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La Vita Dolce Ch. 01

By: DuskyGirl



*i'm trying something out...i'm not quite sure how it's going to go. but we'll see...hopefully you enjoy*

She consoled herself as the plane began to descend. 'It's all right, everything is fine. Everything is under control. You've been here before.' 

She drew a hard breath. 

She wondered what she would say the moment she saw her uncle, the notorious Renoldo Pezzini. 

She drew an absolute blank. 

Natasha James stepped off the plane feeling severely jetlagged and supremely rumpled. Wisps of dark hair had succeeded in pulling free from the ponytail at the base of her neck. Her mascara was slightly smudged, making her eyes appear smoky. She yawned fetchingly and squinting into the sunlight she slipped a pair of dark Gucci sunglasses over her eyes. She made her way down the stairs slinging her purse over her shoulder. The heels of her stiletto boots clicked on the metallic steps. Eyes were on her. Even jetlagged and rumpled, Natasha James was gorgeous. The daughter of a black military man and an Italian heiress, her looks were quite unique; caramel colored skin, raven hair that fell in loose waves over her shoulders, changeling eyes...The young woman attracted attention wherever she went. 

A man waited at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her expectantly. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses. His skin was Italian gold and his dark hair was swept back from his face. He was very Italian and would have been extremely handsome were it not for the rigid stance and the stern expression on his face. "Ms. James?" 

Natasha slid the sunglasses up onto her head and eyed him critically. "That depends on who's asking."

He cleared his throat, slightly taken back by her answer, but his face remained impassive. He said in a heavy Italian accent "Your uncle sends his apologies. He has business to attend to."

Natasha frowned. Her voice was dry. "Business? Is that what he calls it?" Then she looked at him more closely. "Alejandro Montelli? Is that you?" She looked him up and down. "My...we're all grown up. And so important too."

His mouth twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. He skirted her sarcasm. "You bags will be taken to the hotel where a car will be provided for your use. Follow me, please."

Natasha followed him over the airfield and into the airport. In the pristine blue and white terminal Natasha headed for the inevitable interrogation at customs. "I thought they weren't letting anyone past security..." Natasha said. Alejandro simply cast her an annoyed glance. 

After the customs officer checked her visa and passport dismissively, she returned it to her handbag, and followed Alejandro out into the terminal. Suddenly she was engulfed in a horde of commuters all rushing to meet their flights. 

When Alejandro stopped abruptly Natasha nearly crashed into his broad back. 

"Wha-?" she blurted, startled. 

He glanced back at her, surprised be her closeness.

He took her arm in a none too gentle grasp and led her to a seat away from the bustling crowds. "Stay." He ordered and turned briskly away from her and disappeared into the crowds. 

Natasha bristled at his order. "Woof." She muttered under her breath. 

She watched the hurrying travelers pass by. 'Like bumper cars ' she thought and grinned. She glanced at her watch, ten minutes. She blew out an exasperated breath. One booted toe tapped the floor. She spotted a coffee bar across the way and suddenly a latte sounded luscious. 

She stood and was making her way across the terminal when a particularly hurried traveler bumped her shoulder, hard. Her purse flew from her shoulder and she stumbled backwards. She skidded across the floor with astonishing velocity. She teetered precariously on her heels and a small shriek tore itself from her throat as she began to fall backwards. 

She fell against a tall, hard, male body. She winced and flushed with embarrassment as two strong hands took hold of her shoulders and she was unceremoniously set on her feet. 

She was about to face her rescuer when she spotted her purse, its contents spilling across the floor. She bent quickly and began to gather her things back into her purse. She was reaching for her compact then promptly drew her hand back as a shoe came down and crushed it. 

"Lovely." She sighed and bent her head. It was the last straw. She was motionless a moment as tears of frustration threatened to fall behind the expensive shades. 

A pair of black wingtips appeared before her eyes beneath a pair of exquisitely tailored black slacks. The legs bent and a man came into her sight. He handed her her passport with a gleam of white teeth. "I believe this belongs to you."

Natasha smiled weakly and stared. Lord he was gorgeous. Tanned Italian skin, a shock of dark hair falling over his brow. Super sleek sunglasses shielded his eyes from her view. His lips were perfect and finely sculpted, sensual. His sideburns were worn long, stopping just short of his strong jaw line. His black v-neck sweater stretched over taut lean muscle. 

She felt herself flush and was immediately thankful for her sunglasses. The tears that had welled were precariously close to falling. She resisted reaching to brush them away. Her voice wavered slightly. "Thanks." she said taking her passport from his outstretched hand. 

The corner of his lips lifted in a smile. He stood and offered his hand. He took hold and lifted her to her feet. His hand did not release hers. The tears chose that moment fall. A tear made its way from beneath the dark shades to trail down her cheek. His brows drew together in a look of concern. He opened his mouth to speak but Alejandro was there before he could utter a word. She slid her hand hurriedly from the stranger's grasp, blushing.

Alejandro's hand was firm on her back as he eyed the stranger suspiciously with quiet menace. The man didn't seem to notice. His gaze was fixed on Natasha.

"Natasha lets go." Alejandro said quietly his eyes never leaving the man across from them. He guided her around him and Natasha glanced back to see the stranger still standing there. 

Alejandro was annoyed. "You, of all people, need to be careful of who you talk to." He didn't notice the tear streaks on her cheeks.

"And why, exactly, is that?" She wanted him to say it. 

He wouldn't. "Don't play games. Stop being a child." 

She hooked her arm through his, trying to make her voice light. "What's wrong with you? We used to be cool when we were kids."

He frowned and disentangled his arm. "I work for your uncle now. Things are different." 

Natasha caught her lip between her teeth and lowered her head. Alejandro glanced at her but said nothing. 

Natasha followed him outside. As they appeared a black, Rolls Royce Seraph limousine navigated past a horde of Renault taxis beside the mosaic pavement. Its sky-roof was open to reveal the cap of the chauffeur. From the front passenger seat a man in a black suit with more menace than personality opened the door for her. "Miss James," he gestured.

"How very discreet." Natasha remarked. 

A tall bald man in a dark suit watched them from across the street. People swarmed and moved around him. He remained perfectly still. There was something decidedly unsettling about him. He was staring. Natasha looked around. He was definitely looking at them. "Alejandro? Who is that?" 

Alejandro's expression darkened and he spared the man a mere glance. " Benicio Morelli. A henchman of your uncle's enemy and someone you should definitely avoid."

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you just say 'henchman'?"

"Get in the car." He hissed. 

"But –"

Alejandro all but threw her into the back of the limo before settling himself next to the driver.

Gianni Angiolini also watched the limousine pull away taking the girl with it. Natasha. He liked the name. It was perfect for her, unique, sexy. Her face was in his mind. The dark arched brows, the full pink lips beneath a piquant nose. Her raven hair had framed her face to perfection. Her body was exquisite, young, slender but curved in all the right places. A smile unwittingly curved on his lips. 

He had been about to ask her name when that man had shown up. Gianni hadn't really looked at the man. He had been possessive. A husband? A fiancé, maybe. Gianni grimaced. Something about her companion had sparked his memory but refused to surface. 

The shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted his thought. "Yes?" he was irritated.

"You've missed your window. I need you here now."

Gianni's jaw tightened. "Shit." He cursed and flipped the phone shut without responding. His keys jangled as he strode towards the black jag on the curb. The doors clicked as he pressed the key. He got in, slamming the door behind him. The engine roared to life and he shot away from the curb. 

La Vita Dolce Ch. 01



She attempted console herself as the plane began to descend and calm her rattled nerves. 'It's all right, everything is fine. Everything is under control. You've been here before.'

Pursing her lips, she blew out a slow stream of air.

She wondered what she would say the moment she saw her uncle, the notorious Renoldo Pezzini.

She drew an absolute blank.

Natasha James stepped off the plane feeling severely jetlagged and supremely rumpled. She grimaced. She felt like hell. Wisps of dark hair had succeeded in pulling free from the ponytail at the base of her neck. Her mascara was slightly smudged, making her eyes appear smoky. She yawned fetchingly and squinting into the sunlight she slipped a pair of dark Gucci sunglasses over her eyes. She made her way down the stairs slinging her purse over her shoulder. The heels of her stiletto boots clicked on the metallic steps. Eyes were on her. Even jetlagged and rumpled, Natasha James was gorgeous. The daughter of a black military man and an Italian heiress, her looks were quite unique; caramel colored skin, raven hair that fell in loose waves over her shoulders, changeling eyes...The young woman attracted attention wherever she went.

A man waited at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her expectantly. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses. His skin was Italian gold and his dark hair was swept back from his face. He was very Italian and she would have found him extremely handsome were it not for the rigid stance and the stern expression that marred his fine features. "Ms. James?"

Natasha slid the sunglasses up onto her head and eyed him critically. "That depends on who's asking," she grumbled. 

He cleared his throat and shifted, slightly taken back by her answer, but his face remained impassive. He said in a heavy Italian accent "Your uncle sends his apologies. He has business to attend to."

Natasha frowned, her lips twisting wryly. Her voice was dry. "Business? Is that what he calls it?" Then she looked at him more closely. "Alejandro Montelli? Is that you?" She looked him up and down with a smirk. "My...we're all grown up. And so important too."

His mouth twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. He skirted her sarcasm. "You bags will be taken to the hotel where a car will be provided for your use. Follow me, please."

Natasha followed him over the airfield and into the airport. In the pristine blue and white terminal Natasha headed for the inevitable interrogation at customs. "I thought they weren't letting anyone past security..." Natasha said. Alejandro simply cast her a beleaguered glance.

After the customs officer checked her visa and passport dismissively, she returned it to her handbag, and followed Alejandro out into the terminal. Suddenly she was engulfed in a horde of commuters all rushing to meet their flights.

When Alejandro stopped abruptly before her Natasha nearly crashed into his broad back.

"Wha-?" she blurted, startled.

He glanced back at her, surprised be her closeness.

He took her arm in a none too gentle grasp and led her to a seat away from the bustling crowds. "Stay." He ordered and turned briskly away from her and disappeared into the crowds.

Natasha bristled at his order. "Woof." She muttered under her breath.

She watched the hurrying travelers pass by. 'Like bumper cars ' she thought and grinned. She glanced at her watch, ten minutes. She blew out an exasperated breath. One booted toe tapped the floor. She spotted a coffee bar across the way and suddenly a cappuccino sounded desperately tempting.

She stood and was skirting her way across the terminal when a particularly hurried traveler bumped her shoulder, hard. Her purse flew from her shoulder and she stumbled backwards. She skidded across the floor with astonishing velocity. She teetered precariously on her heels and a small startled shriek tore itself from her throat as she began to fall backwards.

She fell against a tall, hard, male body. She winced and flushed with embarrassment as two strong hands took firm hold of her shoulders and she was unceremoniously set on her feet.

She was about to face her rescuer when she spotted her purse, its contents spilling across the floor. "Shit." She bent quickly and began to gather her things back into her purse. She was reaching for her compact then promptly drew her hand back as a shoe came down and crushed it.

"Lovely." She sighed and bent her head. It was the last straw. She was motionless a moment as tears of frustration threatened to fall behind the expensive shades.

As she crouched there fighting back tears, a pair of black wingtips appeared before her eyes beneath a pair of exquisitely tailored black slacks. The legs bent and a man came into her sight. He handed her her wayward passport with a gleam of white teeth. " Credo che questo appartiene a voi."

Natasha smiled weakly and stared. Lord he was gorgeous; tanned golden skin, a shock of dark hair falling over his brow. Super sleek aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes from her view. His lips were perfect and finely sculpted, sensual. His sideburns were worn long, stopping just short of his strong jaw line. His black v-neck sweater stretched over taut lean muscle.

She felt herself flush and was immediately thankful for her sunglasses. The tears that had welled up against her lower lashes were precariously close to falling. She resisted reaching to brush them away. Her voice wavered slightly. "Thanks." she said taking her passport from his outstretched hand.

The corner of his lips lifted in a smile. He stood and offered his hand. He took hold and lifted her to her feet. His hand did not release hers. Damnit, the tears chose that moment fall. A tear made its way from beneath the dark shades to trail down her cheek. His brows drew together in a look of concern. He opened his mouth to speak but Alejandro was there before he could utter a word. She slid her hand hurriedly from the stranger's grasp and sidestepped away from him, flushing.

She glanced at Alejandro. His hand was firm on her back as he eyed the stranger suspiciously with quiet menace. The man didn't seem to notice. He spared Alejandro a mere glance, but gaze was fixed on Natasha.

"Natasha, it's time to go." Alejandro said quietly his eyes steadily trained the man across from them. He guided her around the stranger and Natasha glanced back to see the man still standing there, hands tucked into black trousers. 

Alejandro was annoyed, surprise surprise. "You, of all people, need to be careful of who you speak to." He didn't notice the tear streaks on her cheeks, or it did not concern him. 

She lifted her chin imperiously. "And why, exactly, is that?" She wanted him to say it.

He wouldn't. "Don't play games. This is not the time or the place.."

She hooked her arm through his, trying to make her voice light. "What's wrong with you? We used to be cool when we were kids."

He frowned and disentangled his arm. "I work for your uncle now. Things are different."

Natasha caught her lip between her teeth and lowered her head, nodding to herself. Alejandro glanced at her but said nothing.

Natasha followed him outside. As they appeared a black, Rolls Royce Seraph limousine navigated past a horde of Renault taxis beside the mosaic pavement. Its sky-roof was open to reveal the cap of the chauffeur. From the front passenger seat a man in a black suit with more menace than personality opened the door for her. "Miss James," he gestured.

"How very discreet." Natasha remarked.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably. Her gaze was drawn to a tall bald man in a dark suit across the street. It was difficult to tell if he was looking at her behind his dark glasses but a decidedly uneasy feeling settled low in her belly. People swarmed and moved around him but remained perfectly still. There was something decidedly unsettling about him. He was staring. Natasha looked around. He was definitely looking at them. "Alejandro? Who is that?"

Alejandro followed her gaze and the jerk of her head. His expression hardened and he spared the man a hard look. "Benicio Morelli. A henchman of your uncle's enemy and someone you should definitely avoid."

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. "Did you just say 'henchman'? Seriously?"

"Get in the car." He hissed.

"But --"

Alejandro all but threw her into the back of the limo before settling himself next to the driver.

Gianni Angiolini also watched the limousine pull away taking the girl with it. Natasha. He liked the name. It was perfect for her, unique, sexy. Her face was in his mind. The dark arched brows, the full pink lips beneath a piquant nose. Her raven hair had framed her face to perfection. Her body was exquisite, young, slender but curved in all the right places. A smile unwittingly curved on his lips.

He had been about to ask her name when that man had shown up. Gianni hadn't really looked at the man. He had been possessive. A husband? A fiancé, maybe. Gianni grimaced. Something about her companion had sparked his memory but refused to surface.

The shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted his thought. "Yes?" he was irritated.

"You've missed your window. I need you here now."

Gianni's jaw tightened. "Fuck." He cursed and flipped the phone shut without responding. His keys jangled as he strode towards the black jag on the curb and the cop standing by writing a ticket and speaking into a radio at his shoulder. The doors clicked as he pressed the key. He got in, slamming the door behind him and ignored the cop completely. The engine roared to life and he shot away from the curb dipping the car around the startled officer. 

The girl had been a distraction but he would not let it happen again. The Pezzini heir wouldn't get by him again.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 02



The limousine pulled up to the exclusive Hotel Lord Byron in Rome. Natasha was gazing out the window at the once patrician villa when a short balding man in a sharply tailored black suit practically dashed to open her door, even before Alejandro could get out of the car and open the door for her.

Reaching inside he handed Natasha out of the plush leather interior. "Signora Pezzini..." he gave a curt nod of his head, beaming at her. 

"James." Natasha corrected absently looking up at the hotel. "Signora James." 

"Of course. Whatever you wish." The man looked supremely anxious and not a small bit nervous. She had little doubt that his unease had everything to do with her illustrious last name, Pezzini. "My name is Bernardo Valeriani." His English was heavily accented but impeccable. "I am manager here." He was tense like a child's windup toy as he was fidgeted.and wiped at the perspiration that had broken upon his brow with a white silk handkerchief.

Natasha started up the steps Bernardo trailing slightly behind, Alejandro following behind at a leisurely pace, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

"Should you need anything...anything at all, you need only to ask, Signorina James."

Natasha smiled wanly in mild amusement. "Thank you Signore." She said, "I am most grateful. My uncle, I am sure, is very thankful as well."

Signore Valeriani's face relaxed visibly and Natasha gave him a genuine smile, feeling sorry for the man, as they stepped into the luxurious lobby.

"My room?" she asked looking around.

"This way. I will show you myself." Signore Valeriani said with a grin.

They followed the manager to the elevator, which rose smoothly to the top floor.

"The suite." Valeriani said proudly as he unlocked ornamental door to her room.

Natasha stepped into a room that was the size of the apartment that had belonged to her and her father in New York. The room was opulently decorated. It radiated privilege and wealth despite the clean lines and almost overt simplicity. The room was immaculate, attention to detail evident in its presentation.

"You will find that there is all you require in the hotel," Bernardo said, watching Natasha walk into the bedroom to see the canopied bed with its suspended deluges of blue satin-silk drapery and Murano art glacé chandelier. "You can charge whatever your costs to the Pezzini account. Everything is covered."

"That is very liberal of you," Natasha commended.

"The generosity belongs to your uncle. But I am pleased you like it."

"Very much so." She said still gazing around. She didn't see Alejandro fish a 100-euro note from his pocket and slip it into Bernardo's palm who quickly ducked out of the room as though he couldn't wait to escape.

For a moment Natasha stood silently comprehending it all. Although she was not unaccustomed to wealth, she was unused to such obvious displays. It reminded her vaguely of living in a museum.

She walked out onto the terrace. Two young men sitting in the café across street the looked up, raising their champagne glasses, with adulation smoldering in their eyes. The sidewalk cafés along the vast Italian street were teeming with people of all walks of life, Italians taking it all in their stride. Rome remained the glittering city of her memorable fantasies.

"Natasha," Alejandro gestured for her to join him on the sofa.

She sat in the chair opposite him across the coffee table.

He removed his sunglasses and he leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. His gaze seemed to penetrate her.

She shifted uncomfortably.

"This is important and I want no mistakes or histrionics from you." He said his voice grave. "Don't leave the hotel without informing me of your whereabouts. Don't tell people where you are staying. You must be careful...who you speak to, who sees you, and never..." he paused. "Never, mention that you are Renoldo Pezzini's niece." His eyes bored into her, dark and intent. "Do you understand?"

Natasha said nothing, just looked at him skeptically. Her lips twisted in a sardonic smile. 

She started as Alejandro's open palm came down on the coffee table between them with a loud smack.

The smile left her and her brows drew together ominously. "I understand." She said softly.

He stood and strode to stand beside her chair. She glared at him and rose to stand toe to toe with him, not willing to give the advantage of height. They held each other's gaze neither one willing to budge. He reached up and tenderly traced a finger over jaw line before bending and pressing his lips to hers. His arms came around her and crushed her against him.

Natahsa's insides twisted in alarm and with a groan she pushed him away from her, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. He stumbled backwards laughing. There was little mirth in the sound. It was dark and malicious, causing a fission of fear to streak up her spine. 

Before she could protest his hand shot out and pulled her roughly against him. As one hand tightly circled her waist the other came up and took hold of her chin. His grip was firm, almost painful. "Don't play games, Natasha. It will only get you hurt and cost me my job."

He viciously crushed his lips against hers and neatly sidestepped the upward thrust of her knee before flinging her down into the chair. He then pulled a fat envelope from his breast pocket and tossed it onto the table. He then produced a sleek chrome-looking cell phone and set it on the table. "Everything you need is in there. I'll be in touch."

Without another word he spun on his heel and strode from her suite, slamming the door behind him. Natasha sat speechless, caught between ice and hellfire with indignation. She felt like crying or throwing something. Rather, she snatched up the envelope with trembling fingers. 

Inside was a thick stack of euro notes and no fewer than four different credit cards. She drew forth an Italian passport. She opened the laminated cover and was surprised to see her own face looking back at her. Under name it said Natalia Pezzini. She snorted in derision and tossed it onto the table. Her uncle had always thought her name so...un-Italian. The last thing she drew forth was a smaller envelope. A set of keys and a letter were its contents. Carefully she unfolded the letter to read the smooth scrawling script:

Bella Mia Natalia, I am much aggrieved I could not meet you upon your arrival. I am extremely busy at the moment and though I would love to see you, it is not possible at the moment. I will return as soon as possible. Until then, I trust Alejandro, your old friend, with your well being. Perhaps this gift will barter for your forgiveness.

With Much Love, Your Uncle

She let the letter drop to the carpeted floor and studied the keys. A BMW, nice. Her suitcases had been set by the door by some unseen bellhop. She dressed quickly in a black leather jacket over a black lacy camisole and white satin slacks then breezed out of the room.

***

"Miss James! Where are you going?!" Signore Valeriani walked swiftly after Natasha as she was making her way out of the hotel.

"Out." She said simply not bothering to hide her annoyance. She handed the keys to a valet who quickly hurried to retrieve the car.

"But your uncle-"

"Is obviously out of town and I have no intention of sitting in my hotel room 'til he comes back."

Mr. Valeriani wrung his hands in agitation. "Perhaps I should call Alejandro. He would be happy to escort you."

Natasha whirled on him, angry. If there was one thing she inherited from her mother it was the famous Pezzini temper. "Absolutely not." Her tone was frigid. "You will do no such thing. I will not be kept in my room like some grounded little girl. You tell Signore Montelli anything of the sort and I will tell my uncle that you blatantly disregarded my wishes." She stomped down the hotel steps leaving Signore Valeriani to stare after her. She felt a slight moment of remorse—she'd probably caused the poor man a minor coronary—s but quickly brushed it aside.

"What shall I tell your uncle?!" he called after her, voice cracking with stress. 

She waved a dismissive hand not bothering to turn around. "Don't tell him anything." Signore Valeriani seemed faint at the idea.

The valet had brought up a gleaming black BMW Z8 with smooth red leather interior. Sitting in the driver's seat, Natasha slid her hands over the steering wheel with an almost feline purr of contentment.

Signore Valeriani watched in dismay as she drove away.

***

Natasha managed to acquaint herself to the Italian way of driving and found a parking spot along the Via Condotti , the high fashion street and shopping Mecca for those who worship the god of exclusive clothing and accessories, among many other Jags, Porches, Beamers, and the occasional Ferrari.

She had just stepped onto the sidewalk when she felt eyes on her. Not unusual; Italian men were never discreet in their attentions.

"Natasha is it?"

Natasha whirled. The man from the airport stood there looking at her one hand tucked into his pocket. The other grasped a black Armani shopping bag. His face lit as a grin of covert amusement animated his lips. He was stunning with piercing grey eyes, dark, precariously coaxed back hair and unfettered shoulders.

Natasha winced inwardly as she felt her heart do a flip in her chest and did a mental eye roll at her reaction to the man. She wasn't going to get excited over some stranger, she decided.

"Yes?" she said uncertainly.

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Gianni Angiolini." There was only the tiniest hint of an Italian lilt to his voice. She tentatively slipped her hand into his.

"Natasha James." She said.

"Il benvenuto a Italia, Natasha." 

She grinned. "Grazie."

His eyes met hers. Deep cerulean eyes stared back at him and for a moment he could not remember what he had planned to say. Giving himself a mental shake he smiled a dazzling smile. "I know I have only just met you but was just finishing up here. Would you care to accompany me to dinner?"

Natasha looked about hesitantly, as though she feared someone might see them.

"Perhaps you are busy? Some shopping perhaps?" he asked his voice softening.

Natasha shook her head and smiled. A mischievous look crossed over her face. "No." she said looking around. "That would be great." She looked up into Gianni's face.

"Great!" he said. He had not realized he had been holding his breath for her answer.

"My car or yours?" she asked nodding her head at the BMW on the curb."

He raised his eyebrows. "This is your car?"

She crossed her arms and cocked her head looking at the car. "I guess you could say that."

He walked around to the front of the car and passed a hand over the hood. "It is a lovely car," he said looking at her, "but here in Italy, a gentleman drives."

Natasha lifted one ebony brow. "It that so?"

Gianni came to stand in front of her and smiled down at her. "It is so." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Natasha hesitated. Going off with a strange, although attractive Italian man? Her uncle would freak. Alejandro would lose it. Natasha smirked at the thought and took his arm and they strolled past stores like Versace, Giorgio Armani, Boss, Prada, and Benetton... until they came to a stop next to a sleek black Jaguar convertible.

"Nice car." She complimented looking at it admiringly.

Gianni grinned as he opened the door for her. "Signorina." He then got in himself and they sped through the streets of Italy to come to a halt in front of a 15th century building; Vecchia Locanda it was called.

A man in a perfectly tailored suit strode out of the restaurant and opened Natasha's door. He greeted Gianni enthusiastically by name in Italian then led them inside. The restaurant was softly lit and they were seated in a quiet corner.

They talked about the sights of Italy, the cuisine, the shopping...Natasha carefully avoided talk about her life until Gianni asked of her reasons for coming to Italy.

Natasha self-consciously brushed her fingers over her arm. Gianni frowned and discerned the beginnings of the bruises of fingertips upon her skin. His eyes moved to her face and he then noticed that her lips were slightly swollen. Grimacing, his thoughts flew to the man at the airport and he was immediately livid though he carefully kept his anger under wraps, and schooled his features into an appropriately subdued expression. He was about to question her when she answered his previous inquiry.

"I was born here." She said with a delicate shrug, "My mother was born here but she married my father, an American."

"And they moved to America?"

"Not until I was ten." She said.

"Did you ever come back?" he asked leaning his chin on his hand and studying her.

"No." she said with a touch of bitterness, her lips thinning slightly. "My mother's family did not approve of my father, nor did he approve of them. So I've never been back, until now."

His speculative gaze roved over her face. "Why did you come back?" He caught a flicker of pain in her eyes before it was quickly veiled.

"My mother," she said hesitantly "died two years after we left. It was a complete freak accident. The brakes failed and she ran a red light. With mom not around anymore, my father severed all ties with her family. He didn't even try to keep in touch with her family here. I didn't hear from my uncle for years. In fact I was practically raised to hate him." She looked down at the napkin she was twisting between her hands. "That is, until my father died a year ago. He was..." she paused, "Very sick. I was pretty much on my own until I got a letter from my uncle. He was the only one who even bothered to find me. I had enough money—my father left me well taken care of—but my uncle asked me to come here. I had no one else. I mean everyone wants a family, right?"

Natasha toyed with her napkin upon the tablecloth before decisively setting it down and absently smoothed the stiff wrinkles she had created. Gianni reached out and enfolded her hand in his. She looked up at him startled. He gave her hand a slight squeeze. "I am glad you are here, whatever the reason."

Natasha smiled, exhaling and flushing self-consciously. "So what about you?"

His fingers caressed hers. "I was born here, grew up here, I'm here still."

"Did you ever go to America?" She asked, trying to think straight despite the mesmerizing waves that emanated from his touch.

"New York, L.A., and Chicago on occasion for business. But Rome is my heart. I could never leave it for too long."

"What business are you in?" she inquired.

"Stocks and trading mostly. Investment is a family business." He replied easily.

They talked for what seemed to be hours until a ringing interrupted them. Smiling apologetically, Natasha sought inside her Furla handbag and drew out the cell phone. It was Alejandro. Her fingers tightened around the phone before she silenced the ring.

"Nothing important, I hope." Gianni said scrutinizing her. Her whole demeanor had changed in an instant.

"No one important." She said tightly.

She glanced out the window. It was dark. There was no one in the restaurant. The waiters were cleaning up around them. "Oh my God." She came to her feet.

Gianni came to his feet as well. "What is it?"

"What time is it?"

He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "A little after twelve."

She snatched up her bag. "I have to go."

"What?" his eyes darted to the window. "What is it? Why?"

"I just have to get home." She said, clearly distraught.

He caught her distress and tossed a wad of cash on the table. "Alright. Let's go."

As they made their way back to Via Condotti Gianni kept glancing at her. Anxiety practically radiated from her every pore. He wondered what could arouse such a change in her. She looked flushed even in the darkness. She looked completely and utterly helpless, as if she really and truly needed to be rescued. But he pushed the thought down. Playing the hero would only get him into trouble.

She practically leapt from the car when he parked behind the BMW.

"Natasha, wait!" he caught her hand as she fumbled with her keys. He gently pulled her to face him. She was pressed between his body and the car. "What is it?"

She didn't answer. She didn't meet his eyes. His fingers tenderly brushed her chin and tilted her face to his. "You can tell me..."

She shook her head. "I'm alright. I just late and don't want anyone to worry about me." She said none too convincingly.

He reluctantly released her. He leaned on the car as she shut the door. He took a deep breath and voiced his concern." The man at the airport..." he ventured. "Is he your husband?"

Natasha's mouth dropped open. She laughed but it didn't reach her eyes. "No. He's an old friend of the family, really. We grew up together. He works for my uncle now."

Gianni nodded. He reached out and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Ciao Bella." He murmured and stepped back from the car as she pulled out and drove away.

***

Natasha pressed the elevator button and nervously tapped her foot as she waited. She rode the elevator to her floor and fumbled with the keys as her hands trembled. She was relieved to find no one waiting in her room. She slipped out of her clothes and into a hot shower. She washed the tension and exhaustion of the day away. She cast aside filmy lingerie in favor of the faded sweatshirt of an ex-boyfriend.

Just as she slipped into bed the phone on her nightstand rang. "Hello?"

"Natasha." He purred her name. At was Alejandro.

She bolted upright in bed, raking tense fingers through her hair. "Uh...yes?"

"Where have you been? I've been calling." his voice was unsettling, quiet and dangerous.

"Sleeping." She said simply.

"All this time?" he mused.

"Jetlag, you know." She said, willing her voice calm and indifferent.

"You wouldn't be lying to me would you, Natasha?" his voice took on a singsong quality.

Natasha shuddered. "No, Alejandro." She forced herself to sound haughty. "Was there something you wanted? I'd like to go back to sleep."

"Just making sure that the boss's niece is behaving herself like a proper young woman. I wanted to be sure you were feeling alright." He said.

"You give yourself far too much credit over my well-being." She said icily.

He chuckled softly. "Goodnight fair Natasha. Sweet dreams." The line went dead.

Natasha returned the phone to its receiver and slid beneath the covers and fell into a fitful sleep.

***

Gianni tightened the silencer on the gun. Taking a deep breath he touched the cool metal length of the barrel against his face and offered up a prayer of forgiveness. He kissed the barrel. He was dressed in black and his face was unusually pale and grave. 

'This is what you do'. He was grim. It was all for the sake of revenge—revenge fora retaliation—In a brutal violent cycle the cause of which no one even remembered. He steeled himself against his rapidly growing unease. 

He'd learned to trust his instincts. Something didn't feel right. Natasha's face invaded his thoughts. What would she do if she knew? Would she be disgusted, afraid? He sighed and shook his head. This is the last one. He promised himself. No more.

He pulled a black ski mask over his face. Gripping the gun he crept quietly into the hallway. His prey's room was right across from his. He used a key, stolen from the front desk to unlock the door. The door creaked. He hissed in a breath and held it. There was no sound.

He slipped inside. He knew the room. He'd been in there earlier today to map out his surroundings. He crept to stand at the end of the large canopy bed. A figure lay concealed beneath the covers. He aimed carefully and his finger tightened on the trigger at the bump beneath the blankets.

A soft feminine sigh sounded and the gun lowered imperceptibly. 'Don't think. Just do it.' He leveled the gun. A whimper. His arm dropped to his side. He slowly made his way around the side of the bed his heart racing. 'Don't', a voice whispered across his mind as he reached to draw back the cover. He ignored the voice. He reached and pulled down the cover to reveal the sleeping woman. Natasha. His heart dropped to his knees and he sank into the chair at her bedside.




La Vita Dolce Ch. 02



She lay sleeping, her dark hair a cloud around her. She frowned in her sleep, fretting as though she knew the danger she was in.

He wrenched the mask from his face and ran a shaking hand though his hair. His other hand gripped the gun tightly.

'I can't.'

'You must...' Came a quieter darker voice.

"No" he groaned and Natasha stirred but did not wake. Part of him wanted her to wake and see him there.

Why her? What had she done? And then he saw Alejandro Montelli, clearly, standing in the airport his arm around Natasha. Christ. She had been with him. Why? He racked his brain. Montelli was, mob boss, Renaldo Pezzini's hired man. Was she seeing him? Was that it?

He stood and gazed down at her. She looked so innocent so.... She was tiny really, just a little thing. He wondered how old she was. Asleep she looked childlike, no more than eighteen.

He lightly touched a dark curl that lay on the pillow. "You're safe, little one." He whispered. But for how long, he wondered. If he didn't finish the job someone else would.

He didn't know how long he stood there watching her sleep but when he finally left her room his mind was made up. No, he couldn't kill her. And he would let no one else harm her. She was his.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 03



She crawled out of bed. Woken by the sharp rapping at the door. Her fingers tentatively lingered on the door handle. 

"Who is it?" she called.

"Room service," came a reply. Not Alejandro. As if sensing some hesitation, on her part, the voice called out again in halting English. "I have brought breakfast." 

Natasha was suddenly aware of the gnawing hunger in her stomach. She wrenched the door open. A young waiter stared at her open-mouthed.

Natasha glanced down at herself. The sweatshirt barely grazed mid-thigh. Her feet were bare. Embarrassed she jumped behind the door and held it open. 

The waiter wheeled in a cart piled high with platters. The delicious aroma wafted past her nose and she lifted the silver food cover. An American style breakfast, complete with eggs and bacon.

"Ah, grazie." She sighed in delight. The young waiter smile courteously and Natasha tipped him generously before he bowed slightly and left the room. 

Natasha's hand was on the door handle when the door across the hall opened and Gianni Angiolini stepped out into the hall. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, cocking her head. 

He didn't see her right away. His keys jangled as he locked the door. He turned stopped short when he saw her standing there.

Her dark brows rose and the corner of her lips lifted. "Following me?" 

He managed to affect an equally surprised look. "Natasha?" he grinned uncertainly coming towards her and stopping before her doorway. "What are you doing here?"

She stared at him incredulously and fixed him with a skeptical look. "I'm staying here while my uncle is away." She said. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I'm in the process of moving. I'm staying here 'til things get settled in my new place." It wasn't a complete lie.

Natasha looked at him. He looked good in black leather Ameriranian-style jeans and plain tightly fitting t-shirt over black motorcycle boots. His hair was mussed and he was unshaven, lending him a slighlt unkempt but irresistible look. 

"Going out?" she asked.

"I was just going to breakfast." He gestured to the elevator. "Would you like to join me?"

Natasha glanced back into her room. "Um, actually a wonderful breakfast was just delivered. It could feed a small army." She laughed.

"Oh?" Gianni grinned at her.

"Join me?" she asked boldly. There was a bit of a challenge in her tone.

He glanced down the hall. "Sounds great."

Natasha stepped back and allowed him entrance to her room. 

He let out a low whistle, looking around. "This is nice."

"Thanks." She said and closed the door.

He turned to face her. His eyebrows lifted and an amused smile slid over his face. His hands slid into his pockets and he stood, regarding her. "This is an American style?"

Natasha's face flamed. She tugged at the hemline on the sweatshirt. 

The movement illustrated her slight discomfort, inflaming Gianni's protective instinct. An instinct which, at the moment, was in direct conflict to his body's desire. He was trying hard to ignore the throbbing that had invaded his loins. 

Christ. How long was he supposed be endure her company...this beautiful, charming young woman, the expanse of her golden unmarred skin bare to his gaze... Yet he couldn't make her his?

She smiled at him shyly. "Give me a second." He watched her long slim legs take her into the bathroom. He'd give her forever.

She emerged in a pair of worn blue jeans, a tear across the knee.

"Bella." He praised with a smile.

She cast him a dubious grin.

He meant it. He liked her this way. In her designer finery, she was a goddess, beautiful and seemingly untouchable. In a sweatshirt in jeans she was a bit out of place amidst the luxury of the suite but no less beautiful. She looked like the college kid she was. In these clothes she was relaxed, slightly shy. She was human.

They ate out on the terrace. It was a beautiful day. 

"Malto Bene." Gianni said leaning against the iron railing and looking out over the rooftops. Natasha leaned on the railing next to him, their shoulders touching. She nudged him. "So you like American food?"

He turned dark eyes on her seriously. "I like many things American." He said softly looking at her intently.

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "You are trouble, sir," she admonished. 

He smiled thinly but eyes remained on her as she returned her gaze to the scenery. "I have to go." He said suddenly and pushed himself back from the railing.

"Already?" she sounded disappointed. "What about breakfast?"

He slipped an arm around her waist. "Alas, but I must!" he said theatrically.

Natasha threw back her head and laughed. Gianni admired the smooth column of her throat. He drew from his pocket a business card and handed it to her. "This is my club. Come tonight." He wrote a number on the back and became suddenly serious. "This is my cell phone. If you need anything," he said, "Absolutely anything...call me."

Natasha took the card surprised by his sudden seriousness. "I thought you were in stocks and trading?" she asked. 

He chucked her under the chin. "I'm a man of many interests," he said dismissively. 

She led him to the door. Before he left he grasped her hand unexpectedly and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Arrivederci." 

"Ciao." She said and closed the door with a soft click. She leaned her forehead against the smooth wood of the door. Yes. She was in trouble.

***

Natasha went shopping. She returned to the Via Condotti. From Gucci she bought a shimmering mesh halter dress. The gold metallic color along with her skin made her seem to glow. It was shockingly short and made her legs appear to go on forever. From Prada she bought matching handbag and golden stilettos.

Her hair was pressed straight to hang like a dark curtain nearly to her waist. She lined her eyes with kohl and glossed her lips. She dusted her body with ultra fine glitter and sprayed a hint of Dior's Poison at her wrists and throat. 

Tonight she didn't feel like herself, like the somewhat bumbling girl-child not even out of college who joked to escape her discomfort. She was striking. 

At twelve she left her room. She sauntered through the lobby past a group of businessmen who halted their conversation to watch her pass by. 

Signore Valeriani's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Not a word." Natasha hurled at him as she strode by.

She lowered herself with carefully into the seat of the Beemer conscious of the eyes that watched her and the shockingly short dress. She smiled a mockingly sweet smile at Signore Valeriani and the car lunged away from the curb.

***

The black Z8 pulled up to Berimbau. A neon sign throbbed pink, blue, green, and orange lights over the people lined outside the building. The sounds of Brazilian music which had overtaken Rome throbbed through the warm night air. 

Natasha stepped out of the car and handed the valet her keys. Heads turned and watched her as she walked to the end of the line. Great. 

She spread her hands through her hair and arched her back. As long as they were going to stare, she might as well give them a show. She twisted her body and stuck one long leg out and her skirt slid up her thigh. Men smiled and she saw a few mouths drop open. She smiled coyly and stretched her arms in a sexy pose. The women mostly turned away, pretending they hadn't been checking out their competition.

A tall dark man in a suit approached her, obviously security. "Miss James?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Angiolini is expecting you inside." He offered her his arm and led her past the line of ogglers and into the club. Reggaeton and Merengue music pulsed through the room. The security guard pointed to one of two balconies overlooking the dance floor. Black velvet curtains shielded its interior from view. "He's waiting there." 

Natasha smiled her thanks and began to wind her way through the dance floor when a hand closed around her wrist. Natasha, whirled expecting to see Gianni, was disappointed. A complete stanger leered at her. "Ballare con me." He slurred, pulling her closer. 

Natasha shook her head, no, but pasted a polite smile on her face. "Nessuni ringraziamenti. No thanks." 

Instead his grip tightened around her wrist and he dragged her into the crowd. 

Natasha was pulled tightly up against him. She squirmed and pushed against him but it was like pushing against a brick wall. 

His hands roved brazenly over her body. His breath reeked of alcohol. He pulled her hard against him and ground himself against her. His lips came down towards her. She turned her head abruptly and he planted a sloppy wet kiss upon her cheek. Natasha felt sick. And angry. He'd probably ruined her make-up. 

She thrust her knee up into his groin and she watched with grim satisfaction as his eyes bulged and he bent over. His stunned expression quickly turned angry and he made as if to reach for her when he suddenly froze. His eyes were fixed somewhere over her shoulder. He straightened with some difficulty, his eyes tinged with fear, and with a chagrinned air he held up his hands and disappeared into the crowd. 

Natasha stood trembling, half unnerved and half enraged. She flinched as a light hand touched her shoulder and Gianni came around to face her. He lightly touched her cheek as his eyes held hers. "Are you alright?"

Natasha smiled weakly. "Bene."

He smiled and surveyed her quietly. "Bene." 

His arms slid around her and he held her close, engulfing her in the strong safety of his arms. They danced to the slow sensual beat. His body, tall and muscular, fit perfectly with the slim, sensual curves of her body. She felt secure in his arms. 

He turned her in his arms settling his hands on her hips as she moved to the beat. As he moved to pull her back against his body she reached up and wound her arms around his neck. Her fingers strayed to his dark locks as he reverently pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

But someone watched them from the balcony above, his eyes lingering on the woman nestled against Gianni Angiolini. 

Sensing watching eyes, eyes not so different from his own, Gianni looked up at the figure standing there. His brows drew together ominously and his arms tightened protectively around the woman. The watcher grinned maliciously before backing away from the balcony railing and disappearing to the crowd. 

***

Devonnee had not noticed that a car followed her home. Gianni had had one of his employees follow her. He was concerned about her safety, but he had other things to attend to that night and could not see to it himself. The feel of her body against his haunted him. He ran his hands through his dark hair. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He hadn't meant to her want her so badly. He couldn't keep this up. It had to stop now. 

***

Natasha slipped into her room around 5:30 that morning. It was dark as she headed for the bathroom. She tossed her handbag on the bathroom counter and went into the living room searching for the light switch. 

"Back so soon?" the table lamp flicked on. Alejandro at on the couch, his gaze hooded.

Natasha stood frozen.

Alejandro stood and stalked towards her, his eyes boldly raking her form. "Did you get all dressed up for me?"

Natasha could say nothing.

His hands slid down her arms with deceptive tenderness and he pulled her toward him. His fingers made slow mesmerizing circles over her shoulders. "You've been naughty."

"No I-"

"Shh." He hushed.

She pulled away.

He buried one hand in her hair and she gasped as Alejandro put his other hand on her bottom, pulled her tightly against his hard crotch. 

In a bruising move that could hardly be called a kiss, he ground his lips against her mouth. Natasha tasted blood as his teeth nipped hard at her lower lip. 

She pushed against his chest. Her arms were trapped between their bodies. His arms were heavily muscled, too strong for her. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her immobile.

To he own disgust she whimpered at the pain. He abruptly tore his lips from hers and lift his head to glare into her eyes.

"Let go." She murmured softly.

"No problem, Ms. James." He smirked at her and shoved her violently away from him. 

She caught herself on the doorframe of the bathroom, her eyes widening in shock. 

There was no mistaking the menace in his eyes as he came slowly toward her. 

She pushed off from the door and bolted around him. She reached her suite door but just as she opened it his fist crashed into the door slamming it shut. She was sure the wood should have shattered at the force of the blow. 

He grabbed her around the waist and dragged her kicking and screaming back into the room. "Why must you make everything so difficult?" he shouted at her.

Her elbow caught him in the nose. She twisted from his arms but not before he managed to grasp her wrist.

"Are you nuts?!" she shrieked as his hand came back. With a deliberateness that caught her off guard and terrified her, the back of a large bronze hand connected soundly with her cheek and sent her sprawling to the floor. His ring caught and made a shallow cut in her cheek.

Her head hit the bedpost with a crack and her head spun. She attempted to scramble to her feet, but he advanced quickly, and gathering her in his arms, he tossed her uncermoniously onto the bed. 

Before she could move he was upon her. The hard lean length of him pinned her to the bed. She struck out at him wildly in panic, her nails attempting to rake his flesh. 

"No!" she screamed as she writhed beneath the terrible weight of him. 

He straddled her hips. He was fumbling with the top of her dress. She balled her hand into a fist and punched him in the jaw. 

She instantly cradled her abraded knuckes in her free hand and decided that no reward was worth the pain in her hand.

His had face turned to the side with the impact. He turned slowly, to stare down at her, the rage in his eyes making her cringe from him. He drew back one arm, balling his hand into a fist. 

Natasha stared in terror at him. A the fist and the muscles bunched behind it. She was going to die and she didn't want to see it coming. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

Holding, his position, Alejandro stared down at the woman who was pinned beneath him. She was flat on her back. Her arms flung over her head, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. Her dark hair, fanned out around her head. Her cheeks alluringly flushed, her dark lashes fanning against their blush.

The fight had enraged him but the sight of her lying beneath him thus enacted another furious response. 

Hands roughly closed around her wrists and his hot, punishing lips met hers. Her surprise kept her lips soft and her mouth parted easily for his tongue. 

Natasha was surprised to feel his lips on hers rather. He wasn't going to hit her again. But her relief was short-lived. She felt his hand travel up her thigh and his fingers grasp the strap of her underwear as he slid them down her legs.

"No, please!" she cried as pushed a finger into her. His finger brushed her maidenhead and she arched her back and whimpered in pain. 

She could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, against her thigh though the material of his pants. 

Her hands were splayed against his chest as she pushed at him but he was too strong. He took both her wrists in one hand and jerked her arms over her head. With the other he came up and yanked her dress down. He lowered his head and his mouth was savage on her breasts. His free hand worked its way between her knees and pushed her thighs apart. He lowered himself between her knees. He then yanked his crimson colored tie up over his head and stuffed the silk material into her mouth. She gagged and choked. 

She heard him fumbling with his belt, and his zipper come down, and then felt the tip of his cock against her entrance. He slid it up and down her slit, closed his eyes and groaned. 

Natasha spat the tie from her mouth, stared up at him, and said the only thing she could think of. "He'll kill you, you know." 

Alejandro stopped, poised to enter her. He looked down into her face, stunned. 

She let out a half-hysterical giggle. "Don't be stupid. You won't be able to hide. There's nowhere you could go. He'll find you and kill you." She said, tears streaming down her face. 

She watched the emotions passing his face, lust, anger, fear. 

"Bitch!" he hissed and flung himself back from her. He hurriedly pulled up is pants and zipped his fly. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You stay in this room. You leave for nothing." 

He came and gripped her jaw in a painful grasp. "And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll kill you myself." He ground out. 

He turned and stomped from the room, slamming the door so hard in his wake the bedside lamp trembled. 

Natasha could do nothing. She couldn't scream, couldn't cry. She just lay there staring at the ceiling. Her head felt fuzzy, she couldn't think straight. Suddenly she felt sick. She scrambled up from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She retched into the toilette. 

She began to cry in wild uncontrollable sobs. Her arm swept the contents of counter onto the floor. Her purse flew to the floor and her cell phone skittered out. She picked it up, opened it, and with trembled fingers dialed. 

"Ciao?" Gianni's voice was on the other line.

For a second she could only sob into the phone. "Gianni?" she said haltingly. 

"Natasha?" he was alarmed. "Are you okay? What's happened?"

She cried harder. 

His voice grew frantic. "Natasha, baby, please. What's wrong? Tell me." His voice was full of emotion he hadn't known he possessed.

Her sounded small and frightened on the other side of the phone. "Help me please." And she broke into fresh sobs. She stammered. "He was here and he...he..." 

"Who?" Gianni demanded. 

"Please -- " The line went dead. 

Natasha let the phone slip from her fingers as she sank down to the marble floor. She curled into a ball, clutching the torn remnants of her dress around her. She felt the cool marble beneath her cheek before she slipped into darkness. 

***

Gianni drove like a madman through the streets of Rome. The jag screeched to a stop. The stunned valet called after him as he raced into the hotel. He didn't bother with the elevator but dashed up the steps. He's never been so afraid in his life. 

He reached her door and pounded his fist on it. "Natasha!" he shouted.

There was no answer.

He tried the doorknob still yelling her name.

Still no answer. 

He drew a gun from the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. He backed up and placed a well-aimed kick near the door knob. On the second try the door burst open. The room appeared to be empty when he noticed the bathroom light on. 

Natasha lay sprawled on the bathroom floor. With a curse he tucked the gun back into the holster and fell to his knees beside her still body, gently taking her into his arms and turning her to face him. He felt something wet on his hand and was kicked into rage by the sight of the blood coming from a shallow cut upon her cheek. 

She started awake, screaming and struggling in his grasp.

"Natasha! It's me!" he cried. "Natasha!"

She stopped suddenly and looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "Gianni?"

"Oh, God." His eyes took in her torn dress, bruises coloring her jaw and arms, even her thighs. She started to cry and he carefully helped her to her feet. The movement caused a new pain and a wave of dizziness. She reached out to Gianni, wanting to hold on to something solid. He gently supported her and led her to the bed. When she balked he stopped.

"Natasha?" 

She feebly tried to stand on her own but her knees buckled and he scooped her up into his arms. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 03



She clutched at his shirt. "Please, let's go somewhere else?"

He nodded and took her from the room. He opened the door to his own room and then carefully laid her on the sofa. He caught her eyes with his own, seeking a way to ease her fears.

"I'm just going to get your things." He said softly.

Her bags had barely been unpacked so he had little trouble gathering her things. An envelope lay on the table. It was open. A large amount of cash and credit cards were inside. His mind raced. What kind of trouble was this girl in? He shoved it into a suitcase.

He was just leaving when he glimpsed a bit of red silk amidst the rumpled bedcovers. Frowning, he made his way to the bed and lifted it up. A tie. His mind began to overload with images he tried vainly to push from his mind. Natasha being hurt, crying out. Natasha in another man's arms, being forced to... With a snarl of furl, he hurled the bedside lamp at the wall. Glass exploded everywhere. Gianni stood panting, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. 

"Gianni?" Natasha stood leading against the doorframe looking very pale. Her eyes weren't quite focused. "You know, you break it you bought it." 

He lifted his gaze to her her and the fear and anger mingling in his eyes made her want to comfort him. She laughed at the idea. Not a particularly good idea. Pain shot through her head and she grimaced. 

His face immediately softened. He strode towards her and took her into his arms. His voice was unusually soft, a little desperate. "I'm going to get you out of here."

She nodded but would not meet his eyes. He handed her a white cashmere sweater and jeans. "You can change into this." He said quietly. 

She took them without word and retreated into his room. He watched her go.

She was in the bathroom when he brought her things into his room. He picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. "This is Gianni Angiolini. I'm checking out. Send up a bellhop. Just bill it to my card." He sat on the couch, his head buried in his hands.

Natasha emerged to find him like this. She hesitated in the bathroom doorway. Sensing her presence he looked up and extended a hand to her. She came forward unsteadily. She took his hand and sank down into the couch next to him. He wrapped a protective arm around her and she curled against him. She was shaking. 

There came a sharp rapping on the door and she started, her eyes wide and frightened. 

"Shh." Gianni soothed. "It's just the bellhop." 

Their bags were taken to Gianni's car. 

Natasha's cell phone was left in her room.

It was still dark and thankfully Signore Valeriani had not yet risen. 

Gianni helped Natasha to the car and gently deposited her in the passenger seat. Gianni got in and started the engine. He looked over at Natasha. Her face was turned away from him. The cut and bruise on her cheek stood out vividly.

His jaw tightened and they drove away, leaving the hotel behind them.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 04



The doorman opened the door to the jag. 

"I've got her Armando." Gianni said as the doorman stepped back from the car. 

She was asleep. Gianni undid her seatbelt and lifted her into his arms. 

"Your discretion, Armando." Gianni said, casting the doorman a meaningful glance. 

The doorman nodded gravely. "Of course sir, I'll have your bags taken upstairs." 

Gianni carried her through the doors of his apartment in the trendy penthouse building. Boxes were still piled in the living room, the kitchen and in the bedroom, but the bed was made in his own bedroom. 

He laid her in his bed, slipped her shoes off her feet, and pulled a sheet over her. He stood a moment, watching her sleep, then turned and left the room. 

***

Gianni sat on the chic modern couch. His legs, crossed, rested on the coffee table. He'd been drinking a little. Not enough to be intoxicated, but enough to dull the senses, enough to dull the rage when he though of someone touching her, hurting her. He felt sure it had been Montelli. His anger burned like the alcohol he poured down his throat. He felt a failure. He had thought something was wrong the first time he'd laid eyes on her. The second, he was sure of it. 

He had wanted to protect her. But what had done? Nothing! He cursed himself. He hadn't protected her. Alejandro Montelli had come had come and—Gianni couldn't complete the thought. 

Her scream shattered his thoughts. He was up and in the bedroom and seconds.

She was having a nightmare. She tossed fitfully in her sleep. The covers were tangled about her slim legs. Her breath came in shallow gasps as her fingers clutched the bed sheets. Her face was flushed. Her chest heaved as sobs racked her body. 

"Natasha wake up!" he urged. He shook her gently and she sat up with a start. 

She reached for him and he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. 

"Shh." Everything's alright now." He held her against himhis fingers making slow circles over her back, breathing in her scent. "No one's going to hurt you here." He stroked her hair. 

He laid her back amongst the pillows gently. He brushed a dark curl back from her face. "Go back to sleep. You're safe."

He stood and was about to make his way from the room when she sat up abruptly and grabbed his shirt sleeve."Gianni..." her voice was slightly above a whisper but it cut right through him. 

He sighed and turned to face her. Dreading yet desiring her at once. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. She slid her hands over his chest. "Stay," she breathed looking up into his face. 

He groaned and looked at the ceiling, trying to ignore the throbbing that had taken over his loins. 

Clenching his jaw he shook his head. "I can't. You know I can't."

She toyed with the buttons of his shirt and stepped closer. Her hips pressed against his and he felt his stomach clench as she came into contact with his arousal. 

She stood on her tip-toes and brushed her lips over his jaw as he turned his face away. "Why not?" she whispered and trailed her lips down his throat. 

He held back a moan as he firmly took her shoulders in his grasp and set her away from him. Her eyes widened in surprise. He frowned at her, "Because you're probably feeling vulnerable and upset. I'm not going to take advantage of you that way. You don't need to share my bed for me to protect you."

She sucked in her cheeks slightly and looked at the floor between them. Deliberately she brought her hands to the hem of her sweater. She met his gaze and pulled the sweater up over her head. 

Gianni could only stare at her. Her full breasts were encased in a simple black bra nearly overflowing. Her stomach was flat and taut, a small jewel glinting in her belly button. 

She gazed at him. "Stay," she repeated. 

He tore his gaze away from her body and struggled to remain focused on her face. A mistake. Her eyes smoldered. "Natasha--" he started.

She unbuttoned her jeans and slowly pushed them down her hips revealing her long brown legs and black boycut underwear. She stepped out of the jeans to stand before him. "Stay."

Gianni searched for control. He lowered his head, his fist clenching as he sought to stop himself from reaching for her. She moved closer to him and slid her hands up over his shoulders to wrap her arms around his neck, forcing him to meet her gaze. 

Her voice was soft, husky. "I'm fine, Gianni. I'm not feeling vulnerable at all. I feel...safe. And right now...I only want you."

She watched surprise flicker in his grey eyes. Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his and hugged herself closer. 

He did not respond at first; his arms at his sides, his lips pliant beneath her own. 

He groaned against her mouth and wrapped his arms around her crushing her to him. He lifted her off her feet and her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. Her mound came in contact with his bulging erection and she gasped. 

He skillfully took over the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of her lips to invade her mouth, his tongue invading the heat of her mouth. 

Her breasts were crushed against his chest and he savored feeling every exquisite inch of her against him. He slowly lowered her to the bed, her arms still entwined around his his neck, her legs wrapped around him, her mouth greedily stealing the air from his lungs. 

He pulled his head back and watched confusion and disappointment enter her darkened gaze as he insistently pulled her arms from around his neck and removed her legs from his waist. Her full pink lips formed a pout. A small smile twitched at his lips as he pressed a finger to those lips and silenced her protests. He rose from the bed but he did not leave her. 

He instead knelt at the edge of the bed. She sat up on her elbows to watch him. "Gianni, what--oh!"

He hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her ass to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling. He brought his hands to the sides of her underwear and pulled them down her legs before placing his hands on the insides of her thighs pushing them apart gently but deliberately. 

Her brown pussy was revealed to him and he groaned. He grinned and looked up at her face. She was still on her elbows staring at him in something akin to shock. A devilish smile tilted his lips and she thought she'd cum if he just continued to look at her like that. His voice was low, "Bella, you have the the prettiest little pussy i've ever seen."

He slid a finger into her wetness and felt her clench around him and her hips jerked as he pressed the the flat of his tongue to her clit. 

"Ah!" she shuddered and she flopped back to the bed. His low chuckle reverberated through her. "Oh God!"

He curled his finger against her g-spot and finger fucked her as his tongue continued to flick at her clit. She fisted the sheets in her hands as her back arched off the bed and she came against his mouth. "Fuck!" she breathed. Wave after wave of pleasure sent her body trembling and she threw her head back and gasped. 

But he did not relent as another orgasm started to build. She shuddered and her hips jerked. "Please! Stop...please" she gasped. "I can't!" she gasped. It was too much. She tried to move back up the bed but he held tightly to her hips and sucked her clit between his lips. She came screaming and was still. He smiled to himself and gave her clit a gentle lick that made her hips jerk. He pressed a kiss to that little bud before he stood. 

He considered her a moment. Her dark hair was spread over his sheets. Her long slim limbs were sprawed. Her face was flushed. The straps of her bra had come downand her breasts heaved. She looked to be in glorious disarray. 

Her dark lashes lifted as she met his amused gaze. His gaze never left her face as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He watched lust flare in her eyes. 

Natasha was having trouble breathing as he shrugged out of his shirt. The taut muscles of his shoulders flexed slightly as he removed his shirt. 'Good God,' she thought. 'They really make men like this?' His arms were heavily muscled. Muscle rippled over his abdominals. A tattoo of a cross was on his chest just to the left, over his heart. 

She watched his every movement as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down along with his underwear. His rigid cock stood out from a nest of dark curls, long and thick. She licked her lips unconsciously. Gianni groaned as he watched her pink tongue slide against her lips. 

He came forward and lowered himself over her. His lips were within an inch of her own when she placed a restraining hand on his chest. She pushed him onto his side and he rolled onto his back as she moved to straddle his hips. Her wet pussy was pressed against his cock and he strained to enter her but she did not allow it. 

Smiling coyly down at him she reached behind her back and undid her bra. He stared at her in awe as she revealed her brown capped golden breasts to him. He slid his hands up her hips and up her back to press her down towards him. He kissed each brown tip before taking her nipple into his mouth. She threw her head back and moaned. 

Natasha moved her body lower, sliding her wanting pussy down past his genitals. Her curls brushed over his face as she kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, lingered over his lips before moving her own lips to his neck. Her hands stroked down his sides as she worshipped him there before moving lower. She trailed her lips over his chest. She paused to circle each of his small flat nipples with her tongue and then moved lower. She kissed the firm ripples of his stomach, teased the slim lines that made the V where his hips met the tops of his thighs. 

She lifted her gaze to his as her warm breath fanned upon the rigid flesh of his cock. A smile curved upon her lips before she used her forefinger and thumb to lift his cock. She kissed the tip sweetly before sliding the head past her lips and closing her lips around the base. 

His abdominal muscles clenched and his breath hissed past his lips as she deftly swirled her tongue around the tip. 

She lowered her her head, taking him deeply into her mouth and slightly past her tonsils before withdrawing to the tip again.

Gianni buried his fingers in her dark locks and swept her hair back from her face as she bobbed her mouth up and down his cock. God, how he'd waited to see those beautiful lips wrapped around him like this. Her breasts bounced with the movement. 

He felt pressure building in his balls. "Shit," he hissed. He suddenly hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her up his body. 

He took lightly took a fistfull of her hair at the back of her head and pressed her head towards him and seized her lips with his own. He rolled her beneath him swiftly. 

He worked his hips between her thighs and spread her wide. His lips never left hers as he raised himself on one elbow and gripped his cock in the other hand to guide himself into her. 

She ripped her mouth from his as gasped as his thick hardness parted her and sank inch by glorious inch into her. He groaned and pressed his brow to hers as she sheathed him. She was so hot and tight he thought he'd certainly die of pleasure. 

Her hips wriggled beneath him as she sought to accomodate herself to his size. It nearly sent him over the edge. He cupped her hip firmly, stilling her movements. "Shh, Bella." 

He kissed her again. He trailed his fingertips over her tight nipple and down her side. He cupped her ass in one hand, lifting her hips slightly as he withdrew slightly and thrust his hips back into her. 

A small scream left her lips. He moved within her slowly at first, then gradually gaining speed and force. Hooking both her legs over his arms he pounded into her furiously. She arched, her lips forming a perfect O and clutched at the muscles buched and straining in his arms. 

Her head whipped back and forth as small screams tore from her throat. 

"Look at me, Bella," Gianni urged. 

But she barely heard him, so caught up in the wonderful things he was doing to her body. 

"Bella!" he nearly shouted and thrust into her hard. 

Her eyes snapped to his. 

His lips stretched in a satisfied smile as he continued to fuck her. He stared into her widened eyes. "You're mine. Understand?" he punctuated the last word with a hard thrust. She clenched more tightly around him and he grimaced. "Understand?" he repeated. 

She arched. 

His gaze delved into her own. "Understand?"

She nodded. "Yes." 

He lowered his face close to hers, never losing his rhythm. His lips brushed tenderly over hers. "Say it."

Her gaze locked with his. "I'm yours."

He grinned and pressed a kiss to her lips before he lunged back and sat on his haunches. His hands encircled her waist, lifting her hips to meet him. 

He pounded into her mercilessly and she could do naught but tightly grip the bed sheets as a shattering orgasm ripped through her. "Gianni!" she screamed. 

He roared as he felt her clench around him more tightly than he thought possible. His cock jerked within her and he felt his cum spurt deep within her. He continued to pump deeply into her until the last spurt leave his balls. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and breathed hard as he hovered over her, holding himself aloft on his hands. His muscles trembled as she trailed her hands up his arms and to his shoulders. She pulled his weight down on top of her. Her fingers buried in his dark locks. His met her eyes and kissed her softly. 

With a soft groan he slid himself from her still throbbing pussy and looped an arm around her waist. He pulled her with him to the top of the bed to lay against the pillows. 

He lay on his back and pulled the trembling length of her body against his side. She flung her arm over his middle and placed one leg over his own before pressing her face against his neck and breathing in the male scent of him. Her own breathing slowed and she fell into sleep.   

Gianni gazed at the ceiling. Somehow this girl had woven her way into his life, and into his heart. The scent of her, the feeling of her in his arms, the sound of her breathing... it filled him. He pulled her closer to his body, finally giving in to sleep.


***

Natasha heard the faint knocking at the door from the bathroom. She stood in Gianni's robe her dark hair hanging, wet, in black rivulets down her back. "Gianni, someone's at the door!" 

There was no answer. The knocking came again. 

"Gianni?" Natasha stepped out into the living room. He was nowhere in sight. The knocking made her jump and she went quietly to the door.

"Gianni?" came a female voice from outside the door.

Natasha carefully unlocked the door. A beautiful dark-haired Italian woman stood outside tapping her foot in irritation. She stopped short and looked Natasha up and down, taking in the robe and the wet hair. Her eyes glittered dangerously.

"Uh, hi." Natasha said uncertainly.

"Oh! An American!" the woman said with a sneer. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Natasha blushed furiously and searched for words. "I'm a friend of Gianni's."

The woman smiled thinly. "I'm sure you are. He didn't waste any time."

Natasha started. Gianni had some explaining to do. "I was just... I mean..." Natasha stammered then took a deep breath and pasted a falsely sweet smile on her face. "Is there something I can do for you?" 

The woman's jaw tightened and she looked ready to scream. Instead she tugged a large platinum and diamond ring from her finger and shoved it at Natasha who instinctively closed her fingers around it. 

"Give Gianni my regards." She said stiffly and spun on her heel, leaving in a cloud of rage and Dior scent.

*** "No, l'attico." Gianni said into the phone. "Due, sì. Grazie." He hung up the phone in his office and made his way to his bedroom. He heard her in the bathroom. 

He saw her illuminated in the light. Her hair was still wet from the shower though she had dressed. She looked into the mirror, ran her fingers over her bruised cheek.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched her. She started when she noticed him there. He stepped towards her, took her face tenderly in his hands and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth burned on hers. His body against her own blocked out all sound and all sensation except for the wonderful sharp sweet heat that shot into her like an arrow. She didn't know when she started kissing him back, but she couldn't tell the difference between his lips and hers, his tongue...

Gianni pulled back and looked straight into her eyes then ran one finger along the line of her jaw. "Bella."

She flushed looking embarrassed. She shrugged away from him remembering his visitor. "Here." She thrust something into his hand. 

He looked down at the ring then back at her. "Where did you get this?"

She cocked her head as her eyes scrutinized him. "A rather enraged woman just left it here. She said to give you her regards." 

He looked thoughtful.

Natasha glanced at him solemnly. "It's a beautiful ring."

Gianni sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked a moment at the ring in his hand before setting it down on the bathroom counter. 

He took her hand. "C'mon. Let's go get some ice." He led her to the kitchen where he wrapped some ice cubes in a towel and held it to her cheek. "Tell me what happened." He touched her arm and they went into the living room. They sat down on the couch. 

Natasha took a deep but shaky breath. "I got home last night after the club. Alejandro was there. He was...upset."

He pulled her against his side and she nestled against him. In part so he wouldn't see her face. 

"He kissed me." She said softly and felt him stiffen slightly. 

Gianni's expression darkened. "He forced himself on you?"

"He pushed me, and he was coming after me. He was going to hurt me." She paused and swallowed. "I could see it in his eyes." 

Gianni was silent.

"I tried to run but he caught me, grabbed me and hit me." She ran her fingers absently over her cheek."

Gianni's fingers stroked her arm soothingly. 

She took a deep shuddering breath. Gianni's hand stopped. "I fell when he hit me and I guess I knocked my head on the bedpost. He picked me up and threw me onto the bed."

He couldn't see her face but he could hear the tears in her voice. "He kissed me and tore my dress. He shoved his tie in my mouth..." 

Gianni laid his cheek against her hair. "Did he –?" he couldn't finish.

She shook her head vehemently and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. "No. I told him my uncle would kill him."

Gianni frowned. "And that stopped him?" 

She nodded her head. 

Gianni frowned, thinking. He hadn't known Montelli to back down from a threat, especially from a woman. He sat up on the couch and taking her by the shoulders, he forced Natasha to look at him. "Natasha, you must be honest with me. It's so important."

She looked apprehensive and not a small bit uncertain. 

"Natasha, who is your uncle?" 

She hesitated. "Pezzini. Renoldo Pezzini." 

Christ. Renoldo Pezzini's niece was in his apartment. He's just taken her from Pezzini's own bodyguard. 

"Okay." Was all he said in a quiet voice. 

"Okay?" She searched her face. His eyes were veiled. 

"Get your things." He said just as quietly. He got up from the sofa, his face impassive. "Now." 

Natasha was still trembling when she stood. She dragged her suitcases to the door and waited. What was he going to do with her? He was acting strange. He wouldn't hurt her. She didn't think. Would he take her back to the hotel? Back to Alejandro? No, she couldn't let that happen.

She made her way quietly down the hall and peered into Gianni's bedroom. He stood at the foot of his bed. Two handguns were placed on the mattress. He picked one up, shoved the magazine in and screwed on the silencer. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 04



Worse. He was going to kill her. Tears stinging her eyes and fear clenching in her belly Natasha slid back down the hall toward the door. She opened the door as quietly as she could. There was no way she could take the suitcases. She left them snatching up her handbag instead. She slipped out into the unfamiliar hall. An elevator was at the end. 

The elevator chimed and reached her when Gianni looked out into the hall. "Natasha?"

She stepped into the elevator and pushed the lobby. The doors slid closed before he could even reached them. Natasha jabbed the lobby button in agitation. "Please, please." She breathed. 

"Shit!" Gianni cursed and he slammed the bar on the exit door and tore down the stairs. He reached the lobby, breathing hard and angry. The little fool, what did she think she was doing? The elevator door opened. He grabbed her before she could even scream and hauled her back into the elevator. He punched the button for his penthouse. As the doors slid closed She screamed and writhed in his embrace, certain now that he meant to bring her to some horrible end. He pressed her against the elevator wall. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" he raged. 

"Get off me!" she squirmed in his grasp, her eyes wet with tears. 

"What the hell were you trying to do?" His grip tightened on her.

She was suddenly still and looked down at his hands on her arms then into his face. "It's not your style."

He brought his face close to hers. "How do you know what is or isn't my style?"

She lowered her voice. "Let go."

He looked into her eyes and was taken aback by what he saw there. Thinly veiled  terror. She was terrified. Of what? Of him? His jaw worked as released her but he pulled the red "fermata" knob and the elevator came to a halt. "Talk to me." He demanded. 

She glared at him and reached for the button. He sighed and took her wrists in a gentle yet unbreakable grip. She looked him in the eye. "I'm not going back."

His brows drew together and his voice came out sharper than he had meant it to. "Back where?"

"Back to the Byron, to Alejandro, to my uncle." The tension in his grip relaxed. She eyed him warily. "You can't make me."

"I'm not sending you back." He sighed in exasperation. "We're leaving Rome."



La Vita Dolce Ch. 05



Natasha was strangely silent beside him as Gianni drove through the Italian countryside. Her arms were crossed, her foot tapped nervously. Her face was turned away from him. She'd been staring out the window for hours.

"Who was she?" she asked quietly without turning to face him. "The woman?"

Gianni's voice was flat and emotionless. "My fiancé," he replied easily. 

For a moment she was silent before turning to gaze at him. "Was? Did I –?"

He shook his head. "No. It was over long before I met you."

"Can I ask why?"

He smiled sardonically. "Our families didn't get along. It caused...stress." 

"Oh." She said nothing else and resumed her silent pose, gazing out the window and endeavoring to ignore him completely. 

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" He asked coaxingly.

She didn't face him. "Does it really matter?"

He sighed and didn't say more. 

They reached Florence after a few hours and stopped in front of a large luxurious hotel.

'Go figure' Natasha thought. 

They rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. Natasha immediately walked into one of the two bedrooms and slammed the door. 

Gianni went to the door and listened. He could hear her muffled sobs inside. He knocked softly. "Natasha?" The sobbing came to an abrupt stop and he slowly turned the handle. When he entered she was sitting up on the bed, her dark hair falling wildly about her shoulders. He approached quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. She watched him warily. "Natasha?" he reached for her and she flinched away. 

She scrambled off the bed and snatched up the bedside lamp and held it threateningly. "Stay away from me." she said quietly.

Gianni stood holding up his hands. "Hey, Bella," he murmured soothingly. "What's wrong?"

"I saw the guns," she said, glaring at him. 

He frowned and made a move towards her.

"Stay back!" she ordered. 

"Natasha, I would never hurt you..." he said and held out his hand to her. "C'mon, Bella. Don't do this." In a move that she barely saw he reached across the space between them and knocked the lamp to shatter on the floor and she found herself inexplicably pinned against him, his arms tight around her. 

"Get off!" She pushed him backwards with all her might and he fell against the bed. 

He sat up. He grinned at her and gave her a slow sensuous assessing look. "You know you're sexy as all hell when you're angry. If you wanted me in bed you only had to ask. If you're willing to have at me again, i'm all for it."

All thoughts of escape flew from her mind. She was angry, and as of now there was no gun in sight. With an inarticulate cry of rage, Natasha lunged at him. 

He cursed, moved quickly to grab her wrists, and rolled her beneath him. He placed his legs on either side of her twisting frame and leaned over to peer into her face. 

She glared up at him.

"I'd never expect this from you, Bella." He chided. "What's wrong? You're safe with me."        "Right." she snorted and spoke through clenched teeth. "And the guns are just for recreation. Get the fuck off me!" 

Gianni blinked. "Ah Bella, " He leaned into her and rested more of his weight upon her and brought his face close to hers.

Natasha started and realized he was enjoying her struggles. The situation abruptly took on a new sort of tension. "Okay," she said, her tone dry. "Let me up."

He smile tilted his lips. "Ah, but Bella, you were so eager to jump on me." 

He propped himself up on his elbows. "You just had to say you wanted me, Bella. No need to jump me." 

She snarled at him. "Gianni, this isn't funny." 

"Oh, I'll agree with you there. No, I don't feel like laughing at all." He brushed his lips against the underside of her jaw.

"Gianni, let me up." she tried to sound bored.

His eyes lit when he looked down at her. "Of course, baby. For a price."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him with suspicion. "What kind of price?"

His breath fanned against her lips. "Just a kiss."

She jerked her head away. "I don't think so. You've gotten enough of me." 

"Just one small kiss." he insisted, his voice both chiding and coaxing at once. 

Her brows knitted ominously as she hissed at him. "All I have to do is pick up the phone and my uncle—"

"We both know you won't, don't we?" He traced her lips with his thumb. 

Natasha turned her face into the pillow but he gently turned her head and pressed his lips to hers. His mouth was greedy, stealing the air from her lungs. The conflicting thoughts were chased from her mind. 

He lifted his mouth from her and looked into her face. She stared up into his eyes and saw naught but tenderness there. Their faces were so close they could have drawn the same breath. 

"The guns are to protect you, Natasha" His fingertips brushed her jaw line. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I would never hurt you." He said quietly and rose up off her. "Think of all the opportunities I've had. I could've killed you long ago." He took her hand and pulled her up to stand before him and cupped her face in his hands. "You can trust me."  

***

Natasha woke. She slid from the bed. Her bare feet sank into the carpet as she padded to the door. She peeked out. Gianni was nowhere to be seen. 

"Gianni?" she called out. 

There was no answer. Good. She was still a bit unnerved. The man did uncomprehensible things to her willpower. 

She slipped out into the living room, to the kitchenette. The coffeemaker had produced a large pot of hot coffee. The smell of it near overwhelmed her. She poured herself a cup, inhaling the scent. She added sugar and crème. With a sigh she sank into the sofa. 

Sunlight streamed into the room lightly through the chiffon curtains at the balcony. Except for the slight dull ache in her head...everything was perfect.

She didn't notice Gianni watching her, as he leaned against the doorway of his own bedroom. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt again, her long legs tucked under her. Her black hair fell about her face and shoulders. She ran a hand through the unruly locks.   He straightened and her eyes flicked to him. He was dressed only in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. His chest was broad, muscled, and tanned. His feet were bare. He yawned and went to the kitchen. Natasha averted her eyes. He filled a mug with coffee and came to sit across from her in the living room. 

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly.

She looked down into her near-empty cup. "I guess. As well as could be expected."

"How's your cheek?"

"It hurts."

"Do you need some ice?"

She shook her head. "No." She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm tired, Gianni." 

He made to stand and come to her but she held up a hand.

"No stay." She said. "I think...perhaps...I should go back. Find my uncle, I mean." 

"Do you want that?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know what else to do. And I'm putting you in danger and i'm a little out of my league."

"I'm in no danger." He said and she looked at him doubtfully. He shrugged. "I have friends in high places. I can keep you safe."

She grimace.d Her pride was stung. She needed him whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

"You need a break." He said.

She smiled, chagrinned. "Maybe a little one."          

"I'm taking you out tonight." He told her. "You need to have some fun." He stood and set the mug down on the coffee table. "In the meantime I have some business to take care of. I'll be back around seven. Charge whatever you want to the room."  

He emerged later from his bedroom in a sleek black suit. Dark shades covered his eyes. He stopped in front of the couch. He smelled of soap and spice. She looked up at him. He stood gazing down at her, his eyes hidden by the dark glasses. He traced a finger along her jaw then turned and left. 

***

"Room service!" came the call from the door. 

Natasha frowned. She hadn't ordered any room service. She slipped into Gianni's room, feeling like an interloper. She slid open his bedside drawer and drew out the gun. It was cold and heavy in her hand. 

"Uno minuto!" she called as she made her way to the door. 

Her hand trembled as she clicked open the lock and turned the knob. She pulled open the door, standing behind it. 

I portly middle-aged man bustled into the room. He turned to see her standing behind the door. She kept the gun behind her back. Her sweaty palms gripped it tightly. 

He held up a white box. "For you, Signorina. From Signore Angiolini" He said and laid it on the coffee table. 

Natasha reached into her jeans pocket and drew forth some euro notes. She held it out to him. 

He shook his head. "That is not necessary, Signorina." 

She stepped aside as he left the room. She pressed her back against the door and slid down to huddle against the door. She sat and let the gun clatter to the floor. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.   ***

Gianni returned later that evening looking slightly wearied. She met him in the kitchenette as he was making himself a cup of coffee. 

"Is everything okay?" she ventured leaning on the counter across from him. 

He glanced at her and smiled tightly. It was closer to the grimace. He reached to his collar and loosened his tie. "Family business." 

She winced slightly. "Oh."

He shrugged. "You should be getting ready, Bella," he nearly purred. "We have plans tonight."

She cocked her head. "You could use a break yourself."

He grinned at her genuinely. "This is exactly that."

She nodded absently and pushed back from the counter. "Okay. See you in a bit." She padded into her room, the door closing with a soft click behind her. 

After her shower, dressed in a silken robe, Natasha slipped into Gianni's room. She'd knocked but received no answer. She pushed the solid oak door as softly.

The dim beating of water against tile reached her ears. Gianni was in the shower. 'What am I doing here?' She wondered. 'Looking for his wallet.' She reminded herself. She wanted to know if he was truly who he said he was. 

She scanned the bedroom quickly opening drawers. Nothing. She checked the dresser, the bedside table, the closet, and even got down on her hands and knees and checked under the bed. Nothing. 

She sighed and glanced at the bathroom, cursing softly. He'd probably dropped his clothes on the bathroom floor before stepping into the shower. She grimaced as she tiptoed into the room to the bathroom door. 

Holding her breath, she peeked around the corner of the bathroom door. The bathroom was air was dense with the thick steam of the ot water. 

She silently slid around the corner and stood just inside the door and pressed herself against the wall. 

She froze. She could make out the outline of Gianni's body though the dense steam, and the opaqueness of the shower door. 

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. 'What am I doing?' Natasha found herself asking herself again.

Gianni groaned softly and he dropped his head back. His eyes closed as the water beat against his body.

Natasha cocked her head gazed in avid fascination at the strong lines of his body. 

He moaned. Her azure eyes grew wide as another low moan escaped his throat. She could feel her face heating and her mouth dropped open. 

He emitted another low moan, deeper this time. He couldn't be? Could he? 

A surpised cry escaped her lips and she slapped her hands over her mouth. 

She turned abruptly to slip out of the bathroom when the shower door slid open suddenly. 

"Leaving so soon, Bella?" he called, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Yes!" she squeaked as she faced the wall. "Leaving now." 

Squeezing her eyes shut she stepped to her right towards the doorway, sliding her hands along the wall to feel her way out. 

With a startled scream, Natasha slipped on the damp tiles and flailing rather ungracefully, she fell to the ground with thud. 

She landed on a pile of his clothes that had been carelessly thrown upon the floor. She gave a mental curse as she felt his wallet among the pile beneath her arm. 'Of course,' she thought darkly.

The sound of water running stopped and the shower door opened. 

She raised her head and shrugged my shoulders, giving him the best innocent look she could muster. "What?"

Water dripped upon her as he leaned out of the shower to look down at her. He chuckled. "Ah, playing innocent now, huh?" He smirked and grabbed a towel off the rack above her head. 

She quickly averted her eyes as he wrapped the towel around himself and stepped out of the shower. He chivalrously held a hand down to her and Natasha slipped her hand into his. She couldn't bring herself to look at him as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. 

She shrugged again. The motion looked more like a cringe than an attempt at nonchalance. "Gianni, I'm sorry. I just –" she stumbled to come up with an excuse as to why she was in his bathroom.

He lifted his hand from hers and placed it gently on her cheek. Her heart leapt. 

His hand slipped around to the back of her head, and gently pulled her towards him, bringing her closer as he brushed his lips gently over hers. 

Natasha sighed softly as she slid closer to him, raising her hands to his chest.

The feel of his dampt skin stretched taut over muscle made her weak.

He kissed her fiercely and the glorious taste of freshly washed male exploded in her mouth. He parted her lips and slid his tongue firmly along the recesses of her mouth. 

Unable to help herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself fully against him. 

Chuckling against her mouth at her eagerness, Gianni slowly pulled away from her. A pout upon her lips, she opened her eyes to find him staring intently in her eyes. "You don't have to apologize."

He gently picked her up under her arms and set her down to sit upon upon the bathroom counter. 

He came to stand between her splayed thighs. He was lightly brushing his lips over her face as he spoke. "You need to work on your spy tactics, Natasha. I heard you the minute you came in the room."

She swatted at him in mock outrage but he merely growled and placed a searing kiss upon her lips. 

Natasha moaned low in her throat; the sound part protest and part arousal. 

She pushed her hands against his chest in a half-hearted move to pull herself free, but his hand darted up the slit in the front of the robe. His fingers drove into her and before her could take another breath and her channel clenched as her body exploded into a violent shattering orgasm. 

With a quiet startled cry she went limp and nearly slid from the counter but he looped a strong arm around her waist and held her against him. The water droplets that still clung to his skin dampened her robe, making it cling to her own feverish skin. 

His hands and mouth were seemingly everywhere at once, tugging and tearing open her robe to run his fingers over the smooth skin that lay beneath. 

Natasha lifted her hands to his back, pulling him even closer. 

He slid down her body stopping between her legs. His eyes flashed mischeivously as he slid his mouth and tongue over her.

"Fuck." Was all she could manage between gasps, trying to force air into her lungs. She felt his chest rumble against her thigh as he chuckled at her inability to speak. 

She tried, but she couldn't reach down to haul him up without nearly taking a header off of the counter. Instead, she dropped her arms to her sides and held on to the ledge for dear life. 

Placing his hands on either side of herhips he lifted himself with his hands to stand between her thighs once more. His hardness pressed against her stomach insistently.

She gazed up into his face to watch emotions flit over his features as he struggled to maintain control.

Control? Natasha had none. The thought scared her. Who was this person she was becoming. This woman who let a man take her upon his bathroom counter with nary a protest. 

As Natasha's eyes fluttered closed his hands slipped into her hair. "Bella..."

She opened her wondrous eyes, but was unable to focus on anything. 

"Stop thinking so much, Bella," he hushed. 

She blinked at him, "But I just don't think--"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't talk so much either." 

Her mouth dropped open but before she could speak a word his mouth swooped down upon hers. He reached down pressed the heal of his hand against her mound, massaging her clit. 

Her hips bucked against his hand. She leaned into him fully and he grinned viscously. 

Her head dropped back.

"What are you thinking about?" Gianni breathed against her ear. 

But she found herself unable to answer him, lost in the sensations he was causing in her body. Her thoughts scattered, her breath came in smal quick gasps. 

His tongue lavished her throat before he repeated himself. "What are you thinking about?" He gently took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and forced her to meet his gaze. "Penny for your thoughts, Natasha."

She found just voice and whispered an answer to his question. "Nothing but this."

He grinned as whipped the towel from around his hips and firmly guided himself slowly into her pussy. 

"Want to watch?" he said softly?

Her eyes flew to his as he hooked one of her lean legs over over his arm and looped his other arm around her back to hold her upright. She leaned her brow against his own as she watched his thick pink cock slide slowly into her brown pussy. "Mmm," she smiled. 

She brought her other leg to wrap around his waist and leand back on her hands. She arched as she stretched around his thickness. "More, Gianni, please," she pleaded softly. 

He needed no further encouragement. Placing one hand on the mirror above her head to stead himself he began pistoning his hips against her. 

Her brown-capped golden breasts bounced with the force of it and he leaned down to capture one pert nipple between his lips. 

She gasped and began to move her hips to meet his thrusts. He angled his body over her, his hips pressing more fully against her so that her clit pressed against him. 

Her mouth formed an exquisite little 'O' and before long he felt her walls tightening around him with her orgasm. 

"Gianni" she sighed as her arms trembled with holding her own weight. He wrapped an arm around her her and held her against him as he thrust hard. 

"Bella" he groaned as he felt his balls tighten and then release as he spurted deep within her. 

"Mmm," he sighed contentedly. He gave her a moment to catch her breath before he carefully slid her robe back up her shoulders and tied the belt deftly at her waist. 

She gazed up at him, a puzzled look on her face. 

He almost laughed at her quizzical expression as he hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her to the floor. He tenderly brushed her dark hair back from her face and quickly kissed her lips. "We've still got plans for tonight. You should be getting dressed." 

Her lips parted and he could practically see a protest forming in her mind. 

He swatted her butt. "Go." he grinned. 

She looked at him with a strange expression on her face before leaving him in the bathroom. 

Natasha walked back to her room as if in a daze. She never did get to his wallet.  



La Vita Dolce Ch. 06



Natasha strode into the suite, tossed her clutch onto the coffee table and flung herself down into the couch. 

Gianni entered the suite behind her, his manner more sedate though his face was both grave and ominous. He took the seat opposite the couch and watched Natasha closely as she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands with a low groan. 

Despite the look of things, the evening had gone quite well. Dinner had been lovely. They had danced afterward and even stopped at a street vendor to order gelato as they walked hand and hand along the streets. At one a.m. the streets had been crowded with the city's youth on their way out. It was when they had entered a narrow alley full of vendors selling their wares that the tone of the night had shifted. 

Like many of the narrow back walks of Florence, this one was full of small stands and booths, their owners peddling beads, silver jewelry, and Italian leather goods as well as knock off designer shades and handbags. 

Gianni was reaching into his wallet to buy a small silver ring for her as she wandered to the next booth; a man selling strings of beads, some of the strands made of semi precious stones like amethyst or turquoise. A man was perched upon a stool cutting leather in the next booth and stitching pieces together into wallets and shoulder bags. 

"Signorina," the vendor nodded and smiled at her. 

She returned the smile and tapped a wallet with the tip of her finger. "Cuanto?"

Before the man could answer a large hand closed around her upper arm in an almost bruising grip. 

"Jeez Gian, chill out," she breathed as she turned to face him. She stopped short and her heart dropped into her stomach. 

The man who held her was not Gianni. He was tall and bald, his gaze hooded. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, a tattoo peeked above the collar of his shirt. He was flanked by two equally sinister men at his sides. 

"Signorina Pezzini," he nearly growled at her. Natasha recognized him instantly. She remembered the man at the airport staring so intently at her as Alejandro had all but pushed her into the limousine calling this man a 'henchman'. 

Benicio Morelli. 'Henchman'. Natasha had laughed at the time, thinking Alejandro's choice of words a bit melodramatic. But at the current time, Natasha thought Alejandro's melodramatic choice of words were quite appropriate. This guy was definitely sinister. He practically oozed menace and self-importance as his fingers dug into her flesh. 

The gelato cone she had been holding slipped from her fingers to land with a soft 'plop' upon the ground. Morelli didn't even bat an eyelash, his gaze intent upon her. 

"I think you should come with us, Miss Pezzini." His voice was low and heavily accented. His words sounded clumsy on his tongue. 

Natasha stared at him. She looked at him incredulously, "Come with you?" she pretended to think about it a moment and then sighed. "Actually, I'm thinking no." She shrugged in mock apology. "I'm just not feeling it. I think I'll stay right where I am." 

They were receiving curious looks as people moved through the alley. Morelli's grip tightened on her arm. "It would be best if you didn't cause a scene." 

Her gaze narrowed as she stared at him. She snorted. "Right." 

Taking him off guard she brought her spiked heel down on his instep. He cried out and his grip slackened as she pushed him with both hands. He stumbled back, the two men at his sides reaching out to steady him as he nearly fell. 

Natasha's hand struck out catching him across the face in a stinging slap. Yes, they definitely had everyone's attention now. 

"How dare you," she raised her voice to shout at him in Italian. "Sleeping with my brother?" she at him in mock outrage and watched his mouth drop open in shock. "I don't ever want to see you again." She tossed her head and flounced away to move through the crowd, dodging the reaching hand of one of the men flanking Morelli. 

Her amusement was shortlived. She took off running, spewing apologies to the people she jostled along the way. She could hear shouts as the men came after her, less cautious in their pursuit. 

Where the hell was Gianni? Her thoughts raced as she ran through the alleyway. Almost before the thought was completed a hand shot out from a doorway and she was nearly yanked off her feet. Terrified, she opened her mouth to scream, the sound being cut off as Gianni's mouth swooped down to cover her own. He shielded her body with his own, hiding her from view as Morelli and the two men raced by. The kiss lingered before Gianni raised his head to study her face. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing absently over her lips as she struggled to catch her breath and slow the rapid beating of her heart. "Are you alright?" 

She nodded slowly. 

He met her gaze with intensity and took her shoulders in his hands. She trembled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she gasped. 

"Good." He took her hand and looked both ways before stepping back out into the alleyway. He walked swiftly. She almost had to run to keep up with his long strides as they made their way quickly back to his car. The ride back to the hotel seemed to take an eternity. Natasha was silently gazing out the window. Gianni was tense, constantly checking the rear view mirror for a following car as he took a round about way route back to the hotel. 

Now he sat, studying Natasha silently as he sat across from her. He'd felt like he'd been sucker punched when he'd first seen her. She wore a strapless red satin dress that hugged her body and fell to mid calf. Her lustrous dark hair was piled atop her head and long curls lay about her face. She wore pearls in her ears and about her neck. She frowned and winced in frustration as she sat upright and began pulling the pins from her hair. The dark ringlets fell about her shoulders. Gianni smiled faintly as she reached up and ruffled her dark locks. Her beauty took him by surprise on a regular basis. 

She raised her brows at the smile on his face. "I don't see that there's much to smile about right now, Angiolini." 

The smile broadened. "Why don't you head to bed, bella. It's been a long day." 

She stared at him mutely a moment before standing. "Sure."

She was heading towards her bedroom when the sound of his voice halted her. "Natasha..." He stood and came towards her to stand over her. He slipped his arms around her waist to pull her against his body. His smile was playful. "Don't you think it's time we dispensed with the separate bedrooms?" 

A small smile tilted her own lips as she toyed with the buttons on his shirtfront. "That could be arranged I think."

She slid her hands into his dark silken hair and pulled his head down to her own and kissed him fiercely. 

With a groan he set her away from him. "Soon, bella," he breathed and brushed a dark curl back from her face. "Go to bed. I have to make some phonecalls." 

Natasha slipped out of his arms and stepped out of her heels. Reaching behind her as she padded into his bedroom she pulled the zipper down on the dress. The satin fabric slid down over her hips as she walked and she stepped out of it continuing on to the bed. 

The sheets were cool on her heated skin as she slid between the covers. Gianni stood leaning upon the door frame, his look a mixture of amusement and appraisal. He shook his head. 

"What?" Natasha ventured. 

He straightened, "Go to sleep, bella. Sweet dreams," as he closed the door. 

***

Natasha dreamed. She dreamed she was standing in the foyer of her grandfather's house in Rome. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling was the same, as was the ornate staircase winding upwards. The black and white marbled floor was the same. But things were not as they had been in her grandfather's house when she was young. 

At her feet lay the bodies of slain men such that she could not move in any direction lest she tread upon them. Bile rose in her throat as blood pooled beneath her feet, soaking through her slippers. 

Suddenly two arms wrapped around her waist and chest, slamming the air from her lungs. There was a voice in her ear, "stupid bitch." Morelli. The metallic flicker of a blade sprung before her eyes before settling against her throat. "It's time I've rid myself of your nuisance."

Natasha screamed before the spray of her own blood covered her vision and she felt herself falling to join the bodies that lay sprawled upon the floor of her grandfather's house. 

She tried to scream but no sound would come out.

"Natasha, wake up!"

Natasha thrashed wildly in the arms that restrained her. Tears streamed down her face. 

"Natasha stop!"

She paused. "Gian?" She lay on her side. Gianni lay pressed against her back, his arms wrapped securely around her. She sighed and sunk into his embrace. 

Gianni tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the side of her throat. "What was it?" he murmured. His lips brushed her ear and she shivered. 

She snuggled against his body. "It was MOrelli."

She felt him stiffen and there was a low growl in his throat. It rumbled through her. She turned in his arms to face him. "That wasn't all..." She shivered. And she could see the concern in his face as fear seemed to seep from her very pores and fill the space around her. "I was in my house, my grandparent's house. There were bodies upon the floor—everywhere. So many...the floors were covered in blood..."

"Shh..." he soothed and smoothed her hair back. He brushed his lips lightly over her own before looking down into his bella's face. Her eyes were wide and wet with tears. Her full pink lips were slightly parted. He bent his head and ravished her mouth, leaving her gasping before he gently turned her over onto her side again and carefully fitted his body against hers. "Go to sleep, love. I'm here," he said as his breath caressed the shell of her ear. 

He felt her small body relax and slowly her breath became steady with sleep. 

Gianni exhaled heavily and then closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

***

A rippled of pleasure jolted through her body and she cried out. Natasha's deep cerulean eyes flew open. 

She felt the hard naked length of Gianni pressed against her own bare skin. Where had her clothes gone? But—oh she didn't care. His arm was slung over her hip, his fingers doing wonderful things to her woman's place. 

She nearly screamed as his flingers rubbed against her clit and she let out a lusty moan. Gianni's deep chuckle vibrated through her. "Ah, my lady wakes," he said softly.

He put his mouth to her throat and she arched. She could feel the hard length of his heavy cock nestled between he nether cheeks.

"Ah, Gianni please!" she begged and he laughed.

"What is it, bella? Was there something you wanted?"

Natasha groaned in frustration. He was toying with her. She shifted and his cock slipped to rest between the folds of her wetness. She smiled as she moved her hips, sliding him against her, her wetness coating his shaft, but not allowing him to enter.

Gianni groaned at the exquisite pleasure. The little minx had turned his own game on him. Gripping her hips, he placed the tip of his cock against her entrance and slowly he entered her. He stopped, allowing just the head to enter her. He brushed his lips against her hair. "Is this what you wanted, bella?"

Natasha moaned and still he held her hips still within his grasp. "Gianni, please," she gasped. And gripping her hips he plunged into her hot sheath. 

She cried out in pleasure. Gianni lay still, enjoying the feel of her gripping him nearly to the point of exquisite pain inside of her. He lay still a moment, the spasm of her muscles around him coaxing him even harder. 

Slowly he withdraws, nearly completely then thrust hard back into her depths. She cried out as he thrust harder and harder into in long deep strokes. Faster and faster he pistoned his hips, the pleasure building until he thought he might lose his mind to the sensations drawn from his woman's body. Yes, his woman. 

He cried out her name as he spilled his hot seed into her welcoming body.

His cock jerked inside of her, setting off an explosion in Natasha. Ripples of ecstasy flooded her body in overwhelming waves. "Gianni!" she shouted. 

He felt her shudder in his arms before she went completely limp. "Love?" he murmured.

She only moaned.

He smiled and kissed her temple. He did not withdraw from her but merely pulled her closer, securely against his body, staying within her, feeling the aftershocks of their passion. 

"I love you," he whispered to the sleeping young woman as guilt and regret washed over him for what he would have to do. It was long before he drifted into his own troubled sleep.

***

The shrill ringing at his bedside jolted Gianni from his sleep. Natasha moaned and snuggled against his side but did not waken. 

"Ciao?" his voice was husky with sleep and contentment.

"Angiolini."

Gianni stiffened and his arm curled around Natasha. 

"I'm in the lobby."

The line went dead. Gianni stared at the phone a moment before replacing it on the bedside table. He gazed at the ceiling. He looked down at the girl sleeping on his chest before slid carefully out of bed.

He emerged from the bathroom dressed in a button-down and black slacks. He turned to see Natasha asleep, her mass of raven hair cascading over her shoulders allowing him a limited view of her golden skin. She had pulled up the white sheets, holding it modestly at her breast. Her caramel colored skind contrasted wonderfully against the pallid sheets. Her heavily lashed lids were closed, her full lips beckoning him to forget the phone call and join her. He could lose himself in her glorious body forever. He traced a finger down the smooth column of her throat before gently brushing a kiss against her brow. Giving her sleeping form one last perusal he left the room. 

***

Natasha was alone when she woke. She didn't need to call Gianni's name to know he wasn't in the apartment and she felt a wave of disappointment. She slid out of bed and slipped into his white French cuffed shirt. She held her wrist to her nose. It smelled like him. 

She went to her room and pulled on a khaki mini and a pair of puma running shoes. She snatched up the car keys and the room keys and headed to the lobby. She took the stairs and stopped at the balcony overlooking the ballroom-like lobby and searched for Gianni.

He was talking to a tall bald man. He smiled and laughed. The men hugged and Gianni's eyes met hers over the man's shoulder. The smile slid from his face and he froze. 

The man, catching Gianni's gaze, turned to look up at her. His eyes widened in recognition then narrowed in menace. 

Spots danced across Natasha's vision. Benicio Morelli. She stumbled back from the railing and tripped up the stairs. She raced for the hotel suite and burst inside and ran to Gianni's bedroom. She wrenched open his bedside drawer and hauled out the gun. 

"Natasha?" Gianni stood in the doorway. 

She whipped to face him, gun raised. "Get out of my way."

"Natasha, don't." he stepped towards her. "Let me explain."

"Fuck you." Gritting her teeth she squeezed off a shot into the wall to his right. He didn't flinch but stopped where he was. "Move." She gestured with the gun. His eyes locked on hers he stepped out of the doorway and into the living room. Natasha followed and backed into her room. "Stay."

She backed to her dresser and took the white envelope from the drawer. She then shoved a bunch of clothes haphazardly into a Biasia shoulder bag. When she emerged Gianni calmly was sitting on the couch watching her every move intently. Natasha stood across from him, the coffee table between them. The gun was held loosely in her grasp. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me." 

There was a shattering of glass and Natasha heard the zing of a silenced gun. Gianni was up and diving over the coffee table. He tackled Natasha to the floor. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs. And in an instant she was pinned beneath him. They were chest to chest, his hands locked around her wrists. A moment passed while they did nothing but breath. More shattering glass. The windows of the suite were reduced to shards of glass in moments. 

Natasha struggled beneath Gianni. He groaned and she rolled him off her. She looked down at him. His shirt was soaked with blood. His eyes were squeezed tight in pain. He gripped his left shoulder with his right hand as blood seeped between his fingers. She hesitated a moment in indecision before grabbing up the gun as she crawled over him and crawled towards the door. 

"Natasha, no!" he shouted as he struggled to raise himself to sitting position, his face contorted in pain. She yanked open the door and staggered to her feet. She raced down the hall and hit the stairwell door running and dashed down the stairs. 

A great many footsteps were coming up the stairs and she plunged into the third floor hall. She sprinted to the elevator and took it to the lobby. She drew many curious looks as she strode through, bloodstained and in disarray. She handed the wide-eyed valet her keys and he brought up an ice blue Z4. She slid the key in the ignition and the car revved to life when Gianni came out of the hotel, bloodied and pale, gun dangling loosely in his hand. 

Natasha raised her own gun and aimed at his chest. Her hand shook and her voice trembled. "If I see you again, Angiolini. I swear to God, I'll kill you."

He took a step towards her. 

No, she couldn't shoot him. She hauled back hand hurled the gun at him with all her might. He ducked and she floored the accelerator. The Beemer lunged away from the curb leaving Gianni to stare after her.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 07



***Sorry for the delay darlings. I've had a crisis in my love life and it has given me a killer case of writer's block. My "Gianni" and I have been having issues...sweet. Hope i'm not letting you down with this one. It's a longer chapter. Not so much "sexy time" and a little bit of violence. Eh, enjoy I hope.***

The hotel clerk stared at her as she slapped the euro notes down on the counter. "I need a room."

His mouth opened and closed. He continued to stare, taking in her disheveled appearance. "I need identification."

Natasha rolled her eyes and fished a 100-euro note from her pocket and thrust it at him. "No ID, just a room."

He looked around nervously before slipping the bill into his shirt pocket. He handed her a key. His eyes roved over her face, taking in the tearstains, and his voice softened. "Is there anything else you need, Signorina?" 

"Yeah." She handed him her car keys. "Get my car." She handed him another hundred euro note. 

She'd driven overnight. She was too exhausted for politeness. 

She climbed the winding staircase to her room and set her shopping bags inside the door. It was a moderate sized room. Nowhere near as large as her previous accommodations but she could care less.

She looked down at herself and groaned. She still wore Gianni's shirt. It was stained with his blood. She unbuttoned it with trembling fingers and tossed it into the trashcan. She slipped out of her skirt and put that in the bin too. Her underwear and bra joined the pile. 

She went to the bathroom and stepped into the shower and scoured herself until the steam became so thick it made it hard to breath. She dried herself and slipped into a pair of white cotton underwear, then walked to the balcony. She threw open the doors and looked out over the coastline. Waves crashed against the beach far beneath her window. Winding stairway wound it's its way down the sheer cliff wall. The lights of Sorrento glimmered and across the water she could see Naples. She looked up at the stars and hugged herself. Dad, you were right. I don't know what I've gotten myself into.

She closed the balcony doors behind her before turning out the lights and sliding between the covers. She gazed up at the ceiling, tracing one spindly crack that marred the eggshell white surface. She felt like crying but could not. She had cried too much recently. Instead, her insides were twisting themselves in knots, pressing against her chest, hindering her breath. It was long before exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a troubled sleep. ***

It took her a moment to realize where she was when she first opened her eyes. The knowledge hit her hard and all she wanted to do was retreat to sleep. But no matter how she tried she could not close her eyes. Each time she tried she saw Gianni bloodied and pale in her mind's eye. 

With a frustrated groan she slid out of bed. After taking a hot shower she examined the contents of the shopping bags; a new suitcase, a few days worth of clothes, accessories, and a few new pairs of shoes. She'd paid cash. No one could follow her credit card trail. 

She pulled on a tight-fitting white t-shirt, distressed denim jeans, and her puma tennis shoes. She grabbed her purse and sunglasses and headed out the door. 

It was midday and warm as Natasha walked down slope towards the center of town. She kept her head down as she walked. Two men on scooters honked at her and whistled as they drove by. 

Natasha walked along the street looking in shop windows not really seeing anything. She sat down in the town square at a sidewalk café. She sat her head in her hands. 

"Signorina?" 

"Padron?" She looked up to see a waiter. 

He smiled at her, his eyes assessing her. "May I get you something?"

"Oh," She looked down at the menu and ordered smoked salmon. She ate and left a generous tip. She went in and out of stores buying more clothes and necessities. She flagged down a taxi and the driver helped her load her things into the trunk. 

The bellhop took her bags to her room and she flopped onto the bed fully clothed. The sun was setting as she fell asleep. 

A dark shadow fell over her as she slept. A black-gloved hand trailed over her collar bone and down to trace the lacy edge of her bra over the generous swell of her breast. 

Natasha's eyes slid open. A dark figure stood over her. She shot up and opened her mouth a scream but a hand covered her lips muffling her screams. He pushed her back down on the bed, applying pressure to her abdomen. 

She squirmed but he was too strong. 

He leaned over her and she saw his face in the moonlight. Gianni.

She stopped struggling and stared up at him. 

"Please, bella. Don't scream." He said quietly. "I only want to talk. I promise I won't harm you. Do you understand?"

She nodded fiercely. Her mouth was dry with fear.

"You won't cry out?"

She shook her head. 

He took his hand away, a mere inch at first, then all together. She breathed hard as if she had just sprinted a mile. She screamed as loud as she could, the sound echoing off the walls of the small hotel room. 

Gianni clamped his hand over her mouth. He sighed. "Natasha...please."

Her fear was turning to anger. She growled against his hand. 

"Please listen to me." 

She roughly pushed his hand away taking him off guard. "Listen to you?" she hissed. "Why the hell should I listen to anything you have to say?"

The stared at each other a moment.

His voice was low. "Because I'll tell you the truth." 

Her brows drew together and she opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and fell silent. 

He ran a hand through his dark locks, looking sheepish. "The Angioini's and Pezzini's have been at each other's throats for years...decades; over territory, business negotiations, they'd fight over anything and everything. Many times it got violent. The police can't do anything. They straddle both sides of the feud. They're on the both of our family's payrolls." Gianni took a deep breath. "My father and your uncle are the head's of the Angiolini and Pezzini families. Right now there's a huge dispute going on over port space on the Mediterranean. Things have gotten ugly. People are dying. Your uncle is in hiding. Alejandro was supposed to protect you, keep you out of sight, and keep your name from being associated with the Pezzinis. Your uncle knew that my father would try to get to him though you."

She stared at him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she processed everything he was telling her. "So you were just trying to get to me?"

He touched her cheek. She flinched and he dropped his hand. "Natasha," he breathed, "That first day I saw you, I wanted you. And after that first night, I..." his voice trailed off. "I started to fall in love for you. I didn't know you were a Pezzini until you told me so."

She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand. 

"I was supposed to kill you. I was at the Byron to make a hit. I didn't know that hit was supposed to be you. I came into your bedroom and saw you lying there. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I knew if I didn't finish the job myself, someone else would come after you. So I took you to my place and then Florence. I didn't think anyone knew. And then Morelli showed up. He didn't know you were there until he turned and saw you on the balcony. He still doesn't know you were there with me. That's when he sent men up to the roofs of the buildings and started shooting." He winced involuntarily.

Her voice was soft. "How did you find me?" "Tracked your cellphone."

Her voice rose several octaves. "What?!" Her mouth dropped open. "What are you, fucking Interpol?" He shrugged. 

There was a knock on the door. "Signorina?"

Frowning and casting her a meaningful look, Gianni stood and went to the door. He pulled off his shirt and mussed his hair as he went. Natasha merely stared after him, dumbfounded. Natasha remained where she when she heard a voice. "I was not aware that the Signorina had a guest."

"Well, she does." Gianni's tone was irritated. 

"Someone reported hearing screams. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, she's alright." Gianni answered. His voice lowered to a husky sound, tinged with a amusement. "I'd say she's better than alright actually." 

"I would like to see for myself if you do not mind."

Gianni groaned, "We were kind of in the middle of something."

"I must insist, signore."

With something akin to a growl Gianni stepped back from the door and the hotel clerk entered the room. He looked at Natasha sitting upon the bed, the sheet pulled up to preserve some illusion of modesty. The clerk flushed lightly. "Are you alright, Signorina?" 

Natasha met Gianni's eyes over the clerk's shoulder. She could expose him. She smiled wanly. "I'm perfectly well. Thank you so much for your concern. It's good to know you look out for your guests so thoroughly." Her voice dripped sweetness though Gianni detected a strained menace under the soft tones. His woman was not happy. 

"Are you sure, Signorina?" the clerk looked at her carefully.

She smiled thinly. "Yes, I'm fine."

The clerk nodded, subdued, and turned and left the room. Gianni closed the door behind him. 

Natasha looked at Gianni. He still looked pale and he moved carefully as if his wound plagued him. There was a bandage the size of her palm directly below his collarbone. She felt a twinge in her chest was torn between throwing her arms around him and the desire to do him further injury. 

He sat on her bed. "Look Natasha. If I could find you, most likely, someone else can. Did you use the credit cards?" 

She shook her head. 

"Good. Let's go." He stood.

"Wait." Her brows drew together and she stood to stand toe to toe with him. She had to drop her head back to look into his face but she ignored the feeling of smallness. "You expect me to leave with you. After all you just told me. Are you insane? Do you think I have some sort of twisted death wish?"

He shook his head, looking down into her face and sighed. "I'm the best chance you have. You could go with Alejandro and he might take you to your uncle, maybe. Or he'll want to keep you quiet about what happened between you two. I can help you. I don't want to see you hurt. I love you." 

She frowned, her face hardening although he noticed the hitch in her breath at his words. 

His face softened. "You didn't mind me saying it before it before."

She averted her eyes. 

He cupped her chin gently and turned her to face him. "Come with me. Let me protect you." **

Natasha shoved her new wardrobe into her newly bought suitcase. What the hell am I thinking? She zipped it closed and Gianni lifted it easily. 

"Is that everything?" he asked softly. 

Natasha nodded silently. 

He opened the door and waited for her to precede him out of the room. She hesitated. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands were folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor. 

"Natasha?"

She raised her startling eyes to him. "Why are you doing this?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?" " I don't understand. Why are you helping me? Judging from your family history and mine, you should be doing anything but helping me."

He set down the bags and closed the door. He came over to the bed and stood over her and pinned her with his eyes. His gaze was full of heat and hunger. Before she could protest, he grabbed her up from the bed with one arm, avoiding his injury and held her against the hard length of his body, her feet dangling. 

He kissed her hard, putting all of his longing for her into it. There was little gentleness in it but it branded her, claimed her. He broke the kiss, holding her tightly to him for a moment, reveling in the feel of her. He then slid her slowly down his body to the floor, letting her feel his desire. His voice was husky as he said. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you. Stay with me" Gianni plundered her stunned mouth again before he released her. 

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek and gently run his thumb over her lips. "If we had met under other circumstances...if I'd just been some regular guy and you..."

She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He tentatively closed his arms around her as though he feared she might pull him away. They stood like that for what seemed like many minutes before she stepped back. "Oh hell," she shook her head. "I guess we should be going."

He grinned and picked up her bags. ***

Natasha silently prayed to God that she survived this. The Mediterranean coast was to her left as far as she could see. The only thing separating them from plunging into the sea far below was a short stone wall, no more than three feet tall. That stone wall didn't look particularly reassuring. 

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut as the Mercedes sedan sped around the curves of the Amalfi drive. Gianni glanced at her "Are you alright?" his voice was strained. 

She didn't open her eyes. "I know you're Italian and all but is it necessary to drive like a lunatic, like we're being chased?" 

When he didn't answer she tore her eyes from the road to look at him. She caught his glance in the rearview mirror and twisted around in her seat. A black Renault was careening around the curves behind them. 

"Turn around." He said softly as he took a turn and she was thrown against the door as he took a sharp turn around a blind curve. 

She stared at him. "We are being chased!"

Gianni's jaw tightened. "Put your head down." 

She gaped at him. "Wha—"

He wrenched a gun from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the back window. With a shriek she ducked in the front seat. Gianni was driving with one hand and looking out the back window. The Mercedes was straying into the opposing lane right into an oncoming car. Natasha grabbed the wheel and wrenched it to the right. 

"Thanks." Gianni mumbled.

There was the roar of the gun, the shattering of glass, the squeal of tires, and the unmistakable crunch of metal. 

Gianni turned back to face the road and shoved the gun back into its holster. Natasha tentatively raised her head and looked through the jagged glass of the back window to see smoke rising from the hood of a black Renault, its front crumpled against the stone barrier between the road and the edge of the sheer cliffs.

Natasha sat back against the seat and stared at him open-mouthed. "Why do I get the feeling you've done that before?" 

Gianni said nothing but continued to stare at the road ahead. A van was stopped in the lane ahead of them. Gianni slammed on the brakes and Natasha braced herself against the dashboard as the Mercedes screeched to a halt. 

The doors to the van flew open and two men, each carrying a mac-10s stepped out. They pointed their weapons at the car and walked towards the Mercedes, yelling in Italian. 

Gianni carefully held up his hands. Natasha did the same. The two men came to either side of the car. The young man, taller of the two with a dark ponytail wrenched open Natasha's car door. Training the gun on Gianni. The shorter stocky man opened Gianni's door. He pulled back his the gun and struck Gianni on the side of the head. Gianni slumped over. 

"No!" Natasha shrieked as the young man with the ponytail undid her seatbelt and hauled her out of the car. "No!" she struggled wildly but his arm snaked around her waist slamming the air from her lungs. She was lifted off the ground and carried towards the truck. 

"Gianni!" she managed to scream. She saw him lift his head and dazedly meet her gaze momentarily before he slumped forward. She watched the short stocky man raise his weapon and point it at the windshield of the Mercedes, directly at Gianni. With a shriek she kicked out. Her toe caught the man's hand and a row of bullet holes appeared across the hood of the car. 

Shrieking Natasha was dragged towards the back of the van. The sharp stab in her arm make her tense, but it was too late. Whatever they had given her hit hard and fast. Dazedly sensing the men on both sides, she struck out to her right while lifting kick to the left. Too slow. Neither blow connected with her intended and as she lost her balance and fell to her knees. She struggled to stand. God, she could barely lift her head. Then the edges of the world became dark and hazy, her strength was rapidly draining from her, and then she knew nothing. ***

It was nearly pitch black in the room when Natasha awoke with the worst headache she'd had since celebrating her twenty-first birthday at a sleazy bar in Cabo with her friends that they had discovered during a night of slumming. Moaning, she tried to remember what she'd been celebrating this time. It must have been pretty important. 

She shifted, realizing she was being held. She was in Gianni's lap, nestled against his chest. Sighing in relief she snuggled against his body, closing her eyes as his fingertips lightly ran over her bare arm. A shiver coursed through her. His chin was resting on the top of her head. She sighed deeply, "Baby, what happened?"

His deep chuckle rumbled through her and she froze at the sound of the unfamiliar laughter. She stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away but he held her tightly. His lips brushed against her ear. "Ah, where are you going, little one?"

She began to struggle in earnest, he merely laughed at her efforts as he stood keeping her in his grasp. 

"Put me down, you bastard," she growled as she wriggled within his grasp. 

"As you wish." There was laughter in his voice.

Natasha cried out in surprise as he abruptly released her and she landed hard on her tailbone on the plush carpeted floor. She remained still, trying to see something in the darkness of the room, sensing his movements. 

The light flickered on and Natasha sat blinking at the sudden change in lighting. She was in an office. To say it was opulent would have been an understatement. The room was done in deep mahogany, reds and blacks with gold accents here and there. One wall was a bookcase completely filled to the brim with heavily bound books. 

At the moment, Natasha was sprawled between the heavy mahogany desk and an equally imposing leather chair which had been pushed back from the desk. The desk light had been turned on, casting the room in dull amber light. A man stood over her, a small smile tilting his lips.

Natasha could do nothing but stare at him. He said nothing as her gaze roamed over his features. 

He laughed softly, a low rumbling sound. "Do I resemble my older brother, little one?"

Natasha blinked. This man's face was quite similar to Gianni's; the same strong jaw line, dark hair and near iridescent grey eyes...but this man was not Gianni. There was a hardness about his mouth, his eyes were hooded. A few days worth growth was upon his cheeks and his hair hadn't been cut recently. The dark locks hung around his collar and the lapels of his linen suit. He should have been handsome in an unkempt rugged sort of way but a bitterness and tightness about his features ruined the visage. 

He ran a hand through his dark locks that was startlingly familiar. He smiled sardonically at her confusion. "I personally think I'm the better looking Angiolini heir." 

Natasha assumed it was an attempt at humor but it was ruined by the underlying tone of resentment in his tone. 

He crouched down on his haunches, bringing himself to eye level with her. "Luca Angiolini," he introduced himself and extended a hand to her. She looked at it warily. Sighing, he allowed his forearms rested nonchalantly on his thighs. "We're only a year apart, you know, my brother and I." He said a-matter-of-factly, before his brows drew together. "Of course that never stopped father from favoring his eldest son."

Natasha decided that she was definitely afraid of this man despite his obvious attempts to disarm her. "Where's Gianni?" she murmured. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 07



He rolled his eyes as he stood. His voice rose in irritation. "Gianni this...Gianni that...WHO THE FUCK GIVES A SHIT?!!" 

He swooped down and effortlessly picked her up under her arms and plunked her down on his desk, her legs dangling over the side. 

Startled she leaned back away from him on her hands but he merely came to stand between her thighs and placed his hands on either sides of her hips. His face was mere inches from her own. His warm breath fanned her lips. His slate eyes were staring right into her own widened gaze. A small smile stretched his lips as his gaze darkened and his attention was drawn to her own full lips, parted as she drew quick breathes. 

"Mmm," he moaned as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him to press his engorged crotch against her mound. She whimpered in fear and immediately hate the sound that came from her own chest. 

"Tell me, little one," he breathed, cupping her cheek and ran his thumb over her full trembling lips. "What will you give me if I tell you what I have done with me dear brother? How much do you wish to know?"

She swallowed hard. "Please." It was nearly a whisper. 

"Ah, please what?"

Her voice was trembling. "Please tell me where his is."

His smile broadened. "And you'll give me what I want?"

He watched her wondrous eyes cloud with anger as her body went rigid. She was silent.

He roughly buried his fingers in the dark curls at the base of her head and yanked her head back. She gasped but did not cry out at the sharp pain. He looked satisfied at that. "Good," he mused. "I like my women strong. It makes them so much more entertaining to break." 

There was little Natasha could do as his lips crushed hers. His hand was in her hair, bending her neck at a painful angle as he plundered her mouth. 

She winced as his teeth nipped hard at her lower lip. She the coppery taste of blood entered her mouth. Trying to move slowly, so as not to distract him, her hand roamed over the desktop over papers and pens to close over a heavy round crystal paperweight. 

She hit him hard. He grunted and fell heavily to his hands and knees, cursing, one hand to his temple as blood seeped between his fingers. Natasha swore flagrantly under her breath. She hadn't knocked him out but she didn't hesitate. 

The paper weight dropped to the floor. She scrambled off the desk and sprinted to the large double doors, flung them open and raced into the foyer. 

She didn't get far. A large hand closed around her arm and swung her around to slam against the wall. Pain exploded in her chest as her breasts were crushed against the wall. The side of her face stung. Her arm was wrenched behind her back and a huge male body was pressed against her back, holding her firmly against the wall. 

She mentally kicked herself. Of course the guy would have huge gorilla-like bodyguards right outside the doors. 

"Let her go, Pietro." Luca's voice was cold. 

Natasha felt the weight lift from her back as her arm was released and she slowly turned but opted to keep her back against the wall. Luca stood before her, the huge bodyguard at his shoulder. He dabbed at the shallow cut on his brow with a kerchief. He sighed in mock drama as he looked at her. "Malto bene, Bella. Nice move." 

Luca stepped closer and she could feel his breath on her cheek as she turned her face away. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I will forgive you that first infraction. It is only understandable that you would make a move to escape." His voice lowered menacingly. "However, only moves that will help you are the ones I'm sure you are so adept at beneath the sheets."

Natasha attempted to press herself more fully against the wall as she was being consumed by equal parts anger and fear. One thing she was not going to let this man do to her was make her beg but the fear was slowly spreading cold tendrils through her chest. She struggled to fight down the feeling. 

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the current situation from her mind and addressed Luca as though they were talking business. "Signore Angiolini, you don't need to add kidnapping to the nastiness between our families. Let me now and I'll make ensure that my uncle doesn't find out about this. You'll have time to get out of the country, while I find my way home. It's your only chance to avoid my uncle taking you off at the knees, perhaps literally." One raven eyebrow rose incredulously as Luca stepped back. He threw back his head and laughed, his bodyguard joining in with soft rumbling laughter. With no warning, Luca's hand snaked out, his palm slamming against her cheek hard enough that she would have fallen if not for the wall at her back. 

Natasha felt blood trickle from the corner of her mouth where her lip had collided with her teeth. She thought vaguely, 'Why can't I faint? All good heroines faint!" Instead, fury chasing fear from her heart, she turned to face Luca slowly, the fury evident on her face. 

Luca looked surprised. He grabbed her face in his hand, squeezing till she could have sworn she felt her jaw crack but would have died before uttering the slightest whimper of pain. "Perhaps I was wrong about you, little one. You are obviously too stupid to be of use to me. A pity. I am certain I would have found pleasure between your thighs. I'm sure my brother did. But he fails to realize that one woman is much the same as the next. You will be an example the Pezzinis and anyone else who might dare to defy the Angiolini family." He released her face and motioned to Pietro, "Get her out of my sight." 

***

Natasha was smiling up at him. Gianni's chest warmed, his mouth curled into a soft smile. Then without warning, Natasha's face broke into a scream that Gianni felt in his very soul. "Gianni!" 

Gianni's eyes flew open. When Gianni woke he was in a situation not so different from Natasha's. He was tied to a chair, his arms wrenched painfully behind him. His head felt like it weighed fifty pounds. With difficulty he lifted his head to peruse the room. It was an elegant office, decorated in soft crèmes and pale blues against cherry wood furniture as sunlight streamed in through tall French doors though the room was unmistakably masculine. 

"Where is my niece?" came a softly menacing voice.

Gianni snapped his gaze to the dark wood desk before him. There sat Renoldo Pezzini. Renoldo Pezzini's hair was dark and wavy, coaxed precariously back from his face aquiline. Piercing blue eyes, so like Natasha's, bored in to him. 

Gianni's head throbbed. "What...?"

Renoldo's hand smacked violently on the desk. His voice rose in fury. "MY NIECE! WHERE IS SHE?!"

Gianni's thoughts were slow. "Natasha..."

Renoldo stood and strode to Gianni. Grabbing a fistful of Gianni's hair, he yanked Gianni's head back. Gianni grunted and Renoldo leaned down and glared into his face. Renoldo Pezzini pressed a slim blade to Gianni's throat right below his jawline. "My niece...what have you done with her?"

"Nothing." Gianni swallowed thickly, feeling bloow well against the pressure of the blade. "I would never hurt her."

Renoldo sneered and roughly shoved Gianni's head away. "Pardon me if I don't believe you."

Gianni blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurred vision. "My father...my brother...they have her. I am sure of it...I can get her back."

Renoldo stepped back and laughed humorlessly. "My men can get her back."

"No." Gianni shook his head. "Not bloodlessly, you can't. You go in there shooting and she could get hurt. She could be killed."

Renoldo sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his arms and looked into Gianni's face. "Why should I trust you? What are you getting out of this?"

"Nothing, sir." Gianni said quietly. 

"Then why?"

"Because..."

"Because what?" Renoldo demanded. 

Gianni sighed and met Renoldo Pezzini's eyes. "Because I love her." 

Renoldo strode forward to put his face close to Gianni's. His eyes blazed. "If she dies," he grabbed Gianni's jaw in a crushing grip, "you die." ***

"Wake up, darling." Someone smacked her cheek sharply and Natasha lifted her eyelids. Luca was standing over her. Two of his men stood behind him. Luca leaned over her. "It's time for your film debut."

Natasha couldn't move. Her entire body was leaden and heavy. She realized with panic that she couldn't move her limbs, her head, she couldn't move her lips to speak. She was in half lying a bathtub. It was a pure white, claw footed tub. A video camera was on a tripod pointed down at her. Her eyes darted around her, taking in her surroundings. She realized with a jolt that her clothes had been removed and she was nude. 

Luca's gaze roved longingly her body. Leaning over the side of the tub, he traced his fingertips over one taut brown nipple reverently. Natasha could only watch. "Such a waste," he murmured softly. 

He rose smoothly as he turned the tap on the tub. He tested the water's temperature. "Wouldn't want you to get cold," he mused. He smiled down at her and patted the video camera almost fondly. He switched on the camera. "I suppose that since we do not have your dear uncle here we shall simply have to send him a video account of your death...Your uncle should like this movie. It's very avant garde, I think." 

Luca smiled as her eyes widened. He leaned down and smoothed her hair back from her face as he bent and lightly kissed her immobile lips. "Rest in peace, little one." 

He stood, smiling grimly as he stood and left the room. He paused in the doorway He flipped a mock salute and looked quizzical. "Actually, I take that whole 'rest in peace' bullshit back. Farewell, Signorina Pezzini," his smile turned as icy, "may you burn in Hell along with the rest of your line."

Natasha felt earnest dread crash down upon her as the door closed behind him. By her estimate there was a full foot-and-a-half of fillable space over her head. She was going to drown in this bathtub. She began struggling to focus, struggled to move her limbs, anything to get her out of this tub. 

But her limbs remained immobile despite her efforts. The drug they had given her was painfully slow in wearing off. She could now move her neck and head slightly, but it wasn't enough. Fighting a panic that grew in direct proportion to the filling of the tub, she tried to think rationally of an escape. But no astounding movie-heroine solution appeared to her. 

It seemed as though hours, or was it just minutes, went by. She was straining every muscle to keep her head above the rising water. She felt the warm water creep up her neck, into her ears, over her jaw. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured Gianni's face. Tears slid from her eyes. As the water began to slip into her eyes, her composure, the tatters that were left to her, fell away abruptly and she opened her mouth and screamed the only word left in her distressed mind. "Gianni!" ***

Gianni brought the black BMW sedan to a stop the driveway of the large villa. The two men standing guard at the door straightened as he got out and came towards them. They moved in front of the door, blocking his entrance. 

Frowning he removed his dark shades and glared at them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. 

One of the men swallowed hard and paled. "We were ordered not to let you in."

He lowered his eyelids to half-mast, bringing his chin up an inch. Menace dripped from each syllable of his softly spoken words. He radiated power and aggression. "By whom?"

"By Signore Luca." He stammered. 

"Why?"

The man shrugged. "We were not told why. It is not our place to question."

Gianni's jaw clenched and he stepped closer to the man. His words hissed out through clenched teeth. "And who are you going to listen to, my sniveling little brother or me? I'm going to be running this family one day soon. You had best decide where your loyalties lie."

The men glanced nervously at each other before they stepped aside and Gianni strode into the villa. He raced up the stairs and slammed through the doors of his brother's office. Luca sat behind the desk, his expression quickly changing from surprise to malignant amusement. "Gianni," he drawled and stood. 

Gianni covered the space between them in an instant and sent his fist crashing into his brother's jaw. 

Luca went down hard but he did not stay there for long. Gianni reached down and grabbing his jacket lapels, he hauled Luca to his feet. He shook him hard. "Where is she?"

Luca smiled a lopsided grin. "Where is who, dear brother?"

Gianni tightened his grip. "Natasha Pezzini, where is she? Tell me, now!"

"Oh, her." 

"Where?!" Gianni drew back his fist and struck Luca again. Hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to render him unconscious. He could waste time waiting for Luca to regain consciousness before finding her. 

Luca barely stood on his own. "She's a pretty little thing, you know...beautiful body...such lips..." Gianni's stomach clenched but he held his temper waiting for Luca to continue. "...she's defiant too. I had to...discipline her..."

Fury sweeping over him Gianni reached into his shoulder holster and wrenched out his gun. He pressed the barrel painfully up into Luca's ribcage. "Where?" he growled. 

Luca laughed softly as blood began to pour from his nose. "You'd kill your own brother?" 

"This brother?" Gianni said, "Yes." 

Luca's eyes narrowed. "For that slut?!" Gianni pressed the gun harder into Luca's ribcage and drew back the hammer with a loud click when Luca shouted "Fine!" A smile slipped over his face. "She's in one of the cellars, drawing her last breath as we speak." A lazy smile slid over his face. "You remember that lovely little bathtub..."

With a cry of rage, Gianni tore down the stairs. Upstairs in the office, Pietro lay crumpled upon the floor, unconscious. 

After checking door after door Gianni burst into the final room. He quickly took in the scene before him; the small, dark room, the lone antique bathtub in the center, water spilling over the sides. Looking into the tank, he saw Natasha, her ebony locks floating around her face like a cloud. Her eyes were closed. She looked as though she were sleeping She was unrestrained. Why wasn't she moving, getting out of the tub? His breath left him as though he had been kicked in the stomach. She wasn't moving. 

With a cry, he plunged his arms into the tub and he pulled her into his arms. He hauled her limp form into his arms as he sat and pulled her into his lap. He smoothed the wet strands of her dark hair back from her pallid face. "Natasha! Natasha, I'm here. You're safe, my love." 

He held her close to his chest, willing her to absorb his warmth. Still, her eyes remained closed. Dropping her to the ground, Gianni knelt beside her and listened to her chest. He heard nothing. "No!!" 

Gianni tipped Natasha's head back and, gently closing her nose with his thumb and forefinger, he blew his breath into her mouth. After several breaths, he slammed his fist into her chest in an attempt to start her heartbeat. He repeated his actions several times, his panic increasing each time he pressed his fingers to her throat and found no pulse. Once again, he pulled her limp body against his own. 

Feeling her slipping from him, Gianni felt as though his heart were being torn from his chest. He squeezed her body tightly to him. The pain was more than he could bear. He held onto her tightly, as though just by pure will alone, he could keep her there. 

Natasha gasped. "You're choking me," she wheezed. Gianni started, and hurriedly helped her to turn as she began to cough, then held her while she rid herself of the water in her lungs and stomach. Her small body thrashed violently as coughing racked her body. Finished, she lay back in his arms, her eyes on his face. She sighed. Raising her hand, she touched his cheek, her fingers coming away wet with his tears. "Gianni? Where did you come from?"

Gianni exhaled a near sob as he pulled her so tightly against his chest she thought her ribs might break. He had come so close, so very close, to losing his her. He doubted he would ever forget how it had felt to be without her even for a few seconds. How had this happened? How had she fought her way into his heart? He couldn't explain it. It frightened him. 

Gianni smiled softly. "Welcome back, bella. I simply walked in. It's my house." He said as he lifted her into his arms and stood

"And you're just going to walk back out of here?" He wondered why no one had yet entered the room to stop him. He wasn't about to wait around for anyone to realize their mistake. He set her away from him a moment before shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around her nude body. He stood, keeping her in his arms. 

He should have known she wouldn't be docile. "I can walk, you know." 

Gianni merely snorted. 

Natasha kept her voice low to placate him, "Don't you think if a bunch of bad guys were going to come running in here it might make more sense for you to take the lead while I slink along three paces behind you like good little girl?"

An unwilling smile raised the corners of Gianni's mouth. She did have a point. He gently lowered her to the ground, wondering how quickly he would regret that action.

Natasha blinked, attempting to steady herself as Gianni took her shoulders . Then she looked up at Gianni, frustration furrowing her brow

Gianni smiled down at her. He reached out and tenderly brushed a lock of ebony from where it had fallen over her right eyebrow. Natasha started to pull away, but as soon as his flesh touched her own she leaned into his touch. "I thought your near death experience might have dulled your senses, making it difficult for you to walk." His smile widened. "But it would seem that you have not been overly affected. I should have known"

He grabbed her hand. "Let's go." He peeked out into the hall before he led her to towards away from the stairway. 

"Gianni? Where are we going? The stair's the other way." 

He led her around the corner to an elevator. There was no up or down button, simply a keypad. He punched in some numbers and the doors slid open. The interior of the elevator was mirrored with brass and cherrywood trim. Once the doors slid closed. 

Gianni punched another set of numbers into the keypad inside the elevator and when the doors opened a luxurious suite was revealed. 

"Gianni, what is this?" she asked as he led her inside. "Don't you think we should be getting out of here?"

Releasing her hand he went to a tall armoire and took something out. When he came back he had a dress and stilettos in his hands. When he handed them to her eyebrows shot upwards. "I suppose you just had these lying around?"

He shook his head and went to his desk. "They belonged to Marcella." 

Natasha frowned. "Who's Marcella?"

"My fiancé." Gianni answered absently as he dug through his desk drawer. He looked up at her standing there. "My ex-fiancé" 

She held up the dress looking dubious. 

"What?" he asked. 

She blinked and looked at him. "Nothing."

Without another word, Natasha tossed the dress over a chair. She shrugged out of the damp sport coat which covered her nakedness.

Gianni watched her open mouthed, his eyes roving over her body. He tore his gaze away and endeavored to keep his attentions on the contents of his desk. She wasn't paying him any attention as she picked up the dress and pulled the slinky white material over her head. The white dress fit like a glove, dipping low at the neck in the front and back, exposing her perfect skin. It was short revealing her long golden legs.

With a sigh she slipped her feet into the stiletto sandals. Tossing her hair out of her face she glanced at him and pouted. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of the dress. "I look slutty."

He glanced up at her and froze. Looking like a man under a spell he walked around the desk and came to stand before her. With a sly smile he slipped his arms around her. "That's the idea, luv." He placed a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. He tousled her hair, placed a pair of Armani sunglasses on her and smiled. "Perfect." 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 07



He changed out of his damp shirt, readjusted his shoulder holster and slipped a white envelope into his pocket. "Let's go." He took her hand. Just as they were about to leave, Gianni turned back and shoved his computer consul off his desk. It shattered on the floor. 

"Uhh..." Natasha started but Gianni grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her out the door. They made their way down the ornately carved staircase and walked right towards the front door where the two guards stood watch. When Natasha balked he tightened his hold on her and pulled her after him. 

The two guards were too concentrated on Natasha's legs and cleavage to ponder where she had come from. Natasha lowered her shades and winked at one of the men as Gianni led her to the car. 

He settled her in before getting in himself. He revved the engine and they shot away from the Villa. ***

Gianni pulled the Beamer up in front of a posh cliff side villa. Natasha sighed as an attendant handed her out of the car. "What's this?" she asked Gianni as she stepped out of the car. 

"Another hotel? I don't think I can handle another hotel. I feel like I've been living in them for my whole life."

Gianni came to stand beside her as the attendant unloaded Natasha's suitcases from the trunk. "No, it's not a hotel." 

"Then what..." she stopped at the pained expression on his face.

"C'mon." he led her toward the door. "It's one of your uncle's houses." He said softly. 

"What!" she turned abruptly to make her make her way back to the car when Gianni grabbed her arm. 

"Natasha, stop."

She raised pleading eyes to him that were nearly his undoing. "What are we doing here?"

For one weak moment, Gianni considered changing his mind, keeping her and letting the fates fall as they may. One quick flash of memory, lifeless blue eyes, chased that thought from his mind. He knew he must play this to the hilt, even if it tore his soul from his body. Straightening, he raised his chin, his attitude cool and indifferent. "I'm leaving you here." 

He wrapped his hand in a grip of steel around her upper arm, nearly lifting her off the floor as he propelled her toward the door. She was too stunned to even stand her ground. They were inside the door before she protested.

"Hey, what's going on?" She yanked at his grasp. "And do you mind if I arrive with my arm intact?"

Gianni lessened the pressure on her arm only the slightest bit. She was trying to plant her feet, but against his persistence it was like an ant trying to stop a tiger. He almost smiled at her nearly childish efforts to get away.

Natasha didn't understand what was going on. Had she missed something? She wasn't sure whether to panic or get mad. He dragged her through the main hall and up the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

"Excuse me, Gianni. Would you mind cutting the 'silent tough-guy' routine long enough to tell me what's going on?"

Gianni stopped and released her so suddenly that she almost fell. She felt she recovered well, though, placing her palm against the wall to steady herself. She glared up into his face, indignant.

She rubbed the circulation back into her arm. 

Gianni crossed his arms over his chest. "I have wasted enough time with you. You're a nuisance that I am about to be rid of."

Natasha felt the fear returning full-force tinged with hurt and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Gianni's lips spread in a predatory smile she had never seen grace his masculine features before. His voice was a low, angry hiss. "You were fun for a while. But you've proven to be more trouble than you're worth."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her onto her toes to bring her face closer to his. "You're a walking disaster and you're probably going to get me killed. You're amusing in bed, I'll give you that, but I've had better and you can be replaced. Maybe a woman who will be a less of a chore and doesn't get me shot."

He pushed her away from his body, ensuring that she hit the wall with just enough force to let her know he was serious. The pain in her tear shimmered eyes was nearly his undoing. 

Natasha's soft, emotion choked whisper held all that she was feeling: confusion, shock, fear and, most of all, pain. "But you said you loved me."

Gianni clenched his jaw, an outer reflection of the tightening of his inner control. If he didn't get her out of his sight soon, he knew he would never be able to let her go. He took her arm again, more gently this time, and steered her into a large bedroom. She offered no resistance. She walked as if in a daze, staring straight ahead as they entered the. 

As he started to step away from her, she grabbed his sleeve. He had to strain to hear her whispered question. "Will you come back?"

Gianni marveled at her indomitable spirit and optimism. After all the things he had said to her, her voice was still laced with a tiny thread of hope. 

He shook off her hand. Chin high, he actually looked down his nose at her, contempt the likes of which she had never seen evident in every fine angle of his handsome face, least of all directed at her. "No, Natasha, I will not. I'm not coming back"

She flinched as if he had struck her. Taking a deep breath, she straightened, her eyes clearing and regaining their focus. Her voice was a little stronger, as she tried desperately to regain her dignity. She lifted her chin, ignoring the tears threatening to well over. "Fine. I won't bother putting you on my Christmas list then. It was great playing mafioso with you, Signore Angiolini. Give the whole family my regards."

Tears streamed down her face, but she just brushed them away with a quick move of her hand. The strain of holding back sobs showed in every line, every move of her face and body. Natasha glared at Gianni and when he turned and grabbed the door handle. Seeing her control break, and he knew that only when he closed the door would she give in to the pain he had caused her.

Gianni was only vaguely aware of his actions as he locked the door from the outside. Natasha's tear-streaked face remained in his vision long after he had gotten into his car, driven away from the Pezzini villa, and he had returned to his own hotel room. As his own tears finally escaped his hold he dropped his head back, he closed his eyes, his whisper for his ears only. "Arrivederci, bella, my heart." 



La Vita Dolce Ch. 08



The door to Natasha's room opened silently. Renoldo Pezzini walked across the plush carpets to stand over his older sister's only child. 

She was lying on the bed. Her dark hair spread out over the white linen of the bedspread. Her face was turned toward her right hand the other arm flung out to her side. Several strands of hair clung to her cheeks. He stepped forward and brushed them away, leaving her face completely bare.

He could tell by the light residue of makeup staining her cheeks, and his bedspread, he noted 

with a grimace, that she had been crying in her sleep. It bothered him that she had been in pain.

He gazed at her face and recognized the traces of the gawky, dusky skinned. ten-year-old girl who used to follow him around. He laid his hand on her cheek and her darkly lashed lids lifted to reveal deep blue eyes. He sighed. There was so much of his sister, Angelina, in her.

"Uncle Renoldo?" she whispered. 

He nodded and smiled. "Mia Bella Natalia."

She shot up and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. "It's Natasha." She mumbled and felt his chuckles deep within his chest.

He held her a moment then stirred to reach into the pocket of his black slacks and held up a white silk handkerchief. She took it murmuring her thanks.

Renoldo pushed her away a little, lifted her face so he could see her. She pressed her cheek back against his chest. She didn't want to look at him, or have him look at her. His shirt was wet. She didn't even realize she had been crying. She wanted to apologize but instead found herself telling him absolutely everything, leaving nothing out. 

"It's over now, little cat." He said soothingly, using his childhood name for her.

She was crying again, with huge heaving sobs that racked her body. He said nothing for a while. Finally she pushed back from him, sat up and wiped at her tears with the handkerchief. She smiled faintly, abashedly. She should be embarrassed. She should get up and wash her face.

Renoldo looked intently into her face and brushed his fingers over her cheek. He smiled faintly. "Do you remember when you left Italy? Angelina and your father were packed and ready to go. They were all ready to take that cab to the airport, and then a plane to London, and then another to America? And just when they were about to leave, you disappeared. No one could find you anywhere. They missed their first flight. It was back when we lived in the countryside and the markets were still crowded. For hours and hours everyone searched for you but you were nowhere to be found." He lightly touched the tip of her nose. "Then I had an a thought. I went back to the villa, got down on my knees, and guess who I found hiding quietly under my bed?"

Natasha smiled a genuine smile. "I didn't want to leave."

Renoldo grinned and chucked her playfully under her chin. "But you're here now. In Italy where you've always belonged." 

***

Gianni grimaced as he turned the handle and the french doors opened. It had been far too easy to get to the balcony. Yes, there had been a twelve foot wall, cameras, guard dogs, and yet here he was. It had been a simple matter of climbing the trellis and vaulting over the balcony. 

Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains. A breeze swept through the room and the curtains billowed out like pale ghostly specters. He could make out the outline of furniture in the darkened room. A huge four poster bed was on the opposite side of the room, the posts hung with light gossamer. 

The air inside her room was thick with the eucalyptus and lemon. Gianni went to her bedside. His hand brushed over a tray on her nightstand. He paused. It was filled with Vicks, cough syrup, aspirin, and a thermometer. He tenderly touched the rim of a half empty tea cup where her lips would have rested. Could a simple illness have filled him with so much fear that he risked coming to see her?

The moon cast a silver light across the bed where Natasha lay, the white sheets twisted around her legs. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow. She wore a white tank and black cotton pajama pants that stretched across her hipbones.

Gianni edged around the furniture, and then knelt beside her and touched the dark curls on her pillow. He had been drawn to her since the moment he saw her. She had cared about him, wanted him. Even after she knew who he was and what he was capable of. But as much as he wished otherwise, she didn't belong with him. They didn't belong together. 

He traced a finger down her arm to her hand. Her fingers uncurled as if they welcomed his touch. He wanted desperately to take her hand. Their relationship was beyond hope. She couldn't help what she was born into, who her mother was. He couldn't change his blood, how he'd lived his life. He might struggle against it for a while, but the life always drew him back. 

She stirred as if she sensed his presence. He gazed at her beautiful face. A frown marred her brow in sleep and she shifted slightly, the pajama top moving up to revealing her flat, golden stomach. His hand hovered over the tiny silver hoop piercing the flesh above her bellybutton. Her skin radiated sweet warmth

She moaned in her sleep and her eyelids fluttered. She was waking. Gianni quickly rose and retreated into the shadows. 

Without warning Natasha bolted upright in bed. "Gianni?" She kicked back the covers and sat on the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're here," she whispered.

He was silent. 

"I can feel you." She turned and surveyed the room again. "I know you're here."

Gianni stepped out of the shadows and heard her quick indrawn breath. He came to stand over her. She gazed up at him unmoving, her eyes bright with fever, her cheeks flushed. His eyes on her face he reached out and traced his fingertips over her brow. It was hot. 

"Gianni?" Her words were soft. "What are you doing here?"

Without a word her swept her up into his arms and held her against him. 

"I came to see you." 

Natasha raised her eyes to meet his. His eyes were still dark, but the fire in their depths warmed her soul. She fought the tears that threatened. "I hope you don't intend to breeze in and out of my life like some long lost friend." 

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek in a caress that nearly burst the damn inside her heart. How much more did he think she could take? She already felt like all the oxygen would disappear from the room when he left.

"Natasha..."

That soft verbal caress was the last torture she intended to let this man inflict on her. "Stop it!" She slapped at his hand, frowning when his quick reflexes kept her from connecting. 

She stepped out of his grasp and put some space between them. "I'm not going to play this game any longer, Angiolini. Maybe you get off on torturing me, but you can forget it if you think that I'm going to stand there and beg you to stop hurting me."

She glared at him, her tone sharp. "I'm going to make this unmistakably clear to you. Angiolini. Unless it's going to be every morning next to me when I wake up, I don't want to see you again. Ever." She pointed a finger at his chest. "Get it?"

One side of Gianni's upper lip lifted in a sneer. "I get it," he growled. 

Natasha nodded sharply. "I'm going downstairs to the kitchen. Be gone when I get back." She then turned on her heel, intending to march out of the room without looking back. It wasn't going to go the way she'd planned. 

Turning back, her beautiful cerulean eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. "If you had asked me to give up everything to be with you," she gave a bitter, humorless chuckle, "if I had to go to Hell and back to be with you, I really think I would have. But you didn't give even me a choice." 

Natasha choked back a sob, once again pointing a finger at his chest. "If I ever see you again, it better be because you made a choice. And don't bother me if it's the wrong one. Got that too?!" 

Gianni's voice shook with anger, love, too many emotions to name. "If you see me again, Natasha, it will be on the other side."

Not caring to let him see her crumble further, Natasha spun on her heel. The quick movement sent the room spinning and she weaved. Moving quickly, Gianni caught her in his arms and cradling her against his chest he carried her back to the bed. He pulled the sheet up over her legs. 

She threw an arm over her eyes and grimaced. "Why are you always doing that?" she murmured. 

"Doing what?"

A frown marred her brow and her speech was slow as though she had to concentrate on each word. "Rescuing me. "

"I don't want anything to happen to you.""

"Then leave me alone. I assure you, I was perfectly capable before I met you. Around you...I'm a walking accident." Her chest heaved. "Leave me alone."

"Natasha—"

"No!" She shook her head vehemently. "No more. You need to go now."

Gianni gazed down at her and had a feeling that he wouldn't be seeing her again. "As you wish, Signorina." He whispered and made his way over the balcony. 

Natasha looked up just in time to see him vault over the balcony. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, willing the images of Gianni to leave her. 

Scattered memories of Gianni floated behind her closed eyelids. Gianni smiling his lazy nonchalant smile, making. Gianni rising above her, rivulets of sweat tracking his high cheekbones, silver eyes sparking fire in her soul as he drove his body into hers in a rhythm of ecstasy, Gianni smiling with all the love she could ever have asked of him. How had she been so stupid? All of it had been lies. 

Finally Natasha managed to fall into a fitful sleep. 

***

Natasha dressed in a conservative black suit and stiletto heels. She wore pearls and black gloves. She slipped a pearled rosary into her purse and carefully placed a matching wide brimmed hat on her head. 

Natasha frowned at herself in the mirror. She looked pale beneath the dusky gold color of her skin. The fever had taken more out of her than she had thought. Her expression tightening, she lowered the black netting of the veil over her face and left the room. She headed down the hallway and down the stairs to where her uncle was waiting in the foyer. Taking her arm he led her to the black limousine and helped her into the black leather interior. 

Renoldo sighed as he settled in beside her. He glanced at her but the black veil hid her face. 

The car started and the limousine pulled out of the gates and left the villa behind. 

Natasha finally spoke. "Whose funeral is this?" She asked quietly. 

"An associate of mine."

"Oh?" Her tone was wry.

Renoldo sighed. "Natalia—"

"Natasha." She corrected.

The limousine stopped in traffic. Renoldo frowned and looked at his watch.

"Uncle Renoldo—"

He frowned and shook his head. "Natasha. We've been over this before."

Natasha pouted behind her veil. "I don't see why I have to go."

"You're my heir. It is necessary that you know my business." 

Natasha shook her head. She spoke softly. "Uncle, I am both flattered and honored but...I don't want your business." 

Renoldo's voice tightened. "We can discuss this later, Natasha." 

"I don't want this life! I don't understand—"

Renoldo suddenly leaned forward. 

"What?" Natasha looked through the front window. Two men in dark suits were coming towards the limo. Renoldo grabbed her hand. "Uncle?"

The sound of gunfire filled the air. Pain ripped through her chest. "Down!" Renoldo ordered and pushed Natasha to the floor of the limo and covered his body with his own. There was the shattering of glass and screams rent the air. 

But Natasha heard none of it. All there was, was pain. Her chest burned and she struggled to draw breath. Oh God, help me!

When the shooting finally halted and sirens sounded in the distance, Renoldo cautiously lifted his head. The driver and bodyguard in the front seat were dead, their bodies riddled with bullets. 

There was no sign of the gunmen. Renoldo carefully slid back into the seat pulling Natasha onto his lap. The sight that greeted him nearly stopped his heart. The front of Natasha's suit jacket was dark with blood. Her neck and chest were smeared with the deep red liquid. Her eyes were closed.

"No!" A sob wrenched itself from his throat and he shook her. When she did not move he buried his face in her neck and rocked her, crying out in anguish. 

Suddenly she coughed. She blinked rapidly and her breath came is great wheezing gasps. Her fingers clutched at his jacket. "Uncle," her eyes met his pleadingly, "help me..."

***

Gianni sat up in bed with a start. His breath was coming fast and he felt dread settle over him. He ran a trembling hand through his dark locks and exhaled slowly. Pushing aside the uneasy feelings he tried unsuccessfully to recall what had woken him. 

Dawn's orange fingers plucked at his curtains as he threw aside the covers. He could smell the aroma of coffee from the coffeemaker as he padded into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup before heading to the front door to retrieve the newspaper from his doorstep. As he read the front page headlines the coffee mug slid from his fingers to shatter upon the hardwood floor. The brown liquid spread out in a widening puddle, but Gianni did not notice. 

Natasha's beautiful smiling face smiled up at him from the front page, clashing sharply with the accompanying words. Pezzini Heir Near Death After Attack. 

***

Sitting in his car at the stoplight, Gianni tried process everything. Natasha had been hurt, shot, in an ambush and had not regained consciousness. Millions of questions ran through his mind. He had never been so afraid in his entire life. He silently cursed Renoldo for bringing Natasha into this, but then if Gianni had not turned her over to her uncle, what would the end result be? He cursed God for bringing her into his life and then trying to take her away from him. He cursed himself for not being there. His emotions were chaotic, rallying back and forth between fear and anger. 

The faces of the paparazzi turned like sunflowers to the sun when Gianni's black Mercedes pulled up before the hospital. They immediately engulfed the car as he stepped out. Gianni batted away the microphones shoved towards him and pushed through the crowds to the hospital doors. 

He took the elevator to the intensive care unit and made his way to the information desk. 

The clerk glanced up at him, taking in his half-buttoned shirt, his wild hair, and unshaven face. "May I help you, signore?" the man ventured. 

"Natasha Pezzini," Gianni said.

"Pardon?"

"Natasha Pezzini," Gianni repeated impatiently, "What room is she in?"

"Her room?"

Gianni gritted his teeth in irritation and his words came out harsh. "What room number is it?"

The man looked at him skeptically. "Are you family?"

Gianni frowned. His jaw worked tensely as he attempted to swallow his anger. "I'm her fiancé."

The man still looked doubtful. "I don't think—"

Gianni reached and grasped the man by his lapels, hauling him halfway across the desk between them. His voice hissed out. "Tell me where she is...now."

"Four twelve," 

The man slumped back into his seat as Gianni abruptly released him. "Thank you." Gianni growled and turned on his heel to make his way towards Natasha's room. 

He noticed two of Renoldo's bodyguards outside the door. Seeing him coming, they moved immediately to bar his way. And when he would have stepped past them they grasped his arms and held him back.

Gianni struggled against them but it was no use. Hearing the noise, Renoldo tore himself from his niece's side and ventured out into the hallway. 

Gianni noticed he looked haggard, and weary, older than his near forty years. When Renoldo saw him, his face suffused with color. Renoldo strode towards him and drove his fist into Gianni's stomach.

Gianni slumped as the air rushed from his lungs and Renoldo caught him the front of his shirt. "You said you loved her." Renoldo shook him. "And now?" He dragged Gianni towards Natasha's door. "Look at her!"

Gianni looked. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. Natasha lay unconscious against the pillows. She looked pitifully small in the hospital gown too large for her. Her eyelids bore a purplish tint. There was a bandage on her temple and she looked pale beneath the golden color of her skin. There were tubes in her nose helping her breath, and ivs in her arms. Her arms were bruised where needles had pierced her skin. The whirring and beeping of machines filled the room. 

Gianni's heart fell inside his chest. Renoldo's voice hissed in his ear. "A bullet passed through her chest cavity. Another hit her just below the collarbone. Your love has done nothing for her." Renoldo flung Gianni backwards. "Now get out," he spat.

Gianni stood panting, his fists clenched. Renoldo's eyes glittered dangerously. Gianni inclined his head. "Signore," he said softly, and turned on heel and left. 

***

When Natasha first woke in her own bedroom, the first thing she saw was Renoldo. He had pulled his chair close to her bed and had lain his head upon the edge of her mattress. One of his hands was closed around hers. She studied his face as he slept. 

He looked weary. His eyelids looked slightly bruised and his usually immaculate hair was mussed and fell over his forehead. 

Swallowing thickly, she reached out to touch the dark tresses of his hair. His deep Mediterranean colored eyes opened and his gaze met hers. 

"Natasha," he murmured as he sat up. "Are you alright, Bella?"

"No." Her head throbbed and each breath hurt as though there were sharp knives stabbing at her lungs. She looked at the tubes and ivs in her arms, felt the sensors taped to her chest. And then it all came rushing back; the shattering glass, the bullets, the mind numbing pain, Renoldo trying to cover her body with his own. With a panicked sob, she began to frantically tear at the wires. 

"Natasha!" Renoldo gently took hold of her wrists and stilled her movements. 

She cried harder.

Sighing, Renoldo rose and sat upon the edge of the bed and took her into his arms. "Ah, Natasha," he sighed, "I'm sorry, Bella."

She pulled back slightly but did not look at him. "What happened?"

His eyes bore a haunted look as he studied her bruised and abraded face. "There was an ambush. The driver and bodyguard were killed. A bullet hit you under your collarbone, another passed through your chest cavity." He passed a trembling hand through his unruly locks. "Jesus, Natasha. You nearly died." He took a deep breath and continued. "Once, your vitals were more stable I had you moved here to the villa and hired a nurse. My own private physician will make regular visits."

Natasha reached out and delicately touched a bandage upon Renoldo's temple. 

"It's nothing," he said softly. "The bullet just grazed me."

Natasha's brow furrowed and she was quiet a moment. When she finally spoke her voice was soft, 

"Who did this?"

"The Angiolinis," Renoldo said quietly. 

Natasha seemed to pale. She closed her eyes, leaned back against the pillows, and exhaled a deep breath. 

Renoldo gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry. It's being taken care of."

She opened her eyes to look at him and slowly slid her hand from his grasp. "What does that mean?"

Renoldo frowned slightly. "It means what I said. It's being taken care of." 

Natasha stared at him.

"Natasha—" He reached for her. 

"No!" She jerked away, and grimaced in pain. Renoldo took her by the shoulders and pushed her gently but insistently back against the pillows. Her eyes bored into him. "I don't want any part of this. And you shouldn't either."

"I agree," he answered calmly, "on one account. You shouldn't have any part in this. Il Vive is not for you."




La Vita Dolce Ch. 08



She was gazing at him, suspicion evident in her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

His face was expressionless. "I'm sending you back to America."

She immediately looked hurt. "You don't want me here. I'm too much trouble," she said thing back on Gianni's words.

"No, Bella," Renoldo was quick to reassure her. "You were smart not want my business, my life. It nearly got you killed."

She let out a harsh laugh. "And you think I couldn't be found in America, that they couldn't come after me there?"

"That will not happen."

She felt dread welling up in her at the sound of the cold determination in his voice and in his face. 

He continued. "It was reported to the newspapers that you died of your injuries. Your wake and funeral are in three days. Closed casket, of course. You'll be sent to America and the Angiolinis think they have succeeded in killing the Pezzini heir." 

Natasha stared at her uncle in awe and dismay. "It is that easy for you then?" Her voice broke. "You can just strip my life from me?" Suddenly she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. "Please don't send me away. You're all I have. I'll be alone."

Renoldo tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss upon her hair. Sighing 

"Please," she pleaded, "don't make me go."

Gently, he pushed her back and looked into her face. "As much as I would love to have you here..." His jaw tightened. "I almost watched you die. I won't let it become a reality. I won't watch you be killed because of me or because your mother's a Pezzini. I won't lose you too."

She lifted her azure eyes to his and her gaze pierced him. Her voice was muted. "Too?"

Renoldo took her hands in his once more. His own hands shook slightly. "I'm telling you this because you need to understand the danger that is my world." 

She lay back against the pillows. Somehow she knew she didn't want to hear this. 

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "Angelina, your mother...her death wasn't an accident. She was murdered."

Suddenly it was hard to breath. Natasha's breath came in shallow gasps. She fisted the sheets in her hands and shook her head vehemently. "My mother...she died in a car accident. The brakes failed..." she insisted somewhat desperately.

"The lines were cut."

Natasha remained motionless and her eyes drifted closed. A tear slipped from beneath her dark lashes. 

Renoldo brushed the tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry to tell you this. But you have to understand why this is so dangerous, why I need to send you away." He brushed the back of his hand over her jaw. "You're so like her."

Natasha didn't respond. Her eyes remained closed. Her lips trembled. "When?" she breathed. 

He withdrew his hand. "As soon as you are well." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her brow. "I'll get the nurse." And then he left her.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 09



Gianni trailed his fingertips along the smooth wood of the pews as he passed toward the front of the cathedral. 

The wake was over and the last of the mourners had left. The sanctuary glowed amber and the air was thick with the scent of burning candles, incense, and flowers. He remembered that lilies were her favorite flowers. In the front of cathedral white lilies covered every available surface. And in the center of the cathedral was a dark burnished wood coffin. A large arrangement of the white flowers was placed upon its lid.

Gianni fell to his knees before a small prayer altar ablaze with hundreds of tiny candles. Murmuring an anguished prayer, Gianni lit another candle and remained kneeling. 

Natasha was gone, murdered by his blood. And all that remained of her was left in that coffin. It didn't seem real. How could all that she was be contained in that tiny wooden box?

A gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black garb of a priest.

"My son," the priest murmured. 

Gianni wrenched away with a growl. "I'm not your son!" he snarled. 

The priest paled and took a step backwards at the burning fury he saw in the young man's eyes. 

Gianni stood before the coffin, emotion threatening to overcome him. Rage, loss, and most wholly, guilt. He had flung aside her love out of fear, and now she was dead. She died not knowing that he loved her. He loved her so much, he felt she had taken his very heart with her. And now he lay empty. 

He brought his fingers to his lips then pressed his fingers to the smooth surface of the coffin. "Arrivederci, Bella," he whispered before turning to leave. 

"My son!" the priest called out. "Have hope!"

Gianni whirled in the aisle to face him and sneered. "It's long since I had any hope." He pointed at the coffin. "Any hope that I had for my life died with her!" He turned on his heel and strode from the cathedral, his footsteps echoing. 

"My son!" the priest called after him but Gianni ignored him. 

The sky was grey when Gianni left the cathedral and the rain fell in fat heavy drops. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Gianni turned the collar of his jacket up against the rain as he made his way down the steps of the cathedral to his car parked on the curb. 

As Gianni settled into the black leather interior of the car and closed the door there was a rapping on the window. The priest.

With a grimace Gianni rolled down the window. "What is it now?" he ground out in irritation. 

The priest passed a small envelope through the window. "There is always hope, my son." And then he was gone. 

Gianni stared at the envelope in consternation. He opened it carefully. Inside there was one thick white card. There were only two words written upon it in scrawling black letters. She lives. 

***

Natasha leaned her head against the window of the airplane as the private plane descended into a small airport in L.A. The feelings she felt were bittersweet. This was her home but her heart was heavy. She hated the way she had left things in Italy. 

As Natasha stepped off the plane there was a shriek. A petite blonde girl was running towards her. "Tasha!" the girl squealed as she threw her arms around Natasha in a hug. "You're back!"

Natasha hugged her back and couldn't help smiling and she felt the tension draining out of her. "It's good to see you too, Lacey." 

"Oh, my God, Tasha!" Lacey cried. "You have to tell me everything. How was Italy? How were the guys? What did you do?" 

A hand came down on Lacey's shoulder. "C'mon Lace. Give her a chance to take a breath."

Natasha looked up. A tall male surfer version of Lacey stood grinning at her. Colin. "Welcome back, Tash," he said softly, his blue eyes assessing her. 

He opened his arms with a grin and Natasha practically launched herself at him. Laughing he twirled her around. "Missed you too." He ruffled her hair kissed her cheek. 

Lacey was not to be deterred. "So tell me about Italy. Did you meet any cute Italian guys? How's your uncle? Why are you back so soon?"

Natasha's smile faded though she tried valiantly to keep her expression cheerful.

Lacey noticed it right away. "Oh, Tasha." Lacey hugged her best friend. "What's wrong?"

Natasha pulled away slightly and took a deep breath. "Things were just different than I thought they would be."

Lacey's face was immediately sympathetic. Then she brightened suddenly. "I know exactly how to cheer you up."

Natasha grinned at her and lifted one ebony brow. Lacey was an unstoppable for of nature. 

Lacey slipped her arm through Natasha's and led her towards Colin's white jeep wrangler parked nearby. "Frappuccinos and shopping are the cure for whatever blues you may have."

Colin snorted back laughter as he picked up Natasha's bags and tossed into the back of the jeep. The three climbed into the jeep and suddenly it was like she'd never left. Natasha leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She was home. 

They spent the remainder of the day wandering in and out of shops. Natasha told them about Italy, leaving out anything unpleasant. Finally Colin slipped between the two girls and placed an arm about their shoulders. "As lovely as this has been, ladies, I think I might shoot myself if we go into one more shoe store." 

At the end of the day Colin helped Natasha carry her shopping bags and luggage into the spacious loft apartment. 

Natasha flicked on the lights. Everything was exactly as she had left it. She took a deep breath and went to one of the tall windows and looked out. Life had gone on without her here. Everything was the same. 

Colin set the bags down by the door and came to her side. Taking her hand he turned her to face him. "Tash," he began, his eyes searching her face. "Something's up. I can tell. What happened in Italy? Is there anything I can do?" 

Natasha smiled at him. He was so sweet. They hadn't dated in nearly two years and been friends nearly their whole lives, but he was still worried about her. He still cared. She sighed and caught her lip between her teeth. She looked at the floor. 

"Natasha," he took her chin in his hand and gently lifted face her to look at him. "You know you can come to me for anything, right?"

Natasha smiled genuinely. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I know, Colin. Thanks, but I'm fine."

He looked at her, his expression unsure. Then he shrugged. "Okay, but call us at home if you need anything."

"Sure." She walked him to the door, closing it and bolting it behind him. 

Alone now, she looked around her apartment. Home sweet home, she thought. But somehow it didn't feel quite like home anymore. 

***

Gianni stepped off the private jet and into the California sun. She was here somewhere. She wasn't dead. She was alive. For the hundredth time in the past few hours he wondered what he was doing here. She'd made it perfectly clear that she was done with him. He'd hurt her. 

Gianni grimaced. He had to try. She had loved him once. He was sure of it. Perhaps she still loved him. He grasped at that tiny thread of hope.

Little did he know, he was not the only one arriving in Los Angeles looking for Natasha James. 

***

She was in the claw-footed tub again. The water was rising around her face. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. 

And then the water was covering her face. She couldn't breath. She could only look up through the water. And standing over the tank was Luca Angiolini. Her lungs were near to bursting. Luca blew her a kiss and then she slipped away. 

Natasha sat up with a scream. It took her a moment to realize where she was. Her breath was still quick as though she had truly been drowning. She ran a trembling hand through her tangled locks. Exhaling in a rush of air, she flopped back against her pillows. 

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door downstairs. Natasha let out a small shriek and sat straight up in bed. There was silence.

Breathing rapidly, he slowly slipped out of bed and paused at the top of the small spiral staircase that descended into the larger living space. Silently she padded down the stairs and went to the door. She put her eye to the peephole and saw nothing but darkness. The hallway was always lighted. Someone had their hand over the hole. 

She could feel a presence on the other side of the door. Listening, waiting for her to make some small noise that would verify that she was indeed home. 

As the pounding came again she backpedaled and raced to the phone in the kitchen. She dialed 911.

"911," came the female operator's voice, "What's your emergency?"

"Someone's trying to break into my apartment." Natasha gasped. She flinched as there was a blow on her door. 

"What's your address ma'am?"

Natasha told her. Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest and she wanted to scream.

"Now honey," she operator said soothingly, "I need you to get yourself into a room and lock yourself in. Don't open the door for anyone until the police get there. I'm gonna stay on the line."

Natasha raced the bathroom huddled there. The pounding had stopped. The operator was still on the line when a lighter knocking came.

"Miss James?" a voice called. "This is LAPD. Will you open the door?"

She didn't move. 

"Miss James?" the voice was louder this time. "Miss James, this is LAPD. Are you alright?"

Natasha hesitated. She slowly came to her feet and cautiously opened the bathroom door. It was then that the front door of the apartment burst open. 

Natasha ducked back into the bathroom with a startled scream, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

"Miss James?" a voice called from outside the bathroom door. "My name is Lieutenant Murphy. Are you alright?"

"How do I know you're a real cop?" Natasha challenged from the other side of the door.

"I'm going to slide my badge under the door." He told her coaxingly. 

Natasha bent and picked up the badge as it was slipped under the door. Convinced of its authenticity Natasha opened the door to a host of armed police officers. 

Lieutenant Murphy was about forty, a seasoned veteran. The girl that opened the door looked terrified. She was a looker, no older than twenty-two or so. Her dark hair fell wildly about her shoulders, her cheeks were flushed. The negligee she was wearing left little to the imagination. 

Murphy met her gaze determinedly. "Are you alright ma'am?" 

She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. He stepped aside and she walked by him toward the living space. He and his rookie partner, deputy Rawlins, followed.

Even though it made him feel like a lascivious old man, Murphy enjoyed the view of as she led them to the living room. The other officers began milling around the apartment checking windows. Others were examining a large dent in the door. 

She grabbed a robe from the back of the couch and slipped it on. Murphy tore his eyes away momentarily, deciding he had used up his allotted quota of dirty old man thoughts for the week, and instead took a seat in a chair across from the couch, Rawlins took another. 

Natasha sat on the couch. The young woman ran a trembling hand through her hair and met his gaze. "Did you find him?"

Murphy leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. "No, we didn't. There was no one there. But there was a sizable dent in your door." His gaze was intense. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Natasha's worst fears ran through her mind. Luca? Alejandro? "No." she shook her head. 

Murphy watched the play of emotions across her pretty face. Years of experience told him that she was lying. But why? Was she in some sort of trouble?

The Lieutenant looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you should call someone."

A look of panic crossed her face. Her pretty face collapsed as she tried desperately not to start crying.

"A family member?" Murphy ventured gently, "Friend? We broke you door coming in. You shouldn't stay here tonight."

Natasha nodded absently and went back to the bathroom to retrieve the phone. With trembling fingers she dialed Lacey's number. 

After ten rings Natasha was about to hang up when a deep voice vibrated across the phone lines. "Colin." He sounded somewhere between angry and groggy. He must have been asleep. That surprised Natasha since she had been expecting Lacey to pick up. Lacey and her brother shared a luxurious beach house across town. 

"Colin, it's Tasha. I'm sorry I woke you." Her voice was trembling. "Is Lacey there?"

Colin sighed. "Natasha, it's three in the morning. Lacey is asleep. Is everything alright?" 

She sniffed and he could tell she was holding the phone away while she cleared her throat. Natasha swallowed. "Not really..." 

He was alert now. "What's wrong?"

A sob escaped her and tore across the phone lines to wrap itself around his throat, making it constrict painfully. "Um...someone tried to break into my apartment. The police are here."

Colin sat up in bed immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Natasha answered. "It's just that my door is broken and..."

"I'll be right over." And then he was gone. 

Natasha put the phone down and returned to the living room. The two cops were still sitting. Lieutenant looked up at her expectantly. 

"A friend of mine is on the way."

Murphy nodded and stood. "We'll wait outside the door until they come so you can get some things together."

"Thanks." 

Natasha packed a small overnight bag and toiletries. She didn't even realize she was crying as she did so. Her life was a mess. 

She heard the chime of the doorbell as if it were coming from some distant planet. It sounded so far away and alien that it actually frightened her for a minute.

Natasha went to the door. It seemed as if it took her several minutes to cross her small living room and reach her front door. Choking back a sob, she wondered how much more of this she could take.

As she opened the door she blinked in a somewhat vain attempt to clear the veil of tears from her eyes, and Colin came into focus, concern etched across his handsome features.

Lieutenant Murphy and Deputy Rawlins were behind him. He nodded to Natasha and handed her his card. "Call me if you need anything." He patted Colin's shoulder. "Take care of her. And don't let her stay here alone."

"Right," Colin answered absently. He was focused on Natasha. 

At this moment, Natasha wasn't at all sure how she felt about him, she just knew that she wanted someone, anyone, to hold her, to lie to her and tell her it was going to be all right. Forcing the corners of her lips to lift in what she hoped was a semblance of a smile, she commanded her voice to be light. "Colin, listen, I'm sorry about calling so late but..."

Her voice was hoarse and her words rasped from her throat. Shrugging, her smile slipped even further as she stepped back and motioned for him to enter her apartment. 

He stepped in just far enough to push the door closed behind him when wordless, he swept Natasha into his arms and carried her to the couch where he sat with her in his lap. 

She squeaked a tiny protest as her feet left the ground but when she felt his muscular arms wrap around her, his strength enough to carry her—she fell silent. 

Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she tucked her head beneath his chin and gave in to the maelstrom of emotion that skittered through her chest. She thought she had cried herself out at the Villa, then again on the plane, but she cried now like she had never cried before. Great sobs swelled her chest and tore their way through her throat, dragging wave upon wave of mind-numbing pain with them. She was sick to death of crying. 

Colin felt helpless. Her pain was tearing him apart and he wanted desperately to ease her pain. Each heaving sob that escaped her lips tore at him. He wanted to defend her, to tear apart whoever had caused her such distress. He wanted to destroy anything, or anyone, who brought her grief. He rocked her in his arms.

After what seemed like hours, but logic told him was only a few short minutes, her sobs subsided. She coughed, hiccupped a few times, then, putting her hand beneath her running nose, pulled back from him. She blushed when she saw his shirt. It was soaked.


"Sorry," she mumbled in embarrassment. 

"Screw it," Colin said softly. He brushed the hair back from her face. "How are you?"

She shrugged and lay her head against his shoulder. "I've been better." 

He grew serious. "Natasha," he said, "I want to know what's going on. And don't tell me it's nothing. I know you too well. Tell me what happened to you."

She closed her eyes. 

"Natasha, how was Italy?" he ventured. 

She sat up and looked into his concerned blue eyes. "I died in Italy. 

***

"Holy shit, Tasha," Colin cursed as he opened the door of the Range Rover for her. "Why didn't you come home with us in the first place?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't want to bother anyone and besides, how was I supposed to know this was going to happen?"

Colin fixed her with an intent gaze. "You're never a bother, Natasha." He said softly before closing the door and getting in himself. 

They drove in silence the short distance to the pricey beach house that he shared with his sister. Colin called Lacey and explained on the drive over. 

When the SUV pulled up the front door immediately opened and Lacey came striding out. The front door immediately opened and Lacey came striding out. Natasha stepped out of the truck warily. Lacey seized her in a rib cracking hug. 

"Hi, Lacey," Natasha managed to wheeze. 

Lacey pulled back and frowned back at her. "What the hell, Natasha? What did you think you were doing staying all by yourself? I mean really, Tasha. You should have come home with us."

Natasha shrugged. "So I've been told."

Colin grabbed her bags. "You can stay in your old room."

Natasha followed him into one of the guest rooms. Colin placed her bags just inside the door. She looked around. Nothing had changed. The room was exactly as it had been the last time she had stayed there. It was just after her father had died and Natasha was still trying to get her life together. She went to the bedside table and picked up the picture frame that nested there. Her own smiling face looked back at her along with Lacey and Colin. 

She placed it replaced it gently and turned to find Colin and Lacey standing in the door way.  

"Just like old times right?" Lacey, grinned. Natasha returned the smile. Lacey shrugged and yawned. "I'm beat. You know where to find me." And she turned and left. 

Colin leaned against the doorframe. "You okay, Tash? I mean, really okay?" His light blue eyes were concerned. 

Natasha tried to give him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. I promise." 

He came to stand over her. "If you need anything—"

"I'll be fine, Cols." She sighed, using her old nickname for him. 

A smile curved on his lips. "Alright. I'll leave you alone." He dropped a quick kiss the top of her head before leaving the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him. 

Natasha exhaled slowly. She kicked off her jeans before sliding between the sheets. The Egyptian cotton felt amazing. She thought about the incident back at her apartment and shuddered. But she would be safe here, she consoled herself. And she wasn't alone anymore. Lacey and Colin were just a couple doors away. 

She snuggled down into the down comforter and slowly fell into a fitful sleep. 

***



Natasha awoke feeling disoriented and confused. It seemed as though she'd been waking up in a new bed every couple of days recently. She smiled to herself though as the room came into focus. This was home. With Lacey, and Colin, she was home. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. 

Sunlight streamed in through the French doors. She padded over to the doors and drew aside the sheer curtains. It was a gorgeous day in Orange County. The sky was high and blue with only a few spare wisps of clouds floating on the horizon. The ocean was a deep brilliant shade of indigo. She glanced down the coastline at the million dollar homes that dotted the scenery. Yes, she was definitely home. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 09



She ran a hand through her dark tangled locks and head down the stairs towards. Aimee Allen was playing on the radio in the kitchen when she entered. 

Colin was sitting on the kitchen counter bare-chested and in low-slung khaki cargo shorts. The waistband of his boxers peeked above the shorts. He set down his cereal bowl momentarily to pick up the milk container and set it to his lips. His eyes crinkled over the rim of the carton as he saw her standing in the doorway. 

Lacey sat cross-legged on in her chair at the round kitchen table in pink soffee shorts and a t-shirt sporting USC Cheerleading. She was shoveling Count Chocula into her mouth. She glanced up at Natasha. She grinned and said around a mouthful of cereal, "You look like hell." 

Natasha shrugged. It was probably true. She hadn't changed since last night. She still wore the oversized sweater, her jeans still abandoned on the bedroom floor. She went to the cupboard next to Colin for a bowl and bumped his legs aside with her hip to grab a spoon from the drawer. 

She plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table and poured herself a bowl of cereal. She reached for the milk and stopped. "Ew, Lacey, what is this?" 

Lacey swallowed her mouthful. "Soy. It's good for you."

Natasha looked dubiously at the carton. Colin set the skim down in front of her. "Not everyone's on the latest SoCal diet kick, Lace." He said. 

Natasha gratefully poured the skim over her cereal. 

Colin headed out and stopped in the doorway. He looked over Natasha. "Hey, Tash." 

She looked up at him. 

"I'm going out to check out the surf. You up for it?" He watched excitement and anxiety wash over her pretty face. "Well?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. It's been a while."

Lacey giggled as an impish look slid over her face. "Bet she doesn't have it anymore."

Natasha gave Lacey an incredulous look. "Hey! Whose side are you on?"

Lacey just smiled and shoved another bite into her mouth. "Mmmm," she sighed and her mouth stretched into a smug smile which she aimed at her friend. 

"I'm in." Natasha gritted out through her teeth. 

Colin's handsome face broke into a smile. "Great. I'll get your board. It's collecting dust in the garage. No rush though. Finish your breakfast." He turned and left them. 

Lacey looked speculatively after her older brother before returning her attentions to her cereal. "He's still got it so bad for you."

Natasha nearly choked. She stared at her friend. "It's been years, high school, since we dated."

Lacey merely nodded. "And his girlfriend, Morgan? Heinous bitch."

"Morgan? Morgan Pierce?"

"That's the one." Lacey said miserably. 

"Ouch." Natasha murmured. Natasha was pretty sure that Morgan was the only person who'd ever wholly hated her without any sort of legit reason in high school. The girl was a tall leggy red-head with the face of an angel. Of course she was a spoiled brat. They'd always traveled in similar social circles but had never really gotten along. Morgan said that she had never been a "plus one, and it didn't agree with her". Basically, Morgan felt Natasha was competition for her domination of Hargrove High School. 

Natasha shook of her head to clear her thoughts. "What does Colin see in her?" 

Lacey shrugged. "Hell if I know. But she's hot and has huge tits since she got them done."

Natasha's eyes grew wide. 

"She's going to flip when she finds out you're back here. Not to mention right down the hall from her man's bedroom." Lacey shot her a meaningful look. "I mean you could just stumble in there at any time. On accident, I mean. And steal my brother right away from her."

Natasha's mouth dropped open. 

Lacey stood grinning widely. She dumped her bowl in the sink. "You'd better get ready to go." She left Natasha sitting at the kitchen table staring after her. 

***

Gianni parked the black BMW 760i around the corner from the large beach house. He could view the front door without being too visible himself. He'd been to her apartment: found it ransacked and no clothes in the closets. He did manage to find an address book however. The name Lacey Grey and an address had caught his attention. He remembered Natasha talking about her best friend from home. If she was in the area at all, she would be here. He was certain.

He sat looking at the house and contemplating his dilemma. He certainly couldn't just walk up and knock on the door. If the girl had been in touch with Natasha, she probably would promptly..."

He didn't complete the thought as Natasha came striding out the front door carrying a surfboard under one slim brown arm. She had gotten some sun and her golden color had deepened to nearly bronze. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, strands hanging around her face. She tucked the loose strands behind her ear in a move that was heartbreakingly familiar. She wore a black bikini and black and red baggy board shorts slung low on her hips that obviously did not belong to her. The black strings of her bikini bottoms dangled over the waistband. Her smile was wide and vibrant as she called something over her shoulder. 

A tall muscular blond came striding out of the house behind her carrying his own board. He slung an arm around her shoulders and captured her in a headlock. She cried out in mock outrage and punched him lightly along his spine. He laughed and released her, taking her board from her under his other arm. She opened the trunk of the silver range rover in the driveway and they both wrapped their boards in towels before settling them into the back of the Range Rover and slamming the trunk. 

Gianni didn't bother hiding as they drove by. The tinted windows of the luxury vehicle hid him well. He followed them. 

***

Gianni watched as Natasha paddled out and caught wave after wave. She carved a path, kicking up frothy white foam. 

She and the blonde surfer took turns. Colin was obviously the more experienced surfer. His rides were longer, more complicated. He got bigger air. But Natasha? Her ride was pure grace. Gianni watched the smooth twisting and shifting of her muscles as she rode. He could watch her forever.

She was alive! He'd spent the last few weeks, disbelieving, hoping against hope. But she was here. Alive and happy. It was all he could have wanted. No, that was a lie. He wanted her still. It was foolish, he knew, after the way he had treated her, cast her aside, and called her little more than a whore. There was no way she would want him now. And it looked as though she had already gone back to her old life. He grimaced at the thought of her in another man's bed. He clenched his fists and sighed. He had to stop this. He was here to keep her safe, nothing more. Anything else would have been selfish. 

Natasha emerged from the ocean, flipping her dark hair back from her face. Colin was right behind her, grinning broadly. They planted their boards in the sand. Colin immediately grabbed her in a bear hug. "And you thought you forgot how to surf huh?"

Natasha struggled. "Colin!" she shrieked. He released her, still smiling broadly. 

She placed her hands on her hips and shrugged. "I didn't forget. I'm just a little rusty."

Colin nodded. "You looked great out there though." 

"Thanks" Natasha murmered absently. She was gazing at a point over his shoulder. 

"What?" Colin turned. Natasha's gaze was fixed on a man standing next to a black BMW. The man was tanned with wavy dark hair, tall and lean muscled. He wore a sky blue T-shirt stretched over his chest and white linen pants. Dark shades shielded his eyes. Colin raised one blonde brow. "Gotta thing for the pretty boy?"

Natasha brushed by him and ran towards the parking lot as the man was getting into the car. The engine revved and the BMW pulled away before Natasha even reached the parking lot. She halted and stared after it. 

"Natasha!" Colin called after her. 

She turned slowly to face him, confusion etched in her pretty features. She sat down silently upon the dune and pulled her knees to her chest. Colin came and crouched beside her. She didn't look at him but gazed out at the ocean. 

"Tash?" he asked quietly. He tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. 

"I'm losing it, Colin." 

She sounded so distressed, Colin felt a bit of worry tugging at him. "What's going on, Tash? I'm really confused here."

She shook her head. "I could've sworn it was him."

Colin frowned "Who? What are you talking about?"

She turned to him with stricken eyes. "Gianni."

That worry that had been tugging at him became a landslide of dread. "Are you sure?"

She looked back to the sea and shook her head. "No."

Colin sat heavily beside her. He, too, gazed at the sea. His voice was firm, determined. "No. Not possible. Everyone thinks you're dead, right?"

She said nothing.

"Right, Tash?" he urged. 

She swallowed thickly. Her voice was soft. "The day before my supposed wake, I went to confession. I slipped the priest a note. I swore him to secrecy. And he swore on his honor as a servant of God. I told him that if a man came...if Gianni Angiolini came, he was to give him the note."

"What was in the note, Tasha?" Colin asked quietly. 

She smiled humorlessly. "Two words. She lives. But I assumed he either didn't go to the wake or funeral or he didn't care."

"But now you think he's here?"

She shrugged. "I was probably right the first time and I've just frightened some poor man out of his wits as I ran after him like a crazy person. Gianni didn't care about me," she said softly. "I apparently was an amusing plaything, however."

Colin glanced at her. He had never heard such bitterness from her lips. Not knowing what to say, he placed an arm around her shoulders. He gently pulled her against him and gently rested his chin on the top oh her silken head. "Alright," he said a matter-of-factly. "So it may have been this Italian stud, Gianni."

Natasha snorted. 

But Colin's voice softened. "But you're wrong about the not caring part."

Her voice was dry, "And just how do you know that?"

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Because no one can know you and not care about you. And because no one can know you and not love you." He paused and sighed. "Whether they want to or not."

Natasha bit her lip and wrapped her arms around Colin. He pulled her closer and they sat like that, silently watching the waves break upon the shore. "



La Vita Dolce Ch. 10



"Merda!" Gianni cursed and slammed his fist into the wall and relished the feel pain shooting up his arm. It was a welcomed distraction. She'd seen him and had come running towards him, her blonde surfer staring after her. He hadn't thought she would recognize him at that distance or even bother to look in his direction. 

But since when had Natasha done anything he expected her to do? He'd have to switch cars. He'd have to be more careful. 

He sank heavily into an armchair. He rubbed at his cheek and the stubble growing there. He'd been too distracted to shave lately and his hair was growing long and falling about his collar and into his eyes. He sipped scotch. 

His father was dead, his brother gone into hiding. Renoldo Pezzini was wrathful at the apparent murder of his niece. His retaliation had been swift and brutal. Gianni truly mourned the loss of his father. As much as for revenge as for the sake of appearances. Pezzini couldn't simply let the supposed death of his niece go unpunished. Such would look suspicious. It would be necessary to make sure that everyone thought his niece was dead. Gianni's father had been taken in a car bomb along with three of his men. Luca narrowly escaped an ambush which eerily mimicked that which had nearly killed Natasha. 

Gianni felt immeasurable sorrow at the loss of his father. But to retaliate against Renoldo Pezzini would mean a certain bloody death for himself if he failed in that attempt. He would have welcomed death with open arms had it not been for the small inkling of hope that Natasha still lived. That, and to succeed in killing Renoldo Pezzini would mean depriving Natasha of her only living relative and perhaps her last vestige of protection. 

Gianni thought on Natasha and took another gulp of scotch. The walking American stereotype looked like he was perfectly willing to protect her. He wondered if she would allow it. Gianni was, self admittedly, intensely jealous. And Natasha? Had she sent him the note? And if she hadn't? Perhaps she had simply been content to allow him to think her dead. He couldn't blame her. 

He absently poured himself another glass. 

The shrill ringing of his cell phone jarred him out of his thoughts. "Angiolini," he answered. 

"Brother, dearest." The voice that streaked over the phone lines caused him to stiffen in his seat. 

"Luca," he growled. "What do you want?"

"What? Not happy to talk to me, Gianni.?" Luca sighed dramatically. "I was just enjoying the California sun. I thought perhaps we could enjoy it together."

Gianni sat forward in his seat. "Luca." His voice was dangerously low. 

Luca laughed. "Did you truly think I wouldn't have you watched, brother? Did you think I wouldn't have you followed?" 

Gianni was silent. 

"Imagine my surprise when my dearest older brother took a trip to California. And I thought to myself 'now why would he do that'? What could possibly be of interest in California? And then I remembered that our little heiress lived in California for most of her life. All I had to do was follow you right to her. You should have been more careful."

Gianni felt dread welling in the pit of his stomach and his grip on the phone tightened. "Leave her alone, Luca," he growled. 

Luca snorted. "Have you forgotten that our father was killed because of her? I'm merely restoring the balance, brother. That bitch is going to die and you're going to watch." 

"Luca—"

"Ciao, Gianni." The line went dead. 

Gianni stared at the phone in dismay. "Shit," he grabbed his jacket and strode from the hotel room. 

***

They were at Colin's gym. It had been two weeks since Natasha had decided needed to blow off some steam on the treadmill and Colin had offered to accompany her. However, when they'd arrived, Natasha had spied the punching bag and decided that it offered a more satisfying release. 

"Jesus, kid, take it easy," Colin warned as he watched Natasha attack the punching bag with in a flurry of jabs. He held the bag relatively still as she rained blows upon the surface. 

She scowled and launched a kick which struck the bag and nearly knocked him off his feet. 

"Something wrong?" he ventured. 

Natasha rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders as she shook out the tense muscles in her arms. She was sweaty and dark wisps of hair clung to her cheeks. "Nope," she said lightly, "nothing's wrong." As she unleashed another set of hard jabs at the bag. 

He held the bag steady and peered at her. "Sure, there's not someone's face in particular you're picturing because you're beating the hell out of this bag. I think it's about to start crying for help."

Natasha stopped, arms hanging limply at her sides as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Look, Cols. I just spent the last month being chased, shot at, and manhandled. Pardon me if I have a little pent up aggression." 

She struck out suddenly, and aimed a kick high on the bag. Taken off guard, Colin was sent sprawling to the ground. 

Natasha blinked at him as he stared up at her in shock. Natasha burst out laughing at the startled look on his face. "I'm so-s-s-sorry, Colin," she managed between bursts of laughter as she bent over and held her stomach. Colin glared up at her. She offered him her hand to help him up in appeasement, still unable to stop her laughter. 

A grin spread over his face as his large hand enveloped hers and hauled her down to sprawl on the mat next to him. He quickly rolled over her to straddle her pin her against the mat. 

She smirked, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes as she looked up at him. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

He laughed and gazed down at her. "Yeah, it's like that," he taunted. "You gonna do something about it?" he challenged. 

Natasha shifted and threw him off, but he did not release her, taking her with him as they rolled across the mat. Colin pinned her once again beneath him. "Give up?"

Natasha glared at him. "Colin, if I remember correctly, you outweigh me by about a hundred pounds. I don't stand a chance." She shrugged from her position beneath him. "Maybe I could take you in the ring though."

He shook his head in disbelief at her bravado as he moved to collapse at her side and propped himself up on one elbow to gaze at her. Natasha flushed slightly at the intent way in which he was looking at her. 

She moved to sit up when he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down and closer to his body. She stared into his face, which was solemn after being so mirthful only moments before. 

"Cols?" she ventured, made nervous by his silence. 

He smoothed her hair back from her face and taking her chin in his hand he lowered his lips to cover her own. He kissed her softly, gently, merely brushing his lips over her own. 

Natasha stared up at him when he pulled back. 

A small lazy smile tilted his lips as his eyes searched her face, taking in the bewilderment in her gaze. His clear blue eyes met hers. "I've missed you, Tash," he murmured. 

Her own voice was breathy, "I've missed you too, Cols." Emotion flickered in her gaze and he felt her stiffen slightly. 

He pulled back slightly and loosened his hold on her. 

"Colin..." she said softly, "I can't. You—I—"

His arms fell away from her. "Right," he muttered. "This guy? This Angiolini? Where is he?"

Natasha felt her throat constrict. "I don't know." Her voice was quiet. 

His fingertips brushed her chin and tilted her face to his. "I'm here, Tash," he sighed, emotion filling his voice. "I've always been right here for you."

Natasha felt tears pricking her eyes. "I'm sorry Colin, I can't." She swallowed thickly. "You've been so good to me and amazing and I..."her voice trailed off, tears sliding freely down her face at the thought that she might cause him pain. "I don't deserve you."

Colin gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. "No, baby," he said quietly. "That's the thing. You deserve so much better. I'm just trying to fool myself into thinking that I could be that for you and give you everything you deserve." 

She gazed at him with wide teary eyes. 

He bent his head and kissed her lightly upon the lips once more.

They merely stared at each other a moment before she cleared her throat nervously and averted her gaze. "Then there's Morgan," she ventured.

Colin groaned, nodded and pulled away from her and sat up. "Right, Morgan..." he mused softly.

Natasha leapt up to her feet, straightening her clothes from their recent wrestling match and wiping her hands over her face. "Forget it," she said lightly. "Let's get out of here." 

Colin nodded absently as he stood. They left the gym and headed home, neither speaking on the car ride back to the beach house. 

*** 

Natasha lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling. "Lacey, I don't know about this," she protested as Lacey tossed outfits from the closet onto the bed. Colin had gone and brought all of Natasha's clothes from the loft. He and Lacey were attempting to make her stay a more permanent arrangement with an indefinite time table. Natasha agreed to think about it. 

But now, Lacey was tearing through Natasha's closet. "Oh, my God!" Lacey exclaimed as she held up the gold mesh Prada dress. "This dress is fantastic! And I haven't seen it? When did you get this?"

Natasha sat up on the bed. "Not that one, Lace."

"But it's perfect!" Lacey held up the dress.

Natasha stood, and taking the dress from Lacey, she balled it up and tossed it in the back corner of the closet. "Any dress but that one."

Laceys's expression turned sympathetic and her voice held a serious tone that was rare in her disposition. "Oh, bad Italian hottie memories..."

Natasha couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up at her best friend's way of looking at things. Lacey might pretend to be a ditz but she knew how to make her friends laugh and distract them from their troubles. 

Lacey nudged her in the ribs. "You said any dress but that one. So does that mean you're coming?"

Natasha groaned and slumped her shoulders. 

Lacey smirked. "I'm taking that as a yes. Besides, you're going to meet some amazing guy to completely wipe Mr. Machismo from your memory."

Natasha seriously doubted it.

Colin leaned against the doorframe. "It looks like a hurricane ripped through here."

Natasha flopped down on the bed and turned her face to him. "Nope, just Lacey."

Lacey's head popped out of the closet to grin at her brother. "Hey, Cols, wanna come tonight?"

Colin crossed his arms. "Where?"

"Las Palmas," came Lacey's muffled reply as she ducked back into the closet. 

Colin glanced at Natasha. "You going?"

Natasha didn't have time to answer before Lacey shouted from the closet, "Yes!"

Natasha groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. 

"So you coming or what, Colin?" Lacey shouted.

She heard Colin hesitate before grudgingly shout, "Yeah, whatever!"

Natasha lifted the pillow to peer at him. "You're going along with this?"

He shrugged. 

Natasha groaned again and lowered the pillow back over her face to muffle a scream. 

***

"Jesus, Tash," Colin said. He looked at her and raked a hand through his hair.

Natasha stood awkwardly in the kitchen. Colin stared at her. She self-consciously tugged at the hemline of her dress. "Lacey picked it out. She tried so hard I didn't want to hurt her feelings."

Colin shook his head. Despite the sex-kitten ensemble, she looked heartbreakingly uncomfortable and vulnerable. 

Lacey strode into the kitchen on spiked heels looking like playboy Barbie on acid. She glanced from Colin's struck and stricken expression to Natasha and grinned. "She looks hot, right?" She admired her handiwork. 

Colin coughed and bit back a smile. "Yeah, great Lacey," he said as seriously as he could muster. Natasha glared at him. 

In truth, Colin thought Natasha looked amazing. And he knew every guy there would think the same. She wore a black tube dress that barely reached mid-thigh. It looked as though any sudden movement might send her generous amount of cleavage to overflowing the top of the dress. Her brown legs seemed to stretch on forever in the tall stilettos. Her long dark hair fell in sensuous waves down her back. But it wasn't just her body. Her face was flawless. Every feature complimented the other and he thought each was perfect. 

He'd always thought blondes were the hottest, but Christ, she always made him rethink that assertion. Her hair was thick and black with no hint of red. Her startling azure eyes were sinfully long lashed, her lips full and plush. Her skin had grown deeply bronzed by the California sun. 

Colin blinked and ripped his eyes away from her. He picked his keys up from the counter. "Ready to go?" 

Both girls nodded and they left the house and piled into the Range Rover. 

The club was packed, a line of hopefuls curling around the side of the building. Colin pulled the Range Rover directly up to the front door. He hopped out, tossing the keys to the valet as the accompanying valets handed the women out of the car. Colin and Lacey strode right to the door man who stepped aside. Natasha followed. 

The tall muscled and heavily tattooed Samoan who guarded the door moved quickly to block her way. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. 

Colin and Lacey hesitated in the door way. 

Natasha looked up at the man, a small uncertain smile upon her lips. "Hi, Loki."

He didn't return the smile. "Miss James," he nodded solemnly. Suddenly his face broke into a wide grin. 

"Welcome back!" he swooped her up in a giant hug. Her feet her dangling over the pavement. 

"Thanks!" she wheezed as the large man squeezed her tightly in a hug. 

He set her back upon her feet and stepped aside, returning to his previous Bouncer demeanor. "Have a nice night, Miss James."

Natasha smiled gratefully and followed Colin and Lacey into the darkened interior.

The club was packed but Colin had little trouble grabbing a cocktail waitress's attention as he flashed her killer smile. 

Lacey was almost immediately all over the place and greeting everyone she knew, which was pretty much everyone. Natasha hung back with Colin and casually sipped her third gin and tonic as she perused the crowd. She felt Colin's arm slip around her waist and he pulled her against his side. "C'mon Tash," he coaxed "At least look like you're having fun." 

She leaned into him. "I'm not sure this is really my scene anymore, Colin."

Colin chuckled. "Never was my scene. I only came because you did." He took her hand and nodded towards the dance floor. "Let's go dance and make everyone jealous of the good time we're having." 

Natasha threw back the drink reluctantly followed and allowed Colin to pull her against him to move to the beat. Natasha could feel the beat pulsing through her chest. She grinned mischievously before pressed herself closer against Colin and running her hands down the hard muscles at his sides. 

"Tease," Colin growled. 

Natasha merely grinned as he took her hand and spun her so that her back was pressed against him. His hands slid to her hips and he bent his head to press a kiss just below her ear. She groaned and lifted her arm to loop around his neck and pull him closer. 

The scent of her accosted his senses. The feel of her body against his brought an exquisite ache to his loins that he struggled to fight. But, he didn't want to fight it. He knew heights to which her beautiful body could bring him. He knew the glorious feeling of having her sheath him tightly, claw at his back and scream his name. He wanted it again. 

Natasha's eyes drifted closed as she moved sinuously against Colin, knowing full well the affect she was having on him. But he was affecting her too. A slow sweet burn had started in her belly and was slowly spreading. Her breasts ached, pressing against the top of her dress. His lips brushed her shoulder and she felt her channel spasm slightly. She pressed harder against his hips and felt the hardness of his manhood between her nether cheeks. 

"Tash..." he warned in a slightly pained voice. 

Her eyes drifted open and she froze as she recognized a face in the crowd staring right back at her. The handsome features were unmistakable. But it was the longish dark hair falling about his collar and the shadow on his cheeks which made her heart nearly drop to her stomach. The look on his face was hard as he stared at her. Luca. He had haunted her nightmares, and now he was here right in front of her where she thought she was safe. Her knees buckled slightly and she felt Colin's arm tighten around her waist to take her weight against him. 

"Natasha?" he ventured.

She blinked hard. He was gone. Her gaze searched the crowd valiantly but she saw not the slightest hint of him. She lifted a trembling hand to her brow. Her eyes and her mind had been playing tricks on her and now she was seeing things in the erratic lighting of the dance floor. She turned unsteadily in Colin's arms. The alcohol was beginning to hit her hard. 

Colin's arousal died a swift death at the stricken look on Natasha's face. He cupped her chin in one hand and lifted her gaze to his as his eyes searched her face. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Natasha shook her head. "It's nothing...I thought I saw someone."

Colin's eyes searched the crowd above her head. "You're seeing him again aren't you?"

Natasha shook her head again. "No. Someone else." She needed air suddenly. She felt like she was coming unhinged and the air in the room grew stiffling. She pulled out of Colin's arms. "I'll be right back."

Colin reached for her. "Not without me, you're not." 

She gently shrugged off his hand. "I'm fine, babe. Really." She forced a weak smile to her face and ducked into the crowd before he could reach for her again. 

She would her way through the press of people towards the restrooms and lounges. She trailed her hand along the wall to steady herself as she made her way down the dimly lit hallway. The pounding music was making her head ache dully. 

A drunken girl who looked too young to be there tottered past on impossibly high heels and peered at Natasha. "Cute dress," she slurred. 

"Thanks." Natasha smiled slightly and turned to watch her teeter down the hallway.

She didn't think much of it when she heard the door open behind her. Nor did she have much time to react as she felt an arm slip around her waist and lift her bodily off her feet. She let out a startled scream that was quickly muffled by a hand covering her mouth. She was engulfed by darkness as she was hauled into a darkened room and the door was kicked shut behind her. 

Luca. Natasha waited for the mind numbing fear to crash over her but it never came. She felt no tiny twinge of fear as she was held against a tall hard unyielding male body. Instead she felt cold fury overtake her. There was no way she was letting Luca Angiolini think he could simply appear in her life and threaten her. He'd tried to kill her once and he wasn't going to have that opportunity again. 

She bit the hand that covered her mouth as she jammed her elbow back into his rips, at the same time slamming her spiked heel into his instep. She felt grim satisfaction as she heard him utter a low cry of pain and his grip on her slackened. She wrenched out of his grip and spun to face him in the darkness. She could sense his movements as she threw a hard right hook which she felt connect satisfyingly with his lean jaw. He stumbled and she took advantage as she pivoted precariously on her heel and launched a kick at him. It was high and caught his shoulder. 

She heard his growled curse and clamor of his body hitting something as he tried to regain his balance. 

Natasha spun, seeing the lit outline of the door and grabbed the handle. She wrenched the door open and was about to burst into the hallway when, damn him, his arms came around her and hauled her back inside. He held her tightly, trapping her arms at her sides and holding her off the ground as her legs kicked at the air. She screamed. "Let me go, you bastard!" But the music was too loud. No one would hear her. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 10



"GOD DAMNIT, WOMAN!!" she heard him curse, "I'd damn well let you go but you seem intent on beating the hell out of me!!"

She writhed frantically in his arms only to pause at the sound of his voice. She was still suddenly. She breathed hard and felt his own chest rising and falling against her back. 

His breath caressed the shell of her ear. "Ah, that's better, bella." 

A strangled noise left her throat as she recognized even the softest whisper. "Gianni?" she mewed. 

His hold on her relaxed and he set her on her feet. She turned slowly in his arms. Apprehensively, she lifted her hands to his face and felt the stubble on his cheeks. Trembling, she lifted her hands to his hair and combed her fingers through the long uncut locks. She took an uncertain step backwards but he held her close, his voice near pleading. "No, bella. Ignore the hair. Listen to my voice." His voice held unrestrained emotion as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Listen to my voice, bella. Please don't be afraid of me. Don't ever fear me. It would kill me."

Natasha ran her fingertips over his brow, his eyelids, his cheeks and the fullness of his lips. Something broke inside her. "Gianni," her voice between a whisper and a sob. 

Tentatively, as if he feared she would pull away from him, he pulled her fully against him and felt relief wash over him as her arms twined around him. Even in the darkness he found her lips and took possession of her mouth. He had intended to be gentle but found himself unable to restrain himself as he pressed his lips hard against hers and sought entry into the sweet heat of her mouth. 

She returned the kiss with equal fervor, burying her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. She arched her body against his and moaned against his mouth. She wrenched her mouth away only long enough to gasp, "Please, Gianni." She brushed her hips against the hardness forming at his center. As she returned her lips to his she slid her hand between their bodies to cup his engorged member. Her fingers moved deftly to unzip him and pull him free. She swallowed Gianni's moan as she felt him stiffen further and jerk in her hand. 

With a low groan he lifted her off her feet easily and her legs wrapped around his hips. He walked them backwards until she felt her back pressed against a wall. His lips never left hers as he pulled the top of her dress down to free her breasts. His free hand roved over the full mounds and he lowered his head to take her dusky nipple between his lips. She shuddered and felt his cock pressing against her dewy entrance, the thin material of her underwear the only thing separating them. Her hips jerked against him and the breath hissed from his lips. His face hovered over hers. God, he wished he could see her in the darkness. He changed him mind abruptly as he savored the exquisite feel of her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, her breasts crushed against his chest. He'd certainly cum entirely too early were his senses so bombarded by her. His mouth covered hers once more and he lifted his hand to the side of her underwear and with a sharp tug he ripped them from her body. 

The head of his cock pressed insistently at the entrance of her channel. God, she was tight .He slid slowly into her welcoming walls. Her wet heat was clenched around him, impossibly tight. He shuddered as he allowed her body to stretch to accommodate him. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his back as he tightened his arm around her waist placed his hand net to her head to steady himself. Withdrawing slowly he surged and thrust hard into her, burying himself to the hilt and filling her completely, impaling her upon himself . A small scream of pleasure ripped itself from her throat and she felt him smile against her mouth. 

He moved inside her at a torturously slow pace as she raked her nails over his broad back gasping his name. She rippled around him as he slowly increased his pace. 

Natasha thought she was surely going to die of the pleasure he was awakening in her. Surely no one could experience this intense feeling and survive. Thrust into her and with each thrust he ground against her clit sending delightful waves of pleasure coursing through her. Waves of building pleasure rolled over her making her ache to her very core with the need to find release. 

Gianni smiled to himself in the darkness at her eagerness as her legs and arms tightened around him, drawing him closer. He began pounding himself into her, enjoying the sound of her cries as he found himself hurtling toward ecstasy. He rammed himself into her as he ground himself against her clit and felt her tighten like a fist around him and writhe in his grasp as an orgasm crashed down hard upon her. Let out a low cry as he tightened his hold on her and thrust deeply inside her and found wondrous release within her body. 

He trembled and leaned into her before carefully holding her in his arms and moving to place his own back against the wall as she lowered her legs. He slid down the wall and sank to the floor, taking her with him. 

He tucked himself gingerly back into his boxers before pulling her into the cradle of his body as he leaned against the wall breathing hard. 

Her head was nestled beneath his chin and he bent to press a kiss to the top of her silky head, pausing to inhale the sultry floral scent that arose from her dark locks. "I thought I would never see you again," he said softly. "I thought I'd never get to hold you again." She trembled and he wrapped his arms around her. "I've missed you so much." 

She was crying. 

Gianni was concerned. "What is it, bella?" He prayed he hadn't hurt her. She shook her head and attempted to muffle her sobs. 

A thought taking him, he stiffened slightly. "Is it the surfer? Are you fucking him?" his voice taking on an accusing quality he winced at.

She jerked involuntarily and hiccupped, the sobs coming to an abrupt halt. "Go to hell, Angiolini." She made to pull away from him but he halted her. 

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

She jabbed him in his already tender ribs with a sharp elbow and he grimaced. "You're an idiot, Angiolini. No, I'm not 'fucking' him, as you so delicately put it. As if I could want anyone but you, you jerk." She emphasized her point with another jab at her ribs. 

He hissed in a breath and took her shoulders in his hands to steady her. "Okay, okay, I get it," he let out. "Just don't do anymore damage." He shifted behind her. "C'mon, we shouldn't be in here." He pulled her to stand with him and could hear her adjusting her dress as she stood. 

"Where are we anyway?" she asked. 

"One of the VIP lounges. Electrical wiring was messed up so they shut it down for the night." 

"How convenient."

"Indeed," he returned. 

He took her hand and led her to the door. 

"Where are we going?" she asked. 

"To find your surfer," and he felt her balk. "No worries, bella. I'm not going to hurt him."

"Why can't I come with you?" her voice was near pleading. 

He sighed. "I'll explain a little later. But right now it's best for you to be with your friends." 

She placidly allowed him to lead her from the lounge. She was thankful for the dim lighting of the hall as she lifted a hand to smooth down her hair. Gianni turned and grinned at her. 

It didn't take long to find Lacey and Colin. They'd been searching for her too, worried expressions gracing their features.

Lacey's expression lifted in surprise when she saw Natasha hand in hand with the tall handsome stranger. Colin glowered. 

"Hey, Tash, who's your friend?" Lacey quipped brightly, worry instantly forgotten. 

Natasha squeezed Gianni's hand and moved closer to his side. "This is Gianni Angiolini." She watched recognition and shock slide over their faces. 

Gianni nodded at them. His gaze was directed at Colin. "Can I speak to you a moment?"

Natasha's head whipped up to stare at him. 

"In private?" Gianni continued. 

Colin nodded solemnly and moved a few feet away with Gianni. 

Lacey moved closer to Natasha and gripped her arm. "That's him, Tash?" she gasped. "I can understand the infatuation. Hell, I'm infatuated." She looked into her friend's face. "He came for you?"

Natasha shrugged absently as she watched the two men talking a few feet away. Gianni's face was insistent. A concerned frown wrinkled Colin's smooth brow. His blue eyes flicked to her, worry evident in their azure depths. Natasha was feeling uneasy. There was something they weren't telling her and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. 

When the men rejoined them, their expressions were solemn. Colin's gaze switched between the two women. "It's time to head home." 

Natasha's gaze flew to Gianni. He nodded. A protest formed on her tongue "But—"

Gianni shook his head. "No, Natasha. He's right. You need to go home with them. No arguments. Not this time." 

She looked both hurt and bewildered as Colin gently pushed Lacey ahead of him and took Natasha's hand to pull her behind him. She hesitated, her gaze on Gianni. "You're leaving me again."

Gianni felt his heart seize at the pain in her voice and in her eyes. He stepped close to her, their bodies nearly touching. He tucked her dark hair behind her ear. "Not this time, bella," he murmured. "Never again. I promise. Trust me."

Natasha's eyes flitted closed as he leaned and pressed a kiss to her brow before he nodded to Colin and Colin tugged her behind him. Natasha gazed back over her shoulder until Gianni was swallowed by the crowd. 

She lay in the back seat on the way home feeling as heavy as stone. Colin had to reach in and lift her into his arms when she found herself unable to motivate her own limbs into movement. He tucked her into her own bed before turning off the lights and leaving the room. 

She would spend the night gazing at the ceiling, unable to find sleep.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 11



The light stung her eyes after staring for hours into complete darkness. Natasha groaned and her arm over her eyes as Colin leaned in her doorway and flicked on the light switch. "Rise and shine, sweetheart," he drawled. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She peeked at the alarm clock under her arm. The red digital numbers read 5:34am. She pulled the covers up over her head and curled into fetal position. She heard Colin come to stand over her. 

"We're going on a little road trip."

Natasha lifted her arm from her eyes and stared up at him dumbfounded. "You have got to be kidding." 

Colin shook his head. "C'mon, Tash, up."

Natasha nearly snarled at him as she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked up at Colin. "Does this have anything to do with what you and Gianni were talking about?" 

Colin merely shrugged. 

"And you're not going to tell me anything?" Natasha ventured. 

Another shrug. 

"Fine," Natasha said with a sigh as a deep frown marred her brow. She stood brisky and brushed by him, her voice rising. "Everyone seems content to plan my life for me and keep me in the dark, why shouldn't you join in on all the fun?!"

She felt his large hand close tightly around her wrist and she was yanked back against him. The breath whooshed from her lungs as she was crushed against his chest and he glowered down at her. Her mouth dropped open in shock. 

His voice was low, an intensity in it that she had never heard from him before. "Stop it. This isn't a game and seems you obviously have no idea what's good for you." He gave her a small shake. "Now pack a bag and let's get going."

Lacey sat in the front seat of the Range Rover and stifled a yawn before she fished into her oversized Fendi spy bag and pulled out a nail file. She tilted her head and examined her nails as she heard a Natasha's high pitched and obviously angry "NO!" from the house. Lacey grinned to herself. Things were always more entertaining when Natasha was home. 

Her brows lifted as she glanced up as she heard the front door open and saw her brother striding out, a duffle bag in one hand, a struggling and furious Natasha slung over his shoulder. He opened the back door of the SUV and tossed the bag inside. Natasha was dumped unceremoniously in the backseat before he slammed the door behind her. He turned to head back to the house and lock the front door when she opened the door to the SUV to get out. 

He turned and glared at her as he pointed, "Stay."

Their eyes held a moment, dark azure clashing with light cornflower blue. She frowned, pouted and slammed the car door, slumping dejectedly in the back seat. 

Lacey didn't turn around but Natasha could hear the smile and laughter in her voice. "Morning, Tash!" Lacey quipped brightly. 

Natasha grumbled something unintelligible in the back seat as Colin climbed behind the wheel and they pulled out of the driveway. 

Natasha watched the city of Los Angeles melt into the distance as they drove north and further inland. Natasha stared bleakly out the window. They drove for hours and hours, the sun coming up and the early hours of the morning turned to midday. Colin stopped only for gas and to get some breakfast for the girls before he continued driving north. 

It was going on ten o'clock when Natasha found herself falling irresistible asleep in the backseat. 

She didn't know how long she slept when she felt the car jolt to a stop. She lifted her head from its uncomfortable position to gaze out the window. Her eyes widened. Tall evergreen trees filled her vision and peeking between the slender trunks was the vivid blue of a lake. 

Colin and Lacey stepped out of the SUV and Natasha followed. 

"Cool, huh?" Lacey stretched languorously and nodded to the cabin that was positioned facing the lake. 

"Wow," Natasha breathed. To call it a Cabin was like calling a Mazerati a mere sports car. The ski chalet was a massive structure built out of the very trees that surrounded it. It was truly a beautiful house. She almost forgot her anger at Colin keeping her in the dark. 

Colin was pulling the girl's bags from the car and trudging towards the front door. He unlocked it and the girls followed him inside. The lower floor of the cabin was all one room. A large sunken living room was flanked by a full kitchen with granite countertops. Floor to ceiling windows graced the eating area which overlooked a deck and a spot where the trees had been cleared to offer an unobstructed view of the waters of Lake Tahoe. 

Colin dropped haphazardly the bags in stone entry way. Natasha glanced at him. He looked exhausted and about ready to pass out right there. She felt a pang of remorse for the trouble she'd given him as he moved toward the stairs that lead to the upper levels of the house. "Don't leave the house. I'm going to bed," he called back over his shoulder. 

Natasha wandered over to the tall windows overlooking the lake. Lacey came to stand beside her. 

Natasha gazed in awe at the picturesque scene that lay before them. "Where did you guys find this place?"

Lacey smiled faintly. "Dad's company owns it. He brings clients up here sometimes and he had a last minute cancellation." She shrugged. "So the place is ours for a little while. The kitchen is stocked and everything." 

Natasha nodded absently and stifled a yawn. 

Lacey linked arms with her best friend. "Bed?"

Natasha nodded. "Bed." And the two girl tramped up the stairs to find their own bedrooms. 

***

It felt like mere minutes that she had been asleep before Natasha was woken by the intense rapping at the door downstairs. She lay face down in her pillow contemplating the sound a moment before she rose and padded downstairs. To her surprise it was well into nighttime and Lacey sat on the couch flipping through a vogue magazine, ipod earbuds in her ears. 

"Lace?" Natasha questioned. When Lacey didn't answer, Natasha shouted over the loud banging at the door. "LACEY!"

Lacey jumped slightly and looked at Natasha as she removed the earbuds from her ears, a quizzical look on her face. "What?"

Natasha stared at her. "You didn't hear the door?"

Lacey shrugged. "I already looked. I'm not answering it and Colin's passed out cold." 

Natasha's brows rose incredulously as she went to the door and carefully put her eye to the peephole. There was a redheaded woman illuminated by the light on the porch looking decidedly angry. Natasha frowned pensively. She looked vaguely familiar. 

The woman's screech reached her ears with little difficulty. "COLIN REYNOLDS! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO G—"

Natasha opened the door and the redhead gave her a momentary appraisal before pushing by her and into the foyer. 

"COLIN!" 

Natasha rolled her eyes and followed. Lacey was gone, nowhere to be seen as Morgan Pierce stood fuming. Natasha blinked attempting to figure out the woman's ensemble. The redhead was wearing skin tight boot cut dark denim over black cowboy boots and a lacy white camisole which her ample cleavage nearly overflowed. A black cowboy hat was perched upon her wavy red locks. 

Natasha folded her arms over her chest. "Hi, to you too Morgan," Natasha said dryly. "Nice outfit."

Morgan whirled on her pointing an angry finger. "Don't you dare try to flatter me you whore-bag. Where's my boyfriend? COLIN!!" She commenced yelling. 

It was starting to give Natasha a headache. "MORGAN!!" she shouted. "SHUT UP!!" 

Morgan halted and stared at her open mouthed. "Don't you dare—"

"He's upstairs sleeping." Natasha sighed, although she doubted he would have slept through the commotion his girlfriend was causing. 

Morgan's pretty face twisted into a sneer. "Oh, I bet, after you two have been at each other all day."

Natasha looked at the other girl blankly. "Morgan...the what hell are you talking about?"

Morgan strode to stand toe-to-toe with Natasha. "Oh, I bet you thought I wouldn't find out didn't you, Miss perfect."

Natasha blinked at her. 

Morgan tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin haughtily. "Don't think that you can go off and have some little tryst with my boyfriend and watch me look like an idiot."

Natasha glared at her and opened her mouth to retort when she spotted Colin coming down the stairs over Morgan's shoulder. He looked more than a little apprehensive. 

Morgan turned to follow Natasha's gaze and in moments she was striding across the distance between herself and the stunned looking Colin. Suddenly the redhead was beating at him with her fists, words punctuating her blows. "You---jerk...what the hell did you think you were doing....asshole!! After---everything—I've—done for you!!"

Natasha stood rooted where she was standing as she found herself caught somewhere between amusement and alarm. 

Colin straightened suddenly and took hold of the enraged redhead's wrists. "Christ, Morgan, stop it!"

But Morgan wasn't listening. She was staring at Lacey who had just descended the stairs. Her gaze switched between the siblings. For the first time, her voice softened and she seemed slightly uncertain. "You brought your sister?" 

Lacey smirked. "Why wouldn't he bring his sister?"

"What are you doing here, Morgan?" Colin was losing his patience. 

Morgan had the decency to look abashed as she glanced up at Colin from beneath thick lashes. "I heard you were going out of town and taking Natasha with you." She shrugged. "And you brought me here once..." her voice turned hopeful. "So you're not up here on a romantic getaway or something?"

Colin sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "No, I'm not, Morgan."

Morgan brightened immediately. "Oops."

"What's with the outfit?" came Lacey's sarcastic query. 

Morgan lifted her chin haughtily. "I'm being rustic, thank you."

Lacey's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "Of course."

"Lacey," Colin warned, "C'mon, we need to talk." He took Morgan's hand and led her upstairs. 

Lacey shot Natasha a look and shook her head. "That girl..." she sighed before turning and heading upstairs to her own bedroom. 

Natasha blew out a breath of air and reached up to tussle her springy dark locks before she headed to the sliding doors and stepped out into the cool night air. 

The moon was lemon slice in the night sky, its light casting a white-yellow path across the surface of the lake below. 

She leaned on the deck railing, taking in the scenery. 

She heard the creak of the deck and a felt hard male body come up against her back. Arms enfolded her and she dropped her head back to rest against his shoulder. "Hey, baby," she breathed. 

"Bella," Gianni purred against her ear. "You make it entirely too easy to get you alone." 

Natasha sighed and sank into his embrace as his arms tightened protectively around her. "Well," she mused, "I would never have met you had I not tried so hard to be alone."

She felt the soft chuckle reverberate through her chest. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Indeed."

Sighing contentedly she turned in his arms to face him. She watched a smile curve on his sensuous lips and she lifted her hands to comb through his dark hair, brushing it from his brow. His gaze on her was serious as his eyes searched her face, his voice husky, "I love you, Bella." 

A smile stretched across her own face as she stood on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. "Of course, you do." She grinned mischievously and grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the house. "C'mon, let get you inside."

She felt him tug on her hand and she turned to face him. Light streamed from the kitchen windows. He looked pale and draw. He looked ready to collapse. 

"Natasha, there's something I should—"

She shook her head, "Shh," and stepped closer to him. "Not tonight, baby, please?" she pleaded. She kissed him again, brushing her lips teasingly over his own. "I love you too," she murmured. "Now please, you look like you really need some sleep."

Gianni looked grim but his voice was light, "Are you sure you're just not trying to get me into bed?"

Natasha laughed and led him into the house. "Well, that too. But not tonight. We both need some sleep."

He swatted her butt. "But where's the fun in that?"

Natasha scowled at him in mock sternness. "I mean it. Sleep."

"Fine," Gianni shrugged as they entered her bedroom and he pulled his black t-shirt over his head. He quickly unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them. Natasha stared as he moved to stand by the bed in nothing but his black boxer briefs. 

He lifted one ebony brow as she gawked at him. Natasha remembered to force air into her lungs as she pondered whether she'd ever tire of seeing him undressed. His dark hair was mussed and falling over his brow. His silver-grey eyes were lit with amusement and a smile curved on his full lips. Broad muscular chest and shoulders tapered down into a slim waist. The taut muscles in his abdomen rippled as he pulled back the covers and slid into bed.

Still smiling, he crossed his hands behind his head and gave her a smugly expectant look. "Coming?" he yawned. "Come to think of it...I am exhausted." 

Natasha shook her head incredulously. The man was unbelievable; trying to seduce her and knowing full well he was looking damn fine lounging half-naked in her bed. She glared at him as she wrenched back the covers on her side of the bed. "Go to sleep Gianni," she said, though with less conviction. "You look like hell," she lied."

He ignored her comment and eyed her closely. "A little overdressed aren't you, Bella?" 

Natasha glanced down at herself. She wore a white spaghetti-strapped tank top over a pair of navy soffee shorts. "Pardon?"

He shrugged. "Well, I'm in my underwear. I just think we should be even." 

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms over her chest, unconscious of how it made her breasts swell enticingly over the neckline of her tank top. 

His gaze darkened and he pursed his lips slightly as he studied her. Her hair was falling in spirals around her shoulders. Her hair was free of make-up yet seemed to glow. The woman seemed truly unaware of the affect she had on men. He nodded slowly, "Yes, really."

Her lips twisted into a smirk as she lifted her shirt over her head and wriggled her hips out of the shorts until she stood next to the bed in naught but her white cotton underwear and bra. She tilted her head and smiled coyly, "Better." 

Gianni was rethinking his ideas about her as his eyes roved over her lithe golden-brown body. Perhaps she was completely aware of the power she held over him. 

She slid into bed, turned off the bedside lamp pitching the room into darkness, and settled on her side facing away from him. "Goodnight, Gianni." 

There was silence. She could practically feel him awake and staring at her in the darkness. The mattress shifted and she felt his arm sliding under her neck and the pillow, his other arm encircled her waist and pulled her into the cradle of his body. He sighed as he brushed her hair back from her face and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her throat and inhaled her scent. "Goodnight, Natasha." 

"Hmm," she moaned, already sinking into the warmth of his arms and surrendering to sleep. 

*** She woke up before he did. The room was bright. She'd forgotten to close the blinds before she had gone to bed. Now the room was filled with the bright light of day. 

She and Gianni shifted during night. He lay on his back, she on her side pressed against him, one leg across his thighs, one slim brown arm across his torso. 

Shifting slowly, so as not to wake him, her thigh came into contact with his erection. 

Natasha stifled a giggle as her eyes flew to his face. So this was "morning wood". She leaned her head on one hand as she gazed down into his face. 

His face was impassive in sleep. She drew her fingers lightly through his dark hair, the silken strands sliding through her fingers. Dark eyelashes fanned against his cheeks. She tilted her head slightly and traced the tip of her finger down the straight slope of his nose, then brushed her fingertips over the fullness of his lips. A small contented smile curved over his lips though he did not wake. She wondered at how beautiful he was in sleep, almost pretty, though in waking he was something fierce and wholly masculine. 

She made to draw herself from the bed when his arm tightened around her and he shifted yet again, this time bringing is erection in contact with her thigh. She smiled mischievously. Even in sleep, Gianni was oversexed. 

She tentatively brushed her fingertips over his collarbone, then growing bolder she laid the flat of her palm against his chest to feel his heart beating strongly beneath her hand. Her fingertips stroked drown 1across his chest, her fingers gliding over his over his flat male nipples. They hardened under her fingers and her hair brushed over his chest as she lowered her lips to one nipple, swirling her tongue around the small flat bud. 

He groaned in his sleep. Natasha lifted her head to watch his face as her hand slid across his abs. The muscles flexed and rippled under her touch as she traced the v where his hips met his thighs. It was always her favorite part on a man. 

Her fingertips toyed with the waistband of his boxers as she watched his face intently. She slid her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around the thick heat of him. He arched his hips as his cock jumped in her hand. 

Natasha slipped his arm from around her as she rose to straddle his hips. She did not rest her full weight on him but rather kept herself held aloft on her hands. She felt the heat of him pressing against her even through the partition of their clothing. She lowered her head to press her lips against his smooth brow, the brushed her plush pink lips over his eyelids and cheeks, lingering to trace his mouth from corner to corner but not kissing him fully. Those same lips roved over his chest and stomach before hovering over his boxer clad cock which strained against the fabric. She allowed the heat of her breath to fan against him through the cloth before she carefully pulled back the waistband of his boxers and his engorged cock sprang free. 

Gianni was in exquisite agony. Natasha's heady scent invaded his senses. He dreamed he could feel the silken locks of her hair trailing down his chest and her fingertips trailing over his abdomen. His cock ached with need as he felt heat envelope his hard length. His fingers tore at the bed sheets as he his hips arched up off the bed and a low groan rumbled through his chest. 

Natasha knew the instant Gianni was awake. His hands were gently sifting through her curls to reveal her face and she looked up with wide azure eyes as she continued to lathe the length of his cock with her tongue. His eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep. His lips parted as he breathed heavily. He looked to be unsure whether he was waking or still dreaming and Natasha thought he looked beautiful. 

Gianni groaned, his abdominal muscles bunching as she took the length of him into the heat of her mouth. She swept her hair back from her face with one hand so he had an unobstructed view as she lowered her mouth onto him, taking him until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat. Her other hand circled the base of him and began stroking in unison with the administrations of her mouth. She pressed the flat of her tongue against him as she pumped his cock in and out of her mouth. He clutched at the bed sheets as he fought not to thrust too deeply into her mouth. 

Every so often her dark thickly lashed lids would sweep upwards to meet his enthralled gaze. He wondered at how she still managed to look so coyly innocent as her plush lips were wrapped around his cock. 

She moaned as she went down on him, the vibrations sending new waves of pleasure through him. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 11



"Baby, I'm gonna cum," he rasped, reaching to drag her up his body but she pushed his hands away. Instead she hallowed out her cheeks and increased her pace, twisting her mouth around his cock near the base of the head. 

"Shit," Gianni hissed as his hips arched up off the bed. His cock twitched and his body seized with the force of his orgasm as he came. Natasha swallowed it greedily. 

When she finally sat back on her heels between his splayed thighs she nonchalantly flipped her hair over her shoulder. Her intense blue gaze met his as she brought one fingertip to dab at one pearl of his cum that clung to her lips. Smiling demure smile she slid that finger into her mouth to lick it clean. "Mmm, good," she purred. 

Gianni's mouth dropped open slightly. 

She blinked at him innocently and patted his thigh as she hopped off the bed. "I thought you'd slept enough." 

Gianni watched her underwear clad body as she went to the bathroom off the bedroom and closed the door behind her. The sound of the shower running reached his ears and he stared at the door in consternation, a frown marring his brow. "What the..." he growled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped out of his underwear. 

He didn't knock as he stepped into the bathroom. Steam was already swirling in the air. Her bra and underwear were discarded upon the floor and he could make out the exquisite outline of her body through the frosted glass of the shower. 

He wrenched open the shower door and she shrieked, pressing herself against the wall of the shower. "Jesus, Gianni," she gasped, pressing a hand between her heaving breaths. 

He glowered down at her as he stepped into the shower, crowding her into the corner. His voice was low and dangerous. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face to his. "So you think you can just wake me up with your pretty little mouth around my cock, blow me, and then just leave?"

Her eyes were wide with shock, "Uh..."

A predatory smile curved on his lips. "I'm not done with you yet, girl."

She sputtered "Girl—"

He cut her off as he took her head and her hands and kissed the breath from her. His tongue roughly parted her lips and delved into the sweet depths of her mouth as his hands ran brazenly over her body as water streamed over them. 

His cock was hard again and pressing against her stomach. His hand's gripped her backside and pulled her harder against him. 

Her hands clutched at his shoulders as he continued to plunder her mouth. When he pulled back his face was still serious though his eyes shone with mirth. He took her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her head. He transferred her small wrists to one hand as he continued lowered his mouth to hers once more, the other hand free to roam over her breasts and stomach and to caress the curve of her ass. His mouth left hers to trail down her throat with gentle nips and licks. He moved to her breasts, testing their weight in his hand as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. 

"Oh God," she gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth and then the other. His hand trailed downward and pushed her thighs apart. 

"Do you like this, Bella?" he asked as his strong fingers traced her folds. 

"Yes," she breathed. 

He smiled then, a wicked smile that would have put the devil the shame. "And this?" as he brushed his knuckle against her engorged clit. 

"Yesss," she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. 

"What about this?" he slipped his fingers past her slick silken folds to press into her heated sheath. She tightened around his fingers and he felt a spasm of pleasure take her. 

"Gianni, please," she whimpered. 

His wicked smile broadened. "Turn around, Bella."

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. "What?" 

He released her wrists. "I said, turn around."

She did as he told her, turning tentatively. "Gianni, what—" 

"Shh," he soothed as he took her wrists and placed her hands flat against the shower wall. 

He surveyed her without touching her. Her hair hung in dark wet rivulets to the middle of her back. Her slender hips blossomed into a beautiful set of hips and the most perfectly shaped ass he'd ever seen. He lightly ran his fingers over her wet locks and down the curve of her back. 

"Gianni?" she whined turned over her shoulder to glance at him. 

He smacked her ass, the sound echoing though the bathroom. She jumped. "Patience, Bella," he warned. 

He stepped closer to her, allowing her to feel hardness of his cock against her ass. He reached around her to cup her breasts in his hands, his thumbs playing over her hardened nipples. She dropped her head back and moaned. 

Taking his cock in his hand, Gianni slid the engorged head up and down her slit, pausing to press his head into her and then withdrawing to rub up and down her folds once more. 

"Gianni," she gasped, "I need—I need..."

He leaned over her, his lips near her ear. Amusement tinged his voice, "You need what, Bella?"

"I need you inside me, please!" she whimpered. 

"Mmm," he moaned. He took her hips firmly in his hands and lined his cock up with her pussy. He thrust forward hard, pulling her hips back against him at the same time as he slammed into her. 

Natasha cried out and her hands splayed against the wet tiles as he entered her forcefully. He withdrew slowly then pressed back into her again, more gently this time. He leaned forward to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Is this what you wanted, Bella?" He was moving tortuously slow. She groaned. He slowed his pace. "No?"

A sob gathered in her throat. She thought she'd die from the pressure building inside her. "Please, harder. Faster," she begged. 

A deep chuckle sounded behind her as Gianni gripped her hips tightly once more and pulled back nearly to the point of withdrawing before ramming his hips against her. Pulling her hips back against him he pounded into her, the sounds of their flesh meeting filling the small bathroom. 

Natasha cried out with the force and pleasure of each thrust as he took her hard. Gianni groaned as her sheath gripped him, the sound of her gasps and moans driving him even faster. 

Natasha exploded at her core, and she came with a scream as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her. Her knees weakened and she would have fallen had Gianni's arm around her waist caught her. He withdrew quickly only to hoist her in his arms. Her legs went around his waist instinctively as he pressed her back against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tightly to him as he impaled her on his cock. Her tight channel still rippled and pulsed around him with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He thrust into her hard before feeling his own release take him. A low growl escaped his throat as he emptied himself within her. 

She lowered her heels to the ground and slipped her arms around his broad back to pull him against her. He was breathing hard and his chest heaved against her as he looked down into her upturned face. His dark lashes were spiked with water and his hair was wet against his brow. The size of him filled up her whole vision. 

A tender smile curved over his lips as he pushed the clinging dark locks back from her flushed cheeks. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured and she lay her brow against his chest. 

She giggled. "You're not so bad yourself." 

He traced his hand down her side to cup her hip. "You okay?"

She nodded even as her stomach complained of its hunger in a loud grumble. 

He laughed. "Hungry, luv?"

"Starving," she groaned then gazed up at him and grinned, her white teeth gleaming against her brown skin. "This was a good idea though, had we stayed in bed we would have definitely needed to shower first."

*************************

**These five people in one house, there are bound to be fireworks and they are bound to receive some unwelcome visitors in the next chapter which I will post tomorrow. Thanks for all your feedback and encouragement, luvs.—the dusky girl** 



La Vita Dolce Ch. 12



Natasha bounded down the stairs, her hair still wet and curling around her face. She dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Gianni had dressed quickly and had already slipped from the room, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. 

Morgan and Lacey were perched upon stools around the island sipping coffee. A basket of assorted muffins and bagels sat on in the center of the granite counter top. 

"Good morning!" Natasha said as she hopped up onto a stool and reached eagerly for a blue berry muffin. 

Lacey looked at Natasha speculatively, a knowing smile spreading over her lips. "Yeah, I bet you had a good morning. It sounded like it anyway."

The muffin stopped halfway to Natasha's mouth and her eyes widened. 

Lacey took a sip of her coffee, smiling in smug amusement. 

"So that's your man candy?" Morgan asked, looking at Natasha with renewed interest. She shrugged. "Hey, I don't blame you. He looks like the kind of man to make a girl scream."

Natasha blinked at her.

Lacey coughed, choking on her coffee and abruptly set the mug down, the brown liquid sloshing over the rim of the mug. 

Natasha blinked before clearing her throat and turning to Lacey. "So..." searching for a change of subject, "Where are the guys?" 

Lacey grinned. "Chopping wood for the fireplace."

Natasha stared at her. "It's August."

Lacey gestured to Morgan. "Morgan wanted a fire tonight."

Natasha's gaze slid to Morgan. The redhead tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I thought it would be romantic." 

Lacey made an unladylike noise in the back of her throat and resumed sipping her coffee. 

Natasha slid off the stool and went to the sliding doors off the kitchen which overlooked the deck. Morgan came to stand beside her, crossing her arms over her ample chest. She cocked her head to the side. "Wow," she breathed. 

Natasha tilted her head, mimicking Morgan's posture. "Yeah," she breathed.

Gianni and Colin were off to the side, near the woods. Both had axes and stood before two chopping blocks. Natasha's brows lifted, her breath leaving her just a little bit. 

The two men were shirtless in low-slung jeans. A sheen of sweat covered their skin. Both men had broad muscular chests which tapered to narrow hips. Their abdomens rippled at their movements. Their arms were heavy with muscles. 

Gianni ran a hand through his damp locks, brushing the hair back from his face. Natasha sighed. 

"Where did you say you found him?" Morgan asked absently. 

"Italy," Natasha answered vaguely. 

"Nice souvenir," Morgan commented, tilting her head the other direction, her gaze sliding appreciatively over Gianni. 

Natasha frowned slightly. "Back off, Morgan." 

Morgan switched her emerald gaze to Colin. "Don't worry, honey. I like my men homegrown."

"What are you guys gawking at?" Lacey came to join them. 

Both, Morgan and Natasha mumbled noncommittal noises,. 

Lacey pulled a face. "Ew," and spun on her heal. She went back to the island and drained the last of her coffee. "If you guys would like to close your mouths and quit drooling, we could go have some fun of our own." 

Natasha and Morgan looked over their shoulders as Lacey dangled a pair of keys from her fingertips. "Why don't you two go put on your bathing suits." Natasha grinned. ***

The girls emerged from the cabin clad in bikinis and flip flops. Colin was still chopping wood. He straightened as the girls approached. "Taking the Sea Doos out?"

Lacey nodded. 

"Where's Gianni?" Natasha asked. Colin motioned towards the woods. "Shed. Grabbing some more wood." His gaze slid over her. "Just follow the path."

Natasha followed the narrow trail through the woods into the clearing where a small shed stood. Gianni was no where in sight. 

"Gianni?" she called. 

He came around the side of the shed, his arms laden with wood. His face broke into a grin when he saw her. He bent and set the wood down before coming towards her. There was a decidedly predatory glint in his gaze as his gaze roved over the expanse of golden brown skin revealed by the bright yellow bikini. Her full breasts pressed against the triangles of fabric. A bright jewel gleamed in her belly button. Her legs seemed to go on forever. Her dark curls were pulled up into a haphazard ponytail, some wisps framing her face. Taking her hand he turned her in a small circle as he allowed his gaze to roam appraisingly over her body. A small smile spread over his lips as he spied the small outline of a star on her hip that peeked above the top of her bikini bottoms. The sweetly curved underside of her bottom was revealed by the small bikini. Upon completing her turn he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Heat instantly blossomed south of her belly button as their heated skin came in contact and her breasts were pressed against the unyielding hardness of his chest. 

"Hey, Bella," he nearly growled. His free hand slid down her side, his fingers drifting to toy with the ties of her bikini bottoms. "This is a cute little thing." 

Natasha laughed a little breathlessly and attempted to squirm away from him but he held her firmly. He lowered his head and his lips deliberately covered her own. He pressed her close, one hand firm on her lower back, the other moving to the back of her head, holding her immobile as he plundered the heat of her mouth. 

Natasha groaned against his mouth and slid her hands over his broad muscular chest and up around his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. His hands moved down her back to cup the firm roundness of her ass in his hands. He pulled her firmly against the growing bulge in his jeans. 

Still cupping her bottom in one hand, he allowed his free hand to drift to her bikini top, pushing away one triangle of fabric and cupping the soft roundness of her breast in his hand. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her taut nipple. 

"Tasha?" Lacey's voice rang out through the trees. 

Natasha made a panicked strangled noise in the back of her throat and jerked abruptly out of Gianni's arms. He let her go easily and watched in amusement as she frantically straightened her askew bikini. 

Natasha shot him a look of moderate irritation, thought it was mostly at herself. The man melted her brain cells. He smirked and leaned against the side of the shed, crossing his arms over his chest. His low-slung jeans accentuated the muscles tapering down into his thighs. A thin trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans and drew his eyes to the prominent bulge that was still present at his center. The grey-slate eyes smoldered and his lopsided grin was positively sinful. 

Lacey emerged from the trees. "You coming Tash—" she cut off as her eyes slid to Gianni. Her mouth formed a little pink 'O'. She glanced at Natasha, "Wow."

A low chuckle rumbled from Gianni's chest. 

"Let's go!" Natasha said a bit too brightly as she hooked an arm through her friend's and dragged her friend back towards the house. Lacey giggled and tossed a look back over her shoulder. 

"Well if he didn't look like the big bad wolf," Lacey commented. "Lucky girl."

Natasha flushed furiously and pulled Lacey along. ***

When Gianni emerged from the woods he was met with the distant sounds of engines and water being kicked up. He set the wood down next to Colin who had also paused to watch the lake. 

Straightening as he put down his load, Gianni couldn't help the smile which spread over his lips. Natasha never ceased to surprise him. Despite her beauty and poise, she didn't hesitate. The Natasha Gianni had met in Rome in all her designer finery was undoubtedly exquisite. But this girl was infinitely more real to him. The Natasha he'd found in California dressed in jeans, graphic tees and converse sneakers most of the time. She surfed and goofed off with her friends. She tramped around in the woods and rode jet skis fearlessly across the water. The Natasha he had met in Rome, he thought, would worry about ruining her make-up. He was finding out differently. 

It didn't make him feel disillusioned or disappointed. He didn't feel as though he didn't know the woman he had come to care for. No, he felt as though he were discovering her all over again. It only intrigued him further. It only made him want her more.  

His grin broadened as he watched her zigzag across the water, kicking up spray as she, Lacey and Morgan chased after each other. 

Colin was watching him closely, his face thoughtful. "You care a lot about her don't you, man?"

Gianni was intent on watching Natasha. "Of course," he answered absently. 

"You love her?"

Gianni turned his eyes to Colin. His grey gaze searched Colin's serious expression. His voice was low. "I do."

A muscle twitched in Colin's clenched jaw and Gianni understood. "And so do you."

Colin made a curt nod of his head. "I do."

Gianni turned his face back towards the lake, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"I was her first, you know."

Gianni's brows drew together and his own jaw clenched tightly. He said nothing.

"But she loves you," Colin continued. "I tried to take her from you."

Gianni turned to look at him once more. His face was impassive though his eyes were hard and assessing as he looked at the other man. Colin shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets sheepishly. "I mean, can you blame me?" His voice softened as he tracked the girls' movements across the water. "But she loves you." The sheepish smile from slid from his face, replaced by grim seriousness. "You won't let anyone hurt her?"

Gianni paused, studying Colin intently. "No I will not."

Colin return his solemn gaze and merely nodded. "That goes for you too."

Gianni lifted one dark brow. "Pardon?"

Colin looked at him hard. "I'm not some Mafioso. I've never shot a gun. But if you hurt her...there's no place on this earth you can hide from me."

Colin was surprised to see a wan smile spread across Gianni's lips and the other man nodded in approval. 

Gianni extended his hand to Colin. "Understood."

The two men shook firmly and went back to their work. ***

Natasha's heart was racing as she turned the Sea Doo sharply and sending up a spray of water and foam. She watched Lacey and Morgan laughing and chasing each other not far away. 

She swallowed hard. Her heart was beating too fast. She took deep breaths attempting to slow it's beating. She felt dizzy. She gripped the handle bars and shook her head attempting to clear the black spots that dotted the edges of her vision. 

Gritting her teeth as the Sea Doo lunged and she headed towards the dock.

Gianni straightened as Natasha abruptly brought the Sea Doo next to the dock. She hurriedly tied it off before clamoring up onto the dock. A heavy feeling settled in Gianni's chest. Something was wrong.

Natasha stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees, her dark hair falling over her face in damp ringlets. 

"Natasha!" he took off running, is steps pounding the deck. Upon reaching her, he reached down under her arms and hauled her to her feet. 

She stumbled against him unsteadily. She clung tightly to him and buried her face against his chest as she silently willed her legs to work. 

Gianni's arm tightened around her, his other hand gently stroking her hair back from her face. "Natasha, baby, what's wrong?" he murmured, the concern and confusion evident in his voice. 

Natasha merely shook her head, her face still against his chest. 

"Baby, you can tell me," he coaxed. 

She stood mutely and stiffened in his arms. She suddenly drew back, tossing her hair back from her face. She smiled at him, offering a somewhat abashed expression. "I just got a little dizzy, maybe a little seasick riding around out there."

Gianni frowned slightly as he searched her features. She was lying to him. Why?

Natasha beamed at him and reached up to trace the strong line of his jaw. "I'm fine baby." She pulled out of his arms and stepped around him, trailing her hand down his arm. "Really, I'm fine," she assured him as she strode towards the house. 

Colin stood by the glass doors waiting. "Tash—"

"I'm fine, Colin," Natasha said to him as she slid the door open. 

He caught her wrist, halting her. "I've never seen you get 'seasick' out there before. What's up with that?"

She exhaled heavily and met his gaze. "Colin, please." She glanced back to where Gianni stood watching them intently without seeming to."

Colin nodded solemnly, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist before he released her. Natasha slipped into the house. Her shoulders sagged as she trudged up the stairs to her room. 

She pulled the throw from the bed draped it around her shoulders before sinking into the large armchair in the corner. 

She didn't feel well at all. Her vision darkened. The room tilted crazily. Her stomach was unsettled. Closing here eyes against the onslaught to her senses, she allowed her head to drop back against the back of the chair and let the darkness take her. ***

She awoke in darkness, tucked into her own bed. She shifted slightly only to found her movement rather restricted. A smiled a small smile as she realized that Gianni was curled around her, cradling her body against his own. She was naked and she could feel the warmth of his skin against her back. His face was buried in the curve of her neck, his arm slung across her hip pulling her tightly against him. She smiled in the darkness and lightly traced her fingertips over the corded muscles of his forearm. 

Gianni sighed contentedly in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Natasha turned and snuggled against his side. His arm tightened around her as she slid her leg over his own and placed her arm across his bare torso. She laid her head upon his chest. 

He turned his head and brushed a light kiss across her brow. His voice was wonderfully husky with sleep. "Awake, Bella?"

Natasha nodded against his chest. 

His finger trailed soothingly up and down her spine. "Are you alright? You didn't even stir when I moved you."

"I'm just a little exhausted is all." She trailed her fingers over his chest and pressed her palm flat against his heartbeat.

"I know, luv." He sighed. He lifted his hand to cover her own. "Get some sleep."

She exhaled and allowed her eyes to drift closed. "Right. Sleep," she mumbled. 

Gianni listened as her breathing slowed and deepened. ***

Gianni reached for Natasha in his sleep only to find that she wasn't there. He sat up with a start. The sheets beside him were cool. She hadn't been there for a while. The room was empty, the bathroom vacant. 

He flung aside the covers, the hardwood floor was cold beneath his bare feet. He tugged on a pair of jeans. He padded into the darkened hallway and down the stairs. The embers were dying in the fireplace. He checked all the locks. The doors were locked. 

He was fighting panic when he noticed the light was on in the bathroom off the living room. He pushed the door open to find Natasha within. She was sitting on the bathroom floor, knees drawn up to her chest. She hiccuped when she saw him and blinked away the wetness in her eyes. He was shirtless and barefooted. His grey eyes were dark slate and heavy lidded with sleep. His dark hair was mussed and stubble shadowed his cheeks. She thought he looked wonderful. "Hi," she whispered as she gazed up at him. 

He stood in the doorway as she hurriedly wiped the tears from her face and she stood quickly to her feet. 

She fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He looked quizzical. "Where have you been, Bella? What's happened?" 

She hiccuped again and a lopsided grin spread over her face. "I ran out to the grocery store with Lacey. We needed to pick up a few things." She brushed by him. "I'm okay really."

Gianni sighed and caught her wrist as she passed by him, stopping her. He looked at her. "Natasha, bella, it's four in the morning. Please don't lie to me."

Natasha tugged at his grasp. "Let me go." Tears welled in her eyes and she began to tug frantically at his hold on her when he didn't budge . 

Concern was etched in his features as he pulled her struggling form against him. She cried harder, beating at him feebly with her fists. Gianni held her stood immobile until she slumped against his chest, her sobs dissolving into mere hiccups once more as she clung to him. "You suck," she mumbled petulantly against his chest as he stroked her hair soothingly. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face and he was reminded of how very young she was. At twenty-one, she was nearly six years his junior. He tended to forget that until those rare moments occurred when she actually acted her age. 

He lifted her easily into his arms and strode to the sofa. He deposited her there and then turned to the fireplace. Natasha watched silently as he piled more wood in the hearth, grabbed some newspapers and coaxed the fire back to life. When the fire was sufficiently casting its glow upon the room he came to stand before her. 

She gazed up at him in slight apprehension. He could be slightly intimidating at times though she knew he wasn't attempting to frighten her. He was huge. The top of her head reached only to his collarbone. The fire at his back only served to more clearly define the strength of his outline and the hard planes of his body. He leaned over her, bracing his arms on the back of the couch, sufficiently trapping her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly. He smiled at that and then his mouth swooped down. He gently sucked her lower lip before fully claiming her mouth and stealing the air from her lungs. She was breathing hard when he pulled back. 

His gaze was unrelenting. "You're going to tell me what's going on." 

She lowered her gaze, suddenly taking an interest in his collarbone.

"Natasha," his tone brooked no argument. Her dark azure gaze met his own. "I'm pregnant," she blurted suddenly. 

His face portrayed no outward flicker of emotion as he continued to look at her consideringly. He straightened, keeping his eyes on her before he turned away from her to face the dying flames in the fireplace. 

Natasha's heart dropped into her stomach and she felt as though her heart would break as it constricted in her chest. He was not pleased.

He kept his back to her as he spoke. "How long have you known?"

She sat with her hands in her lap. Her voice was soft. "I've only known for about a half an hour really. But I've suspected for a couple weeks." She paused. "Say something, please." 

He said nothing. He raked a hand through his dark locks. 

She was doing everything in her power to hold herself together. She swallowed thickly. "You're upset with me," and when he didn't correct her, she reacted as she was wont to react when someone hurt her. She grew angry. "Well that's just fine, Angiolini. I don't need you for this. I can do it by myself." Her voice wavered and he finally turned to face her. 

He came suddenly to kneel before her between her thighs. He pulled her to him so that her body was pressed against his own. Her eyes drifted closed as she couldn't bear to see the censure she might see in his face. 

He reached up and traced his fingertips tenderly over the smooth golden brown contours of her cheek. Her skin glowed like deep burnished gold in the firelight. He moved to smooth the dark hair back from her face as it spilled over her shoulders. His gaze roamed over the raven arch of her brows, over the thick fringe of ebony lashes which fanned against her cheeks. His gaze traced the shape of her piquant nose above the full lush lips which never failed to entice him or haunt his dreams. 

He gently traced the pad of his finger town the straight slope of her nose. Her dark lashes flickered and lifted. He smiled faintly. Her gaze so often caught him off guard in its color and intensity.




La Vita Dolce Ch. 12



He pulled her closer, his eyes still roaming over her features. His voice was husky when he spoke. "Give me a daughter with a face just like yours." She blinked at him in shock and he looked thoughtful. "Or perhaps it's a boy." His face lit. "Maybe I'm going to have a son."

Natasha looked at him carefully. He was smiling at her and she returned the smile uncertainly, "You are not angry then?"

His face softened. "My God, bella, never think that. I'm going to be a father. Do you know how incredible that is?"

Nearly sagging in relief, she sank back against the sofa cushions. "Well you fooled me for a second there."

Gianni grinned boyishly as he carefully lifted the hem of her t-shirt towards her ribcage to reveal her tanned, still flat stomach. 

He leaned on his elbows on either side of her hips and looked down speculatively at her bellybutton. "Hey little guy," he glanced up at her, "or girl."

Natasha laughed. "What are you doing?"

He smiled. "They say that they can hear you in the womb and will know your voice when they're born."

She lifted one raven brow. "Don't you think it's a little early for that?"

He shrugged, still grinning broadly. She yawned and Gianni stood smoothly, lifting her once more into his arms. "Let's get you into bed, sleepyhead."

She shifted in his arms as he carried her up the stairs. "You now, I'm not incapable of walking. You can put me down."

"No," he said simply as he carried her into the bedroom and deposited her upon the bed.

He bent and removed her shoes and socks before he rose. He gave her a gentle push and she lay back watching him intently as he unbuckled her jeans and slid them down her legs. He then offered his hand and pulled her upright. She smiled and lifted her arms above her head as he pulled her t-shirt up over her head. She wore no bra and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of those golden brown dusky tipped orbs. 

She lay back on the bed and stretched languorously. His cock jumped and he came after her. He moved to straddle her hips and held himself aloft on his elbows as he looked down into her face. "Christ, you're gorgeous." 

Natasha slid her hands up and down the corded muscles of his arms before running her hands over his chest. Her hands glided down over his abdomen before she lightly raked her nails up his sides. 

He groaned and pressed his hips against her, letting her feel his hardness pressed against her belly. She buried her hands in his hair and drew his face down to her own. 

He kissed her lips very gently, and then held her face with his hands and pressed his lips against hers, and slipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her deeply. She clasped her arms around his neck and felt the stubbled prickliness of his face and the ripples of his dark silken hair as she grasped it, and most of all the sweet pressure of his tongue inside her mouth. 

He fingers slid up her side and brushed over her ribs as he moved to cup her breast in his hand. He drew his mouth away from hers, and took her nipple into his lips. She gasped for breath. Her heart was beating so that she felt it might burst beneath his tender lips. He said her name, "Natasha", but did not so much say it as breathe it and then he said it again and again as he brushed his lips over her breasts and throat and before his lips fastened on her mouth once more. 

Natasha could not catch her breath speak. Her only answer was in her kiss. He pressed his thigh between hers, and groaned her name. She arched against him and running her hands down his back only to groan in frustration as she realized he still wore his jeans. 

Gianni reluctantly withdrew from her and rose, his body immediately missing her warmth the moment he lifted himself from her. She was sprawled upon the bed, her hair a dark halo around her head. Her golden brown skin was flushed, her chest heaved, and her dark eyes were heavy lidded. 

Unable to help herself, her hands drifted to her breasts and she arched slightly as she slid her hands over their fullness. 

Gianni's breath became heavier as he watched her hands glide down her sides and then delve into her underwear as she looked at him. He froze just as he was unzipping his jeans and watched her in avid fascination as she pleasured herself. She moaned as her fingers moved deftly over her clit. Her gaze slid to him. "Baby," she breathed, "come here." 

Gianni stepped out of his jeans and pushed his boxers down His large rigid cock jutted out proudly from his center. Natasha's eyes roved over him as she stroked her clit. Gianni watched as her gaze slid to his cock and unconsciously her pink tongue swept over her lips. 

Gianni groaned low in his throat. He advanced on the bed and leaned over her as he brought his hands to the sides of her underwear and slid the flimsy silken fabric down her thighs and discarded them. A smile lit his face as he gently pushed her thighs apart and her brown pussy was fully revealed to him. 

He moved back over her only to loop an arm around her waist and tug her body higher up the bed. He kissed her mouth fiercely before trailing his lips down her throat, lingering reverently over her breasts before he brushed his lips lightly over her stomach. 

He pressed her thighs further apart when he came to hover over her center. His fingers lightly traced her folds before slipping one finger and then another into her tight wetness. 

She moaned and writhed upon the bead as he moved his fingers teasingly in and out of her. "Gianni," she moaned his name as he pressed his tongue against her clit. Natasha cried out as he gently sucked that sensitive bud between his lips and flicked his tongue over it as his fingers continued to delve into her. He increased the pace of his fingers and she bowed up off the bed as the orgasm took her. Gianni felt her clench and shudder around his fingers. 

He withdrew his fingers slowly. She watched dazedly as he brought his fingers to his mouth. Her eyes drifted closed as he moved to cover her body with his own and his hips fell between her thighs. He leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back fervently, tasting herself on his lips. 

Gianni hooked one of her legs over his arm, spreading her wider as he pressed his cock into her. He paused suddenly. "Look at me, baby." Her eyes flickered open and she gazed up into his face. Smiling in satisfaction, he slid inch by glorious inch into the wet heat of her sheath. Her fingers gripped the muscles of his biceps as he filled her. He grinned down into her flushed face as his hips pressed against hers. He made a small movement as he leaned over her and rotated his hips, the motion rubbing his pelvic bone against her clit. With a small moan her hands slid down the taut sinews of his back to grasp his ass and pull him more fully against her as she spread her legs wider to draw him more deeply into her. 

With a gasp she the arched up off the bed as he suddenly withdrew nearly and held himself aloft on his hands. He allowed his gaze to roam appreciatively over her. Her head was thrown back, her riotous curls splayed over the bed. Her full lips were parted and her dark gaze was wide with passion. Her breasts heaved. His gaze slowly roamed down her body to the place where they were joined. He thrust his hips leisurely; entering her only to withdraw with exquisite slowness. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts. 

Unable to help herself she wound her arms around his broad back and pulled him down, wanting to feel the weight of him against her. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as he began to thrust more strongly. She moved her hips back against him, rubbing her clit against him. 

"Gianni," she gasped as she felt the first waves of her orgasm begin sweeping over her. Feeling her tighten around him, Gianni thrust himself more deeply inside her. He raised himself aloft on his arms and thrust hard into her again and again. 

Natasha tossed her head back and let out a cry as her orgasm crashed over her. Watching her, Gianni let go, pistoning his hips against her. He watched Natasha's eyelids flickered open to gaze up at him. He exploded inside of her, a shudder taking his body. 

Natasha stared up at her beautiful man as he found his release inside her. She smiled as her gaze drifted over the sinews of his arms, the broadness of his chest and the rippling muscles of his abdomen. His head had dropped forward, his chin to his chest as he breathed hard. His arms were trembling slightly. He lifted his head and his dark lashes lifted to gaze down at her. A smile stretched over his lips. 

Letting out his breath in a 'whoosh' he collapsed to her side, pulling her with him as he rolled onto his back. He pulled her on top of him, her head resting against her chest. They didn't bother moving up the bed. He merely pulled the covers over their bodies and they drifted into a contented sleep.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 13



Gianni raised himself up on one elbow and gazed down at Natasha as she slept. The light of morning was pouring through the slanted blinds and he could hear others stirring in the house. Her dark hair fanned against the pillow. Her face was turned slightly to him and passive in sleep though a hint of a smile curved upon her full lips. Her dark lashes fanned against her cheeks. She clutched the sheet modestly to her breast. 

Gianni absently trailed his fingers through her hair, smiling faintly. His gaze drifted downward, he carefully laid the palm of his hand against her stomach and felt the desire to protect sweeping over him. 

He watched her sleep and felt a restlessness stirring in him. He glanced around at their surroundings before returning his attentions to her. This was no good, hiding away, knowing full well that Luca would find them eventually. And waiting around for that to happen was not going to work for him. He had to meet this thing head on. He couldn't just wait for Luca to come to them. Gianni needed to confront him and the further away from Natasha and his child that confrontation occurred the better. 

Gianni slid from the bed, careful not to wake her. He pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and padded from the room. First things first. 

Natasha slept heavily. She was exhausted physically and emotionally. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. She was happy. The past few days had been filled with dread and wondering about being pregnant and how Gianni would take the news. But his happiness over the news had soothed her fears and she found herself looking forward to starting a family. If only it weren't for the dark shadow of Luca Angiolini lingering over them. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening woke her. Her eyes drifted open. 

"Morning, beautiful." Gianni was entering the room, a tray of food. 

Natasha sat up in bed grinning at him, holding the sheet to cover her breasts. He leaned over and planted a lingering kiss upon her lips as he set the tray down over her lap. 

Natasha looked down in the tray in something akin to shock. The tray carried a stack of pancakes, bacon, half a grapefruit, orange juice and a glass of milk. She lifted her incredulous gaze to Gianni who grinned at her. 

"Babe--" she began. 

He shook his head. "Sorry, Bella. No coffee. I don't think it's good for the baby."

Natasha's brows lifted. "Actually I was referring to the forklift that's going to be necessary for all this food. Who's going to eat all this?"

He grinned and looked sheepish as ran his hand through his dark hair brushing it off his forehead. He shrugged his shoulders. "I might have gone a little overboard." 

Natasha smiled and sank her fork into the stack of pancakes before lifting her fork to her mouth. 

Gianni watched as Natasha's eyes drifted closed and her lips curved upwards in a satisfied smile. "Mmm" she moaned. She gazed at him with renewed interest. "And you cook too." 

He took up her teasing tone. "Yes, I am the perfect man....all the more reason for you to marry me." 

Natasha smiled at him brightly and laughed before sinking her fork once more into the stack of pancakes. 

Gianni closed his hand around hers holding the fork, stilling her movements. "Bella..."

She lifted her gaze to his to take in the serious and intent expression on his face. 

"I was being serious, bella." His silvery gaze had darkened to slate. "Marry me."

She was looking at him warily as she tugged her hand loose, shaking her head. She forked another bite and slid it into her mouth, still shaking her head, not meeting his gaze. 

He felt his chest tightening. "Natasha..." he ventured. 

She shook her head vehemently and shoveled another bite into her mouth. As she was reaching for another bite he grasped her hand, stopping her. The fork clattered to the plate. Yet still she averted her gaze. She felt Gianni's fingertips slide tenderly under her chin to lift her stricken gaze to his. Natasha felt her heart sink in her chest. He was smiling at her but there was an uncertainty in his gaze that she had not yet seen before. That she was the cause made her heart twinge. She swallowed thickly as tears welled in her eyes. Her voice came out hoarse. "This is not hat I wanted."

She watched surprise and hurt flicker in his gaze. He dropped his hand from her face and release her hand. He lowered his gaze to tray between them. She could almost feel him withdrawing from her. His mouth tightened and pursed as he drew a hand through his hair. His voice was soft. "I see." He rose only to have her hand shoot out and grasp his wrist. 

"Gianni, stop please. Just listen." Her eyes pleaded with him. 

He sat on he edge of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees though he still averted his gaze. 

Natasha studied his profile as she set aside the tray. She rose onto her knees, still keeping the sheet against her body. She scooted closer to him and sifted her fingers through his hair but his expression remained distant and stoic. 

Sighing she sat back on her haunches. She tried to order her words and her thoughts carefully. "I didn't want it to happen this way. I don't want you to ask me to marry you out of obligation, because it's the right thing to do or because it's out of obligation. It's not that I don't want to marry you. That's not it at all. It's just that I wish things had turned out...differently"

"You regret this child?" His voice was low. 

"No!" her voice rose an octave. "No." She pressed a hand against her midsection. "This is the most amazing thing to happen to me. And that it's your child...I couldn't be happier. But I love you too much to trap you that way." 

Natasha watched the tension drain from his body even as she felt herself weighed down with the weight of her admission. 

Silently shaking his head he closed his hands around her waist to lift her onto his lap that she was straddling his lap, the sheet twisting around her and between their bodies. 

He looped his arms around her wait while looking intently into her face. Tears shimmered in her eyes. 

He brushed his lips softly over hers. He held her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. A smile softened his face as he drank in her features admiring the honey brown of her skin. "So beautiful, bella, and so completely mistaken right now." 

Her eyelids twitched and tears trembled on her thick lashes. The only sound she could manage was, "huh?" 

Gianni's smile broadened. "I want to marry you. This child...yours and mine...is amazing and wonderful. You've made me a father and I couldn't imagine anything that could make me happier." He paused, "except that if you would be my wife." 

She hicupped with the effort of holding back sobs. 

"I knew from the moment that I saw you in that airport," he chuckled, "your stuff scattered all over the floor and your scrambling after it...I knew you were exactly the woman for me. And if you weren't pregnant now....I'd want you to have my child in time. I would still be wanting you for my wife now."

A so broke free and her shoulders slumped forward as she wept. Her chin dropped forward to her chest. 

Gianni kissed the top of her dark head. "What do you say, bella?"

She sobbed harder, placing her palm against his chest. She nodded vigorously and lifted her head. "Okay," she hiccupped. 

Gianni laughed. "Okay?" he asked incredulously. 

"Yes," she said swallowing her sobs and meeting his gaze. She smiled, "Definitely yes."

Grinning and growling in triumph, Gianni rolled her over onto the bed as she shrieked in surprise and laughed through her tears. He kissed her brow, her eye lids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, finally to luxuriate in the sweetness of her lips. 

The sheet had slipped from her body and her breasts were pressed fully against his chest. His lips trailed over her throat and down to the valley between her breasts before his tongue flicked against her hardened nipples. She arched against him burying her hands in his hair. 

His lifted his head to gaze into her face. The tenderness in his eyes was nearly her undoing. His tone was frank. "You make me unbelievably happy." He lowered his mouth to cover hers once more. She sighed against his lips and wound her arms around his neck. 

The sound of a scream and the shatter of glass parted them. Gianni jerked upright and looked down into her face, an unfamiliar emotion flickering over his visage as he gazed down into her wide eyed expression, fear.

"Stay, bella, please," he rasped as he wrenched himself from her and flew from the room slamming the door behind him. 

Natasha scrambled to her feet clutching the sheet around her. She had no intention of staying put. She threw open the door and raced out into the landing, all the while the sound of shattering glass filled the house. 

Natasha stood on the landing looking out over the den, her mouth dropping open as terror slashed through her belly. The expanse of floor to ceiling windows and sliding doors off the kitchen on to the deck had been reduced to shards of glass which littered the ground as far as the den. There were strangers in the cabin, men dressed in black cargoes tucked into comabt boots. They wore Kevlar and carried semi-automatics. Their faces were obscured by ski masks. 

One man had Lacey cornered in the kitchen as she wrenched open cupboards hurling dishes and anything she could get her hands on at him as he tried to fend off the flying objects. She looked incredibly angry as she hurled china, looking more enraged than frightened. Allowing the man within reach, she snatched up a heave cast iron skillet and swung with all her might at his head. He fell and disappeared behind the counter. Morgan was being tracked around the island by a man as she eyed him warily, trying to keep the island between them. He lunged only for Morgan to skirt away out of his grasp and around the corner once more. 

Gianni was trading blows with two men who were trying to back him towards a corner but he moved quickly, keeping them off balance with quick jabs and dodges. Colin was rolling across the den floor locked in a struggle. Colin was flipped onto his back The man above him had drawn a wicked looking blade, trying to force it down towards Colin's chest as Colin's muscles strained to keep the knife at bay. 

Crying out Natasha raced back toward the bedroom, not realizing that she had drawn the attention of one of the men who started for the stairs. "Natasha!" she heard Gianni shout. 

Entering the bedroom she dropped the sheet and shrugged into her short silk robe, tying it hurriedly around her waist with trembling fingers and slipped into her converse sneakers. She yanked open the beaureau flinging its contents to the floor until her fingers closed around the heavy metal of Gianni's gun.

She flipped the safety and raced back onto the landing only to run headlong into a tall male body. The man was huge, dwarfing her. He grabbed her shoulder in a crushing grip and lifted her off her feet. He was smiling beneath the mask. "Gotcha," he growled. 

Natasha kicked out as hard as she could catching him between the legs. He let out a grunt and dropped her to her feet as he bent over, cupping his manhood. Natasha stumbled slightly but recoved quickly. He was still bent over as she cocked her leg and kicked him hard, catching him in the shoulder and sending him tumbing down the stairs where he lay writhing. 

Gianni glanced up at her only to be caught off guard and take a blow to his jaw and was knocked against the wall where he shook his head to clear it and raised his fists once more. 

Natasha tore down the stairs, leaping over the fallen man only to feel his hand close around her ankle. She fell hard onto her hands and knees, the gun skittering away from her. The broken glass tore at her palms as he dragged her backwards. She twisted her body and kicked out at him, catching him full in the face. He lay still upon his back. 

Natasha stumbled to her feet, snatching up the gun as she did so. She scanned the cabin, torn. Lacey was still holding her own in the kitchen, wielding the skillet like a baseball bat against the man currently trying to grab a hold of her. The man pursuing Morgan had lunged across the island and was dragging her kicking and screaming over the marble countertop. Gianni was still holding his own, his gaze angry and predatory. Colin was beneath the man weilding the knife. Every muscle straining to keep the blade's tip from his chest. Natash raced to him, flipping the gun in her hand as she went, taking hold of the barrel. 

Swining the gun like a tennis racket she caught the assailent across the temple as Colin threw him off. The man crumpled to lay facedown on the carpet. 

Colin rose to his feet and opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by the sound of Morgan's scream. Morgan was wrapped up in one man's grasp tight around her waist but she lunged forward, finger outstretched and snatched a knife from the knife block in on the kitchen counter. With a cry she drew the blade across the man's forearm. With a curse he flung Morgan against island. The knife flew from her hand as the hit the counter hard and fell to her knees. He stood over her and reached down to grab her arm and pulled her to her feet only to draw back his hand and strike her against the face. Morgan fell heavily onto her hands and knees. 

"No!" Natasha and Colin shouted in unision as the man snatched a blade from the same knife block and gazed down at Morgan speculatively who was still struggling to lift herself from the ground, her red locks obscuring her face. Colin started for her, as the man drew back his arm to plunge the blade. He would be too late. 

Natasha sidestepped Colin's form and raised the gun. The gun report filled the room and she squeezed the trigger again and again. The man danced like some grotesque marrionette as the bullets struck his chest. He flew onto his back to claw at the Kevlar vest. One of the bullets had gone through into his side. Blood was pulling on the ground beneath him.

Colin pulled Morgan to her feet, supporting her with an arm around her waist. The cabin had gone still and silent following the gun reports. The men in black had straightened, their gaze intent on her. Natasha's gaze switched between them warily, breathing hard. From the corner of her eyes she watched a man start for her and she swung the gun in his direction. 

"Hold!" a voice reverberated through the cabin. The man froze and Natasha swung the gun towards the voice. Her stomach filled with heavy dread. 

Luca Angiolini entered the cabin, his boots crunching on the broken glass. Two men flanked him on each side, their guns raised. He wore black cowboy boots beneath black jeans that hugged his muscular thighs. He wore a closely fitted black t-shirt which emphasized the hard planes of his chest. He had cultivated a closely cropped dark beard and his dark hair fell over his brow. 

His gun was trained on her, a smirk twisted his lips. "Nice shot, little one." His eyes turned cold and his voice hardened, "now drop the fucking gun." 

Natasha was finding it hard to breath. The her hand trembled holding the gun but she did not waver from the target of the center of his chest. She shook her head silently. 

His brows drew together. He had obviously thought she would just drop the gun. "I swear to God, I'll blow your pretty little head off, little one...if your don't drop the gun." 

Natasha flinched but did not lower the gun. 

Luca tilted his head to the side scrutinizing her. She had more balls than he'd thought. "No?" In a move faster than her eyes could follow,his hand shot out and he wrenched Morgan from Colin's grasp. Colin moved to stop him but the semi-automatic one of Luca's men pressed to his chest halted him. 

Luca wrapped an arm around Morgan's throat and holding her in front of his body. Morgan tugged as his grip, sobbing but he was immobile. His gaze was hard as he gazed at Natasha and he smoothly pressed the barrel of the gun to Morgan's temple. "And what about her? What if I decide to blow her pretty little head off?" He then trained his gun on Colin, and then Lacey, and finally Gianni being restrained in turn. "I offer a trade, little one." He drawled. "Your life for theirs. But hold onto that gun and all of you will die, make no mistake." 

Natasha let out a sob and the gun fell from her hand. She sank to her knees on the carpet. Luca smiled in triumph. He nodded to one of his men who came forward, his gun trained on Natasha. He kicked the gun out of her reach, and taking her arm in a bruising grip. Luca shoved Morgan at one of his men as Natasha was shoved forward into his arms. 

"No!" Gianni shouted, fighting against the two men who held him back by the arms. 

Natasha's breath whooshed out of her as she collided with the solid wall of Luca's chest. His arms came around her and crushed her against him, the hard metal of the gun he still carried digging into her back. With the other hand he reached grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. He grinned down into her upturned tearstained face. "Hello, bella," he growled. "Missed me, have you?"

"Luca!" Gianni was snarling, tugging at the men who restrained him who were struggling with all their strength to hold him back. "Luca, you fucking coward let her go!" 

Luca's gaze roved over his brother dispassionately only to return his gaze to Natasha's face and trembling lips. He smiled thinly. "I think not." 

He raised his voice to make sure that Gianni could hear his worlds. His hardened gaze met Gianni's. "I was going to allow her an almost peaceful death before, brother. But now I think I'm going to take your woman over and over again until she is broken. And then I'm going to give her to my men until they have had done with her and she wishes for death." 

Gianni's knees almost buckled at his brother's words and then roared in fury, straining against his captors as he watched as Luca lowered his lips to Natasha's with a crushing brutality. His teeth grazed her lip and she tasted blood. The roughness of his beard tore at her skin. She whimpered and pushed against his chest but he did not relent. She felt the gun against her ass and she stood stalk still, trembling with fear. His hand slipped intside the robe and his fingers squeezed her breast to the point of pain. She cried out in pain and humiliation against his assaulting mouth. 

He drew back leisurely, gazing at her swollen lips in satisfaction. His voice lowered "There will be time enough for that later." 

He lifted his gaze and addressed Gianni, Colin and Lacey in turn. "Follow us and I'll kill them both." 

Natasha's gaze widened and she glanced at Morgan being held in one man's grasp. "Both?" she cried. "You promised to let her go!"

Luca grinned cruelly. "Ah but my dear, if I had know that I just needed to threaten a life to keep you pliant I would have decided to kill someone long ago. She's coming to make sure you don't cause any trouble." He gripped her jaw in his fingers. "Fuck with me and I'll kill her while you watch." 

Morgan whimpered. 

"Understood?" Luca smirked.

Natasha nodded wide-eyed and wordless.

Luca grinned ferally. "Get them out of here." He motioned to one of his men and Natasha found herself lifted unceremoniously and flung over a shoulder. The blood rushed to her head as she was carried from the house, the sounds of Colin's and Gianni's shouts following them and Morgan's nearer screams echoing in her head. The trunk of an suv was opened and both she and Morgan were both set down to sit, their legs dangling above the gravel. 

A man in a ski mask brought forth a roll of duct tape and quickly bound their wrists behind their backs and taped their ankles together before placing a strip over their mouths as well. They were then shoved without pretense into the space of the trunk and the door slammed behind them. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 13



The girls lay weeping in the space of the trunk, crowded and lying half on top of each other as the suv started and was pulling away. Natasha met Morgan's gaze. Her dark red hair was in disarray and her emerald eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying. Tears streaked down her face. Natasha tried to reassure her with her gaze but could not keep the fear from her eyes nor the tears from rolling down her cheeks. 

It was growing dark as they drove along. The blood was draining from her arms and legs from their solitary position and the tape was cutting off her circulaiton. Her limbs prickled uncomfortably as she began to lose feeling. 

It was long before the car rolled to a stop. It was dark. The trunk was lifted open and Natasha and Morgan shifted their weary frightened gazes to Luca whose dark figure was illuminated in the car light against the darkness. He grinned down at them both. "What a pretty picture the two of you make. I think you both look quite beautiful this way. Perhaps I should take a picture." 

Natasha's heart hammered in her chest as she glanced past Luca towards the large house whose amber light was spilling through into the night. 

"Welcome home ladies," he drawled and then they both were dragged from the car.



La Vita Dolce Ch. 14



Gianni's dark, thickly lashed lids flickered open and a grin slid across his handsome face. Natasha smiled down at him. God, his woman was beautiful. He let his gaze wander leisurely over the smoothness of her golden brown features. Her full pink lips were curved upward in a mischievous smile. Her wondrous cerulean eyes were fringed by dark lashes which were lowered seductively as she ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest and the taut ripples of his abdomen. She was seated, straddling his hips, wearing nothing but a vintage rolling stones t-shirt. Her mound was intimately pressed against his rapidly growing erection confined by his boxers as she continued to explore the contours of his body with her fingertips. 

Now she rocked herself against him, rubbing her engorged clit against him, tossing her dark curls over her shoulders and tilting her head back with a gasp of pleasure. 

Smiling and watching her content herself, Gianni slid his hands up her thighs as she pleasured herself against his stiffening cock. His hands slid beneath the t-shirt to encircle her small waist. He gently guided her hips as she sighed in delight and arched. 

His voice was husky as he gazed up her. "Enjoying yourself, bella?"

She simply moaned and tilted her head back further, her dark hair tumbling down her back as she began to grind her hips in slow circles. 

With a mischievous grin of his own, Gianni lifted one hand a gave her a sharp smack on her smooth brown bottom. She gasped, her eyes flying open and she gazed down at him, her lip caught tantalizingly between her teeth though she did not halt her movements. Gianni's hands slid beneath the t-shirt and over her flat stomach, stopping momentarily to circle the small jewel ensconced in her bellybutton, before continuing to cup the weighty orbs of her breasts in his hands. 

She sighed, arching against his hands as his thumbs brushed over her flushed nipples. Gianni suddenly freed one hand from the confines of the t-shirt as he encircled her waist with the other arm, drawing her down towards him. 

"Hi baby," she cooed softly and leaned down to brush her lips over his. "Yes," she answered finally. "I'm enjoying myself very much." Gianni reached up and buried a hand in her thick silken locks, pressing her head closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into the hot sweet crevice of her mouth as he swallowed her moans.

Holding her tightly about the waist he began to slowly thrust against her, reveling in the sweet friction and the ache of restraint. 

Her moans were growing more urgent when unable restrain himself any longer, he gripped her by the waist and swiftly rolled her beneath him. He knelt between her splayed thighs. Her t-shirt was bunched up around her ribcage, baring her to his gaze. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow in a riotous river of curls. Her lips were parted, and his cock jerked as her pink tongue darted out and made a quick sweep over her upper lip as her gaze trailed over his body. 

He reached forward and gently touched her cheek with one finger. He then stroked it with his whole hand. Drinking in the purity of her features he gently slipped his fingers over the line of her brow, her nose, and then around her mouth. His finger rested for a moment on her plush lips. She lay still, simply looking up a him with sultry lust glazed eyes. 

He leaned towards Natasha, still touching her lips, and then his own lips were touching her face. He pressed them to her forehead, and to her cheeks, and then he kissed her mouth.

He kissed her lips very gently, and then held her face with his hands and pressed his lips against hers, and slipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her deeply. She clasped her arms around his neck and felt the smoothness of his face and the ripples of his soft raven hair as she grasped it, and most of all the long sweet pressure of his tongue inside her mouth. 

One of his hands moved along her calf, traced the curve of her bent knee and caressed her thigh. His hand glided up her side, brushing over her ribs. He pushed her the t-shirt up and cupped her breast in his hand. He drew his mouth away from hers, and took her nipple into his lips. With one hand he dragged the t-shirt up over her head and tossed it away.

Natasha gasped for breath; her heart was beating so that she felt it might burst beneath his tender lips. He said her name, but did not so much say it as breathe it; and then he said it again and again as he brushed his lips over her breasts and throat and fastened on her mouth. While he ravished her mouth, he reached down, freeing his aching cock from the confines of his boxers. 

He spread his legs and brought the hard flesh at his center into contact with her slightly parted lower lips. Groaning with the pain of self-denial, he slowly rubbed himself against her, letting the motion part her even further, until he came into contact with the blossoming nub that begged for his attention. He moaned deep in his throat, his restraint costing him dearly, beads of sweat glistening on his skin, running down his chest.

When she whispered his name on a sigh, arching to give him better access to her need, he felt something inside him threatening to break. Dropping to his hands, he held his weight above her, and brought his legs between hers, parting, gaining entry. The trust he saw in her eyes swelled his heart to near bursting. 

He leaned down and placed a searing kiss on her parted lips, blowing gently to cool her brow as he pulled away. His hard flesh found its mark unerringly. He slowly eased into her, gritting his teeth against his nearly overpowering need to thrust to the hilt, burying himself in her glorious warmth

He slowly withdrew, then returned to fill her sheath, Gianni shivered, the pleasure coursing through his veins firing his blood like none had ever done before her.

Slowly he reentered her. He stopped, allowing just the head to enter her. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. "Is this what you wanted, bella?"

Natasha moaned and still he held her still.

"Gian, please," she gasped. 

He gripped her hips tightly, and he plunged into her hot sheath.

She screamed in pleasure, her back bowing gracefully up off the bed. 

Gianni was still, enjoying the feel of her gripping him inside of her. He lay still in that moment, groaning as the spasm of her muscles coaxed him even harder inside her welcoming body. 

Slowly he withdrew, nearly completely, and then thrust hard back into her depths.

She cried out as Gianni thrust harder and harder into her in long, measured strokes. Faster and faster he pistoned his hips against her, the pleasure building. 

He cried out her name as he spilled his seed into her welcoming body. The hot seed inside her set off an explosion in Natasha. Ripples of ecstasy flooded her body in overwhelming waves.

Natasha cried out, fisting the sheets into her hands. Gianni's cock made one last plunge into her slick sex. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she arched and her muscles clenched tightly around his shaft. Rolling waves of heat coated her pussy. "Oh God," she gasped. Her body convulsed as she came until finally her breathing held and her body stiffened and then stilled.

Gianni carefully lowered himself on top of her, tightening his arms around her and then rolling onto his side, pulling her with him. She breathed deeply, trembling in his arms in the aftershocks of their passion.

Gianni's fingers trailed lightly up and down her spine. 

But then she was pushing at his chest, struggling in his arms. "No," she murmured. His hand went to her hair. 

"Little one, what is wrong?" 

Gianni rolled her beneath him once more, but she was clawing at him, screaming. "No!" 

Tears were streaming down her face and she cried out in anguish, the sound tearing at his heart. 

She was hitting him, bucking trying to throw him off when he grasped her wrists in his hands and pinned her to the bed. When he looked down at her the sight that sight that greeted him sent a slice of agonized fear through his chest and he felt as though his heart might stop. Her beautiful body was covered in bruises and she was weeping great anguished sobs. The look in her eyes spoke of her terror. 

Confused Gianni glanced about the room, still holding the girl still effortlessly beneath him. He caught his own gaze in the mirror. The sight chilled him. It was his face, and yet it was not. Luca grinned back at him. Gianni stared back of the naked image of Luca Angiolini poised over a struggling Natasha. 

Gianni flung himself away from her, his own cry mingling with her wails of fear and pain. 

Gianni's eyes flew open, his cries muffled behind the tape over his mouth as he came painfully to consciousness. 

He was lying on the floor of the cabin, his body awake with pain and a round of fresh bruises. His jaw ached something fierce.

Gianni's muscles strained against his bonds, even as Colin struggled beside him. Lacey was out of sight behind the island though her muffled cries could be heard which was. at the very least, a blessed revelation that she was conscious.

Gianni growled in frustration as his chest heaved at the exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow as he flexed his muscles, twisting and tugging to break the tape that circled his wrists. But it was no use. There were too many layers of the heavy duty grey tape circling his wrists. 

He couldn't get Natasha's lovely eyes from his thoughts and the moment in which Luca had taken her. Her wide azure gaze was filled with fear and hopelessness as they shimmered with unshed tears. She had held herself rigid in Luca's grasp, her back ramrod straight though Gianni couldn't miss the slight tremor in her limbs. His baby had been terrified and there was nothing he could do to help her. The more time he spent being tied up on the floor, the further away Luca was getting and the closer Natasha was to being faced with his brother's undoubtedly sick and malevolent plans

A small shriek shattered his concentration. "Motherf---" 

Both men halted and twisted to look towards the island which obscured Lacey from view.

Lacey's stood, pulling herself up by the island. Both men stared at her. Her blond hair was mussed and she was ripping duct tape from around her wrists. She shoved her blonde locks out of her face in irritation and carefully peeled a strip of duct tape which was still hanging from the corner of her lips fully from her face, further letting loose a string of curses. Blood was running from her palms but she wiped at it quickly with a dish towel before she stepped around the island, glass crunching beneath her tennis shoes. She grabbed a knife from the knife block and made her way towards the two men who were staring at her wide eyes.  

She bent first to Colin and then Gianni, cutting the thick tape wrapped in layers around their wrists and ankles. The two men sat up, rubbing the circulation back into their wrists. 

"Jesus, Lace, how'd you get out?" Colin asked his sister, eying her incredulously after he'd grimaced and pulled the duct tape from his lips. 

Lacey shrugged and held out her arms for display and glanced down at her legs. She was covered in scratches and nicks. "I was lying on a bunch of glass. I used one of the bigger shards to cut the tape." Colin turned her hands over in his own before getting up and retrieving the some more dish towels and pressing them into her palms to staunch the blood flow.

"You okay?" Gianni looked her over, concerned. 

She nodded but her eyes clouded with tears. Her voice wavered. "I'm fine but...he took Tash and Morgan. Is he going to hurt them?"

The siblings looked at Gianni. He couldn't think of anything to say to reassure them not when he was struggling with his own panic and dread. "I'll get them back," he said softly. He immediately went into motion. He bounded up the stairs, grabbing a black leather duffle bag from his room. 

He looked over Lacey and Colin. "Call the police. Tell them what's happened." 

He started for the door when Lacey halted him, grabbing his arm. "And where are you going? What do you think you're going to do?" 

Gianni sighed. "You need to report this. But the police will take time; time that the girls might not have." 

"And what are you going to do?" Colin demanded, "Just scour the countryside?" 

Gianni looked uncertain. 

"Look," Colin said. "We can help you. Maybe...we need to work together." 

Gianni glanced between the two, his expression dubious. 

Lacey crossed her arms over her chest. "We just need to figure out what we know and what our resources are." 

Gianni put down his bag wearily and mirrored Lacey's posture. "Like?"

"Like, I saw them pull up." Lacey said. "A bunch of identical black Chevy Tahoe SUVs. And the men weren't Italian. They were Americans. I assume they've been tracking us since L.A. and there are a bunch of private security firms in the city that use the same sort of vehicle and hire ex-military. However, I'd bet only a couple are so unscrupulous to add murder and kidnapping to their resumes." She tossed her blonde locks over her shoulder continued. "I caught the license plate of the first truck to pull up. I have someone I could call to track it down." 

Gianni lifted one raven brow. Colin was staring at his sister. "You have a 'someone'?"

She gave another nonchalant shrug. "Remember that P.I. I dated for a while last year? All kinds of hot." she said getting off track a bit before continuing on. "Anyway, he's kind of an amateur hacker. Totally obsessed with me, but he knows all the sketchiness that goes down in the private security business in L.A." She went behind the island and picked up her cell phone from the debris. "Am I making the call?"

Gianni and Colin glanced at each other. Gianni nodded solemnly. "Make the call." 

Gianni and Colin listened as Lacey grabbed a pad and paper. Her voice changed, taking on a lilting flirtatious quality. She'd even promised a dinner date before she posed her favor. She lied; said she was thinking of hiring a security firm for an event she was hosting and wanted those who went above and beyond. She said she'd met a representative but lost his business card. She did, however, somehow manage to remember the license plate number on his black SUV. 

She was scribbling furiously on the notepad when she giggled, thanked him in a saccharine sweet voice and said goodbye. She rolled her eyes as she flipped the phone shut. "Ass," she mumbled. 

Her gaze darted back and forth between the two men before she flopped down on the couch and perused her notes. "Okay. So the SUV is registered to a Dominic Gonzales, along with eight other vehicles of the same make and model. He's the owner and operator of Black Umbrella Securities Inc.. It's located in west Hollywood." Her face twisted in dismay. "Look, my guy's a good hacker, but the firewall and encryptions...their server is too complicated. He says their records would have to be accessed in person." 

Gianni grimaced. Colin cursed, "Well that's fantastic. That sure as hell isn't going to happen." 

"Why not?" Lacey quipped.

Colin snorted. "We're not super spies, Lacey. We're not going to sneak into a presumably well guarded, well secured security firm and access one of their computers."

Gianni shook his head. "Not likely."

Lacey roller her eyes. "You two have no imagination. I'm not suggesting anything like that."

"Well just what are you suggesting?" Gianni queried.

A mischievous smile slid over the blonde's pretty face. "I'm saying...no theatrical espionage necessary. I say we walk in through the front door."

*******

Natasha let out a muffled scream as she fell through the darkness. She fully expected to hit the ground hard when she found herself being flung, none too gently, from the shoulder that had been digging into her stomach, making her nauseous as the blood rushed to her head and each jaunty step of her captor pressed in on her abdomen. 

She and Morgan had been dragged from the back of the truck by two men dressed like commandos while Luca looked on, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Natasha had wriggled desperately as she was carried up the driveway and into a large home settled against the cliffs. What she managed to take in from her awkward position was that they had been brought to a rather large home. It was gated and tall shrubs hid the street from view. It was the kind of upscale neighborhood where the neighbors would be far enough away not to hear whatever went on in the home next door. The thought unsettled her. She could hear the sound of the waves crashing near the back of the home. 

She gazed at the Spanish tile floors as she was carried though the foyer and up the stairs. Trying to push down the urge to retch she forced herself take deep breaths through her nose. In vomiting she would only succeed in choking to death. It wasn't how she planned on dying. A dark thought flashed through her mind, though dying that way may be preferable to what Luca had planned for her. 

Her tears stung her eyes, and her head pounded as her blood rushed to it, the sound reverberating in her ears. She whimpered a tiny, animalistic sound of agony, muffled by the duct tape plastered across her mouth. They entered a darkened room and Natasha felt herself being dumped unceremoniously from the brute's shoulder. But she didn't hit the ground as she feared. Instead she bounced on a mattress. She heard Morgan's similarly shocked cry as she was tossed beside her. 

Natasha struggled desperately at her bonds to no avail. She felt the bed dip with someone's weight and she was quickly flipped onto her stomach. A new fear igniting in her, she shrieked behind the duct tape and wriggled fiercely beneath the man on top of her. But he straddled her, keeping her still with his knees clamped on either side of her thighs and one strong hand between her shoulder blades pressing her deeper into the mattress. 

She heard Morgan cry out beside her though she couldn't see her in the darkness. Suddenly she felt the duct tape being cut and her hands being freed. She stilled suddenly. What game was this? The weight lifted suddenly from her and she heard two sets of footsteps retreating from the room, the closing of the door, and then the distinctive click of a lock as the door was locked from the outside.

Natasha lay still for a moment, afraid that any gesture could bring some new terror down upon them. Carefully she reached up and peeled the duct tape from her mouth as slowly as she could though her mouth and cheeks were still left raw and smarting. She gasped deep breaths, gulping huge quantities of air. "Morgan?" she called tentatively in the darkness. 

A muffled cry and then "OW!" The redhead wrenched the duct tape from her mouth. 

"What the fuck!?" 

Natasha felt relief crash over her. Anger was better than hysterics. "Are you okay?" she asked as she rolled on to her back and sat up, rubbing the feeling back into her numbed hands. 

"No, I'm not fucking okay, Natasha," Morgan hissed as Natasha could feel her moving around on the bed. "What the hell is going on? And why is your boyfriend's obviously deranged brother trying to kill us?"

Natasha grimaced, "Family feud. Long story."

"No shit," Morgan quipped. 

Natasha reached down and made small tear in the duct tape around her ankles before tearing the adhesive from around her ankles. "Good thing I shaved," she grumbled as the balled up the tape, tossed it away and slid off the bed.

"Where are you going?" came Morgan's anxious voice.

"Ouch!" Followed by a bang. Natasha took her first few steps and slammed her shin into a chair. "I'm looking for a light switch."

Natasha moved more slowly, her hands outstretched in front of her, searching blindly and heading in the direction she heard the footsteps leave. When she finally reach the wall, she glided her hands along until she found the door. She didn't bother checking the lock, she'd heard them lock it from the outside. Instead she searched on either side of the door until she found the switch and flicked on the lights.




La Vita Dolce Ch. 14



The room was illuminated by track lighting and they were not in some corner basement room as Natasha had supposed. It was a bedroom. Sparse, but furnished with a bed, nightstand and lamp, a chair, a large armoire at the opposite end of the room with a large padlock on it. There was a small bathroom off the bedroom. She hoped she lived long enough for it to matter. There was a single painting upon the wall and two large picture windows at the far end of the bedroom. She and Morgan glanced at the windows at the same time, shot each other a a look darted towards them. 

They wrenched the window open and leaned out. Morgan gasped and quickly withdrew, backpedaling. Natasha gazed down, the wind whipping her hair around her face, cursing the absurdity of California real estate. The home was set right upon the cliffs, the back of the house built into the side. It was a sheer drop from the windows to the rocks and surf below. 

She swallowed her panic and drew a deep breath and drew back inside, closing the window behind her. The house was, without a doubt, a prime piece of real estate but its landscape was definitely not conducive to their escape. 

She pulled the short silk robe closer around her body as she glanced about the room for something she could use. The room had obviously been stripped of anything that could be used as a weapon. 

The large padlocked armoire was of definite significance. If only she could get into it. Morgan was gazing at her. She crossed her arms over the skimpy bathing suit cover up she was wearing. "What are you thinking?" 

"How to get into that armoire," she said absently. She was staring at the lamp on the bedside nightstand. It had a heavy ornate wrought iron base. Natasha strode to it and yanked the plug from the wall. She unscrewed the light bulb and set it aside. Looking around her she grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and tugged off the pillowcase. She wrapped the pillowcase around the end of the light stand closest to the empty bulb socket. It would protect her hands. 

"Natasha," came Morgan's soft warning voice. 

"What?" Natasha looked over her shoulder at Morgan. 

Morgan was pointing to the corner ceiling of the room where a video camera was mounted, red light blinking. 

Natasha could feel hope deflating. They would know every move she made. 

Suddenly Morgan grabbed the lamp stand from her, casually handing her the pillowcase. Taking a few steps towards the camera Morgan drew back her arm and hurled the lamp stand at the camcorder. Plastic shattered and rained down on the carpeted floor. The remainder of the camera was a mangled mess of wires on the wall. It was not recording anything. 

Morgan picked up the lamp post and handed it back to Natasha. "Go to it. They'll probably be here soon." 

Natasha stared at her in shock a moment before quickly wrapping the pillowcase around the lamp base once more. She went to the armoire and hefted the lamp like a baseball bat, keeping her gaze on the padlock as she swung the heavy iron fixture as hard as she could. Though she'd padded it, the shock of the blow reverberated painfully up her arm. She swung again and again, putting all of her rage and fear into the motion. Finally the lock fell, broken to the floor. 

Morgan rushed forward and wrenched open heavy wooden doors of the armoire. Both women gasped in horror and stared. The armoire was a sadists paradise: whips, handcuffs and chains, nipple clamps , collars, and assorted dildos in various colors and outrageous sizes. There were also small scalpels and knives. 

"Oh my God," Morgan breathed in dismay. 

Natasha's heart clenched in her chest. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be like this. "Help me, they're coming," she said urgently as she began grabbing things from their hooks on the walls of the armoire. 

"Wha--" Morgan began when Natasha hauled one of the windows open and flung the contents of her arms out and into the ocean below. 

Natasha was panting. "We--" she gasped, "really don't want this stuff around." 

Morgan gazed at the armoire, her green gaze widening. "Right." She began grabbing everything she could lay her hands on. 

Natasha grabbed the room's single chair and dragged it to the door, shoving the back of the chair under the doorknob. It wouldn't stop anyone throwing their weight against the door but it would stall. 

She raced back to the armoire as shouts came from the hallway, the doorknob was jangled, and then there was the sound of a body hitting the door and the chair was skidding millimeter by millimeter across the carpet. 

The girls had emptied the contents of the armoire when the chair skidded across the room and the door burst in, two men who Natasha recognized coming in. They were both relatively young, heavily muscled, and dressed in the black camo. She and Natasha froze at the windows as the men came towards them. 

Natasha felt a strong hand grasp her arm and yank her away from the window. She had intended to feign docility but she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. She fought, kicking and clawing at the large man who was struggling to subdue her. She panicked as he brought forth a pair of handcuffs and she felt the cool metal close around one of her wrists. He jerked her struggling form against his body, hauling her free hand behind her to secure the other cuff. Natasha did the only thing she could think of, she brought her knee up hard, catching him between the legs. He let out a strangled cry but did not go down. Natasha found herself thinking, 'what do they feed these guys, iron filings?' Instead he shoved her, the back of her legs hitting the edge of the bed and she went down on her back, the air slammed from her lungs as he went down on top of her. She struggled beneath him but he was too heavy. 

Rising so that he straddled her hips he grabbed her firmly and flipped her over onto her back cuffing her other wrist. Natasha cursed and writhed frantically. 

The man rolled forcefully onto her back, "SHUT UP!"

Natasha halted stunned. And the man above her took his time in perusing her. She was breathing hard, her hands cuffed behind her thrusting her full breasts upward. Her springy curls were fanned out around her head. She was gazing up at him with wide-eyed hatred. 

The short silk robe she wore had parted during their struggle, revealing a swath of smooth golden brown skin between her breasts down to her belly button. He felt himself harden and a thin smile slid over his features. No wonder this Angiolini was so desperate to have her, even taking her from his own brother.

He trailed his fingertips down her collarbone and over the curve of the outside of her breast, lightly brushing aside the fabric to reveal her full dusky tipped orbs to his view. She wriggled furious beneath him, cursing him all the while. He grinned in amusement.at the enraged woman. 

"Hey," he called to his friend who had the redhead stomach down in the carpet and was cuffing her as well. "What do you say we have a little fun with these two? I say we deserve a little fun." 

She glared up at him, her strange azure gaze shooting icy sparks at him.

He placed a finger on her full bottom lip, dragging it down lightly with a low groan. That's when she bit him hard enough to break the skin. With a cry he yanked his hand away. 

"Bitch" he growled and drew his hand back. Her eyes widened and he struck her hard across the face. He would have struck her again were it not for the unmistakable and audible click of a gun next to his head.

He froze. "Get off her now," came Luca Angiolini's low growl. 

Raising his hands in surrending, the man carefully eased off the bed to stand before his current employer who was pointing a gun at his head. At that moment he would have faced the devil himself rather than the Italian standing in front of him whose features were coldly set though his eyes glimmered with ill-restrained fury. 

A muscle ticked in Luca's jaw, the equivalent of an emotional outburst. "What did you think you were doing touching her?" 

The man's mouth opened and closed, his eyes darting to his partner for help who stood near the door now, averting his gaze. His eyes swung back to Luca Angiolini, to speak but the moment he opened his mouth, Angiolini's fist caught him with a hard left hook. 

The man went down hard, feeling as though his eye socket had been shattered. But he was given no respite. Luca was grabbing him by his throat and hauling him to his feet, slamming him against the wall. 

Luca glared at him, holding him in place with one hand, the other pressing the gun against his temple. He leaned close, his voice a deadly whisper. "You are never to touch her. Either of them. Do you understand?"

The man trembled against the wall. Luca rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust, pressing the gun harder against the man's head. "Understand?"

"Yes," the man wheezed through the scant amount of air Luca was allowing to pass into his lungs. 

"Good," Luca released him abruptly and the man slid to the floor. "Now get out." 

The man stumbled doggedly to his feet and out of the room. Luca glanced at the other man, still standing uncertainly by the door and gestured to Morgan who was half on her side, staring and open-mouthed at Luca. "Take her to the guest room. Do a thorough sweep. Make sure there's nothing, and I mean nothing they could use." He glanced speculatively at Natasha. "They seem rather inventive."

The man nodded absently as he hauled Morgan up from the floor. She looked like she would protest but one quelling look from Luca subdued that instinct. 

The room emptied of distractions, he turned his silver gaze to the woman laying bound on the bed. His brother's woman. 

The sight of her caused an immediate rush of arousal which he clenched his fist against. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and wary fascination. He stood over her, his gaze roving leisurely over her body. 

She shrank back into the mattress as though she were trying to disappear as he reached toward her. "Shh," he soothed as he carefully tugged the silken robe back into place although he allowed the backs of his fingers to slide softly over her breasts even as he covered them. He pulled her hem down over her honey brown thighs reverently, his hands grazing her skin once more. 

She trembled violently and swallowed thickly, attempting to hold back the tears that shimmered on the brink of falling. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile as he bent and lifted her into his arms. She shifted awkwardly, the chain of the handcuffs rattling, as he carried her from the room and down the spacious hallway to enter another room. He took her down the hallway and past the foyer, a man was standing there in an exquisitely tailored suit speaking in rapid Italian, his back to them. He turned when he heard Luca's footsteps. Natasha's heart dropped in her chest. Alejandro grinned wolfishly at her stunned expression and pursed his lips in a kissing motion as Luca carried her by in her speechless state. 

The room was less sparsely decorated than the last but men were moving in and out, removing items even as Luca entered with her. Luca set her on her feet before him and gazed down at her with something indefinable in his gaze. "Perhaps you will come to me willingly now that you have seen the alternative." She flinched almost imperceptibly and he continued. "I am not a gentle man and I will not be with you. But no one else will touch you." He stepped closer to her, his chest brushing the tips of her breasts as his silver gaze searched her face. "What do you say, little one?" 

She trembled, at his nearness and with fear, he thought. But Natasha was practically vibrating with fury. If her hands weren't cuffed behind her back, she was sure she could muster the strength to strangle him. Luca looked with wry amusement at the emotions flitting over the girl's pretty face. Her voice was low, and shook when she spoke. "Uncuff me please." She said, her voice husky and she pressed herself more fully against him. Luca's gaze darted to the man who had cuffed Morgan and gestured to Natasha. She gazed up into his face as she felt her hands being freed. His arms came around her crushing her fully against him, a low groan escaping his throat as his denim covered arousal pressed against her stomach. She slid her hands up over his chest to tangle her hands in his dark locks, dragging his face down to hers. She let her lips hover mere inches from his own. 

He breathed her name in a tortured moan. She pulled his head down to gentle slope of her shoulder where he pressed his lips against the smooth skin there. Her breath caressed the shell of his ear as she brushed his dark hair back. "Luca, darling," she breathed. 

"Hmm?" he responded, thoroughly distracted by the intoxicating scent that hovered about her flesh. 

"You have your brother's hair, his nose, the shape of his eyes..." she pulled gently on his hair and brought his face to hers. Her breath fanned against his lips as she brought one hand to trace that curve. "You even have his lips." His breath was becoming labored now and he held her tighter against him, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. 

He gazed down at the thick dark lowered lashes which fringed her eyelids. Her lashes flickered and then she was meeting his gaze unabashedly. The azure gaze that had been hooded and sultry just moments before were now hard and cool. Her voice had similarly cooled. "But you're not your brother," she hissed. "You disgust me and you had better kill me first because I swear I'll kill you myself if you touch me again." 

Snarling, Luca gripped her shoulders tightly, his fingers digging bruisingly into her skin though she did not flinch. His face was close to hers. "That can be arranged easily enough, little one. Have no doubt."

He flung her away from him and she stumbled to catch herself. He looked at the men and the room about him, "You're done here. Get out and lock the door." And with that he turned on his heel. The men leaving swiftly behind him and locking the door. 

Natasha pressed her back against the door, her legs trembling beneath her as she sank to the ground. A sob wrenched itself free from her throat and the tears were unleashed, flooding down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. As if Luca Angiolini weren't enough to worry about Alejandro was involved somehow. She couldn't decide who'd she'd like less to face. 

The door off the room which Natasha assumed was the bathroom was then yanked open and Morgan came striding out. "Well that went well." she remarked dryly though her eyes belied her worry. 

She regarded Natasha silently before she sighed and sank to sit down next to her. "Hey, she said softly. "You can't fall apart now."

Natasha snorted and wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands. "If you hadn't noticed, Morgan, now seems like a perfectly reasonable time to fall apart." 

Morgan grimaced. "Look, I know we didn't get along in high school. I kind of hated you. And I still hate the way Colin's eyes go sort of glassy whenever your name is mentioned." She leaned back against the wall next to Natasha. "We've disliked each other intensely for years but right now we need to be in the same place..." her voice trailed off. "Besides that thing you thought of with the lamp was sweet." 

Natasha shook her heard and laughed. "Not half as sweet as you taking out that video camera." 

Morgan grinned. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome." 

Natasha returned the smile though it faded gradually from her face. Morgan could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Natasha met her gaze. "I'm going to ask him to let you go." 

Morgan's mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "What?"

Natasha's brows furrowed. "You don't have anything to do with this. There's no reason to keep you--" 

The redhead was already shaking her head. "No way. I'm not--" 

"Morgan!" Natasha cut her off, her voice wavering. She took a deep breath and held back tears. Her voice was low and halting. "You don't...you don't understand. This man...he--he..." She met the other woman's gaze. She lifted her chin and forced her voice to steady. "The last time I saw him he tried to drown me and left me for dead. 

Morgan looked as if she were going to be ill. 

Natasha registered the reaction and was satisfied though she didn't really feel relieved. She wasn't thrilled about the prospect of being in this alone, but if she could get Morgan out of it she would. 

She rose to her feet on slightly unsteady legs and surveyed the room. It was less sparse than the room before and was tastefully decorated. There was no video camera mounted on the wall but the men had been thorough as their employer had told them. There were no decorative elements save the paintings that hung on the walls. There was another armoir of rich dark mahogany but this one was unlocked. 

She opened it. There was clothing within. Women's clothing. She glanced at Morgan who still wore her bikini with only the thin cover-up over it. "Feel like changing into something less comfortable?" 

Morgan got to her feet and joined Natasha in sorting through the clothing. Morgan wrinkled her pert nose. "Looks like high priced hooker wear." 

Natasha agreed. "Might be, but I'm tired of wearing a bathrobe around." She sorted through the clothing finally finding a stretchy white t-shirt that had been cropped to end above the belly button and a pair of skinny jeans that had more spandex in them than denim. She wriggled into the clothing before slipping her converse sneakers back on. Morgan found a tight sweater dress that only came to mid thigh and tugged on a pair of black leggings underneath in imitation of some additional modesty. 

Natasha and Morgan looked at each other speculatively before both girls burst out laughing. Morgan coughed and grinned. "Shouldn't you be on a street corner somewhere?" 

"Where's your pole?" Natasha shot back, her lips tilting upwards. 

Both girls started at they heard the lock clicking and the door was pushed open. A man entered carrying a tray and set it down on the nightstand. He didn't look at them, merely turned and left, the lock clicking back into place when the door closed. 

The tray held sandwiches and a pitcher with two glasses. It was only then that Natasha realized she hadn't eaten since the night before. As if to echo her thoughts, Morgan's stomach gave a low audible rumble. 

Natasha smiled thinly. "It's probably drugged."

Morgan's lips twisted. "Or it might not be. I'm starving." 

Natasha shrugged, eying the food warily. "Luca's probably a little too theatrical to simply poisonous us I think." 

Both girls crawled to the bed. Morgan set the tray between them. There was a bowl of sliced fruit and two turkey sandwiches, each sliced into perfect triangles.There were two plastic cups and a pitcher of water. There were no utensils. The men were probably afraid of being blinded by a fork or being skewered by their unruly captives. 

Morgan picked up her sandwhich and began picking though it's contents. Natasha grabbed the pitcher and slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom where she promptly dumped the contents down the drain and rinsed the pitcher thoroughly before refilling it and returning to the bed. 

Natasha put the pitcher down on the nightstand. "It's not Evian but it's clean." She turned to Morgan and stared. The redhead had taken a substantial bite of the sandwich and was chewing, a thoughtful expression on her face. She swallowed. "It's not bad. The turkey's a little dry." A smile slid over her face. "I think it's okay Tasha."

Natasha gingerly took a bite herself. She sighed and leaned back against the headboard. When she finished, she resolved, she was going to have a chat with Luca Angiolini. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 14



*******

"How do I look?" Lacey posed dramatically in the doorway of the bedroom. 

Gianni and Colin both looked up from their barstools off the suite kitchenette when Lacey entered. Colin glanced at her, nearly choking on his coffee. He set down the mug quickly, sloshing the hot brown liquid over the rim and onto the marble countertop.  

Gianni leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His gaze was critical but not disapproving. "Well, you don't look like you. Which was the point." 

Lacey had donned a wig of flowing red locks that trailed down her back and a red tube dress that fit like a second skin along with a pair of matching stiletto pumps. Her pretty face was liberally accented with make up and a lip plumper that was causing her lips to tingle fiercely.

Colin frowned deeply. "You look like a fucking porn star." 

Lacey glared back at him and placed her hands on her hips. "Well I'm not trying to dazzle them with my brains." 

Gianni shrugged and glanced at Colin. "She's right you know." 

Colin was shaking his head. He looked decidedly agitated. "I don't know about this. There's gotta be another way."

The three surveyed each other silently. They had returned to L.A. after hours of interrogation by the police up at the cabin in Lake Tahoe. They were now checked into the Hollywood Hilton, knowing that the beach house might be watched. 

Lacey placed her hands on her slim hips. "I'm doing this. We've already decided and there's no way I'm backing out now." 

Colin shook his head but said nothing as Lacey strode forward and held out her hand to Gianni. Gianni placed a small Bluetooth earpiece in her palm which Lacey carefully placed in her ear before drawing the wig's locks over it. 

Gianni's face was serious. "We won't be there with you--we might be recognized--but we will be following. We will call you as soon as you step out of the car. Your phone won't ring but you should hear the 'beep' in the earpiece. We'll be able to hear everything you hear and every word you say. Understood?"

Lacey nodded, making sure the piece was secure. 

"And you know what to do when you're inside?" Colin prodded. 

"Got it." Lacey quipped. 

Colin sighed. "Right then. Let's go."

***

Natasha banged on the door until she thought her shoulder would give out. There was no sign that anyone on the other side of the door cared to acknowledge her at all. Sighing dejectedly she pressed her back against the door and slid down to sit on the floor. 

Morgan gazed at her from her spot laying on her back on the bed, her head hanging off the side and watching an upside down Natasha bang futilely at the door. "Done yet?"

Natasha merely shrugged. 

The door suddenly swung open and Natasha fell backwards with a small shriek and found herself staring up at the startled face of the man who had been posted at the door. He was younger than any of the men she had seen so far. He looked to be about her own age with closely cropped blond hair. He may have been young but he wore the same black gear as the other men. He looked down at her in mild surprise. 

She returned his stare from where she lay sprawled at his feet. "I want to talk to Luca Angiolini. Now," she said hoping her voice brooked no objections. 

The young man's eyes darted along the hallway looking for a comrade no doubt. " Uh..." he began and then began to stammer. "I don't think—I mean I don't..." He looked agitated. "You should get back in the room."

Natasha hauled herself to her feet and glared up at him, craning her neck. He over six feet of solid muscle and towered over her. She immediately ditched the thought that she could possibly take him with Morgan's help. She would frighten him with something else then. 

She placed her hands on her slim hips, her azure gaze narrowing and her mouth settling into a grimly determined line. "I want to talk to Angiolini. I have something important to tell him—something I'm sure he'll want to hear. And if he hears that you didn't allow me to tell it to him when I requested..." she let the thought of Luca's temper or the thought of pissing off his employers settle in. 

The young man's gaze was still scanning the hallway, probably looking for a superior to tell him what should be done. "I don't—" 

"I will cause the biggest fucking scene—" Natasha cut him off and at once drew in a theatrically large breath, readying her lungs to belt out an ear-splitting scream. 

The was abruptly cut off as the man moved quickly, one large palm covering her lips. "Fine, fine." He sighed rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "I'll take you. Don't blame me if he doesn't want to see you." He considered her azure eyes which studied him from above his hand clamped around her lower face. "Understand?" 

She nodded her head vigorously and then bit him. 

"Ow!" he yanked his hand back. 

"Don't touch me," she said moodily. 

The man frowned at her in exasperation. "Whatever, let's just go and get this over with." 

He took her upper arm in a tight bruising grip while he closed and locked the bedroom door from the outside. 

Natasha caught a fleeting glimpse of Morgan standing in the center of the room looking right back at her just before the door closed. 

The young man half dragged her down the hallway of the house. Natasha realized that the sparsely decorated section of the home that they were in held many rooms, each with a heavy door and a lock on the outside. They entered the main home through a heavy metal door, the décor immediately becoming more lavish and comfortable than their previous surroundings. The Spanish style villa was large, spacious, and obviously expensively decorated. 

The young man propelled her forward to stand before two large men who stood before a large set of intricately carved doors. "She wants to talk to Angiolini." 

The two men glanced at each other. Neither looked inclined to grant her request. 

"She said she'd cause a scene," he continued. 

One of the men grumbled. "Why didn't you just shut her up?" 

The young man shifted uncomfortably. "Angiolini said we're not to lay a hand on them." 

Natasha eyed the men and crossed her arms over her chest. "He's right. You're not to touch me. He's also right about the 'causing a scene part'." She glanced at the door." Is Angiolini in there? Because if you don't let me in right now I'm going to start screaming."

"

He's with a broker," one of the men growled. "Don't you dare—"

Natasha screamed as though she were being murdered, lungs burning. 

The young man who had been guarding her room moved quickly, one arm snaking around her waist to slam the air from her lungs and pinning her arms to her sides while his hand came up and covered her mouth. Natasha struggled wildly. One of the other men came forward to help subdue her but she managed to rear back and kick out, catching him in the chest and sending him staggering back against the doors. 

"Motherfu—"the man cursed regaining his footing and starting forward when one of the double doors was wrenched open. Luca stood in the doorway looking decidedly angry as his silver gaze quickly swept the scene before him. Everyone froze. The two men who had been guarding the door were mid-stride on their way to help restrain the small struggling female who was at the moment, dangling from the arms of the young man who had been posted at her door. Her mouth was covered but her startling gaze glittered with fury. 

Luca's brows drew together. His voice was low with menace, "she escaped?" 

Natasha was set hastily on her feet. "No," she said testily, yanking the cropped t-shirt lower where it had ridden up to reveal several more inches of her flat golden stomach than had already been on display. "I asked nicely. Kind of," she added. "I wanted to talk to you...in a civilized manner." 

Luca straightened and crossed his arms over his broad chest. He looked at her speculatively. "I'm not letting you go so you can forget it." 

Natasha lifted her chin. "I wasn't going to ask you to." 

Luca lifted on ebony brow. "Can this wait?"

Natasha shook her head. "I want to talk to you now."

Luca's grey eyes narrowed at her. "You're not in any position to be making demands." 

Natasha's look was searching. "It would be worth your while."

Luca's attention was piqued. After a moment of looking her over with a deeply probing stare a small smile curved on his lips and he stepped aside from the doorway gesturing for her to pass in front of Natasha did so, careful not to brush against him as she did so. 

She entered the room which was, in actuality, a rather opulent office. A dark-haired man—obviously middle eastern—rose from one of the heavy leather chairs set before the heavy mahogany desk. He wore a dark suit, exquisitely tailored to his slim body. But what caught her eye was the traditional red and white checkered Yashmagh he wore on his head. The man was tall and slim with a rather handsome face. His eyes glittered with amusement as his gaze roved brazenly over her body. 

Natasha halted before him uncertainly as he strode towards her. She felt Luca come up next to her, his broad hand was warm on the bare small of her back as he stood close. She flinched at the contact but forced herself not to move away. 

The middle eastern man grinned at her--a display of gleaming white teeth--before looking to Luca. The men spoke in rapid Arabic, looking at her often. When the middle eastern man stepped close, Natasha would have retreated if not for Luca's palm firm against her back holding her in place. 

The man lifted a hand to run his fingertips over Natasha's dark springy curls. He spoke softly in Arabic, looking at her intently though she felt he were looking at an inanimate object than a living, breathing person standing before him. He seemed to be searching her face for flaws as he traced his cool fingers over her cheeks and then cupped her chin to lift her face to his for further inspection. His dark eyes held hers. She refused—absolutely refused—to let this man rattle her. She glared up at him, her cerulean eyes hard and her jaw set firmly in his hand. His gaze never wavered as he lifted his free hand and grasped her breast, squeezing hard. 

Natasha's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open as she let out a startled cry. Her blue gaze which had been cool and distant only moments before instantly lit with fury. Before Luca could stop her she slapped the man's hand away with violence and gave him a hard two handed shove. He stumbled back, only to realize that the enraged woman seemed intent on coming after him. She was lunging for him when Luca Angiolini roughly grabbed her and set her behind his back. When she would have moved to step around him, Angiolini spun quickly and grabbed her. He spoke to her in a low hard voice which was nearly inaudible, his hands gripping her shoulders hard. He gave her a small shake before returning his attentions to his client. 

Natasha stood seething as Luca gave her his back. Her every muscle was tensed to strike. She considered that perhaps she'd have to go through Luca to get to the man who dared touch her and the thought gave her pause. 

Luca was speaking in a cajoling tone to the other man who fired back a rapid and definitively angry response. Luca's voice was light and persuasive. Natasha watched the shrug of his broad shoulders. Soon both men were shaking hands, grins on their faces. Luca stepped aside so Natasha could be seen again though she noticed he did not move out of grabbing distance. 

The man smiled at Natasha, shaking his finger at her as though she were a naught child. Natasha wanted to smack him. "Go to hell," she ground out between her clenched teeth. 

The man merely shook his head, chuckling to himself before he shook hands with Luca again and strode loftily from the room. 

When the door closed behind him Natasha exploded. "What the fuck was that!?"

Luca glared at her and strode around the side of the desk to ease himself into the plush leather high-backed arm chair which was situated there. He regarded her calmly. His voice was deceptively soft but there was no mistaking the ill-restrained menace in his eyes. "Again with the demanding tone, little one. Where are your manners." He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table and creating a steeple with his fingertips. His gaze darkened slightly. "Perhaps I need to discipline you."

Natasha swallowed thickly, her mind darting back to the armoire's contents. She drew herself up and smoothly settled herself into one of the chairs across from him. "I want you to let Morgan go. And I want you to leave Gianni alone. Just let him go."

Luca lifted his brow, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a mocking smile. He leaned back in his chair. He nodded towards the doorway. "That man who just left here is a businessman of sorts. He trades in certain rare commodities. It's all highly illegal but so lucrative that the risk is worth it."

Natasha noted the smug expression on Luca's face. "Why are you telling me this?" she ventured. "What kind of commodities?"

Luca's smile broadened. "You haven't guessed?" He gestured to her, his gaze running lingeringly over the length of her body. "Women, little one. He deals in flesh. You and your friend will be sold to the highest bidder."

Natasha's insides turned to liquid. Her lungs felt as though they were collapsing. She pressed a hand to her heart, her breath coming in shallow gasps. 

Luca seemed to approve of the reaction. "You'll be shipped overseas to the Middle East—perhaps Russia or some other backwater country," he said waving his hand dismissively. "I've been assured that Gianni will never manage to find you, and should there be any inclination that he is close...you will be killed immediately. He will be similarly dealt with." 

Natasha felt cold inside. Black spots dotted the edges of her vision. She pushed herself up from her seat on trembling limbs but her legs were unwilling to cooperate. She crumpled to the floor, catching herself on her hands and knees. She heard Luca rise from his chair. He chuckled. "So dramatic, little one."

He came around the side of the desk and when she tried to crawl away from him he effortlessly scooped her up in his arms and set her unceremoniously on the side of the desk. 

She was gasping for breath. "Please," she sobbed, tears now sliding down her cheeks. 

He lifted her chin with his forefinger. "What? Going to resort to begging now? It doesn't suit you." He took in her trembling lips, her wet eyes and the tears spiking her eyelashes. She really was flawless. A truly beautiful woman. Shame. 

She swallowed, tears continuing to stream down her face. "Please let them go. I'm the Pezzini heir. You don't need them. "

He regarded her coolly. "You have nothing to bargain with." He turned from her and strode towards the doors to have her taken back to her room where she would wait to be collected. 

"Me." 

Her soft words reached his ears and his hand paused on the door handle. He turned back to see her sitting on the edge of the desk. "Pardon?"

She slid off the desk to stand on trembling legs. "You can have me." She repeated, her voice wavering." 

He turned to face her fully. "I already have you."

Natasha met his eyes unflinchingly though the tears continued to fall. "You can have me. I won't fight you. You'll have me willing."

Luca frowned as he came to stand before her, his chest just barely brushing the tips of her breasts. "I can have any woman I want, little one. What makes you think I'd be tempted by your offer?"

"I'm your brother's woman. He loves me. He wants to marry me. He wants a family. You wish to destroy him? Then take me but let him live." She drew a deep breath and continued. "I'm a Pezzini. A Pezzini-Angiolini heir..." her voice trailed off. "An heir would join our family's fortunes." She watched Luca's eyes light at this idea. 

"And you think my brother would simply stop looking for you?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. He'll have to be convinced that this is what I want—that it was all a set-up. He'll hate me. But he will be made to believe it."

Luca pulled her to him, one arm tightening around her waist as he buried his free hand in her hair. "You would come to me willingly?"

She gazed up at him. "Let Morgan go. Let Gianni live...and I'll do anything you like." 

"Anything?" 

She suppressed a shudder. "Anything," she repeated softly. 

His gaze drifted to her lips. "Kiss me."

Natasha's heart fell inside her. She wanted to scream. She had thought this through but she wasn't ready yet. 

Natasha trailed he trembling hands up over his chest and around the back of his neck to twine her fingers in the dark locks of his hair. He was staring at her with a inscrutable look as she was gazing at his lips. 

Natasha's heart clenched painfully in her chest. The lips of the terrible man who held her had the same sensuous curve of the man she loved. The strong stubble shadowed jaw before her eyes had the same masculine lines which she loved to run her fingertips over. 

Natasha lifted her hand and traced her fingertips over Luca's lips. They parted slightly as he let out a low anguished breath. But he did not move to draw her closer. 

Try as she might, Natasha could not bring herself to forget that this is the man who attempted to kill her, had left her to die, and was planning on selling her if she did not please him. And though he had his brother's beautiful mouth and strong jaw line, this was not Gianni. 

Gianni...

His image flashed in her mind followed by the almost overwhelming sense of inner agony. Could she really do this to him as she suggested? Could she break his heart and his faith in her? Could she bring herself to make him hate her? If it would save his life she would do anything. 

She pictured Gianni and held his image in her mind's eye. She fought the feeling of cold remorse filling the pit of her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall. She pulled herself closer to Luca, pressed her breasts against his, felt his hands slide against her lower back to hold her against him. She tilted her lips up to Luca's and kissed him softly. 

He did not return the kiss, merely parted his lips. 

She opened her mouth wider and deepened the kiss, standing on her tip toes and hugging herself against him. She slid her tongue into his mouth and moaned softly. 

Luca's hold on her tightened and he took over the kiss. He plundered her mouth ruthlessly, his stubble scratching against her skin. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her head still. There was no gentleness in his kiss. When he pulled back her lips were swollen, the tender flesh around them rubbed raw. 

Looking at her considering, he rubbed a thumb roughly over the abraded skin. His silver gaze gleamed with triumph. He bent leaned his brow against hers. He watched her eyelids flicker and sweep downward as she avoided his gaze. Tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks. She trembled uncontrollably. He groaned low in his throat, "Mine."



La Vita Dolce Ch. 15



Morgan gripped Natasha's hand hard as the limo pulled up to the beach house. Morgan's look was pleading. "Please don't do this, Tash."

Natasha squeezed back and gave Morgan what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "This is the best for everyone."

Morgan shook her head vehemently. "The best for everyone? Lacey and Colin will be a mess not to mention Gianni. How can you do this to him?"

Natasha felt her heart clench painfully in her chest before she shoved the feeling down. "I'm doing this for him—to protect him." Her voice softened. "I'm doing all of this for him."

Morgan's tone was insistent. "Doing the best for him by hurting him?"

Natasha swallowed thickly before slipping her hand from Morgan's tight grip. "Better hurt than dead," she said numbly.

Morgan sat back in her seat, tears sliding down her face.

Natasha gazed at the beach house speculatively. She spoke softly. "You can't tell him, Morgan. If he comes after me, Luca will kill him. He'll probably kill me too." She turned to face the other girl. "Do you understand?"

Morgan said nothing.

"Morgan?" Natasha insisted.

"I understand," the other girl said quietly not quite looking at her.

"Remember the story?"

Morgan nodded.

Natasha signed and returned her gaze to Lacey and Colin's beach house, trying to push the dread and anxiety down.  She had to be calm if she was going to pull this off. She turned over her shoulder to see a black Chevy Tahoe van parked a few houses down. If she wasn't out in twenty minutes, they were coming in after her. Luca waited in the back seat.

Natasha took a deep breath and blew out slowly. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Natasha reluctantly opened the car door and stepped out into the California sun. She was well dressed and well groomed. Her dark curls had been straightened to hang in silky strands down her back. Her make-up was flawless. She wore a pair of J skinny jeans under a white collared shirt cinched around her waist by a wide brown leather belt. On her feet were a pair of Cesari Paciotti boots. Morgan emerged looking similarly well, as though they had been at the spa for a weekend rather than in captivity.

Steeling herself Natasha slipped on her new Chanel sunglasses and strode to the front door, Morgan trailing slightly behind. She knocked and waited.

When the door swung open she was met with Lacey's shocked face. "Tasha!"

Natasha smiled thinly, coolly. "Lacey."

Natasha was immediately snatched into a hug. Lacey was crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She even grabbed Morgan up in a hug. "I hate you but I was so scared. I don't want anyone else to kill you."

Morgan's voice was absent. "Anyone else?"

Lacey was dragging them into the house. "No, if it happens, I'm going to be the one to do it."

"Cols, Gianni!" Lacey was shouting.

The two men emerged from the kitchen and stopped short, shock evident on their faces. Morgan was a blur of red hair and Armani scent as the raced by and flung herself into Colin's arms. Colin caught her up in his embrace, relief flooding his face. Gianni stood stock still looking at Natasha. Natasha stood rooted to her spot, her shades still over her eyes.

Her voice was soft. "Gianni."

He reached her in three long stride, sweeping her up into his arms and crushing her to him. Her booted heels dangled off the ground as he held her, his face buried in her neck. "Bella, baby, my love...." he was whispering over and over again  He set her down on her feet and gently removed the dark sunglasses from her eyes before setting them aside. His hands were in her hair, smoothing it back from her face. Her gaze was concentrated and unwavering on the center of his chest.

"Natasha?" He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face to his. She seemed to reluctantly meet his gaze and when she looked at him her lovely gaze was cool and detached.

Her voice was similarly cool when she spoke. "I need to speak with you." Her eyes darted to the others. "Alone."

Gianni's dark brows drew together in concern. "Of course, bella."

Natasha pulled out of his arms and strode through the kitchen and opened the French doors which led out onto the patio which overlooked the ocean below.

She went to the railing and gripped the wrought iron so hard the blood left her knuckles. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she heard Gianni close the doors behind them.

Gianni moved to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back but her body lost none of its rigidity. Her head dropped forward slightly and he felt her draw a shuddering breath. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her more fully against his body and dipped his head to press a light kiss on her hair and then her temple. He then moved to wrap one arm around her waist, lifting his other hand to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He bent and turned her face to his, seizing her lips with his own. Her knees buckled and he tightened his hold on her, keeping her against his body.

Gianni kissed her voraciously, his tongue gently but firmly caressing the recesses of her mouth. His lips massaged her own as a low moan rumbled through him. He gently turned her in his arms as he felt her tentatively return the kiss. And then she was wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, pressing her breasts against the unyielding hardness of his chest. Gianni felt the anxiety of her absence and of her cool return vanish as he held her. His woman was safe and in his arms. He tightened his hold on her feeling as though their bodies pressed against each other were not enough but that he needed to make her a part of himself.

He felt her hands against his chest pushing at him though her lips clung to his. With a strangled cry she wrenched herself suddenly from his arms. She stumbled, nearly tripping in her tall booted heels in her attempt to evade his hand as he reached out to steady her. She shrugged him off lightly, her heart clenching at the flicker of hurt in his silver gaze as she pulled away from him.

He reached for her again. "Bella—"

Natasha sidestepped him, shaking her head. "No. Enough." She was still shaking her head as she ran a trembling hand through her now straight locks. "Enough." She repeated softly. I can't do this anymore."

Gianni's arms fell to his sides. "Natasha, baby, what are you talking about? I don't understand. What's happened to you?"

Natasha eyed him momentarily as she kept her distance. His dark hair fell in waves about the collar of his white t-shirt which stretched tightly over his broad chest. His strong square jaw was shadowed with stubble. His grey gaze, fringed by thick dark lashes, stood out vibrantly against the golden tan of his skin. Her eyes lingered on the sensuous curve of his mouth and she considered that it had already been the last time that she would ever kiss his lips or that it was the last time that he would look at her with such love and yearning. In the next few moments he would grow to hate her. 

She took in the strong lines of his body. No, she didn't think he would hurt her, although he was certain he might want to.

"I have to go," she said and made a movement towards the door'' He moved into her path quickly, as she had known he would. She had gone over this scenario in her head again and again. She had to play this perfectly if she was going to save him.

His brow was furrowed in confusion. "You have to go? What do you mean? Where are you going? I don't understand, baby. What's wrong?" 

Natasha looked at him, the cool demeanor back in place. "I'm going now. I'm going back to Luca. You won't be harmed.

Gianni was in front of her in an instant, his strong hands gripping her shoulders. He shook her lightly. Bewilderment tinged with anger flooded his handsome face. "Natasha," he shook her as though he were trying to snap her out of it. "What do you mean you 'have to go?' Did you make some deal with him? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Natasha gave him a two-handed shove. Normally she would not have been able to budge him but she caught him off guard. She abruptly stepped out of arms reach as she tugged her clothing back into place and tossed her dark hair over her shoulders. Her voice was level and calm when she spoke. "I told Luca that this has gone far enough and I want it to stop. I did not mean for things to get this complicated...I didn't think that..." she faltered, her eyes drifting closed for a moment as she drew a deep breath and then looked at him again. "I didn't mean to get so involved..." she paused, "with you. And for that deception I am truly sorry, but I am done with this. I didn't want my friends involved or hurt. This has gone far beyond anything that Luca had planned in the beginning." She had rehearsed these lines over and over in her head for the past two days. Her voice was steady though she allowed a slight waver to enter. Let him think it was out of fear of her revelation.

Gianni stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. He practically radiated ill-restrained fury. "Explain, Natasha," he nearly growled at her.

Natasha eyed him warily and took another step back from him and leaned back against the deck railing. She crossed her booted heels in front of her and examined her fingetips though she glanced up at him periodically as she spoke. "Our meeting in the airport wasn't an accident. Luca made sure that you would be there by convincing your father to send you on a small recon trip. You were supposed to have the information on me already but the courier was late. I had to wing it and literally bump into you to get your attention." She lied, her eyes flickering to his and then back to her hands. The wind whipped her hair about her face but she ignored it. A wry bitter smile curved on her lips. "I'm not really as clumsy as I seemed that first day, but you were so ready to play knight in shining armor the moment you thought I was in trouble. You were supposed to grow to care for me, love me even...and I was supposed to pull you away from the Angiolini family business, leaving everything to Luca."

Natasha watched the color drain from Gianni's face.

She shrugged. "What better way to pull you away than to have the woman you love directly threatened?" She met his hooded gaze directly. "I'm a Pezzini. No other woman would be endangered by your family—by your lifestyle—the way I was."

Gianni was in front of her in two steps, crowding her space. She fixed her detached gaze on the center of his chest as he placed his hands on her the railing framing her hips but did not touch her. His tone was laden with menace. "Endangered?" He roughly took her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. Gone was her gentle fervent lover. "You were nearly raped. You nearly drowned--and for God's sake Natasha--you were shot. All this from a man who is supposedly in on it? I don't believe it. What the fuck your game, Natasha?"

She forced herself to meet his intense gaze. "Alejandro tried to rape me. That was... unexpected. Luca took care of it. As for the rest..." her voice softened and trailed off. She averted her gaze once more. "As for the rest...it's no game, Gianni. I'm trying to be straight with you." Her voice was quiet as she returned her serious gaze to his face searchingly.

He stepped back from her, his handsome jaw set firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest. She read the first signs of uncertainty in his face. She forced herself to continue. "It wasn't all a lie...and that was the problem. I did come to care for you—if not love you in some way. I was having second thoughts. I tried to break it off with Luca. I didn't want to go through with it anymore. That's when he kidnapped me--nearly killed me with the bathtub fiasco. The hit on me and my uncle was his second attempt to send me a message and remind me of our deal. The limo wasn't armored as he assumed," she snorted, "his mistake."

"You almost died," Gianni spat out.

"Much to his chagrin," she returned.

Gianni sneered. "What was in it for you, huh? How much is he paying you?" His voice was dripping menace and distain. "What's your price, bella? Did he pay you to make yourself a whore for him too?" 

Natasha flinched. "I'm not a whore." She said softly. She swallowed thickly, fighting to hold back tears. 

"No?" 

She shook her head. "No."

Gianni's face was close to hers. She was trapped between the railing and his body. "How long were you fucking my brother before you were fucking me?" Gianni ground out.

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut. His breath was fanning against her lips. Tears slipped from beneath her lowered lashes and trailed down her cheeks. Her voice was soft. "I told you...I did not mean for it to go so far." Her lids flickered open. "It wasn't for money. I wanted to see what family I have left safe. I wanted an end to all this fighting. He promised that no harm would come to my uncle."

"And now?" Gianni growled. 

Natasha blinked back tears and lifted her chin imperiously. Gianni straightened. 

"Now it's over," Natasha said evenly. "I'm going with Luca. We will bring about a union between the Angiolinis and the Pezinnis that your father would have never allowed. Stay in the fold if you like but I'm done with the intrigue."

She moved to step around him and leave him when his hand shot out with a startling quickness as he gripped her arm bruisingly hard in the vice of his fingers. She winced involuntarily. His voice was a low growl. "You're carrying my child."

He watched as her brows lifted in surprise. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him and her mouth opened and closed. When she spoke her voice was careful. "Gianni," she said gently. "It was just a ploy to bring you closer to me. The baby..." she swallowed thickly. "The baby isn't yours, Gianni."

His grip tightened on her. "You're lying."

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his steadily. "No, Gianni, I'm not."

His gaze seemed to search her face. She watched as he seemed to read veracity in her look.

With a snarl, Gianni flung her away from him. He didn't push her hard, just a slight shove to put some space between them but she teetered in her tall heels. She stumbled backwards until her back hit the side of the house. The speed she had gathered during her stumble sent the back of her skull thunking against the wall. She froze against the side of the house as pain lanced through her skull and then her world tilted and she slid down the wall to land hard on her rear.

"Shit," Gianni cursed. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Torn, Gianni watched her slowly shaking her head, trying to clear it, wincing as she did so. He resisted the urge to help her up, feeling torn between the intense desire to pull her into his arms and force her to stay or to wrap his hands around her lovely throat.

She gingerly pushed her hair out of her face and gazed at him with a look of incredulous hurt. The wounded look in her eyes wrenched painfully at his chests, his lungs feeling compressed. He felt sick.

Her words were soft. "Maybe you and your brother are more alike than I thought."

"Natasha—" he started, reaching towards her but she flinched away from him, holding up her hand to ward him off. He retreated a few steps, thinking to put her more at ease. That's when she scrambled to her feet and bolted for the French doors back into the house. Gianni moved quickly after her but wasn't quick enough. She slammed the doors behind her, latching them just as he reached them. Their faces were inches apart, separated by the glass. Gianni watched pain and anguish flicker in Natasha's dark blue gaze before it was quickly veiled. She backed away from the door slowly, her eyes still on him.

He slammed his fist against the door frame causing her to jump. "Natasha!" he shouted her name as she turned and strode quickly from the kitchen.

Lacey, Morgan and Colin were all standing in the living room. They expectantly looked to her as she entered. She watched as uncertainty tinged Colin's features as he looked at her. The sounds of Gianni's fists against the sturdy doorframe reached the living room. She went first to Morgan and hugged her, whispering against her ear, "Remember what I told you."

Morgan swallowed and nodded mutely.

Natasha then seized Lacey in a fierce hug. "I love you kid. I'm sorry I got you into this. I'll call you soon. I promise."

Lacey pulled back, bewildered. "Tash, wha—"

But Natasha was already hugging Colin. "Bye Cols. I'll be in touch." She smiled thinly.

Colin would have reached for her as she moved around him if Morgan hadn't quickly grasped his arm and pulled him back with a meaningful look.

The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood in the kitchen drew everyone's attention. Natasha was at the front door just as Gianni burst into the living room. He caught a glimpse of her racing out the door, heard her heels clicking on the front walk as she ran. He shouted her name and tore after her.

Colin and Lacey were close behind as he raced out the front door.

Natasha ran towards the black Chevy waiting on the curb, tears blurring her vision. The hired men stepped out of the front seats and Luca emerged from the rear passenger door. Natasha ran directly into his arms, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around him. She sobbed great heaving gasps against his shirt as she dug her nails into his back. She wanted to shred him with her nails but this was part of the tableau they were to create.

Luca enclosed her in his arms. The gesture would have seemed tender had he not wrapped his hand around a lock of her hair and tugged hard for the way her nails tore at her back. "Easy little one," he growled.

Natasha whimpered, relaxing her hold on him but she felt him tense at Gianni's roar. "Luca!" His grip on her hair tightened though his hand was hidden from view beneath the dark waves of her hair. Natasha muffled a cry of pain as he unknowingly tugged at the wound on the back of her head. She bit the flesh on his chest to keep from crying out.

Gianni came to an abrupt halt in the front yard. The others stood in the doorway of the beach house. The scene before him was oddly similar to the day at the house in Lake Tahoe. Natasha was once again in Luca's arms and Gianni felt powerless to stop it. But this time was different. Luca's stance was protective rather than dominating. Natasha clung to him, her face buried against his chest.

Luca's head was bent as he was speaking t softly into her ear as he ran a soothing hand over the raven hair trailing down her back. His motion halted suddenly and he lifted his hand for closer inspection. The was a vivid red smear across his palm.

Luca frowned. He glanced down at Natasha, unable to see her face as it was buried against his chest. His voice was flat. "You're bleeding."

Natasha started. Her hand flying up to her hair. Her gaze clashed with Luca's. His face was impassive but a muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. His silver gaze had darkened to a fearful slate color. His voice was a low growl. "He hit you?"

Natasha's eyes widened. Luca was practically vibrating with rage. She blinked in confusion. "No I—I fell." Her words rushed forth. " He grabbed me and I fell. It was an accident."

Luca lifted one ebony brow. "I see," he responded mildly while reaching between their bodies to grab the Glock 9mm from his shoulder holster.

"No!" Natasha flung her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him as she held him tightly, effectively trapping his hand between their bodies. Luca froze. Her face was pressed against his neck. "Please," she hissed urgently. "You promised. You promised you would leave him alone. You promised you wouldn't hurt him."

Luca was still. Not so much because of his promise but because she clung to him, the back of his hand intimately pressed against the generous swell of her breast. Her tears were wet against his neck. "Get in the car Natasha,"




La Vita Dolce Ch. 15



She merely held onto him more tightly. "Luca please--"

Luca buried his hand in her hair, cupping her skull and lightly massaging her aching head. The gentleness of the gesture and the soft caressing quality of his tone contrasted jarringly with the words he spoke. "Get in the car now. Get in the car now and I won't kill him and your friends right where they stand." he continued on. "I can do that you know, and take you too. Or perhaps I'll leave your beautiful lifeless body lying beside theirs. Would you like that, hm?" 

Natasha trembled. "You promised," she said softly. She pulled back and gazed up into Luca Angiolini's face. He looked at her, his face the picture of adoration and concern. A façade. His eyes were cool and hard. She pulled silently out of his arms and slid into the backseat of the SUV. She could not look back at Gianni. She could not let him see her face now. He would know everything was a farce. Instead, she settled her trembling form into the seat and watched anxiously. Please, God let Luca keep his word. 

Gianni advanced a few steps. Luca slipped his hands into his pockets, looking the very picture of nonchalance. 

Luca shrugged. "Enough is enough, hm brother?"

Gianni was striding across the lawn, fists clenched. "You fucking bastard," he spat, "I'll kill you for this--"

"Uh uh," Luca smoothly pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at his brother's chest. Gianni halted abruptly though he looked no less enraged. A smile tilted the corners of Luca's lips but his voice was low, practically oozing distain. "Don't think I have any qualms about putting a bullet in you head...." he shrugged again, "but I promised her," he said jerking his head towards Natasha in the backseat, hidden behind tinted glass. 

Natasha looked on as Gianni's gaze swung towards her as though he could see through the heavily tinted windows. The look on his face tore at her heart. She saw rage and raw anguish warring for a hold on him. She checked the desire to run to him and beg him for forgiveness. She wanted to tell him it was all a lie just to soothe his heart and make him love her again. But that would mean their deaths. She had to put an end to this. 

"Luca," she extended her hand and took his hand in her own, stepping from the SUV. She stepped close to him, placing her other hand against his chest though his gaze nor the gun wavered. She cupped his jaw in her hand and gently turned his face to hers. "Let's go," she said with all the quiet tenderness she could muster. 

His gaze darted to hers in surprise. 

"Okay?" she ventured. 

Luca lowered the gun and nodded mutely. Natasha steeled herself and turned. "Goodbye, Gianni."

Gianni's gaze bored into her, his jaw clenched, his hands curling tightly into fists. He said nothing. Natasha turned and got into the car. Luca smirked, slid the gun back in the holster and gave Gianni a mock salute before climbing up into the SUV behind Natasha and closing the door. 

The remaining armed men piled into the SUVs. The engines started and the caravan pulled away from the curb. Natasha turned in her seat, looking back over her shoulder. Lacey and Colin had joined Gianni in watching the SUV pull away. Morgan was standing slightly apart.

Unable to bring herself to watch them disappear out of sight Natasha resolutely faced forward. It was silent in the SUV. Luca said nothing to her. She preferred it that way. If he had said a word to her she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself from breaking or perhaps attempting to rip his throat out. 

She struggled to keep her breathing even. In...out...in...out. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her breathing to slow down. Her heart felt as though it had moved up into her throat and was slowly strangling her. Nausea was taking over and she bent forward to put her head between her knees, taking huge gulps of air. 

She barely heard Luca barking orders into his cell phone. Her hearing sounded dull and muffled. She barely noticed the passage of time. She didn't know if she had been in the car for minutes or hours. She simply remained curled in on herself as though she were trying valiantly to hold her own pieces of herself together before she broke apart. 

She held Gianni's image in her mind. It was both agonizing and a bitter comfort. She was leaving her beautiful man. He hated her, most likely wished her dead. The thought wrenched a small injured cry from her throat quickly followed by the lesser balm that he would live and she was saving his life. 

She barely noticed the SUV pulling to a stop. She did not move. She was wrenched from her morose reverie back into the even harsher reality as Luca's rough hand closed around her upper arm and she was dragged unceremoniously from the backseat. It was dark and she blinked at the profusion of blinking lights.  Natasha's gaze swept the small airport and landed on the Boeing business jet that idled, the stairs leading upwards into its lit interior. She balked as Luca hauled her along behind him towards the plane. She felt panic rising in her again, creeping past the numbness. "Where are we going?" 

Luca grinned at her, his bared teeth resembling a threatening grimace more than a smile. "Home, little one." He said lightly and lengthened his stride. 

Her voice rose and wavered as she stammered, "B-but...but I am home."

Luca practically dragged her up the stairs and immediately flung her into a plush leather seat. She made to stand but he was immediately on her, bracing his hands on the armrests of the chair. His gaze roved over her tearstained face as he spoke. "We're going to my home, yours now too." A sardonic smile curved on his lips. "We're going back to Italy. You have one more performance to give."

************************************* Three years later...

Her head ached dully as she struggled to lift her eyelids. She'd drank too much last night but that wasn't the reason her body ached. 

Natasha was completely still as she lay on her stomach surveyed the scene before her. She took in the profusion on golden gilt furniture and accessories, accented by dark blue silks and crème edged with gold. She'd spent a fortune of Luca's money in decorating her rooms. There were few ways she could punish him. Spending absurd amounts of money was one of those few ways. Her gaze caught on the 3.00 carat princess cut diamond ring on her fingers flanked by baguette diamonds and complimented by a Harry Winston diamond wedding band. It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen and she hated it. 

She listened carefully for the sound of someone breathing next to her, for the some indication that he had left her. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, 'Please, God, let him be gone.' 

Natasha slowly lifted her head from the pillow and turned to survey the other half of the bed. Relief crashed over her as she realized she was alone. She pressed her face back into her pillow and groaned. Her body ached something awful and was accompanied by the telltale signs of a hangover. 

She had accompanied Luca to a dinner party the night before. She could feel his eyes on her. The way he looked at her...she knew he would want her when they returned home. And so she drank excessively. Luca was never a gentle lover. 

Steeling herself, Natasha raised herself and sat up. She gritted her teeth against the pain that lanced through her side. She allowed the sheet to fall from her body and she winced at the sight of the dark purple bruises that spread along her left side. She gently ran her finger s over her ribs. Bruised, not broken. She'd learned to tell the difference. 

She pushed back the covers and carefully got to her feet, she grabbed her dressing gown from the chair at her bedside and shrugged into it. 

The door to her bedroom burst open suddenly causing her heart to launch into her throat and she hastily tightened her robe around her. 

"Mommy!" A small cherub-faced little boy raced into the room in a pair of superman pajamas. Natasha's face spread into a huge smile as she stooped and swept the little boy up into her arms, struggling to ignore the pain that screamed through her side. She settled him onto her good hip and covered his face with kisses. 

A woman entered the room slightly out of breath, having just chased the rambunctious little boy down the hallway. Marcella's friendly round face was flushed as her words rushed out, "Signora, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to let him--" 

Natasha smiled at her, "It's alright Marcella." She looked at the little boy in her arms, Gabriel. He was two and a half years old and already he had his father's smile. His hair was a mass of ebony curls that framed his light caramel colored face. A pair of startling light grey stared up at her in obvious adoration. 

She reached up and ruffled the boy's curls. "What are you doing up so early?"

Gabriel's small hands toyed with her necklace. "Marcella said we could go to the park today." 

"If's that's okay with you, Signora." Marcella said. 

"Of course," Natasha grinned. "I think I'll join you. " 

Gabriel beamed at her and wound his little arms around her neck to plant a slobbery kiss on her cheek before wriggling out of her arms. 

Natasha set him to the floor and he was racing out the door again. Marcella started after him before hesitating in the doorway, the young woman's dark eyes full of concern. "Are you alright, Signora? I can handle Gabriel myself today if you like." 

Natasha winced inwardly, suddenly self conscious. "I'm fine, Marcella. I think getting out of the house will do me some good." 

Marcella nodded mutely, though the concern did not leave her eyes. 

Natasha ran a hand through her tangled locks as the door clicked shut and caught her reflection in a tall gilt rococo framed mirror. Dark circles were under her eyes, a bruise darkened her jaw. She looked like hell. 

Natasha snorted but there was little humor in the sound. No wonder Marcella was worried. Sighing, she made her way to the adjoining bathroom to make herself presentable. 

***

Natasha watched Gabriel from the park bench next to the playground in Viale della Casina di Raffaello. He slid down the slide into Marcella's arms. Natasha shifted uncomfortably wishing she were there to catch her son herself. Her ribs hadn't allowed her to play with her son more than a few minutes before the pain had become unbearable. Tears pricked her eyes. 

She fished a prescription bottle from her Fendi spy bag and downed a couple of pills with San Pelligrino. 

She watched Gabriel run around the jungle gym and couldn't help but smile. He was the reason she was able to bring herself to get out of bed in the morning, and the reason she bore all of it. Whatever Luca did to her, she had her son. Luca had never laid a hand on her son. Rather, he doted on the little boy, treating him his own son.

Luca had been enraged when he had learned she was pregnant. But his fury had quickly turned to satisfaction when he realized that he had not only take his brother's woman, but his son as well. Luca was determined to mold the boy in his own image, a perfect heir to the Angiolini dynasty. Natasha winced inwardly at the thought. She would never allow Gabriel to become anything like Luca. 

To any observer who say the couple together, the little boy looked like the perfect hybrid between Luca Angiolini and his young wife. Gabriel Angiolini had his mother's mouth and a lighter version of his mother's caramel skin. His wild dark curls were a mix of his mothers ebony spirals and Luca's dark silken waves. The child's grey eyes were the same changeling grey as Luca's, constantly changing with his moods. 

Yes, to any observer, the little boy looked like the perfect mix Luca and Natasha Angiolini. But all Natasha saw when she looked at her son was the other Angiolini brother. Her son had his father's smile and was a constant reminder of the man she would be better off forgetting. Yet she loved him all the more for it. It was a small comfort to know that some piece of Gianni loved her still. Gabriel reminded her why she was doing what she was. Her reminded her that her sacrifice was worth it. 

Natasha watched her son feeling some semblance of peace settle upon her only to be followed by the familiar unsettling prickle of someone watching her intently. She did not think much of it. Luca often had her followed. Her first couple years with him she found herself in the constant companionship of a tall broad shouldered shadow. Realizing that she had no intention of forgetting their agreement. Natasha's security detail became more lax until it disappeared from sight altogether, although she often cauht sight of a car tailing her or a dark suited man with eyes only for her. They were not discrete. They were there to remind her that she was ever under Luca Angiolini's watchful eye. 

Natasha's azure gaze swept the park for the telltale man I na dark suit when her gaze clashed with a pair of slate grey eyes. Her bottle of Pelligrino slipped from her fingers and thudded dully in the grass. 

Gianni Angiolini stood on the other side of the playground. His gaze was cool and detached though a muscle ticked tensely in his jaw. 

She sat frozen in place. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Her lips trembled with the effort of holding back the desire to call out to him.

"Signora?" A hand touched her shoulder causing Natasha to flinch in surprise. She had not noticed Marcella standing next to her, Gabriel's hand in her own. The little boy looked at her curiously. 

"Signora," Marcella began, "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

Natasha's gaze flew back to where Gianni stood. He was gone. 

Natasha shot to her feet, her eyes sweeping the park. He was nowhere in sight. The blood was rushing to her head. "Maybe I am seeing things," she murmured.

Gabriel was tugging on her hand. "Can we go get gelato, per favore, mommy?"

Natasha gave herself a mental shake and smiled down at him, still feeling slightly lightheaded. "Why not?" 

She steered the brand new Range Rover through traffic and parked along a bustling street. She couldn't silence her jumbled thoughts, couldn't stop the feeling that her head was floating about disconnected from her body. 

"Marcella?" she said softly, "Will you take Gabe? I'll be in in a minute."

"Sí, Signora," Marcella said. 

Natasha watched her leading Gabriel down the street toward the gellateria. When they were out of sight, Natasha dropped her head forward onto the steering wheel. "Pull it together, girl," she berated herself. Her fingers tightened almost painfully around the steering wheel before she lifted her head and lowered the mirror visor. She ran a hand though her pin straight hair, put another coat of gloss on her lips and wiped at her smudged eyeliner. She slipped on her Armani sunglasses and stepped out of the car. 

She felt fully capable of maintaining her calm façade until she rounded the front of the car, tripped on the curb and dropped her handbag, its contents spilling out onto the sidewalk and rolling off the curb and under the car. 

A prescription bottle rolled from under the SUV and into oncoming traffic where it was immediately crushed. 

Natasha straightened and stood completely still. She counted her breaths. One...two...three. In...Out...Calm...

Nope. Wasn't going to work. 

"Fuck!" she cursed and quickly bent to retrieve her things. She let out a stream of growled expletives as she angrily shoved her sunglasses up on her head and hurriedly gathered her things. 

"Always so clumsy, bella."

The voice sounded behind her, causing her to shoot to her feet. Her heart seemed to have squeezed its way into her throat. 

Not standing three feet away, Gianni Angiolini eyed her coolly, a sardonic smile twisted on his sensuous lips. 

Natasha stared, her body trembling. He was not the same man she had left three years ago. His dark hair which had previously fell in onyx waves about his collar had been cropped short close to his head. The effect made his face even more fiercely beautiful, his iridescent grey eyes standing out brilliantly against his tanned skin.

"Gianni..." she breathed. Her chest felt tight. She hadn't said his name aloud in years.

He bared his strong white teath at her, a faint imitation of a smile but the effect was more predatory than a anything. 

The items she had gathered slipped from her hands. Her cell phone breaking into pieces tugged her out of her stupor. Cursing under her breath and feeling slightly unbalanced, she bent to pick up the contents of her purse once more. 

Gianni bent to help her gather her things. Natasha's heart beat wildly as she avoided his gaze and scrambled to shove everything back in the purse.

"Natasha."

The menace in his tone caused her to jerk her head up, Gianni's silver gaze boring into her. He held up and orange prescription bottle. 

"Vicodin, Natasha?" His eyebrows drew together ominously as he spied another prescription bottle and picked it up. "Oxycodon?" He glared at her. "What are you some kind of junkie now?"

Hurt lanced though her, tinged with a healthy dose of righteous indignation. She snarled at him. "That's none of your goddamned business," and snatched the bottles back from him, shoving them into her bag. 

She made to stand and Gianni rose with her when his hand suddenly shot out and grasped her wrists. She gasped and tried to wrench herself free but the motion sent a wave of while hot pain shooting down her side. She let out a low cry and stumbled slightly under the weight of the pain. Gianni quickly pulled her against him but the movement only caused another stab of pain. 

She gritted her teeth against the agony and gazed up at Gianni whose face was only mere inches from her own. His look was remote and inscrutable. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded, a little breathless from the pain. 

Gianni merely continued to hold her against him and lifted her captured wrist up to examine. He ran his thumb lightly over the tender flesh over the tender flesh at the inside of her wrist. She shivered at the light contact. 

Her wrists were ringed with purplish bruises. Her knuckles displayed defensive wounds. Her gaze flew to hers and she flinched at the rage she saw in his eyes. But the emotion was immediately wiped away to one of cool speculation as he perused her face. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a buise on her jaw camouflaged by makeup. His breath grew strained as he wrestled with his fury. 

When he spoke again his voice was flat. "Broken ribs too?"

Natasha's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. "No."

"No?" Gianni tightened his arm around her waist, immediately halting as he watched pain flit across her pretty features. 

"Just bruised," she gasped. "Fell...down the stairs." 

Gianni growled at her obvious lie. He gestured to her wrists. "This is not from falling down the stairs." 

Natasha glared at him. "Like I said, it's none of your business."

He eyed her with distain. "You're right. You stopped being my business three years ago. Married life not what all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

"Go to hell Angiolini," she snarled. "Let me go."

"Mommy?" Natasha froze. She watched Gianni's face melt into one of shock as his arms fell away immediately. 

Natasha turned to find Marcella standing with Gabriel a few feet away. The little boy's face broke into smile as he ran towards her and wrapped his arms around her legs and looked up at her adoringly. 

Natasha smiled and ran a hand over his dark curls, utterly aware of the man whose eyes were boring into her back. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. Gabriel's small hand in her own. She met Gianni's gaze. He looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. Her voice was soft. "Gianni, this is my son, Gabriel." Gianni stared from Natasha to Gabriel for a few moments. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 15



"What were you doing with my mommy?" Gabriel demanded in a small voice, a frown on his cherub face. 

Gianni seemed to snap out of it and then crouched down to Gabriel's eye level, smiling. "Hi there buddy. Your mom and I were just talking. We're old friends."

Gabriel was looking at Gianni curiously. "You look my daddy," he said simply and Natasha felt as though the ground were tilting under her feet. 

Gianni's gaze flickered to hers briefly before answering. "That's because your daddy is my brother."

Gabriel seemed to consider this. "But I've never met you." 

Gianni laughed and reached out to ruffle Gabriel's dark curls. Natasha felt like her heart was slitting in two, like she might scream. 

"Well your dad and I don't get along so well."

"Oh," Gabriel seemed to ponder this. 

"Look we have to go." Natasha picked Gabriel up as Marcella opened the back door and Natasha settled Gabriel into his car seat. Marcella settled into the passenger seat. 

Gianni caught Natasha's arm. "It doesn't look like married life agrees with you."

Natasha went rigid. "It agrees with me fine. Now please let me go."

Gianni regarded her silently though his grip didn't slacken. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "You don't look good, bella."

He meant it. She wore a pair of wide leg black slacks and black ballet flats paired with a white fitted knit t-shirt. Over it she wore a Burberry trench coat. She was dressed immaculately. The springy curls he had loved had been straightened to fall past her shoulders. Her makeup was flawless. She was beautiful still and to anyone else she would have looked fantastic. But not to Gianni.

He perused her critically. She was thinner than he had ever seen her. Natasha didn't have the weight to lose when he'd known her. She had always been slender with the most sensuous curves he could imagine. Now she looked as though a strong wind could blow her over. There were cleverly masked dark circles under her lovely azure eyes.

He didn't want to let her go. She'd betrayed him, lied to him in the worst possible way. He'd spent the last three years telling himself that she could rot in hell and it didn't mean shit to him and now... Now, looking the way she did--so completely lost and vulnerably--he wanted to save her all over again. 

She snapped him out of it quickly. Her voice dropped a couple octaves and hardened. "Let it go, Gianni. I don't want you. Just let it go." She shook him off. "Can't say it was good to see you."

She rounded the front of the car and got I. She did not look his way again although the little boy and the nanny watched him with wide eyes as the silver SUV pulled into traffic and pulled away.

***

Luca's canary yellow Porsche was parked in front of the house when they pulled up. 

'Shit. Shit. Shit.' Natasha cursed silently. What was he doing home in the middle of the day?

Her breathing stilled and she realized..he knew. 

Steeling herself, she followed Marcella and Gabriel into the house. 



La Vita Dolce Ch. 16



Luca's canary yellow Porsche was parked in front of the house when they pulled up. 

'Shit. Shit. Shit.' Natasha cursed silently. What was he doing home in the middle of the day? Her breathing stilled. He knew. 

Steeling herself, she followed Marcella and Gabriel into the house. 

"Daddy!"

Luca was waiting in the foyer. Gabriel launched himself into his arms. 

Luca laughed and tossed the giggling little boy up in the air before catching him and planting a kiss on his forehead. 

Luca grinned at the little boy. "Did you have fun at the park?"

Gabriel nodded. "And we got ice cream after."

"Sounds like you had a full day and it's time for your nap," Luca said chuckling as he handed Gabriel into Marcella's arms. 

The nanny took Gabriel upstairs and towards the nursery. Natasha lingered hesitantly in the doorway uncertainly, checking the desire to turn around and run. 

Luca's demeanor changed abruptly as soon as Gabriel and Marcella were out of sight. His dark brows drew together , his jaw tightened and his light grey gaze darkened fearfully as he narrowed his eyes. His voice was low. "Natasha--"

Natasha stepped forward and interrupted him hurriedly. "I-I don't know where he came from." She rushed out. "He was just there suddenly and I told him to leave me alone. I told him I didn't want him and I told him to leave me alone." 

Luca was coming towards her, his gait measured. Natasha stood stiffly and watched him warily. He moved suddenly before she could take a step back and hauled her up over his shoulder as he turned and started up the marble staircase.

Natasha cried out in surprise and struggled fiercely. "Luca, please! I'm telling the truth!" 

Luca carried her into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He put her down and she backpedaled to put space between them. Her eyes were wet but she refuse to cry. He enjoyed her tears. She'd backed up and scooted around the settee. He noted the move with a wry smile. There was only the slightest tremor to her voice when she spoke. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Luca's expression softened slightly as he came towards her. "I know that, little one." he came to stand in front of her and reached out to gently touch her chin, lifting her face to his. "I'm told he looked like someone had killed his puppy when you left him standing alone on the street."

She wouldn't allow her face to betray any emotion no matter how her heart seized. "I told him the truth," she said evenly. 

Luca lifted an amused brow. His voice was chiding. "Is your heart so fickle wife? You were willing to give your life for him." 

Natasha did not answer. 

"Perhaps your feelings have changed?" Luca mused. "Do you care for your husband at all?" He was goading her. 

"Luca--"

He slanted his mouth over hers, cutting her off. He pushed her coat from her shoulders to fall to the ground. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his body.

She did not resist him. She could sense something just below this gentleness. She did not want to cause it to break to the surface. She tentatively slipped her arms around his shoulders. He picked her up effortless in his arms and conveyed her to the bed. He then leaned over her and gently brushed her dark hair back from her face, trailing his fingertips lightly over her cheek. "So beautiful, little one." He ran his thumb over her trembling lips. 

His grey eyes bored into hers as he held himself aloft above her. "Should he contact you again, even if you run into him on the street...you are to tell me immediately. Understand?"

'Like hell,' Natasha thought as she nodded mutely. 

Luca's lips brushed lightly over hers, her stomach twisting in knots. "I want to hear you say it, little one." 

He pulled away and she lifted her lids to meet his gaze. "Yes, I will contact you immediately should I see him again." 

A small smile curved on his lips as he continued to trail his fingers through her hair. "Molto bene, mio amore." He began to place light kisses over her brow, cheekbones and jaw before he started to undress here. 

Her eyes drifted closed.

***

Gianni smiled as he held the car door open for the woman on his arm. She returned the look with a coy smile of her own. She brushed her full, nearly overflowing breasts against his arm as she passed him. The tight red dress she wore rode up her thighs as she slid into the car, flashing him a view of her black lace panties.

Gianni suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. His date Francesca Agala had been trying to capture his attention all night but he had remained somewhat remote and distracted.

Gianni got in and revved the engine before pulling away from the Antonello Conlonna Labico, one of her favorite restaurants.

A frown marred his brow as he drove. He enjoyed Fransesca's company whenever he was in Rome. She was beautiful. Dark chocolate hair fell in waves halfway down her back and brushed against her olive-skinned shoulders. She had heavily lashed wide dark eyes and full pink lips. She pleased him and he liked looking at her. He liked fucking her. But at the moment he couldn't keep his thoughts wandering back to Natasha. Fransesca's hand sliding along his thigh went unnoticed. His silence didn't seem to bother her, nor did it seem to dampen her spirits. She chatted incessantly the entire car ride back to her apartment.

When he pulled the BMW sedan up to her apartment building she looked at him curiously. "My place it is, sí?"

The doorman held open her door and she got out issuing a winning smile. She got halfway to the doorway when she realized the Gianni hadn't followed.

She sauntered back to the car and leaned in the open car door to look at him. "Coming, lover?" Her voice was low and husky.

Gianni looked at her. She was smiling her seductress's smile. Her dark eyes were heavy lidded. She was giving him an enticing view of her breasts which were on the verge of falling out of her dress. They were glorious breasts, he knew. She looked like she desperately wanted and needed a good fucking, and he didn't have the slightest interest in giving it to her.

"Gian, baby? She cooed.

Gianni blinked at her. "Not tonight , Fransesca."

Her red painted mouth formed into a pout.

"I'll call you." He reached towards her and pulled the car door shut.

She was still standing there open mouthed when he pulled the sedan away.

There were messages on his machine when he returned home. He'd spent the last two and a half hours driving aimlessly around the city.

He'd entered his apartment and tossed his keys on the entry table. He ambled into the kitchen and pressed the blinking answering machine button as he poured himself a scotch on the rocks.

The first message was from his business partner back in the UK. The second was a furious rant from Francesca. The third message caused him to pause, the glass halfway to his lips. Colin's familiar voice was hesitant.

"Hi Gianni, I hope this is the right number. I kind of had to track you down. It's Colin. I um...I actually didn't want to do this over the machine but I really need you to call me... Look, it's about Tash. Morgan I are getting married—and I'd really like to send you an invite—but that's not the point. He sighed heavily, his voice softened and was tinged with distress. "Look Gianni, Morgan said she didn't want any secrets between us when we were married so she told me what she promised Tash she would never tell, why Tash did what she did." Gianni could hear the other man cursing under his breath as he sorted through his words. "Fuck, man, I was so angry with her when she left us...left you too. I completely wrote her off. I should have known better. I should have trusted her." He sighed again heavily. "Sorry for the long unexpected message dude. There are just some things I really think you need to know. Call me back."

Colin left his number. Gianni stared at the answering machine before pressing the replay button. He pressed the replay button twice more before glancing at the clock. It was 2a.m. in Rome, 11am in California. He snatched up the phone.

***

Natasha strolled down a back street away from the Forum and the Coliseum towards La Piazzetta a small trattoria and one of Natasha's favorite restaurants where she could meet her single solace and companion since she'd returned home with Luca. It was a small one room restaurant simply adorned with paintings and a few antiques, and a few well protected outdoor tables.

Renoldo Pezzini sat at one of the outdoor tables immersed in his newspaper, Corriere della Sera. He glanced up at her as she approached and stood. "Buon pomeriggio, bella mia." He kissed her lightly on the cheek and pulled out her chair.

Natasha sat across from her uncle as he poured her a glass of Pellegrino. He eased back in his chair and perused her silently. She gaze back at him, one brow cocked. "Yes?"

"Not sleeping, bella?"

Natasha shrugged. "Not much last night anyway. I ran into an old...acquaintance."

"Ah..."

Natasha took a sip of her drink and looked at her uncle. Her mother's younger brother did not seem to age. At nearly forty, his face was still strong and unlined. The Pezzini azure gaze contrasted strikingly against his deeply tanned skin and dark hair. He was graying at the temples but it had the affect of making him cut a more dashing figure.

Renoldo regarded his niece as she ordered her meal. Her marriage to Luca Angiolini rather than the other Angiolini brother had been unexpected. He knew Luca Angiolini to be ruthless and violent, not to mention the bastard had tried to kill her. But his niece had come to him and told him that it had been a ruse, part of her reasons involving the assurance of his own safety. In truth, he didn't fully understand her actions, why she had chosen to act as a lure for Gianni Angiolini. But she'd assured him that she was happy with Luca, and having seen Luca with his son...Renoldo was forced to acquiesce.

The merger between the two families had been quite lucrative he had to admit, but if his niece was unhappy the financial successes meant nothing. And he couldn't be sure. Natasha was always so able to hide her feelings.

She handed her menu over to the waiter and Renoldo ordered before turning his gaze back to her.

She was toying with her napkin. "I saw Gianni yesterday."

Renoldo's brows lifted. "Oh? How did that go?"

Natasha winced and shrugged. "As could be expected."

Renoldo took a sip of his cappuccino. "You hurt him badly, bella. I'm sorry to say, he's got every reason in the world to be...put out with you."

Natasha nodded absently. She pushed her food around her plate with her fork. "How is he? What is he doing here?"

Renoldo shrugged a shoulder at her question. ""He's in town on business. He's acquiring a software company and is checking it out in person."

Natasha knew that Gianni was no longer living in Rome. He'd moved to London just months after they'd parted. He'd completely giving up the Angiolini business and had put his financial clout to use, starting his own financial firm while building his own personal fortune. He'd been extremely successful and had gone completely legitimate in all his business dealings.

"Is that all?" Natasha glanced at her uncle as she picked at her food.

Renoldo's eyes were intent on her face. "He's been seeing a Signorina Fransesca Agala." He took another sip of his cappuccino. "Good family," he commented.

Natasha's face betrayed no reaction though he noted a slight downward twitch of her dark brows.

Renoldo decided to be frank. "Why did you marry Luca if you still had feelings for Gianni?"

Natasha's head jerked up as she lifted her Pezzini blue gaze to clash with her uncle's A wry smile tilted her lips. " I wasn't supposed to have feelings for Gianni," she said simply. "That was unplanned. I was already with Luca." 

"Luca, who used you." Renoldo shook his head. "Gianni....that loved you. He would have given his life for you."

Natasha swallowed thickly. "I know, zio. Can we talk about something else?" 

Renoldo nodded. "How's Gabriel? When do I get to see my grand-nephew again?" He laughed. "Grand uncle makes me sound like an old man." 

Natasha smiled at the thought of her son. "Next weekend. The party, remember?" Luca was hosting a party at the villa; high end, light fare, champagne and black ties. 

"Ah, right." Renoldo nodded and smiled ruefully. "I never thought I'd be attending a party in the Angiolini household. Luca's father would be rolling in his grave. 

"I know right?" Natasha said with forced brightness and glanced at her watch. "Shoot!" She grabbed her purse. "I have my first fitting in ten minutes."

"Fitting?" 

"Luca wanted me tot get a new gown for the party," she said with irritation.

Renoldo chuckled. "Most women would be ecstatic if their husbands ordered them to go shop."

"Not this woman," Natasha growled under her breath as she dug though her cavernous handbag and pulled out her wallet. 

Renoldo held up his hand. "I've got it bambina." 

Natasha rose and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Sorry to rush off. I love you." And she was hurrying down the street. 

Once she emerged from the back street she hailed a cab and headed for Via Condotti. She perused the shops at Armani, Gucci, and Prada finding nothing. Finally she ended up at Versace and was being bombarded by racks and gowns and overly enthusiastic saleswomen. Since marrying Luca she had become a regular along the Via Condotti. What she wore one week, the rest of the high society wives would be wearing the next. 

Not wanting to be fawned over, Natasha asked that she be left alone to try on the gowns. Adelina, one of the younger and most enthusiastic saleswomen, would doubtless be nearby whether she wanted her to be or not. Natasha stood in one of the spacious dressing rooms. One corner had tri-fold mirrors. There was an tailor's pedestal in the center of the room for alterations. There was also a settee situated against one wall and two armchairs flanking a small table with refreshments. Overkill, Natasha thought. 

She stepped into a silk gown with a chorded silk bodice and slipping the thin straps over her shoulders only to realize that she couldn't manage the row of tiny buttons up the back. "Adelina, will uou help me button this up?" she asked when she heard the door open behind her. 

She gazed down at the toes of her shoes as Adelina swiftly buttoned up the gown. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Natasha murmured, running her hands over the bodice. 

It was a deep masculine timbre that answered, warm breath fanning against her bare shouldser. "Stunning. 

Natasha's head jerked up, her wide azure gaze clashing with Gianni Angiolini's heated stare. She gasped and moved to step away from him but he quickly snaked a sinewy arm around her, effectively trapping her arms against her sides. 

"Gianni, " she hissed. "What are you doing here?" Her hear beat rapidly. The feeling of him pressed against her back was almost overwhelming. Her legs trembled. 

Gianni ignored her question. He brushed the fingertips of his free hand over her shoulders and down her arm. His voice was a soft caress. "Until I saw you the other day, I'd almost forgotten how mind numbingly beautiful you are, bella."

He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear. She shivered, her eyelids fluttering momentarily before she straightened and attempted to wrench herself from his grasp. The effort was wasted. He made her feel no stronger than a four year old. 

"You can't be here." Her voice took on a pleading quality. "It will be worse for me if he finds out I've seen you. If Luca finds out he'll--"

"He'll what?" Gianni's voice was low and menacing. 

Gianni's grasp tightened slightly. "Now why would he need to keep such a close watch and such a willing, devoted, and loving wife?"

"Gian, I--" 

"You lied to me, Natasha." His voice was flat and hard. He turned her in his arms so that she was crushed against his chest, her hands trapped between their bodies. The only sound was the silken rustle of her gown. 

She looked up at him with wide beseeching eyes. "I didn't--" she started to deny but he shook her lightly.

"Don't, bella. Don't lie to me anymore. I talked to Colin three days ago and told me everything. I've been waiting to find you alone since then." 

Natasha's mouth opened and closed. "No..." she whispered. "He couldn't have...he doesn't know anything. And Morgan promised she wouldn't...she wouldn't..." Her voice was distant as she was sorting through her racing thoughts. 

Gianni shook her again. "Natasha, stop," he ground out. "Morgan told him everything. They're getting married and she told him everything." 

Natasha gaze up at him in shock. Colin and Morgan were getting married and she didn't even know. Tears pricked her eyes. Colin must hate her. He must have hated her enough not to find a way to tell her. Neither had Lacey. They'd both cut her out of their lives completely. Her thoughts returned to the present, to Gianni standing in front of her looking at her with such fervor. 

Gianni's fingertips brushed her chin and lifted her face to his. "Please, baby. Please don't lie to me anymore." He buried his hands in her dark hair and kissed her brow. "Please, bella." He lightly kissed her lips before laying his brow against her own.  

Natasha gazed at him. His face was so close. His dark lashes were fanned against his cheeks. His breathing was heavy and fluttered against her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. 

Gianni's eyes flickered open. They were wet with unshed tears. "Three years, bella," came his anguished reply. "Three years you've been with him." His jaw clenched at the thought of what had occurred during those three years-. "Why'd you do it baby?"

Tears were sliding down her face. "I wanted to protect you....you and Lacey and Colin and Morgan." She hiccupped. "He was going to sell us, me and Morgan. There was nothing else I could do. I had nothing to bargain with." 

Gianni gritted his teeth and stepped back from her. He ran a rough hand over his hair. "Jesus, Natasha!" he spat. He was in front of her and picked her up under the arms and shook her. His grey eyes searched her face. "What the fuck were you thinking?!" 

She was crying harder now and he set her down. She stammered. "I--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to get Morgan out of there. And Lacey and Colin had nothing to do with it but they were in trouble too. And you...I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I could have handled it!" He shouted at her. "Damn it, Natasha!" He was pacing in front of her as she stood trembling, tracking his every movement and half expecting Luca or his men to burst through the door at any moment. 

He stopped suddenly mid-stride and stared at her. "Jesus," he breathed. 

"What?" she shrunk away from him but he grabbed her shoulders in a none too gentle grasp. "The little boy the other day..."

"My son, Gabriel. Gabe..." she answered quietly. 

He looked into her face. "Gabe..." he said softly. "Is he..." Gianni appeared to struggle with his words. "Is he mine?"

"Is he?!" Gianni shouted, shaking her.

"Yes," Natasha murmured and then louder, "Yes!"

Gianni froze. 

There was a knock on the dressing room door. 

Gianni whirled and wrenched open the door. "What?!" 

The shocked saleswoman, Adelina, gaped at him and stammered. "S-S-Signore--"

"Angiolini," Gianni finished for her. He took a deep breath and flashed her his most winning smile. Adelina blinked, a bit smitten, at the stunning man smiling at her. "Angiolini?" A light bulb seemed to go off in her head as she glanced past him at the similarly shocked looking Natasha Angiolini. "I--I heard voices," she stammered. "Is your wife alright?" 

Gianni grinned. "Just haggling over dresses." He leaned in the doorway and smiled at the young saleswoman. "You work on commission, sí?"




La Vita Dolce Ch. 16



Adelina looked confused. "Sí, Signore. Yes, I do." 

"My wife and I could use some time alone to discuss things. "Gianni pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a black credit card. He gestured absently to the rack of gowns in the dressing room. "She'll take all of them."

The girl's eyes widened. "All of them, Signore?"

"That's right," he grinned at her. 

"Oh--of course, Signore Angiolini," she took the card and turned to leave them alone. Gianni closed the door behind her and immediately turned his attention back to Natahsa. 

She stood silently in the middle of the room, her arms at her sides. 

Gianni came to stand before her. He looked at her and realized she was trembling hard. "Ah, bella," he sighed. He carefully lifted his palm to her cheek. Her thickly lashed lids fluttered and then closed. She leaned into his palm, her breath coming in shallow gasps. 

"Shh," he soothed and stepped forwards and pulled her against him. He trembling shook her whole frame. Gianni wrapped an arm tighter around her waist, cradling her head against his chest with the other. 

Her voice was broken when she spoke. "It's been so long...I-I thought about you everyday. I wanted to find you. I wanted to tell you...but I couldn't. I wanted to so bad." She choked on a sob. 

The feeling of being in his arms felt like a dream. His familiar masculine scent assaulted her senses. She could almost forget all the time that lay between the present and the last time he held her in his arms. 

She tentatively lifted her face to his. He was looking at her intently, his silver gaze roving her features before he carefully lowered his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged herself closer to his body as he tightened his hold and lifted her off the ground. He kissed her lips very gently, and then pressed his lips against hers, and slipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her deeply. She clasped her arms around his neck and felt the rough stubble of his face and the silken waves of his hair as she grasped it, and most of all the long sweet pressure of his tongue inside her mouth. 

He lowered her to the settee without losing the contact of their lips. Her fingers slid beneath his shirt to skim over the hard ripples of his abdomen. 

Gianni broke the kiss only long enough to yank the shirt over his head. .He bent to capture her lips again but her gentle insistent hands against his chest halted him. 

His brows lifted questioningly but she was intently tracing her fingertips over the hard planes of his chest. He watched her face in avid fascination. 

Natasha felt like the oxygen in the room was in short supply. This man was inhumanly beautiful. How had she managed to give him up? He held himself aloft on his hands and she ran his hands over the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders. She traced her fingertips over his chest, pausing at the cross tattooed just over his heart. She then moved lower, tracing over his abdominals to trace the cut lines at the top of his hips. How could she have forgotten how beautiful this man was? She lifted her eyes to his smoldering silver gaze. 

She felt as though her heart were swelling to a size to large for her chest, like it might crack open her ribs. She lifted her hands to either side of his face and pulled him down for a deep open mouthed kiss. 

Gianni moaned into her mouth and gently lowered himself on top of her, returning the kiss. His lips massaged hers, parting them as his tongue delved into her hot mouth, tasting her completely. 

Her heady scent washed over him, the exotic fragrance of jasmine and vanilla. He felt her arms wrap around him and he reveled in the feel of her smooth silken skin against his. 

Gianni was hard to the point of aching as his cock strained against his jeans. He settled himself between her thighs and ground himself against her mound, swallowing her sighs of pleasure as he did so. 

Natasha bent her legs to cradle his hips, lifting her hips to meet his slow torturous movements against her. 

Gianni groaned and pulled his mouth away gasping. "Bella, we have to stop." 

But she was already undoing his pants and pulling him free of his boxers. His abdominals bunched as his rigid cock pulsed in her small hand. 

Natasha stroked him with one hand, reaching up with the other to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer. "Please, Gianni."

He couldn't deny her anything that she asked at him in that moment. 

Kissing her fiercely he tugged the yards of silk fabric from between their bodies and up about her waist. He grasped the thin material of her thong and ripped the flimsy fabric from her body. 

Natasha gasped and arched as she felt his cock sliding against her clit. He nuzzled her neck as he continued to rock his hips against hers. 

Lifting her hips off the settee with one hand, he thrust powerfully into her. Natasha's lips opened in a silent scream of pleasure. Gianni growled against her throat and nipped at the tender flesh there as he slowly slid in and out of her tight heat. Her silken sheath gripped him like a fist and he lost himself in the exquisite feel of her. 

"Ah, bella," he breathed. "You feel so good."

Natasha scraped blunt nails over his back, feeling the taut muscles flex and ripple beneath his skin. She cried out as she began pistoning his hips forcefully against hers. 

Chuckling quietly, Gianni covered her mouth with his palm, muffling her cries. Gianni let out a low groan as he began slamming his cock into her. Her arms and legs tightened around him as she hung on for dear life as Gianni fucked her mercilessly, stretching her sheath and plunging deeply into her. 

Gianni felt the tingling waves of pleasure building. He would have liked to take her gently their first time together in years. He would have liked to make love to her slowly and carefully, drawing out their release. He would have liked to have her in his own bed where she would feel safe. But seeing her, holding her, kissing her--it was to much to bear and required more restraint than he thought himself capable of. 

Natasha's nails were scoring his back. He'd removed his hand from her mouth which was now open in a silent 'o' as he felt her shudder, her pussy clenching and spasming against him. 

Gianni seized his lips in a kiss as he felt the pleasure over take him. He pumped his hips furiously, letting out a low cry as he exploded into her tight sheath. 

Gianni gazed down at Natasha's flushed face with something akin to shock as he carefully lowered himself on top of her though he held most of his weight aloft on his forearms. He brushed the backs of his fingers against her fevered brow. He sighed. "I've missed you so much."

Natasha blinked back tears. "I've missed you too," she managed hoarsely. 

Gianni grinned at her. His smile both warmed and wrenched at her heart. 

Gianni lifted himself and began to dress. Natasha stood on trembling legs, and smoothed the skirt of the gown. She smiled sheepishly. "Good thing I'm buying it."

Gianni laughed, looping an arm around her and pulling her towards him to place a kiss on her brow before he turned her in his arms and began undoing the row of buttons down the back of the gown. 

Natasha dressed slowly, reluctantly. It was torture. She had to go back. She had to go back to Luca. Gabriel's face flashed in her mind. She wouldn't--she couldn't--endanger her son. 

Gianni was standing by the door expectantly. " Ready to go?"

"Go where?" 

A frown wrinkled Gianni's brow as he noticed her hesitation. "To my space. Someplace safe. I'll follow you home, we pick up Gabriel, and I'll take you back to my place." 

Natasha shook her head vehemently. "No."

Gianni's look was dark. "What do you mean, 'no'? You can't seriously think that I'm going to allow you to go back there--to him."

Natasha looked back at him sadly. "Gianni, there's no expiration date on my bargain with Luca. If I don't comply..." she swallowed thickly. It's no different than three years ago."

Gianni's jaw clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth. "You don't honestly expect me to just let you go back to him. Fuck that, Natasha. No." 

She wrapped her arms around herself still shaking her head. "It's not that easy. He won't just let us go." 

Gianni's hands were fisted at his sides. "He won't have a choice." 

She stared at him, at the tense lines of his face. His grey gaze had darkened ominously. Natasha's voice was soft. "So you're going to kill him?" 

"If necessary," was his clipped response. 

"No," Natasha shook her head vehemently. "No." She turned from him and began struggling out of the gown and pulling her sundress over her head. She snatched up her handbag. 

Gianni caught her arm when she would have brushed by him. She cut him off when he would have spoken. "And what happens to you if you fail? If you get caught--and not just caught by Luca but by the police--then what?"

"Do you have something better in mind?" 

She refused to look at him, "Just let it go." 

"Natasha--"

"Let. It. Go." she ground out. "I will handle it." 

Gianni glared at her. "So now you can handle it? Now you can handle shit." 

Natasha smoothed her hair and fixed him with a cool look. "Maybe I've learned a few things."

Gianni eyed her warily, rubbing at his jaw. "I don't think I want to know." 

Natasha looked at him expectantly. "Look, we'll figure this out okay. But I have to get back to my son. I will not put him in danger." She sighed. "Not even for you will I endanger Gabriel." 

His thoughts moving to his son, Gianni sighed. She was right. They couldn't rush into anything." 

Seeing him relent smiled wanly and moved towards the door to the dressing room. "Later Gian."

"Tasha, wait," he grabbed her arm and halted her movement.

She stilled though she kept her eyes on the door.

"Wait ten minutes before you leave the store. Stall. Whatever. Just wait. Then you can catch a taxi and go. I won't stop you." 

Natasha's gaze flickered to his face. Is expression was calm, detached. She tried to convince herself that she preferred it this way, the distance. It was better. Easier. 

She nodded mutely. 

He gave her a long considering look before turning and leaving her alone with yards of silk and chiffon. She stood silently, her mind fighting for blankness, for the absence she'd learned to evoke. 

The soft knock on the door distracted her from her efforts.

Natasha woodenly went through the motions of ensuring that the gowns would be sent to the atalier and then to the villa. She lingered disinterestedly in the store before venturing outside. 

She forced herself not to look around fo Gianni or Luca's henchmen as she hailed a taxi. As she stood on the curb a teenaged boy in ripped jeans, head bobbing to his ipod bumped against her once again jarring her from her thoughts.

"Sono spiacente," he grinned at her. "Sorry," he said walking a coupled steps backwards to look her over before continuing to amble on is way. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. At least he hadn't pinched her ass as Italian men were wont to do. She customarily padded herself down making sure he hadn't snatched anything from her pockets, that the oversized handbag still hanging on her shoulder, her Bulvgari watch was still on her wrist, and the ridiculous wedding ring on her finger. She shrugged as a taxi pulled up and she slipped into the back seat giving the driver her address.

Almost as soon as the driver pulled away from the curb, her phone started ringing. She growled low in her throat. It was probably Luca checking up on her, or even better, he had picked up on Gianni following her around the city. 

She dug into her purse, her fingers closing around her Blackberry. She stared at her phone. The screen was black. It wasn't even on. 

The ringing continued. She dug into her handbag, peering inside the dark interior sighting the illuminated screen and fishing out a small cell phone. 

She stared at the unfamiliar phone in her hand. She flipped it open. "Hello?" she answered uncertainly. 

"Ah, bella, I see you've got it." Gianni's voice caressed her frayed nerves. 

Natasha leaned back in her seat. "How did you--"

"Never mind that now, bella," Gianni interrupted. "You'll be home soon." 

Natasha turned to look out the back of the taxi but could not see any sign of him in the heavy traffic. 

"Turn around, bella," Gianni cautioned. "Listen, the phone has a GPS tracking device in it. As long as it's on I can find you. He should have managed to slip some back up batteries into your bag as well. My numbers are programmed into the phone. Keep it on silent and keep it hidden. If you need anything...if anything happens..." His voice trailed off. 

Natasha fought back the tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "I've got to go." Cab was pulling between the columns and onto the villa's driveway."

"Be safe, bella." And he was gone. 

Natasha quickly placed the phone back into her purse and ran as slightly trembling hand though her hair. 

When she stepped out of the taxi she forced an appropriately bland look on her countenance. A black windowless van was parked in the driveway in front of her house, not an unusual occurrence. It was all part of Luca's general sketchiness and of the many aspects of her life she tried to ignore. 

On this occasion however, it was not to be easy for her. Just as she'd tipped the driver and the cab was making her way past the van, a loud banging came from inside. 

Natasha halted abruptly next to the van, her heart in her throat. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, she knew, but there was this sickening feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She stepped closer to the van. Silence. She listened , pressing her hands against one of the black doors at the back of the van and then carefully--tentatively--placed her ear against the cool metal. Nothing. 

Natasha pulled back warily, eyeing the door handle. Two voices were warring in her head; one telling her to run and just forget it, the other didn't disagree. 'One visit from Gianni and suddenly you've got some guts?'

"Signora Angiolini!" 

Natasha started, stepping away from the van. The man who had attempted to buy her three years earlier was standing on her doorstep with the same appraising look. 

Natasha stood frozen, fear pooling acidly in her stomach. He couldn't be here for her could he? Luca wouldn't have broken his promise to her would he?

He would if he thought he were going to lose her to Gianni. Faisal Masood came to stand in front of her. She nearly snarled at him baring her teeth. He took her chin roughly in his hand. "Ah, still so fierce," his voice lilted. "I can see why he wanted to keep you, although I would have assumed that he would have broken you of your ill manners by now."

Natasha wrenched away from him. "How about I break something of yours and remind you of your manners," she ground out.

Faisal laughed darkly. "How about you try." His hand shot out and roughly grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him.

Natasha was assaulted by the heavy scent of his expensive overpowering cologne. He wrapped one arm around her wrenching her arm behind her back while he wrapped the other hand around her hair yanking her head back. 

Natasha seethed unable to move. "Let go of me," she spat.

Faisal looked down into her upturned face speculatively. "Ah," he sighed. "Such a lovely creature. Perhaps Luca would reconsider..."

"Mr. Masood," Luca was leaning against the doorway entering the villa. His voice was calm, his posture relaxed, but there was no mistaking the fury that surely lurked just below the cool exterior. "I would kindly ask you to refrain from touching my wife."

Faisal stepped back immediately, looking somewhat chagrinned. Luca Angiolini's temper was legendary. He did not want to provoke him. Natasha was already moving away from him. He inclined his head. "My apologies, Signore." He smiled sheepishly, "Your wife is so lovely, I seem to have taken leave of my senses." 

"Quite," Luca straightened coming towards them, stepping close to Natasha and placing an arm about her waist though his gaze was fixed on Faisal Masood. "You would do well to remember that she isn't one of your little foreign trollops. She is my wife. She bears my name and is the mother of my child. You will give her the same respect that you give any Angiolini. Do you understand?"

Faisal nodded once, cowed. "Of course, Signore." He dare not cast a glance at Natasha. "Forgive me Signora." 

"Good." Luca's voice was clipped. "Touch her again and I'll cut off your hands. Now get out of here." He led Natasha into the house.

Some of the tension left her. Luca wasn't selling her to that flesh peddler and he would think twice before touching her again if he wanted to keep his appendages. But she had no illusions about Luca's reaction. He hadn't defended her out of love or affection, she knew. She was a possession to him and God help anyone who tried to take what he considered his. 

Her relief was short lived. Pietro and Alejandro were coming down the stairs, between them was a young woman. She couldn't be more than seventeen.

She was pale with nearly white blonde hair. Her eyes were heavy lidded and bore a purplish bruised color. She could barely keep her feet under her. When they drew closer Natasha noticed the small round bruises on the insides of her arms. She'd been drugged.

Natasha pulled away from Luca as Alejandro and Pietro dragged the girl by. "No, wait!" Natasha moved to block them but Luca jerked her out of the way. She whirled on him. "What the hell is going on? Where are they taking her?" 

She turned and watched as Pietro opened the back of the van and a petit dark-haired girl leapt out, shrieking. Pietro caught her before her feet even hit the ground and shoved her roughly back inside. Alejandro unceremoniously flung the blonde girl in behind her before slamming the door shut.

Natasha was straining against Luca's grasp. "Where are they taking them?!"

Faisal Masood got into the back of the idling town car parked in front of the van. Alejandro and Pietro got into the front seat of the van. 

The van pulled out of the driveway following the town car. Luca released her and began striding up the stairs. Against her better judgment she followed him. "What the fuck was that?" 

"Watch your mouth," growled back at her. 

"So was that a social call or just business?" she called. "Did you sleep with that poor girl?"

Luca snorted and kept walking towards his office in the far wing of the house. 

Natasha kept up with his long strides until they stepped into his office when turned on her abruptly, grasping her shoulders in his hands before she could backpedal. "Jealous, little one?"

Natasha sneered at him. "More like disgusted."

Luca let out a bark of laughter as he released her and retreated behind his desk. "I've got better taste than that slut," he said and absently glanced at her before gathering some papers from the desk and shoving them into a desk drawer.

"So you're working with that asshole," Natasha accused. "And that 'slut' looked like a scared little girl."

Luca shrugged, coming around the side of the desk. He pulled her into his arms and looked down into her face. "Why so interested, little one? My business is none of your business." 

Natasha's insides twisted. So he was involved.

Luca planted a kiss on her brow. "Now get out."

Natasha turned and numbly walked down the hall to Gabriel's room. It was nearly nine and she was sure he'd be sleeping by now. 

She pushed open the door to the darkened nursery and made her way to Gabriel's little bed. She sank to the floor next to the bed, looking over her son's sweet face in the low lighting of the night light. She lightly touched the tawny curls on his head. Gianni's son.




La Vita Dolce Ch. 16



Her mouth twisted as she held back tears, blinking rapidly. She stood hurriedly and silently left the room before a sob broke free and she woke him. 

She hurried back to her room, finally putting down her handbag, and sat down on the edge of the bed as she frantically attempted to reign in her emotions. She'd constantly been fighting with herself over the past three years. She'd had a vague idea of what Luca was into; drugs, gambling, kidnappings, the occasional disappearance. Natasha had consoled herself by thinking, 'they were bad people and what could she do about it.' She was protecting the people she loved with her silence and her acquiescence. But now she'd come face to face with one of Luca's victims and she could no longer ignore the sense of guilt and complicity that overcame her. 

Snatching up the handbag she retreated into her spacious walk-in closet, past the racks of clothes and shelves of shoes and into the small adjoining room with a vanity and small dresser and closed the door.

She dug through her purse until she pulled out the cell phone Gianni had given her and dialed the police.

"I'd like to report a crime," she said in halting Italian.

"Regarding what, Signorina?" came the voice on the other end of the line. 

"Human trafficking," Natasha forced out.

There was a pause on the other end. "What is your name Signorina?"

"Does it matter?" Natasha blurted. "My husband, he...I saw..." her voice wavered.

"Slow down, Signorina. Tell me what happened. Where are you?"

Natasha's mind began to race. Luca had half the cops and judges in Italy in his pocket. What she had seen might not be reported at all and might simply get back to Luca. There was no way of knowing who was on the other end of the phone. 

"Signorina?"

Natasha ran a hand through her dark hair. "You know, I think I made a mistake." She closed the cell phone and stared mutely at the carpet. The faces of the girls who'd been taken were there, a permanent fixture in her mind. 

She opened the cell phone again and scrolled through the phone to the contact list. There were five numbers: work, personal cell, fax, office phone, apartment phone.

Natasha tentatively dialed Gianni.

***

After following Natasha's cab back to the villa Gianni had gone back to the apartment he kept in the city. He'd paces, tried watching TV, had a couple drinks but each second passed slowly and was a constant effort not to storm into Luca's villa and take Natasha and his son.

He leapt for the phone on the coffee table when it rang. 

Silence.

He glanced at the phone. It was Natasha's number. Had Luca found the phone already?

"Gian?" Natasha's tentative distressed voice on the line made his stomach drop. 

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he demanded, hearing her sniffle.

"I'm fine," she was quick to reassure him. "I'm fine. I just..."she let out a whoosh of air. "I saw something."

"Tasha--"

"I saw them taking these girls--Alejandro and Pietro." rushed out. "They were drugged and they looked so young. They were terrified, Gian, and I couldn't do anything" He could hear her holding back tears. "I didn't do anything. I don't know what's going to happen to them."

Gianni cursed. 

"I'm going to bring him down." Natasha said quietly. "And I'm going to need your help."

Gianni stopped pacing abruptly. "No, Natasha," he said roughly. "I don't want you putting yourself in any danger." 

"Too late, Gian," she sighed. "I'll get you all the information you need. Do what you need to with it." 

"Natasha--"

"Goodbye, Gian..." 

She hung up the phone and he stared at the handset. He sank into the couch burying his head in his hands. Patience. He had to trust her. He had to wait. 



La Vita Dolce Ch. 17



Natasha eyed herself speculatively in the full length mirror and smoothed her hands over her hips. The Versace gowns were tucked away in her closet intermingled with the gowns she had acquired over the past three years. She couldn't wear a gown that wouldn't show up on Luca's credit card statement.  Instead she called in a last minute favor and managed to have a YSL couture gown tailored and sent over the day before the party. 

The gown was dark red silk cut on the bias to sensually slide over her curves down to her ankles with a slit revealing a glimpse of thigh. The neckline was low cut, revealing a good deal of the golden brown flesh down past her breasts. 

Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple knot. Long feathery side swept bangs framed her face. Her makeup was simple yet sultry; bronzer on her cheeks, pink lips, kohl rimmed eyes.  Gold chandelier earrings hung from her ears and complemented the gold and garnet cuff around her wrist. 

She looked herself over one last time before leaving her bedroom. Guests had begun arriving more than half an hour ago, but she had not been present to great them. Luca preferred that she make an entrance. 

She hated it. It was just another way that Luca liked to show off his possessions. She was no different than a car in his garage or a new racehorse in his stables.   

She made her way to the landing at the top of the staircase and carefully stayed out of sight as she peered down at the people milling about below. Everyone was extravagantly attired, the men in black tie, the women in couture. Black clad serving staff threaded through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. A string quartet played in the corner. She dreaded that moment when she stepped into sight and eyes would slowly turn speculatively to her, hated the way the men's eyes would rove salaciously over her and the women would mentally guess which designer she was wearing and speculate whether Luca had given one of his mistresses the same pair of earrings.

She ran a slightly trembling hand over her hair, making sure that no hair was out of place. She drew herself upward squaring her shoulders and lifted her chin. She stepped forward to the railing and paused allowing her gaze to sweep over the scene below before lifting her gown slightly and descending the stairs. She could feel many eyes on her though she kept her gaze on the tips of her Louboutin clad toes and allowed her fingertips to trail along the ornately carved banister.  

Luca was there to meet her at the bottom of the stairs a small smile of approval playing on the corners of his lips as he watched her approach. His molten silver gaze roved appreciatively over her body and he extended his hand to her as she drew near. She would have to be blind and dumb not to recognize that her husband was a handsome man. He had forgone the tie and wore a finely tailored black Armani suit and crisp black button down, the top two buttons undone. He was clean shaven, his dark onyx hair coaxed back from his face. He was wonderful to look at, she was loath to admit. It was a pity he was such a bastard. 

Natasha slipped her hand into his palm allowed him to pull her against him as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He held her firmly against him with one arm while he gently took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face to his. His voice was husky when he spoke. "You look remarkable, little one." And he pressed a kiss to her temple.  

Natasha smiled faintly at him, ever aware of the tableaux she was to create: the devoted and loving wife. She was to appear beautiful and sensuous. Men were supposed to desire her but she had eyes only for her husband. It was as if he were the only beautiful man in the room. 

Natasha plucked a champagne flute from the tray of a waiter passing by and allowed him to lead her towards a group of prominent business men and their wives. Natasha smiled charmingly, slipping her hand into the crook of Luca's arm. 

Natasha was on her second glass of champagne when she spotted her uncle across the room similarly holding court and in the company of a shockingly beautiful raven haired woman. Catching her eye, he raised his own glass and winked at her.

"Pardon me," she murmured to Luca and nodded to Renoldo Pezzini. Following her gaze, Luca nodded, dismissing her. She smiled apologetically at her guests and made her way over to her uncle. 

Natasha watched Renoldo disentangled himself from the beautiful woman on his arm as he noticed her approaching. 

"Ah bambina!" Renoldo grinned and swept her up into a hug before stepping back from her and holding her hands in his he looked her over before pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks . "Darling, you look incredible."  

Natasha smiled and returned the compliment. Renoldo was dashing as always in a superbly cut tux, however, the superbly beautiful woman on his arm who looked a bit more than piqued at the moment and irritated by Renoldo's attention to the young woman. 

"Zio, your date...." Natasha murmured glancing over his shoulder at the woman whose temper was obviously rising.

Renoldo pulled her close, "Just a moment bambina. She's much more ferocious in bed when she's jealous." 

Shaking her head, Natasha stepped around her uncle. A brilliant smile lit her face as she extended her hand towards the woman who looked as though she wanted to spit. "Bonjorno, I'm Natasha Angiolini."

The woman stared at her a moment. Natasha could practically see the wheels turning in her pretty head when her red painted mouth formed an 'O'. She flushed and took Natasha's hand. 

"Amanda Stewart," she introduced herself.  

Natasha cocked her head thoughtfully, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Ah, I saw your Italian Vogue cover recently. It was stunning."

The tall raven haired beauty looked abashed and murmured her quiet thanks as she slipped her hand into the crook of Renoldo's arm. 

At that same moment Natasha felt a light touch on her arm and turned to see Marcella standing anxiously at her side. A frown of concern wrinkled Natasha's smooth brow. "Marci, what is it? Is Gabriel alright?" 

Marcella was wringing her hands nervously as she glanced from Natasha to Renoldo and then back to Natasha. "I'm sorry to intrude, Signora, but Gabriel has a bit of a fever and is fretting. I can't get him to bed." 

Natasha's gaze narrowed in concern and she reassuringly touched Marcella's shoulder. "I'll be there in a moment." 

Marcella nodded silently and retreated. She gave Renoldo an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Gabe isn't feeling too hot. I'm going to go check on him." 

"Ah," Renoldo grinned. "I'll go with you. It's been too long since I've gotten to see my nephew." 

Natasha breath caught but she smiled. "Let me see how he's doing first?" 

"Of course." Renoldo returned the smile as his niece turned and made her way back to her husband's side. 

"Luca," Natasha brushed her lips against his husband's ear drawing his look. "Gabriel has a touch of the fever. I'm going to check on him." 

A thin line appeared between his dark brows and she watched his gaze flit to Marcella standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. His silver gaze once again settled on her face and he nodded, adding in a low voice, "Don't be too long." 

Natasha nodded and smiled a captivating smile at their guests before slipping from Luca's side and moving carefully through the guests nodding her acknowledgements before she was finally at the nursery door beside. Marcella. 

Natasha pushed the door open a crack and peered at her son's sleeping form tucked away safe in his little bed. "Is he alright?" she murmured. 

Marcella nodded vigorously, her eyes wide as Natasha took her hands in her own. "Don't worry," she soothed. "I just needed a few moments away from Luca. But I need to ask you something more serious. Come with me?" 

Natasha darted into her bedroom and disappeared into her closet before reemerging with a thick manila envelope. Natasha held the envelope close to her chest looking as though she might weep. Her lips trembled and she looked uncertain before she thrust the envelope into Marcella's hands although she didn't fully let go. "You love my son don't you?"

Marcella studied Signora Angiolini carefully before she answered. "I love him as if he were my own child." 

"Truly?" Natasha questioned, her gaze fervent. 

"Of course, Signora." Marcella breathed. Natasha hesitated but she seemed to satisfy her and she let go of the envelope taking a small step backwards. 

"What is this?" Marcella questioned, turning the envelope and feeling its weight in her hands.  

Natasha drew in a deep breath. "Two passports, one for you and one for Gabriel with aliases and ten thousand Euro notes and ten US dollars. I wish it could be more but it was all I could get without Luca noticing. 

Marcella paled and clutched the envelope in her hands. "I don't understand." 

Natasha shook her head. "There's not time enough to explain everything right now. But if anything ever happens to me—even if I'm simply not around for a few days I want you to take the passports and the money and go to America. The address for a Mr. Colin Grey is in there, you can trust him with anything. Don't hesitate, just go. Do you understand?"

Marcella nodded mutely, her dark eyes wide.  

Natasha's lips thinned her gaze intent on Marcella's face. "I know you love Gabriel. Can I trust you?" 

On impulse, Marcella reached out and grasped Natasha's hand in her own, giving it a light squeeze. "You can trust me with anything Signora. I swear it." 

Natasha felt relief flooding over her. If Gabriel was safe then she could do what needed to be done and she need not worry about the consequences to her son. "Thank you," she breathed. "You have no idea how much this means to me." She smiled a tight smile. "If you would stay with Gabriel tonight that would be wonderful. I'll head back down to the party in a little bit. I just want to..."she smiled tightly. "Settle a few things." 

"Of course, Signora," Marcella nodded. "I'll keep with Gabriel." 

"Grazie," Natasha smiled as the other woman left the room. Knowing she didn't have much time, she darted back into her closet, and dug into the pocket of a long black Marc Jacobs coat to pull the disposable cell phone from the pocket. 

Slipping back into the hall, her gaze darted in both directions before she bent and slipped off her heels and padding down the hall, the Louboutins dangling from her fingertips She crept down the darkened hallways towards Luca's office. He never bothered to lock his office. He was so sure of his absolute authority and his capacity to make those around him fear him, there was no need to bother with things like locking doors. 

Taking a deep calming breath, Natasha slipped into Luca's office, pushing down the sense of dread and that little voice telling her that this was an incredibly dumb idea. She didn't dare switch on the light. Instead, she clicked on her penlight and cast the small round circle of light over the room. 

She checked behind the paintings hanging on the wall. But unlike the movies, there was no safe to be found behind the likely pilfered Picasso. Nothing. Pursing her lips, she slid behind into the large leather armchair behind Luca's heavy mahogany desk and slid open the first drawer of file folders. She thumbed deftly through the files, withdrawing bank statements and scanning them, only to determine that there wasn't much out of the ordinary. 

Frowning, Natasha closed the drawer and was surprised by the definitive thunk that came from the bottom of the drawer. She pulled open the drawer. There it was again; the sound of something sliding along the bottom of the drawer. 

Nonplussed, Natasha pushed the hanging files to the back of the drawer and shone the penlight on the bottom of the drawer. There was nothing. Odd. She ran her fingertips around the edge of the drawer's base and tilted her head to survey the depth. No false bottom there. She sighed. 

Natasha pulled the handing files to the front of the drawer and shone the light at the back of the drawer. Grabbing the letter opener from the desktop she worked the tip into the thin fissure between the false drawer back and the top. She pried at the fissure but nothing budged. 

With a sigh, she set down the letter opener and pushed at the panel. The panel clicked and fell open. Gaping, Natasha shone the light over the stacks of bills within, the scattering of USB storage devices, the file folders within, and a small gold plated Walther PPK. 

Without a second thought, Natasha snatched up the files and immediately crossed the room to the fax machine. She punched in Gianni's fax number and fed the documents through before carefully placing them back into their respective file folders. Darting back to the desk she replaced the files. Without thinking she snatched up two of the USB drives and closed the hidden compartment with a soft snap and closed the drawer. Slipping out of Luca's chair, she surveyed the desk, fairly certain that all was in its proper place before pushing in his chair. 

USBs and cell phone clutched in one hand, penlight in the other as she slipped her feet back into her heels and slipped out of Luca's office and closed the door as quietly as possible behind her. 

She turned and let out a low cry as Alejandro Morelli's large hand closed around her throat and slammed her back against the door. He leaned close and leered at her. "Oh, I've been waiting for this, bitch," he snarled. 

Wincing, Natasha clawed at his grasp and struggled to wriggle free but he was having none of it. He pressed his forearm against her neck, affectively pinning her in place. 

"I've been waiting for you to fuck up," he growled. "WHAT DID YOU TAKE?!" he demanded, easing up a bit only to slam her back against the door.

"Nothing!" she gasped, hating the way terror tinged her voice. 

"Liar," he seethed. "I told Luca he could never trust you, but he thought he'd won your loyalty, your love and devotion." Releasing her throat, Alejandro gripped her jaw painfully in his hand. "And I can't wait to disabuse him of that thinking." 

Natasha suddenly began to struggle violently. Alejandro pressed his body against her to still her movements. Using his closeness, Natasha thrust her knee upward between his legs. She watched him choke and fall away from her as the blow connected. 

She sidestepped him and bolted only to have his hand close around her ankle. She fell hard, her palms stinging with the force of the impact but she rolled and kicked her stilettos at him causing him to release his hold on her. 

She scrambled to her feet and raced down the hall, darting into her bedroom. She whirled to slam the door shut but Alejandro was there. 

She pushed all her weight against the door but Alejandro shoved at against it so hard that she was sent stumbling backwards. The heel of her stiletto caught the hem of her gown. There was a tearing sound and she went down, sprawling on her back. 

Alejandro was on her instantly, his hands wrapping around her throat. He squeezed, fury contorting his features as he cut off her airway. 

Natasha writhed beneath him, tears streaming down her face as her vision grew black around the edges and her strength began to fail her. 

She didn't want to die like this. Not when she was so close to freeing Gabriel and herself. Oh, God, Gabriel. What was going to happen to him?

Just before she slipped from consciousness, Alejandro was snatched off her. 

Letting out a low cry, she gasped for air in deep painful breaths as her fluttering hands moved to her throat. She gazed up to see Luca pinning Alejandro against the wall, his fist slamming into Alejandro's battered face. Two of Luca's me, Araldo and Matteo, entered the room and rushed to her, lifting her up from the floor. 

The young man, Matteo, looked into her face. "Are you alright, Signora?"

Natasha nodded, swallowing painfully, and fixed her eyes on her husband who had stepped away from Alejandro. The man fell forward onto his hands and knees. 

"Get up," Luca spat at him. She had never heard him use that tone before. His voice was low, flat and emotionless. It sent a shudder coursing down her spine. 

Luca aimed a kick that caught Alejandro full in the ribs. 

Natasha clapped a hand over her mouth the muffle her scream at the audible sound of crunching bones.

Luca glanced at Araldo, his personal bodyguard and jerked his head toward Alejandro. Araldo moved quickly and grabbed Alejandro by the collar, hauling him to his feet and slamming him back against the wall. 

Luca was silently wiping the blood from his knuckles with a silk kerchief. Natasha could see the muscles in his jaw working furiously. His slate grey gaze narrowed. "Tell me, Alejandro, what makes you think you can put your hands on my wife?"

Alejandro struggled to lift his head and peered at his employer through his one unswollen eye. He swallowed hard. "I caught her sneaking around in your office. She took something probably." 

Luca turned to his wife, thinly veiled rage beneath the coolness of his gaze. 

Natasha's lips twisted sardonically. "Really Morelli?" She sneered at the bleeding man. She switched her gaze to Luca. "I came up here to check on our son. When I came out I heard the door to your study closing. I saw light coming from under the door and I thought it might be you. But I saw him coming out of your office." She gritted her teeth. "That's when he attacked me. He threatened to kill me if I told you what I saw." 

Frowning, Luca surveyed his wife, taking in the torn gown that left little to the imagination in the first place and the bruises beginning to darken the lovely column of her throat. He looked to Morelli who was barely hanging on to consciousness. 

He nodded to Araldo who began patting Alejandro down. Araldo set aside the gun that had been in Alejandro's shoulder holster and continued his search. From Alejandro's pocket he withdrew a penlight, a USB storage device and a burner phone. He handed the phone to Luca.. 

Scowling, Luca flipped open the phone, dialed the only number entered and put the phone to his ear. 

Natasha's heart stuttered in her chest. 'Please, please, please,' she prayed silently. 

She watched fury and heat suffuse Luca's face. With a roar he hurled the phone at the wall to shatter into broken plastic bits. "Get him out of here!" Luca shouted and Matteo and Araldo were instantly dragging Luca from the room. 

Natasha wanted desperately to run but she knew it was fruitless. She stood rooted to the spot. Luca was before her suddenly, gripping her shoulders in his hands. "Did you know Alejandro was in contact with my brother?"

The look of shock on her face was genuine. "What?! No!" she blurted. Thank God. 

Luca was staring at her intently. 

"But it seems to make a little bit of sense," she ventured. 

Luca frowned. 

"How else did Gianni know how to find me that day in the park? Alejandro betrayed my uncle too once. He does not have a reputation that inspires confidence." 

Luca seemed to consider this. His silver gaze searched her face. "You knew each other before he worked for me." It wasn't a question. 

Natasha sighed and nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, we knew each other when we were children. When I came back to Italy after my dad died he was..." Natasha paused, choosing her words carefully. "Different," she finished. "He was supposed to look after me, but he made advances and I rejected him."

Luca drew a steadying breath, obviously struggling to reign in his rage. "How far did these advances progress?"

Natasha worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Luca—"

"HOW FAR?!" he shouted, his grip on her growing painful. 




La Vita Dolce Ch. 17



Natasha squeezed his eyes shut. "He assaulted me." Her voice wavered. "My uncle wasn't around. I was by myself with him. It's why I ran away with Gianni. 

When she opened her eyes, Luca was looking at her with an inscrutable look on his face. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

Natasha shrugged lightly. "I wasn't aware that my personnel preferences held any sway with you with regard to your employees." 

Luca eyed her. "I think you should get to bed early." He released her and smoothed his dark hair back into place. "I'll make your excuses to our guests." 

He left her then, and Natasha let the trembling she had been resisting take over her limbs. She stumbled and collapsed into one of the armchairs, her nerves frayed. 

She nearly screamed in fright at the soft knock on the door. Marcella quietly entered the room looking incredibly distressed. "Are you alright, Signora?" she near whispered. "I saw Alejandro coming and I tried to stall him but he paid me no attention. When I saw him on you I went to get Signore Angiolini." She clasped her hands together nervously. "I'm so sorry, Signora. I did not know what else to do."

Natasha managed a weakly reassuring smile. "It's okay, Marcella. You did the right thing. But I need something from you now." 

"Of course, Signora." She sat in the arm chair next to Natasha's. 

"Tomorrow," Natasha said, running her hands over her hair and leaning forward. "I need you to take Gabriel tomorrow, just like we talked about." 

Marcella's eyes widened. "Signora, so soon?"

Natasha grimaced. "I know. I know it's soon," her voice cracked. "But I've got to get him out of here, Marcella. Those people I told you about—they're good people. And they will take good care of you and Gabriel. They're like family to me." She drew a shaky breath. "Just go tomorrow like you're going to the park. Just take him and go. Take multiple flights from New York if you can." She swallowed. "The passports have the same last name. No one should question you. And there will be no record of Marcella Santorini or Gabriel Angiolini leaving the country." 

Marcella reached out and grabbed Natasha's hand. "Come with us, Signora, per favore." 

Natasha's weak smile crumpled. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I wish I could, but after tonight I will be watched so carefully. I can't. I'll figure something else out." She met the other woman's gaze steadily. "I just need Gabriel to be safe, okay?"

"Of course, Signoa," Marcella rose and made to leave when Natasha stopped her. 

"Marcella," she bolted upright in her seat. "Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yes, of course." 

Marcella handed Natasha her cell phone and slipped quietly from the room to give her some privacy. 

After a couple of attempts at remembering the number, Gianni answered. 

"It's me," Natasha said, relief crashing over her at the mere sound of his voice. "I'm fine," she blurted.

"Jesus Christ, Natasha!" he exploded. "Are you okay? What the fuck is going on? I get these faxes from you and then you call and I hear Luca screaming before the phone goes dead? I'm on my way." 

"No!" Natasha shot to her feet. "I'm fine, Gianni. He didn't hurt me. I'll be out tomorrow. Find me. I'm ready to leave him." 

"Natasha—" 

"Just find me okay? Don't use this number. I'll be at the Basilica di San Pietro tomorrow, near the back exit of the Capella Sistina around noon. Meet me there. I've gotta go." 

"Natasha—"

She ended the call. He was frustrated with her, she knew. He was probably furious. But there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. 

She returned the cell phone to Marcella and readied herself for bed thought she doubted she'd find sleep easily. 

She had little doubt of what would be done with Alejandro. He would be tortured until he offered answers to questions he did not truly know the answers to. And then he would be killed. Luca did not tolerate betrayal. 

She pulled the covers up over her body and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt little remorse for Alejandro. As soon as he had grabbed her she knew that she knew that he was going to pay the price for what she had done. She regretted the loss of the sweet boy he had once been, and she wondered at the vicious man he had become. 

La vita. This life—it changed people. It made them hard and unfeeling. She wondered at the ease with which she'd shifted the blame to Alejandro, knowing what it would mean. He would not have hesitated to end her life and in turn she had callously ended his. 

She huddled under the covers frightened—not frightened of Alejandro or even Luca, for once. She was frightened that she had become as unflinchingly ruthless as her husband. 

She lay her bed staring at the ceiling for hours, listening to the tinkling of crystal Baccarat glasses and laughter downstairs. Luca was never one to let a little thing like murder and mayhem get in the way of a good time. 

Lost in thought, she bolted upright at the soft tapping at her door. A shaft of light parted the darkness of her room and Renaldo Pezzini entered. "Nipote? Natasha?"

"Uncle Renaldo?" She flicked on the bedside lamp and pushed her dark hair out of her face. 

Quietly closing the door behind him, Renaldo came to sit on the edge of the bed.  "You did not return. I worried. How is Gabriel?"

Natasha swallowed and forced a reassuring smile. "He's fine. I actually wasn't feeling quite well myself." 

Renaldo looked at his niece, his beloved sister's only child. She looked tired and a bit dull behind the eyes. He didn't like what he saw. He gently cupped her cheek. "Are you sure you're alright, bambina? I can't help feeling that something is going on with you and you're unhappy." He lifted one ebony brow. "Does this have anything to do with Gianni Angiolini being back in Roma?" 

Yes. No. Natasha studied her uncle's handsome face, touched by the concern there. She could trust him with anything she knew but knowing might put him in danger and it was unlikely that he'd go along with her plan anyway. Too risky. It was better that she kept him in the dark for the time being. 

"I'm fine, zio," she assured him. "I'm just mentally exhausted and Luca suggested I forgo the evening's activities for some rest." 

Renaldo leaned down and kissed her brow. "Call me, bambina. We'll have lunch soon." 

She gave him an agreeable smile as he stood and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in darkness once more. 

She reached in the darkness for her bedside drawer, sliding it open and fumbling around for the pill bottle inside. She opened it with familiar fluidity and tapped the bottle to dump to a couple of pills into her palm. She blindly felt around for the glass at her bedside and swallowed the pill, a moan of pain breaking free of her bruised throat. 

She leaned back against the pillows, waiting for the self medication to do its job and allow sleep to take over. 

***  

Morning was hash—like a lot of mornings lately. She felt Luca's arm heavy over her naked torso. She vaguely remembered him moving roughly over her in the darkness, flipping her over onto her stomach and entering her in a swift and ruthless fashion. 

The sleeping pills did more than allow her to sleep at night. They dimmed her memory into blurred and disconnected bits and pieces, a blessing most times. 

She shifted uncomfortably only to have Luca tighten his arm around her and pull her into the curve of his body. Feigning a luxurious yawn, Natasha turned to Luca and found his intent mercurial gaze on her. He lifted his hand and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. 

His voice was low and husky when he spoke. "Good morning, little one." 

Natasha forced a weak smile and swallowed. Her throat ached fiercely. "Hi." 
Expression unwavering, Luca trailed his fingertips lightly over the shell of her ear down her jaw line. He then closed his hand around her neck. 

Natasha's heart beat a rapid staccato behind her ribs as his fingers tightened slightly. He rubbed a disconcertingly gently thumb over the column of her throat and then released her. 

"He left a mark." Luca remarked tonelessly though Natasha noted the slight hardening of anger behind his eyes. 

Odd, she thought, that he should object to bruises on her body when he so often left them himself. She said nothing, continuing to meet his steady gaze. 

"I have some things to take care of today," he told her. "What are your plans?" 

Natasha pursed her lips pretending to mull her options over. "I think I'm going to go to church." 

Luca's lips tugged upwards at one corner. "You do that." He threw back the covers and rose from the bed, quickly pulling his pants on. "I'll send Matteo after you to keep an eye on you." 

Natasha smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, as though she truly believed he was doing so for her own protection. 

The second Luca closed the door behind him, Natasha was up and pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and an v-neck tshirt. She shoved her feet into motorcycle boots and wrapped a scarf around her neck. 

She brushed her teeth and raked her hair back into a haphazard bun as she swished with mouthwash. 

Grabbing her Ralston hobo bag she left her room and hurried down the hall to Gabriel's room. 

"Mommy!" he squealed when she entered and tottered across the room, his arms raised for her to lift him up. Marcella straightened from packing up his little Bob the Builder backpack.

Smiling, Natasha bent and lifted the little boy into her arms, pressing her face against the warmth of his chubby little cheek. 

"Mommy!" Gabriel exclaimed. "We're going to the park today!"

Natasha forced a smile and squeezed her eyes shut against the impending tears. "I know, sweetheart," she blinked back tears and nuzzled his dark curls, breathing in his clean baby scent. 

She handed him into Marcella's arms and brushed a hand over his curls. "I love you, angel." She kissed his brow and looked into his face, "I'll see you soon sweetheart, okay?"

Gabriel nodded, letting his head against head drop against Marcella's shoulder as he regarded her in that startlingly intent way of his. 

Barely able to wrench her gaze from her son, she met Marcella's eyes, communicating wordlessly. 

Marcella nodded in understanding. 

Feeling as though she were going to be sick, she backed away and turned to leave. 

"I'll take good care of him, Signora" Marcella said. "We'll see you soon." 

Natasha held back tears as she glanced over her shoulder and gave a small wave. 

She moved quickly down the hallway and down the stairs. She slipped her sunglasses over her face to shield her eyes—the tears welling along her lower lids—from view. She crossed the foyer in long strides, her heels clicking on the marble. 

The Range Rover was waiting in the front drive, keys in the ignition. 

Matteo was parked behind the SUV in a black Renault. Natasha gave him a smile and a seemingly nonchalant wave before climbing behind the wheel. 

Why Luca allowed her to drive herself anywhere, she didn't know. Perhaps it was a contrived means of giving her some illusion of freedom. But it was just that—an illusion. Usually he had her followed by a near invisible detail but today he wasn't bothering with the formality. It was fine with her. I suited her purposed better that way. 

Natasha drove toward the Vatican city center, tears streaming down her face. She brushed at the tears in frustration as she pulled up in front of the St. George hotel. A valet was immediately at her door. 

"Signora Angiolini, checking in?" the young valet queried. When Luca had guests in town, they almost always stayed at the St. George and she and Luca would often join them. 

Natasha shook her head. "No, just parking." She jerked her head towards the black Renault behind her. "Matteo too, si?" 

"Of course, Signora," the valet nodded. 

Smiling, at Matteo who was exiting the car she nodded towards the valet and started walking, knowing he would be behind her. 

She strode briskly down Via della Meloria and crossed over Via Angelo Emo where she turned down a narrow back street and continued on toward Viale Vaticano. She wasn't just going to any church; she was going to San Pietro but she was going to take in some art first. 

She moved quickly past the horrendous line of tourists snaking around the walls of the Vatican City, shaking her head in pity. They would be there more than half the day. "Reservations, people. Reservations," she mumbled under her breath digging into her purse for her blackberry. She approached the guards near the revolving front doors of the museum and flashed him her blackberry, the reservation she'd made the previous evening visible on the screen. Without word, he stepped aside and let her pass. Natasha smiled at him and entered the ticketing area. 

She cast a quick backward glance to see Matteo stopped by the guards, furiously gesturing to Natasha. 

Natasha quickly purchased her ticket and moved up the stairs into the museum. She didn't hesitate at any of the sculptures or works that hung upon the walls. Instead she made her way down the long corridor that led to the Capella Sistina. She entered, slipping in and out of tour groups whose upturned faces failed to notice her at all. The low hum of murmurs was periodically broken by the museum guards shouts of "No fotos!" 

While the majority of the tour groups filed out the door to the left at the back of the chapel to exit, Natasha exited the right and made her way down the stone steps that led her to the narrow passage between the Vatican Museum and the Basillica di San Pietro. 

She scanned the space and the line of tourists who had just come from San Pietro for Gianni but did not see him. A rough hand closed around her upper arm and she stifled a scream, half expecting Matteo or some other Angiolini associate to be there. But it was Gianni, his grey gaze fervent with worry and concern. 

She let out a shuddering breath, turning towards him. "Gianni," she murmured as he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly. He pressed his fingers into her air at the base of her skull, mussing her ponytail as she pressed her face against his chest. 

"Are you alright?" he asked her, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

She nodded, turning her face to press her cheek against his heartbeat. "I am now." 

She pulled back from him, mindful that people were beginning to watch them. 

Gianni looked down into her upturned face. "Where's Gabriel?"

Natasha withdrew her Blackberry from her pocket to check the time. "They should be boarding their flight soon." Gabriel's brow furrowed in consternation and Natasha rushed on. "I had to leave—with what happened last night—I might not have gotten another chance anytime soon." She heaved a sigh, momentarily squeezing her eyes shut. "I sent him with Marcella, our nanny, to the states—to my friends. I had to get out, and I didn't want Gabriel with me if Luca caught up with us. I just want him away from all this." 

"What happened last night?" Gianni demanded. 

Natasha winced involuntarily, her gaze darting around them. "Can we talk about that later? Like, somewhere else?" 

Gianni looked as though he would refuse her but relented. Taking her hand firmly in his, he led her through the crowds past the massive doors leading into the Basilica di San Pietro and down the stairs onto the piazza. They threaded their way through the Vatican crowds until they turned down a narrow side street. 

He turned to her abruptly, holding out his hand. "Your phone." 

Natasha dug into her bag, coming out with the blackberry. "What about it?" 

Gianni took it from her and dropped it into a planter outside a small trattoria. 

Natasha felt a  momentary lurch of panic as they left her means of communicating with Marcella and Gabriel behind but she knew it was for the best. Gianni gave her hand a reassuring squeeze at her look. "We'll keep in touch another way, alright?"

Natasha nodded mutely and allowed Gianni to settle her into a black Mini Couper with tinted windows. 

She settled down into the seat, silently watching the streets pass as Gianni expertly wove in and out of traffic. 

Gianni glanced at her as they drove through the countryside heading north. She gazed out the window, her face turned away from him. She was different than when he had known her. She was more reserved, aloof. She was a very different woman and he hated himself for it. 

I didn't want to think of what she had endured over the last three years. He thought back to the day he had confronted her on the street and the bruises on her wrists, on her jaw. Luca had not handled her lightly and she seemed resigned to it. Her handbag had been stuffed with sleeping pills, painkillers. It was evident to him that just her daily life required heavy medication in order be bearable. 

How alone she must have felt, keeping her secret and having everyone she loved believe that she had betrayed them. Giannini felt that he, himself, had betrayed her love and her trust.  She had endured it for his sake all these years while he was occupied with hating her with every fiber of his being. 

He had clung desperately to that hatred the day on the street when she had looked to tired and lost. The trembling in her hands, the dull look in her eyes, and the rigid way she held herself had inflicted a web of cracks across the emotional wall he had so carefully constructed between them. 

He was fighting himself from that moment even as he coldly told himself that she was getting what she deserved, that she had brought it upon herself.

His guts twisted. He had abandoned her and his son when they had needed him the most. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, the blood leaving his knuckles. 

"Feels familiar, doesn't it," she murmured, breaking into his thoughts though she didn't turn to him. 

He swallowed thickly, unable to form an answer, his voice stuck in his throat. 

"Running from Luca, I mean," she said faintly. "It feels like I've been running or wishing I could run my whole life."

The despair in her voice shredded him. "We'll fix this, Natasha," he said softly, and then his voice hardened. "I'll fix this."

She didn't answer him, merely continuing to stare out the window. 

They drove throughout the night, stopping occasionally to buy petrol or grab a bite to eat. Natasha was largely silent, her mind clearly occupied elsewhere. Anxiety rolled off her in waves, but he could think of nothing to say which might comfort her. 

The sun was rising when he finally pulled the car onto a narrow lane, hedged by grape vines. 

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Amboise," he told her. 

She glance at him. They were in France. 

Gianni pulled the car to a stop on the circular drive before a stately white chateau and got out of the car. 

Natasha hesitated when the front door of the chateau opened and an older white-haired gentleman exited. 

She watched as the gentleman and Gianni embraced, speaking briefly before they both turned toward the car. 

Natasha undid her seatbelt exited the vehicle hesitantly. 

The older gentleman went to her immediately, taking her hands between his own. 

"Welcome, cherie," he said. His face was friendly and open and creased with age. The sparkle in his eye and his smile was genuine. "Welcome to my home. I'm Bertrand Devalier." 

Natasha attempted to return his smile but failed miserably, her smile wavering. 

He gently tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her into the chateau. "You must be exhausted. Let's find you a room to rest." 

Gianni followed closely behind.

Bertrand led her to a homey rom with elegant touches overlooking the vineyards. 

"I'll place Gianni just across the hall," he said patting her hand consolingly. 

Natasha nodded absently as the door closed behind her. She could hear Gianni and Bertrand speaking in hushed tones as the moved away from the door but she had no interest in their conversation.




La Vita Dolce Ch. 17



She couldn't bring herself to lay down. Her nerves were too frayed. She half expected Luca to burst in at any moment and kill them all. 

Instead she pulled an armchair up to the large window overlooking the rows of grapevines and the drive up to the chateau.

She told herself that she was just watching the sunrise over the estate, not watching the driveway for a cavalcade of black SUVs racing up to the chateau to deliver her to her death. 

She was so intent that she didn't hear the soft knock at her door hours later. 

Gianni's gaze went immediately to the untouched bed, and then to the chair facing the window. 

Natasha was there, staring out the window blankly, her legs tucked beneath her. 

She started when she noticed him standing at her shoulder. 

"Have you slept?" he asked her quietly, taking in her red rimmed eyes and the pallor of her face. 

She shook her head. No.

Sighing, Gianni bent and lifted her into his arms. He sat her on the edge of the bed to tug off her boots. He unwound the scarf from around her neck. 

He pulled her up into his arms once more and settled himself onto the bed, tucking her against his chest. "Sleep, Natasha," he soothed, lightly stroking her hair. "He won't find us here." 

"How do you know?" Her voice sounded small, even to herself. 

Gianni pressed his cheek against her brow. "Bertrand is an old friend of my mother's," he said quietly. "She was nothing like my father and neither is Bertrand. He's nothing like my father, or Luca, or me for that matter. He's a good man and we're safe here. You can sleep." 

He tightened his arms around her. Natasha pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart beat strong and steady. She let her heavy eyelids close. 

Sleep. When was the last time she had been able to sleep without fear of Luca entering her room drunk—without worry what new hurt or humiliation that the next day might bring. It had been years. She instinctively wanted to reach for her purse and the pills within that would ease her into repose but she resisted the urge. 

Gianni could feel her fighting sleep, struggling. He continued to hold her tightly, stroking her hair until her breath evened out and she let go of consciousness. 

Only then did he allow himself to fall asleep as well.