.

“Arianna, yes. She’s supposed to meet me here any time now. You go along. I know you have an important meeting. If she leaves me standing too long in this sun I’ll step back inside. Who would expect May to be this hot?”

“Global Warming,” muttered Mario darkly, as he pressed a damp kiss to Toni’s perfectly made-up cheek.

“All caused by the excesses of the Guild. I know Papa, I know,” she waved him off with another throaty laugh, and was rewarded with a masculine chuckle.

She watched as he made his way across the busy street to his compact car, a prototype that was still not available for sale on the open market. Because her father’s broadsheet was liberal and supportive of environmental concerns, he’d been offered the small bug-like vehicle to test drive. He’d loved it so much that he’d pulled some strings and bought it. Now the bright red bug was his pride and joy, and it always amused her to watch such a big man fold himself up like a concertina to get inside it.

Toni heard her name, and glanced in the direction of the voice. A tall, voluptuous black woman with shaved head, and dressed in bright flowing sundress, waved at her energetically as she ploughed, warrior-princess-like, through the crowd-clogged sidewalk.

The explosion was so sudden and intense that Toni couldn’t, at first, register what had happened. The ground beneath her feet bucked, a brilliant light blinded her, and the boom hurt her ears as flying debris cut into her body like a spoon into melting sorbet. But it was the sudden, overwhelming stench that was the worst: burning rubber, gasoline and cooked flesh.

In slow motion, she swivelled in the direction of the noise and light. Where her father’s little car had been, only moments before, there was now just a burned out metal carcass, still aflame.

Panic overwhelmed her. She tried to run towards the wreck, towards the place where her father should have been. But strong, dark arms surrounded her, holding her in place as her legs gave way under her.

“Oh, Toni... No, you can’t go over there. You’re bleeding. You’re cut—” The voice was so faint and muffled she could barely hear it, yet she recognised it as Ari’s. While her world crumpled around her she recognised Arianna.

“Papa!” she heard someone scream. “Papa!”

In the next instant the world blinked out of existence as she dropped into oblivion.

LONDON The Present

The Stadium at Somerset House was going to be packed for the Burberry Prorsum display. Cameron groaned silently, running his fingers through his shock of blonde hair yet again. This world of artifice was hard to stomach, especially when he had more important matters to concern himself with. But Meredith had been sulking lately, and he thought it might be because of rumours concerning his supposed new mistress. So it was better to suck it up and play the adoring fiancé for a while, to put those rumours to rest.

“There she is. Oh, I knew my contacts were right. See there, Cameron, that’s Antonia Maggiarra, the very best of the fashion journalists from Italy!” Meredith exclaimed, discretely pointing to a tall, slim, elegantly dressed Eurasian woman just coming in the door.

Cameron growled this time. He had no desire to be forced to greet yet another supposedly famous person Meredith wanted to use. Her incessant need to prove herself the best, the brightest light, and the most influential of her peers, was draining.

“Come on. If I catch her now I might be able to get her to agree to an interview. If
Gia
does a story on me, my name is made as a trend-setter in London. Come on, Cameron. Stop dragging your feet.” She pulled on his arm, attracting more than one set of curious and sympathetic eyes to him.

To the world he looked like the docile, hen-pecked fiancé of an obscenely wealthy socialite. Only in the bedroom did he turn the tables and show his dominance. Luckily, hatred was a good sexual stimulant, and Meredith liked it rough.

“Oh, Miss Maggiarra, so happy to see you here at our Fashion Week. I’m Meredith Hall, one of your biggest fans, and this is my fiancé, Cameron Haversham Smythe. He’s in line for a title, you know.”

The disgusted expression on the exquisite face was there and gone in the blink of an eye. He doubted any normal human eye would have registered it. However, to Cameron’s cat eyes, it may as well been plastered on a billboard, it was so obvious. But in the next blink the journalist had pasted on her best smile and was shaking Meredith’s extended hand.

“So pleased to meet you, Miss Hall. I think I’ve heard of you, too.” Her husky voice was a perfect complement to her faint Italian accent. Just enough of both to set his loins on fire.

God, how could one woman have beauty as coldly elegant as this one and yet a voice so hot it could melt metal? The juxtaposition was more arousing than any combination he’d ever come across before.

Not that he was overly aroused by any woman he’d met, not even the Mates.

Nor men either, just for the record.

But this woman... she blasted him out of his dutiful cone of silence right into the sweltering heat of instant passion.

Confused by his reaction, he kept his neutral, slightly bored expression in place as he tried to sort out what was going on.

“Mr Haversham Smythe, is it? You must be a very devoted lover to venture into the rarefied air of Somerset House for your fiancé.” Having those liquid ebony eyes on him, made him sweat. He desperately wanted to reposition his growing cock, but to do so would have been too obvious and gauche. He had to think of something else. Something other than those almond shaped eyes that seemed to look right into his soul.

And found him wanting.

That stopped his internal squirming in an instant. Why did she compliment him with her words and yet tear him to pieces with her steely gaze? They didn’t know each other, did they? She certainly wasn’t a past fling he’d forgotten. He’d never had time for women until Meredith appeared on his radar and he’d finally found his way in to the Guild Board.

But this sexy, astute woman didn’t know his motivations. Maybe she assumed he was gay, as so many people did, and that he was still firmly locked in the closet, playing the part of the lovestruck beau for appearance sake alone.

It
was
a role he played, but not to hide his sexual orientation. He would have had no problem coming out if he was, in fact, gay. But he wasn’t. So he resented the label, even as he hid behind it.

“Watching pretty women strut their stuff on a catwalk is hardly onerous, Miss Maggiarra. And even if it was, pleasing Meredith is my first consideration.” He took up his fiancé’s hand and kissed its back.

Meredith’s self-satisfied giggle was annoying, and he wasn’t sure he hid his reaction fast enough. Had this journalist been one of the Mates she might have caught it, but –

Sweat broke out on his forehead instantly, even though the room was only mildly overheated.

One of the Mates.

Good God, she couldn’t be one of theirs, could she? That would explain his interest. Maybe the arousal was so extreme because she was unclaimed. He’d never met an unclaimed Mate before.

But hadn’t Connor said that the unclaimed Alyssa had only registered for him as just an attractive woman until Colt has activated her and she’d became a lot more interesting?

So, if that was the case, why would Antonia Maggiarra have this affect on him? Even if she was activated, he wouldn’t be feeling
this
aroused. Allie had interested him, mostly because it annoyed Connor so much, but that interest was nothing compared to this feral urge to claim what was his.

Shit! Claim what was
his?

This tough-edged journalist, with the face of a goddess and the voice of a siren, was
his
mate?

No. He had no time for such nonsense. He was marrying Meredith. His future course was set. He already had one supposed mistress in Allie, he couldn’t take on a real one. And if he gave in to this mating urge, it wouldn’t be enough to keep her as his mistress. He’d need her at his side every day. And her work was clearly important to her. She wouldn’t walk away from it, to be locked away in a love-nest, waiting for times he could see her.

And there would be no time. No time for his own needs or desires. No time for anything but the role he was born to play.