Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (72 page)

“Would you care to eat something before we sleep? I can microwave something.”

Why spoil dinner with airplane food? “I thought we’re supposed to have dinner at a new Italian restaurant tonight.”

“We’ll dine there tomorrow. It’s a little…out of the way.”

Where was this place?

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry anymore.” Not for food, anyway. Would they make love again at long last?

The sofa began to vibrate, and the back reclined to form what her mind’s eye pictured as a bed in the sleeper car of a train. He stretched out beside her and pulled a light blanket over them. He’d removed his clothing as well at some point. Obviously sleep wasn’t on the agenda. She smiled.

Mile High Club, here I come!

His finger and thumb teased her nipple to a hard peak, and she wiggled her butt against his erection. Now she was wide-awake for another reason. But soon his hand stopped its motions. She no longer felt his cock against her ass. A moment later, his hand fell away from her breast. When his breathing became steady, she realized he’d fallen asleep.

Angelina sighed. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the ordeal he’d been through almost a month ago, and they’d only flown back from Southern California yesterday. She settled her backside against him, content to snuggle. His arm surrounding her made her feel safe.

Why he’d had her dress for a date only to fall asleep puzzled her. How could she possibly sleep so early in the evening? Thank goodness he’d instructed her not to wear makeup or she’d look like a raccoon.

The whisper of the jet engines hurtling them to their mysterious destination continued to hum. Her eyelids drooped…

“Marc…”

A deep voice intruded into her sleep and made her jump.

“We’ve been given clearance to land, and we’re about thirty minutes out. Prepare for landing and buckle up.”

Angelina wondered who flew the plane. His voice sounded oddly familiar, but she didn’t know any pilots.

“Let’s get dressed,
amore
.”

Marc helped her up from their bed. “Lift your arms.” She did as he instructed, and he pulled the dress down her arms and over her head before adjusting it. He placed the headphones on her again.

Angelina groaned. “Marc, please! Not again!”

In response to her whining, she earned a swat to her butt, but he gave her a brief kiss before leading her back to her seat and buckling her in.

* * *

Marc dressed for dinner after he buckled Angelina into her seat. Before doing the same, he nibbled her neck once more. She tasted so good. How could he have fallen asleep when he’d planned to have sex with her on the jet? He hoped he didn’t embarrass himself like that again during this four-day trip. Some Italian lover he was.

When he pulled away, she smiled at him so sweetly, he realized she must have understood. He fought the urge to remove the blindfold, so he could look into her eyes again to be certain. Nerves frayed, he took a deep breath, feeling the familiar hitch in his side from adhesions. He needed to remember to breathe more evenly.

What if he hadn’t gotten any closer to being able to trust a woman than he had been when his sense of security had been shattered as a child?

But Angelina wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. She was honest, giving…
trusting
. And she seemed to genuinely love him—not because his name was D’Alessio or because his family had money or because he owned a successful business. No, she loved him just because he was Marc—

“Final call. Prepare for landing, Marc.” Patrick’s voice brought him back to the moment.

He buckled himself into the seat next to Angelina and reached for her hand. Marc turned away, glancing out the window as he watched the landscape zip by the window. Snow-covered Alps gave way to orchards and vineyards, cattle grazing, old stone farmhouses, elaborate villas, and more and more houses as Milan grew closer.

Home. But it no longer felt like home to him. He’d spent the first eleven years of his life in this region and expected to feel a sense of belonging, but it eluded him. Would that feeling return when he reached his childhood village?

Perhaps he didn’t belong anywhere.

Angelina squeezed his hand as if she sensed his tension. He turned toward her, and she smiled in his general direction, her sight and hearing still closed off. The jet landed smoothly and taxied across the tarmac before it came to a stop. Marc unbuckled their seatbelts and, still holding her hand, helped her up from the chair.

He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, so he collected their things while Patrick smoothed things over with customs by showing passports and papers. Once the okay came through, he guided Angelina to the exit, thanking Gunnar for everything and making arrangements for the return flight in a few days. He preceded Angelina down the stairs, never releasing her right hand but letting her hold onto the railing with her left for a sense of security. He’d be there to catch her if she tripped. Marc would never allow his precious angel to be harmed if he could help it.

At customs, they still managed to get flagged despite Patrick’s efforts, and Marc had a dickens of a time making the agent understand Angelina wasn’t being kidnapped. Frustrated and ready to be on their way, he pulled the headset away from her left ear. “
Amore
, there’s a gentleman standing here who wants to know if you’re being kidnapped. Would you please explain, in Italian, what your current predicament is?” Marc hoped this wouldn’t spoil his surprise completely.

She quirked a brow but said in impeccable Italian, “
Signore
, this man is the love of my life and he is taking me on a romantic date to a new Italian restaurant, but it’s a surprise, hence the headphones and blindfold.” Her smile would have melted anyone’s heart and certainly succeeded in doing so with both Marc and the customs agent.

Italy…truly the land of lovers.

Marc planned to keep these Latin lovers away from his girl. He returned the headphone to her ear and guided her to the Ferrari rental parked outside the gate. After both were enfolded into the leather interior, he glanced over to watch her cute little nose sniffing the air. Her nipples bunched. The woman truly loved the smell of leather. He grinned as he pulled away from the lot and headed out of the city. They wouldn’t spend a lot of time in Milan, although he did want to share some of the cultural sights of the province of Brescia with her during their time here.

First, though, the dinner he’d promised. It was early afternoon here, but she must be starving given the eight-hour time difference, not to mention spending twelve hours in the air. He hated that he was depriving her of seeing the scenery, but he would show her around soon. Besides, they’d see the same scenery when they returned to the airport four days from now.

The really spectacular scenery was yet to come, at least as far as he remembered, although it was too early in the year for the grape vines to be leafed out. But the snow-capped mountains and glacial lake would make up for their absence. Alpine flowers would be in full bloom when he took her hiking on the Maddalena. Angelina loved flowers.

“I’m dying to know where you’re taking me for dinner.”

He didn’t respond, knowing she wouldn’t hear him anyway. He just reached over and squeezed her thigh. When she opened her legs to him, he chuckled.
Dio
, he loved this responsive woman. He’d never met anyone who had been able to keep up with him sexually until her.

But he wanted more than a sexual relationship with her.

Could he expect to find what Adam and Karla or Damián and Savannah had found with each other? Why the hell not? The only thing holding him back was himself.

You can be the man she deserves.

He placed both hands on the steering wheel and maneuvered around a sharp curve as he continued toward their destination—and the rest of their lives together.

He hoped.

* * *

Angelina still had no clue where they were. She’d thought they were headed to New York. Or maybe California. Had he heard about a place while they were there for the wedding? But after speaking with someone in Italian, she began to wonder if they’d traveled all the way to Italy. The flight had taken so long that they had slept at some point, so she had no clue how many hours they’d been gone. Her growling stomach told her it had been more than six hours.

But Italy?

Would he bring her all this way for dinner? What about passports? Well, she still had a valid one that she’d used to travel to Sicily to visit Nonna.

No. No way, especially not in a private jet. Marc was no jet setter, even if his family might be able to afford it. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

The smell of leather in the sports car kicked her libido into high gear. She hoped there would be a night at a hotel as part of this date. Her body swayed as he navigated the car around a number of curves. The breeze she’d felt when they’d deplaned reminded her of the Rockies in late spring.

After at least half an hour, he brought the car to a stop and cut the engine. Her heart beat wildly. Soon he’d remove the blindfold and headphones and reveal where he’d taken her on this amazing date. Wherever it was, she knew it would be romantic. Marc loved to excite her senses with food and wine, almost as much as he enjoyed sharing his favorite places in nature with her.

Heck, she’d go camping with him just so they wouldn’t have to be apart.

She assumed Marc opened her door and reached for her elbow, helping her out of the low-riding car. When he wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her lips, he left no doubt because she smelled his Armani Code cologne. She returned his embrace and opened her mouth to him before remembering they were in the midst of an elaborate play scene, and she shouldn’t touch without permission. He didn’t swat her hand away or chastise her the way he once might have.

Instead of guiding her to their destination, he picked her up and carried her. “Marc! Put me down!”

He pinched her thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Would she ever learn not to argue with him when he decided to carry her?

The scent of rosemary, garlic, and lemon wafted to her nostrils. Her mouth watered as her stomach churned to life in what would have been an embarrassing grumble if she could hear. Marc most certainly must have heard it, though.

Okay, she was going to gain five pounds just from smelling such delectable aromas. Wherever he’d taken her for dinner, the man certainly had great taste.

She’d reward him richly later, wherever they wound up spending the night, even if it was on the flight home. But wouldn’t the pilot have to sleep after such a long flight?

Marc lowered her legs to the floor, continuing to support her back until she became steady on her feet. He removed the headphones first, and violin music wafted to her ears. Puccini’s
O Mio Babbino Caro
from Nonna’s opera collection. The only reason she recognized it was that this rendition sung by Maria Callas had been Nonna’s favorite. The aria transported Angelina back to her grandmother’s kitchen in Sicily.

I will not cry and ruin this moment.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, thankful for the blindfold. The lyrics made her ache for Papa and miss him in an intense way.

Oh, my dear papa,

I love him, he is handsome, handsome.

I want to go to Porta Rossa

To buy the ring!

She wished Papa could have lived long enough to meet Marc. He would have approved of him as a potential husband, protector, and provider without a doubt.

What was she thinking?

Stay in this incredible moment, Angie. This is an incredibly romantic dinner date.

No doubt this would be a meal she would remember for all time. She loved this place already. A special dinner in a special restaurant chosen by her very special man.

Marc tugged at the knot in the blindfold and removed it at last. She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the restaurant.

He brushed his thumb on her cheek. “Are you all right?”

She never could hide her tears from the man. Not quite ready to speak, she nodded briskly. After gauging her response for an intense moment, he seemed satisfied and folded and tucked the sash away in his suit-coat pocket. He’d dressed formally, except for the missing tie. The man wore his clothes so well, both casual and formal.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she glanced around the restaurant. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, thank goodness, regardless of the fact he’d brought her here blindfolded with huge headphones covering her ears. Maybe they thought he just wanted to surprise her, which he had.

The restaurant had no windows, but it must be late. White linens and deep pink cyclamen adorned each candlelit table. Fan-shaped napkins were tucked inside each bone china soup bowl at the place settings. Elegance personified.

Angelina turned to Marc again and smiled. “It’s beautiful! How did you ever find it?”

He placed the headphones on the extra seat beside him. “A man doesn’t reveal all of his secrets,
bella
.”

A man like Marc revealed very few of them, actually.

He pulled a violin-backed chair away from a table set for two. There were several groups dining family style nearby, sharing bowls of delicious-looking dishes. Their classic European clothing reminded her of summers with her grandmother in Sicily.

For the first time, Angelina noticed no one else spoke English.

Mio Dio
, he had brought her to Italy! She glanced at him, but he seemed more intent on sampling the bottle of wine the server had brought to the table. The two also conversed in Italian.

Oh, no way were they in the United States. She decided to let him do the big reveal in his own time. As she surveyed the restaurant, she wished there was one like it in Colorado. She’d give anything to work in the kitchen of a place like this.

Where
were
they specifically, though? Tuscany? Lombardy?