Katherine Garbera - The Moretti Heir / Billionaire Extraordinaire - The Moretti Heir / Billionaire Extraordinaire

This was something she hadn’t planned for. Being with Marco again wasn’t going to be easy, because each time she was with him she didn’t want to leave. But more than that, she realized that he wanted answers from her, and she was going to have to keep on her toes to stay one step ahead of him.

Marco led the way upstairs to his apartment. He hated staying in hotels, and since Moretti Motors always had a driver in F1, over the years the company had bought residences in all of the major cities where the races were held.

He was trying to be genial and laid-back, though he really wanted answers. But after that one passionate outburst he’d had back at the track, he knew he needed to rein himself in.

He didn’t want Virginia to realize how much she’d gotten to him. And she had. Until he’d seen her again, he hadn’t realized that he’d been searching for her in every crowd—that he’d been waiting for her at each race. And that each win and each loss was marked by the fact that she wasn’t there.

He’d never let anyone have that kind of power over him. He didn’t think he’d “let” Virginia. For some reason, she was the one woman who could make him react this way. Only finding out every detail of who she was would give him the peace he needed.

Dinner had yielded few answers. She was very clever at keeping the conversation off herself and on him. But he was determined to learn more about Virginia, and he wanted to do it without asking her flat out for the answers. She’d set the rules of their game by disappearing and by the very mystery of who she was.

“You’re staring at me,” she said.

“You’re a beautiful woman. Surely I’m not the first man to stare at you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not really beautiful.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I find you captivating.”

“Marco.”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll be tempted to believe you, and you just said that you weren’t interested in any woman for the long term.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not really interested in the long term, either, are you, Virginia?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

He had no idea what she meant by that comment. Maybe she was just as confused about what was happening between them as he was. But she’d left after one night. Most women didn’t do that.

He wasn’t being a chauvinist or anything like that. His experience had shown him that women stuck around for a while. That only when they were convinced a man wasn’t going to be the right one for them to spend their lives with did they move on.

“A woman who leaves while a man is sleeping surely isn’t looking for ‘happily ever after’…though I thought most American women were.”

“Why would you ever think such a thing? American women are independent.”

“My mother watches Desperate Housewives. ” To be honest, he wasn’t too sure about that show as a standard for American women. But Elena was American, and she wanted to be married.

“That’s a TV show.”

“Television shows are made popular by the way they exaggerate real life.”

“Marco, that makes no sense.”

“You are simply saying that because you don’t agree with my theory.”

“Okay, if you’re right about TV echoing life, how do you feel about movies?”

“I think that, to a certain extent they reflect the view of what they are representing. You know, I’m not saying that movies and television programs are real life, simply that they mirror an attitude of the culture that produced them.”

She was so bubbly with her passion for discussing this. He liked it because he could tell that she wasn’t planning what she would say to him. She wasn’t keeping this conversation all about him, the way she had during dinner. This was something real. An indication of the woman who was Virginia.

He still didn’t know her last name, but he would before morning. He hoped to spend this night uncovering all of her secrets.

He would know everything about her body, of course—he was already intimately acquainted with the sounds she made when her body was suffused with pleasure. Now he wanted to know what made her mad. What made Virginia cry? What made her laugh and smile? He needed that knowledge and he would be ruthless about getting it.

“Did you see the movie Talladega Nights? ” she asked him.

“Yes. It was quite funny, with that Will Ferrell.”

“Um…by rights I should assume you are like the French driver in the movie.”

It took him a moment to figure out that she was trying to say he might be gay. He saw the sparkle in her eyes. She was teasing him. He knew he shouldn’t feel good about that fact, but he did.

He closed the distance between them, tired of not holding her in his arms. The last month had been too long. He’d focused on racing and on the promo events that went with the Formula One season, but every night he’d had passion-filled dreams of Virginia and he wanted to make them a reality.

“I think I’ve proven that I’m more interested in women than men,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “But perhaps you need another demonstration?”

She put her hands on his face and rose up to kiss him with the gentle passion he associated only with Virgina.

“I have no doubts that you are interested in women. I was trying to make a point,” she said.

“Instead, you proved that Americans think Frenchmen are gay. It matters not to me. I’m Italian, and interested in only one woman tonight.”

“Me?”

“You,” he said, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

He put her on her feet next to the bed. As he stroked one finger down the side of her neck and traced the soft fabric neckline of her dress, shivers spread down her body. His fingers were warm against her skin and she wasn’t really listening to what he was saying.

She simply watched his lips to see if he was going to kiss her. That was what she really wanted and needed. She had missed him. And though she’d had other relationships before Marco that one night in his arms had far exceeded what she’d expected. He’d marked her indelibly and she’d been unable to forget his touch.

“I’m almost afraid to believe that you are really here.”

“I am here,” she said. Truly, she was afraid to believe that he’d taken her back into his arms so easily.

He leaned down, his lips brushing over hers. They were so soft, yet so commanding. And as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, she stopped thinking and just gave herself over to the feelings that were swamping her.

When she was standing naked in front of him, he traced the scar under her breast. “Do you realize that this is one of the only things I know about your past?”

She felt a frisson of fear at his words. He could never know about her past. His family and hers were enemies. Real life Capulet and Montague stuff.

“My past isn’t important, Marco. Only what we have when we are together. Make love to me.”

“Why?”

She felt more vulnerable now than she had just a second before. “I want to know that I’m really here in your arms.”

He bent down to trace the scar with his tongue. His hands cupping the weight of both her breasts, one long forefinger stroking up and over her nipples. She shivered in his embrace, needing more of him. He made her react so quickly…he was like a flame she couldn’t stay away from.

She tunneled her fingers through his thick black hair and held his head to her body. He murmured something in Italian against her skin. Then she felt his lips against her breast. His mouth moved over the skin, tongue licking and teeth lightly scraping until she was desperate for more of him. She needed more than just his mouth lightly touching her.