Tacie Graves - Compromising Positions

“Hello handsome.” Her bravery tanks were full to overflowing, and she nuzzled the soft area beneath Marco’s ear. “If I promise to come back will you let me up? Nature is calling.”

He released her slowly, sleep and want fighting against her request, but after deciding she really wasn’t a flight risk, he pulled his hands away and she was free.

“If you’re not back in five minutes I’m coming after you.” The words were teasing, but Mina knew the truth in them.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Another quick kiss and she was up, padding naked across the carpet to the connected bath.

It took only a minute to satisfy her body’s needs, but by that time she was wide awake. The catharsis she’d felt earlier had not only erased her doubts about how Marco felt, but had somehow repaired the damage of two days in emotional hell. She felt light, and happy.

And naked.

She walked back into the bedroom. All her things were still there, the clothes Marco had bought to dress her in, but she knew she’d never wear them again. She was a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, and Marco wanted her anyway. That was good enough.

She looked back over her shoulder and grabbed a robe off the closet hook.

“I’m going to run down to the office and get my clothes.”

An eyebrow lifted but he didn’t question her decision. “I hope I didn’t ruin them. I was in something of a hurry earlier.”

Bright spots flared on Mina’s face as she remembered his hurry and she thought a ripped shirt would be well worth the price.

“I should still get them.” She laughed a little ruefully. “I’d hate for someone to come in and see the wreck we left down there.”

“Fuck the wreck.” Marco’s voice was thick and sleepy and he shifted under the covers to get comfortable again. “Just come back quickly. The bed is cold without you.”

The bed might be cold, but the words warmed Mina’s heart.

“Couldn’t keep me away,” she said, and meant it.

She headed out the door and down the hall, her bare feet silent on the Oriental runner, and she looked around her with new eyes. It was a beautiful place, a contrast of dark woods and windows, and she understood Marco’s fondness for it, even though his childhood here hadn’t been ideal.

She descended the stairs lightly, and she realized she’d never been this comfortable in the house before. The weight of her uncertainty had made her an outsider, regardless of reality, and she hoped that it was gone for good. There would be days when she didn’t fit in, and there’d be a steep learning curve for dealing with Marco’s world, but it was her world too, now, and it would be a challenge she looked forward to.

The office was as bad as she expected. Papers were everywhere, a pen cup had been thrown across the room spilling its contents across the floor, but Mina couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed by the silent testimony of her clothes. She found her shirt and bra hanging on the back of an armchair, and her jeans in a crumpled pile beneath the desk. Her panties? Well, they were around somewhere, but…

“You are back.”

Mina raised up quickly from her search and hit her head on the bottom of the desk with a crack . Bianca Genovese was standing in the door, her back ramrod straight and an oddly curious look on her face.

“I will be honest, I doubted you would return.”

The embarrassment she’d felt at being caught searching for her underwear faded quickly as she confronted the woman who’d tried so hard to chase her out of Marco’s life.

“What is it they say? Climate is what you expect and weather is what you get?” Mina straightened the clothes in her arms. “Well, it looks like the weather has rained on your parade.”

The older woman looked at her for a moment, obviously trying to follow the English, and Mina wished for the millionth time she spoke Italian. It was much easier to yell in Italian.

“My parade. Yes. I think I understand.” She nodded and looked at the clothes in Mina’s arms. “I assume that Marco has returned as well?”

There was no anger in her voice, no accusation, and Mina nodded warily. “He brought me back.”

Bianca walked into the office. She walked across to the fireplace behind the desk and lifted a pair of black cotton panties from the poker handle. She held them out and Mina took them from her with an embarrassed, “Thank you.”

The silence between them was so thick you could spread it on toast, but Mina knew there was no advantage in arguing with her. Nothing she said would change this woman’s opinion of her.

“I do not expect that you like me very much.”

There’s a news flash, Mina thought. She nodded, a polite admission, but didn’t say anything.

“I wouldn’t like me very much either, if I were in your place.”

The admission was a surprise. Marco’s mother sounded almost apologetic, and that couldn’t be right.

“When Marco told me that he was handing the family’s heritage, the collezione , over to a total stranger I was furious. Then, when I realized he was using it as leverage to get into your bed, I was even more so.” A tight line developed around her mouth. “I did not raise my son to buy the attentions of women, and any woman who allowed herself to be bought, well…” she made a noise in her throat and Mina winced.

“As if it wasn’t enough for him to be sending his heritage off to some American museum, he had the nerve to bring you here. To his home. To me.” She turned away and stared out the window. “It was intolerable.”

Mina stood silently, every word hitting her like a little splash of alcohol in a paper cut. Superficial, but excruciating. A special kind of torture.

“I saw you and I knew you were a gold digging little puttana .” Finally there was anger in Bianca’s voice.

I knew she knew what a whore was , Mina thought bitterly.

“I called Serafina Mazza, the woman you saw in the office with Marco, and told her that he was back in the country. I told her that he wanted to marry, to settle down, and take up his family’s responsibilities here in Portofino.” Bianca gave a twisted little smile. “I thought it was better to have the devil I knew, instead of the devil I didn’t.”

Black eyes fixed on Mina, and she braced herself for another attack.

“I was wrong.”

It was so far from what she was expecting that she swayed on her feet, her resistance unnecessary.

“Wrong?” It wasn’t smart to ask-there were too many ways she could be hurt by this woman-but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to understand.

“I watched you that night. I saw the pain on your face, and I felt guilty that I had put it there, but I didn’t regret it. But then…” Bianca’s voice broke, something Mina had never heard before, and it took a moment for her to regroup. “Then I saw Marco.”

“He struck his brother. I couldn’t believe it. Never, not through their entire childhood, did he ever raise a hand to Gio. Gio was brilliant, and stubborn, and enough to drive a saint to madness, but Marco knew he was bigger and stronger.” She remembered something and laughed. “Oh they fought, cats and dogs those two, but it was never physical.”

“At first I thought it was temper finally catching up to him, Italian men are famous for it, but then I looked in his eyes. It wasn’t temper,” she looked at Mina, her face solemn, “it was fear. He was afraid of losing you.”

Mina swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, but she could find no words. She was stunned into silence by what she was hearing.

“That evening, after he figured out what Serafina and I had done, he turned on me as well. It was as if someone had replaced him with a caged animal, and at that point I was afraid of losing him .”