Bella Rosa Proposals: Star-Crossed Sweethearts

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“For what? For paying attention? I may not have known you long, Atlanta, but it’s plain to me the kind of person you are…and the kind of person you aren’t.”

She swallowed and shrugged. “That’s neither here nor there. Getting back to my point, despite being moneymakers, only a couple of my movies received positive reviews. The majority were panned.”

“To hell with the critics.” Angelo fumed on her behalf. He’d endured similar armchair analyses from so-called experts over the years. “What do they know?”

She sighed. “They know good acting, and so do I. I’m capable of it, too. I just haven’t found the right vehicle to stretch my talent. With Zeke, it became increasingly clear over the past few years that I never would. Every time I wanted to so much as read a script from a little-known screenwriter or got wind of a project that didn’t require me to show my cleavage, he vetoed it.”

“Is that why you finally left him?”

“I’d had enough,” she said softly.

“Good for you.”

“When I first met Zeke, I thought he was my savior, but it turned out I’d merely traded one male keeper for another.”

“How so?”

She blinked as if just realizing what she’d said. He doubted she knew how haunted or sad she looked. It was her expression that kept him from pushing when she said, “We’ll save that for another day. Do you realize it’s nearly midnight?”

He stood and came around the table, where he offered her his hand. “Tomorrow then.”

“Excuse me?” she asked as she rose to her feet.

“Tomorrow is another day. We can pick up where we left off. We could do dinner again.”

“Angelo—”

“You don’t have to tell me any deep, dark secrets. But if you do, you can trust me not to share anything I learn with another person.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it. “You’ll find me a good listener, Atlanta. Every bit as good as you were tonight when I bared my soul.”

“Then maybe you’ll take a bit of advice. You’re here to see your father, Angelo. You can’t keep avoiding him by spending all of your time with me.”

“You’re the only reason this trip is tolerable.” When Atlanta opened her mouth to protest, he added, “Don’t worry about Luca. My father and I will have our talk. A family gathering is planned. I’ll see him then and get to meet the rest of the clan.” He couldn’t quite keep the dread from his tone.

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that.”

“Maybe not.” He smiled. “You and I will skip out early. I see no point in staying for more than a few introductions and some small talk.”

That had Atlanta blinking. “You’re asking me to come with you?”

“I could use an ally.”

“It’s a family party, Angelo.”

“They’re strangers,” he corrected. “The only thing we have in common is DNA.”

He thought of Isabella and guilt nipped. The description didn’t seem fair. His sister was kind, interesting and spirited. He liked her, admired her. The fragile bond he already felt went beyond the Casali blue eyes and a blunt chin. Under other circumstances…

But the circumstances couldn’t be changed, which meant he was left to make the best of them.

“There’s no need to give me your answer right now. You can think about it. As for tomorrow, I’ll call early in the day, so you can figure out what our plans will be and what I should wear.”

She tipped her head to one side. “You want me to tell you what to wear?”

“No. I just want to be with you. But if that’s what it takes…”

He pulled her tight against him and kissed her with more passion than was wise. Was he testing her or testing himself? She sighed her consent as their lips parted. A moment later, however, her tone was no breathy whisper when she added, “We need to get one thing straight.”

“And that is?” He ran his knuckles down the sides of her ribcage before resting his hands on her waist and was pleased when he felt her tremble.

Her voice remained steady and strong when she said, “We share the decision-making. Okay?”

As he lowered his mouth to hers for the second time, he whispered, “I’ve got no problem with that.”

Atlanta was still in bed when Angelo called the following morning.

And the morning after that.

And the morning after that.

It became their habit to spend the better part of the day together and then share the evening meal. In addition to eating in, they’d dined at nearly every place in Monta Correnti. Except for Rosa and Sorella, of course.

Afterward, they talked, kissed and bade one another goodnight. It was unexpected and sweet. What was happening between them was neither friendship nor a fling. An exact definition failed her, but she knew one thing: it was becoming an exquisite kind of torture.

On this morning, Angelo’s deep voice reached through the phone like a caress.

“Did you sleep well?”

She’d barely slept at all. Again. Between Angelo’s increasingly bold kisses and her barely restrained responses to those kisses, she’d passed the better part of another night tossing and turning. While her legs had become tangled in the sheets, her mind had been free to roam. Time and again it strayed to sex…with Angelo. If the skill he’d shown with his mouth was any indication, the ultimate act would be good. Very good. At least from her perspective. But how would he rate the experience? Old insecurities bubbled back.

Zeke had been critical of her lovemaking.

“It’s a good thing your male fans aren’t privy to how inept you are in the sack, love. Ticket sales would tank.”

The memory had her stammering as she tried to speak to Angelo now.

“I…I…”

“I know. Me, too.”

His voice held humor, but it wasn’t directed at her. She pulled the lapels of her silk pajamas together, gathered her wits and struggled to a sitting position.

“So, what do you want to do today?”

“Do you really have to ask? I think you know what I’d like to do today. It’s the same thing I wanted to do last night and the night before and the night before.”

Atlanta levered the phone away from her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her staggered breathing. Angelo broke the silence with a chuckle.

“Okay, I won’t go there.” Laughter rumbled again before he lowered his voice. In a silken whisper he added, “Yet. The day’s young. There’s plenty of time to revisit my original answer later on.”

“Sightseeing!” she all but shouted.

“Sightseeing?”

In a less zealous tone, she told him, “The woman who owns the villa I’m renting said some medieval fortress ruins are located not that far away. We’d have to drive some and then walk a ways since they are on a remote hilltop, but I’m up for some exercise.”

“So am I,” he quipped. “Or at least I can be at a moment’s notice.”

Despite her popping hormones, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’m talking about walking, Angelo.”

“There are other, more stimulating ways to increase your heart rate, you know.”

“Yes. A simple conversation with you is one of them.” She waited for his comeback, something cocky and off-color, but the phone line remained silent. “Angelo?”

“You shouldn’t tell a guy something like that,” he said at last, sounding much too serious.

“Why?”

“It might give him ideas.”

“From what I can tell, you have plenty of ideas already.” Feeling emboldened, she took the initiative to flirt. “What are you wearing?”

“You want to know what I’m wearing?” It was apparent in his tone that her boldness took him aback.

She laughed. “I’m wearing a cotton sheet and a smile. So, what about you?”

“Apparently one article of clothing too many. But that’s easy enough to remedy,” he assured her. “Hang on a minute, okay?”

“Angelo?” She got no response. Had he put down the receiver? She heard a creaking noise. Were those…bedsprings? Surely not. Even so, her grip tightened on the lapels of her pajama top and she had to pull it out from her chest a few times to cool her suddenly heated skin.

Angelo came back on the line then. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing now, Atlanta?”

His words held a dare. She nearly backed down. Basta. She’d had enough of meekness.

“I think I can guess,” she told him. “Hmm. Let’s see. A smile?”

“That’s a given. What else?”

The seductive voice that replied was one she barely recognized as her own. Even while filming a love scene on the set, she’d never sounded like this, nor had she ever felt this way around a man. Confident. Powerful. Sexy and in control.

You’re worthless, Jane. Worthless. You can’t do anything right. Just like your mother.

Body of a centerfold and no clue how to use it. Good thing your fans can’t see into our bedroom.

She banished the ugly memories and embraced the moment instead. “You do know that that sheet is optional, right?”

“Same goes.”

“I have a confession to make.”

“You’re not wearing a sheet.”

“I’m not.” She fingered the fabric-covered button between her breasts. Before she could fathom what she was doing, she’d fished it one-handed through its hole. A second one followed before she asked, “Does this constitute phone sex?”

“No. It’s more like phone foreplay. For the record, I prefer to do both in person. I can be at your villa in fifteen minutes if I don’t bother with stop signs and get lucky on those hairpin turns.”

“A tempting offer.” She meant it. Should she say yes? She wanted to. But the power she’d felt just a moment earlier proved fleeting. Her hand stilled on the third button. “You can take your time getting here, though. The ruins aren’t going anywhere.”