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Giovanni, My Love

A Tale of Romance and Suspense

I am ? Lenise Lee

A thousand lives to live…one breath…one

word…one story at a time…

iamleniselee.wordpress.com

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Also Available from Lenise Lee

Love for a Lifetime

An Angel For Ms. Right

Love Before A Wedding

Into The Wind

Romance After Dark

After the Sunset

New Sensations

Simone: Second Chances

Brave World Chronicles

Instinct

Impulse

Holiday Love

The Christmas Gift (also available in

My Colorful Romance, Collection)

Falling Snow (My Colorful Romance,

Collection)

Sweet Beginnings and Spicy Endings

(Collection)

Giovanni, My Love by Lenise Lee.

Copyright © 2012 by Lenise Lee

Publications. All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts to be used solely in a review, the reproduction

or utilization of this work in whole or in part by print, electronically, mechanically or by any

means is strictly forbidden without the expressed written permission of the author.

The unauthorized reproduction of this copyrighted work is illegal.

Federal copyright law prohibits unauthorized reproduction by any means and imposes fines

up to $250,000 or up to 5 years in prison for violation.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents have no existence

outside of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events,

locales, or people, living or deceased, is coincidental.

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture is THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®,

NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved world-

wide. (Bold added.)

WARNING: The material included in this work is intended for adult readers 18 years of age and older. Please

store this material in a safe place where underage readers will not have access to view it.

Author’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. Although the characters in this fictitious writing engage in unprotected and experi-

mental sexual acts, the author does not endorse unsafe sexual practices in real life situations.

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Excerpt

…As they swayed, Marissa’s lengthy sil-

ver gown barely touched the floor below.

On all sides of them, specs of silvery

glitter danced across the walls of the dim
dining hall. A loving blue gaze caressed
Marissa’s face, stroking her emotions and
urging her fingers to clamp onto the hard
bicep muscles hiding beneath Marco’s din-
ner jacket. Marco responded to her feverish
hold by wrapping an equally possessive
grip around her slim waist, pressing
Marissa’s shivering belly flat against his
muscular body. The rhythm of the sultry
jazz melody lured Marissa into laying her
head on the wide span of his chest. As she
listened to the soothing patter of Marco’s
heartbeat, her hands began to roam up the
collar of his pressed shirt. Eager fingertips

quickly twined themselves in the groomed
and glossy tresses of his blond hair. Silky
strands that glinted like sun streaks slipped
through Marissa’s greedy palms…

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Welcome, Dear Reader!

How long has it been since I last whipped up
a tale of mystery and romance? Hm…Far too
long, I suppose, but I am very excited about
sharing this next adventure with you. The
story on the pages that follow is my first se-
quel to After the Sunset. I won’t give away
any clues, except this one – Falling in love is
scary enough, however, it becomes twice as
thrilling and adds a double dose of feverish
excitement when you’re never quite sure if
the man tapping at your heart is really who
he seems to be…Enjoy!
LL

PS –
For readers who have joined me on previous
tales and for those that are just now tagging
along, I wanted to add a quick note. In this
story, I will be reintroducing two pairs of
characters…Nichole and Pierce (After the

Sunset) and also Jasmine and Alex (The
Christmas Gift)…I won’t give away anymore
details, but I’m sure you may pleased with
the answer to at least one question, which
has been lingering for quite some time… ?

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Song of Songs 1:2

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Giovanni, My Love

By

Lenise Lee

PART ONE

~G~

Shadows

Chapter One

Hero

Save the woman or maintain his cover?

From behind the tinted window of a

midnight blue sedan, Marcello Rossi had a
concealed view of the unfortunate scenario
that was about to unfold. By his count, the
masked robber would reach his target, a slim
American woman who was traveling the
gloomy side street alone, in less than sixty
seconds. Theft was the most likely motive;
however, once the vagrant had the female
held under his full control, there was a
chance his crime spree might escalate.
Would he attempt to force himself upon her
in some vulgar way? The flickering light of
the lamppost at the corner barely touched
this isolated section of the walkway, and

made the solitary woman an easy target for
all types of mischief.

The concealed man’s hesitation in exit-

ing the parked car had nothing to do with
whether or not he would be able to over-
power the robber. Rossi was a trained sol-
dier, whose reaction time was measured in
milliseconds. He would be able to outman-
euver his rival well before the creeping thug
could ever throw his first punch. Agent
Rossi’s true dilemma was deciding whether
he should attempt to help the attractive fe-
male. Once he stepped out of his discreet
vantage point, the woman might catch a
glimpse of his face. Such a seemingly minor
detail held the potential to ruin a critical
timeline. He needed a very specific set of
events to occur exactly as planned over the
next few days. If even one person discovered
his actual identity or the real reason for his
trip to New York, Rossi’s entire operation
would be at risk of exposure. Weeks of

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strategizing, down to the smallest detail, how
to discreetly transport the valuable cargo
across international borders might fall apart
with one glance.

If he revealed himself now, his actions

would be solely motivated by his boyish in-
fatuation with the lovely woman; he was un-
der no obligation to keep her out of harm’s
way. The nervous agent had to continuously
remind himself that his assignment was to
monitor the young woman – a central piece
of this complicated puzzle – not to protect
her. Personal feelings and desires should
never take priority during a mission; such a
mistake might lead to his faceless adversar-
ies gaining a crucial advantage. Even so, he
could not sit idly by while the helpless female
was assaulted right in front of his eyes. He
had the power to save her from this cruel
fate, but what would be the consequences of
his noble act?

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With danger rapidly descending upon

the unsuspecting woman, Marcello’s pulse
tripled. He shifted his weight from side to
side in the driver’s seat; it was a struggle to
keep his body pinned down. As the frustra-
tion over his indecision spiked to its peak, he
balled his large hands into tights fists. Time
was ticking down fast; he had to make a
choice. Watch in silence or become a
crusader?

In the blink of an eye, Rossi’s fate was

sealed. The glint of the mugger’s chrome-tin-
ted knife forced him into daring motion. He
had to act fast or else the silver blade pointed
at the woman’s back would become the in-
strument of her doom. He would deal with
the consequences of his bold actions later,
and would revise his original plan as needed.

Twenty seconds.
Rossi exited the vehicle and quietly shut

the car door. He zipped up his black sweat
jacket and pulled the thick hood over his

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head. Hoping to conceal as much of his face
as possible, he made sure the hood was
pulled down over his brow, almost to the tip
of his nose.

Keeping his eyes locked on his target,

the special ops agent pushed his athletic legs
across the narrow street at a stealthy pace.
As he moved, only smooth, even breaths
flowed from his massive lungs and through
his flared nostrils.

Fifteen seconds.
Farther up the street and closer to his

foe, Rossi crouched lower to the cold asphalt.
He crept toward the thug at an angle where
the other man would not easily detect his ap-
proach. When he was within better range,
Rossi’s sharp eyes rapidly scanned his op-
ponent. The two men were nearly equal in
build – standing at tower heights with
broad and athletic bodies. Marcello’s best
offensive maneuver would be to trap the

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criminal in a chokehold then twist his wrist
until he released the knife.

The agent’s bicep muscles twitched in

preparation for his attack. He steadied his
legs to spring forward and prepared his
strong upper body to tackle the ski-masked
villain.

Ten seconds remaining – but time was

up.

Rossi’s plan to overtake the criminal be-

fore he reached the woman had failed. He
had gravely underestimated the hoodlum’s
speed and agility. The robber’s free hand
connected with the female’s left shoulder. He
gripped the startled victim tight, swung her
around to face him, then waved the blade
menacingly close to her chin. The terrified
woman’s chilling screams bounced off the
red brick walls on both sides of the thruway
and gouged Marcello’s ears.

On instinct, the elite soldier’s mind and

body shifted into battle mode. His legs

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pumped faster, forcing his sneakers to pound
hard and swift across the blackened street.
Driven by pure adrenaline, Rossi became a
quiet stampede, ready to flatten his oppon-
ent with one brutal blow. As he ran full force
toward his adversary, a testosterone-soaked
blur filled his vision.

A split second after Rossi reached out

and tried to snake his forearm around the
other man’s neck, the robber turned on him.
His opponent’s counter-motion was light-
ning fast and unexpected. It was almost as
though he had been anticipating Rossi’s ap-
proach the entire time. Before the agent
could move to block the strike, the villain’s
stiff elbow connected with Rossi’s chest. The
thug delivered his vicious blow with dizzying
speed and painful accuracy. On impact, Mar-
cello stumbled but quickly recovered his bal-
ance. He immediately retaliated by sending a
flurry of powerful punches at his rival. With
every hit Marcello landed to the center of the

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villain’s jaw, controlled rage pulsed faster
through his blood. When Marcello prepared
to strike again, the robber tried to lean away
from the rushing fists; the agent wasted no
time in taking advantage of the weak angle,
hurling a crushing blow into the man’s upper
ribcage. The force and shock of the hit
stunned the villain’s entire nervous system.
The mugger yelled out in pain; arched his
crippled chest; and dropped the useless
weapon he had been gripping on the frigid
concrete.

When Rossi leaned in to deliver another

double tap to his opponent’s chin, the slip-
pery villain ducked the jabs. The swift man
aimed his strikes at the center of the agent’s
chest; however, this time, Rossi was ready
for the defensive attack and sidestepped the
punches. The two men squared off with huge
fists balled up tight. Each fighter swung at
exactly the same moment, landing solid
shots to the nose and cheek of his opponent.

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Rossi recovered a half second faster. He
reached out and snapped his strong fingers
around the other man’s throat. A primal im-
pulse to completely annihilate his enemy
surged through his body. He squeezed his
palm around the delicate bones, trying to
brutally crush the neck he was clutching.
Marcello could feel the villain’s Adam’s apple
struggling to bob up and down; as his airway
was mercilessly shut off from fresh oxygen,
he wheezed out every breath with painful dif-
ficulty. The robber struggled to loosen the
death hold he was locked in, but his efforts
were worthless. Behind the vagrant’s dark
ski mask, a pair of hateful eyes glared at
Marcello. Although the dim florescent glow
of the streetlamp shadowed the color of his
enemy’s eyes, Marcello could plainly see the
burning rage filling the other man’s vicious
stare.

A second set of blood-curdling screams

pierced the air. The woman was yelling for

27/333

help, and her cries were starting to draw at-
tention. Busy pedestrians walking along the
main avenue were stopping for a brief glance
at the alleyway brawl. Most continued on to-
ward their destinations, but some remained
behind to witness the savage scuffle.

A devastating pain suddenly shattered

Marcello’s concentration. The thief had used
the small moment of distraction to hurl his
forehead upward and smash it against the
agent’s brow. Rossi’s eyesight went dim and
his balance shifted. After losing grip on the
other man’s throat, he dropped to his knees
while the nauseating agony of the blow in-
stantly crippled him.

When Rossi was down, as throbbing

pains radiated across the crown of his head
and stabbed the length of his spine, the rob-
ber turned toward the female again. He
lunged at her with ferocious speed and
snatched away the handbag she was clutch-
ing to her chest. With one powerful tug, the

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leather strap broke, sending the entire con-
tents of the large purse spilling in all direc-
tions on the sidewalk surrounding the trio.
While Marcello fought hard to regain his
strength, he watched the robber casually lean
down and pickup a thin piece of white
plastic, probably one of the woman’s credit
cards.

After much effort, Marcello finally man-

aged to push away the debilitating vertigo
that had stunned his mind. He jumped to his
feet and stood up to his full height. The agent
motioned toward his target, on the brink of
pounding the masked man into the cold
ground, but the thief turned and abandoned
the scene. He sprinted toward the main
street; dove through the center of the gather-
ing crowd like a human bullet; then disap-
peared into the chilly night.

Rossi watched the fleeing villain with

hawk eyes; however, he allowed the other
man to escape. It would have been pointless

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to prolong the stalemate any longer. The pair
had been evenly matched, and that fact did
not sit well in Marcello’s mind. Later, he
would need to evaluate this sequence of
events, moment by moment. Somehow, he
had missed a critical factor; there was an un-
seen yet vital clue that would help him to
make sense of the unexpected outcome of
this battle. Over the length of his career, Spe-
cial Agent Rossi had trampled dozens of
highly trained and deadly mercenaries. How
was it possible that a common thief had
nearly defeated him in hand-to-hand com-
bat? The answer was simple – It should nev-
er have happened this way.

The crackle of an aging window being

pried from its warped frame filled the crisp
autumn air. Overhead, a gray-haired woman
peeked her head from an apartment window
facing the thin street. At the corner, the
throng of pedestrians grew thicker and the
buzz of their muted conversations began to

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intensify. At any moment, cell phones with
mini-cams would be pulled from jacket pock-
ets and purses. To avoid being caught in a
photo or video clip, Marcello needed to hast-
ily slip back into the shadow he had emerged
from. The slightest detail of his face posted
in the local papers or shown on the news
sites could be enough to alert many enemies
of his presence in the country.

He poised his foot to turn and run, but a

tiny whimper halted his exit. Marcello’s eyes
followed the sound of the shaky sob. At the
base of the apartment building’s grimy brick
wall, the frightened female was huddled in a
tight ball. Her arms were looped around her
bent knees and she was shivering uncontrol-
lably. One glance at the woman’s stone-faced
fear was more than enough to tighten his
chest and flood the reluctant hero’s lungs
with a warm sensation. Devotion, even in its
earliest stages, is a dangerous emotion for a
covert officer; yet, this deceptive sentiment

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was continuing to draw Marcello Rossi fur-
ther away from his sworn duties. He should
have fled; nevertheless, he felt compelled to
stay. The urgent need to watch over his lady
for a little while longer was too intense to
deny. His heart was pressing him to reach
out and touch her, to cup her cinnamon-
shaded face in his hands, and whisper words
of comfort into her small ears. The impulse
to hold his woman in the safety of his arms,
to assure her that he would never allow any-
one to ever harm her was tingling at the tips
of Marcello’s fingers. In spite of these de-
sires, Agent Rossi understood that, for many
reasons, such affection would be impossible
to ever share with her.

Marcello pulled the hood of his jacket

down further over his face; afterward, he
moved a few steps closer in her direction.
The woman immediately shrieked and
pushed herself against the wall. He stopped a
short distance away then lifted his hands and

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opened his palms as a sign of peace. His in-
tent was to express to the woman that he was
not her enemy – at least, not for now. Even-
tually, a time might come when the pair
would be trapped on opposite sides of a very
thin line, which would separate friend from
foe.

Once Marcello felt confident that she

understood his intentions were harmless, he
kneeled down, grabbed her purse, and star-
ted to push her strewn belongings inside.
After a few staggered seconds, from the
corner of his eye, he saw the female slowly
unwrapped herself from the wall. She moved
forward and started helping to gather up her
possessions. As the crowd surged closer to
them, Rossi made sure to keep his head
dipped low, with his nose nearly touching
the top of his chest. Even one picture of him
was one too many.

“Thank you.”

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A tiny whisper floated into Marcello’s

ears, filling his mind with a rush of confusing
and thrilling emotions. He had heard the fe-
male’s soft voice many times before, by way
of radio surveillance, but never this near to
his naked ear and only a breath away from
brushing against his bare skin. It was a bit-
tersweet feeling to endure, the temptation of
being so close to the object of his kindling af-
fection yet forbidden to speak a single word
to her in return.

Against his better judgment to avoid all

eye contact with the woman, Marcello made
another critical mistake. He glanced up and
was immediately entangled in her hazel gaze.
Two pairs of curious eyes became locked in a
passionate stare. No movement. No breath-
ing. The rest of the world, and its list of
never-ending worries and burdens, drifted
away.

The wailing of a police siren cut the in-

tense moment, alerting the agent that his

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burrowed time had expired. At this phase of
the plan, Marcello could not afford to have
any dealings whatsoever with local law en-
forcement. Run. Now. His honed instincts
warned him to flee. Despite his continued re-
luctance to part from the enchanting female,
he had to obey. There were no more seconds
to spare.

His buzzing mind worked fast to trans-
late his words into English.
“You are…okay?” Marcello spoke his
question in a hoarse whisper, hoping it
would be enough to cover his heavy
accent.
The woman nodded slowly in response.
“Yes…I…think so,” she whispered in a

fragile voice. With the back of her palm, she
swiped away unshed tears from her dark
eyelashes.

A burst of anger flared up within his

veins. Given a second chance, for trying to
harm such a delicate flower, Marcello would

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have squeezed the life from her attacker’s
wretched neck.

Blue and red swirls bouncing off the

edges of the walls signaled that the police
had arrived. Once he stood to his feet, Mar-
cello willingly made one more flawed move
on the chessboard.

“Goodbye…Marissa.” The instant he

spoke them aloud, the words stung his lips
like a forbidden kiss.

Without looking back, the special agent

bounded across the blacktop street and
entered his vehicle. A surge of regrets
coupled with curiously exciting sensations
consumed his thoughts. While attempting to
play the role of a dark hero, the mission lead-
er had made at least a dozen perilous mis-
takes that could jeopardize his objective;
even so, a defiant passion remained beating
strong within Marcello’s heart. He would
gladly repeat every error and toss caution to
the wind all over again, for the sake of saving

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the woman whom he had dared to ignite a si-
lent yearning for.

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Chapter Two

Lady

In a matter of seconds, the hooded man
sprinted to the back end of the street and
entered a dark car. The turbo engine revved
to life then the sound of screeching tires
pierced the tense air. As the vehicle sped in
reverse toward the alleyway’s rear exit, the
stinging smell of burning rubber filled
Marissa Stiles’ nose. By the time she lowered
her head to cough in response to the pungent
aroma then raised her chin again, the driver
had turned the car forward and sped out of
sight.

One thought remained lingering, even as

his dust trail drifted away – He spoke her
name.

Marissa shook her head in disbelief. Her

fear had caused her to hallucinate the famili-
ar word. He had probably said something
like Impossible. Goodbye, Miss or Ma’am.

After all, how could he have possibly known
her name? He was a complete stranger, a
random person driving by who had decided
to help her fight off the thug who tried to at-
tack her. This was the only answer her mind
would accept as truth. The other possibility
was too frightening to believe.

Marissa stiffened; a heavy chill rolled

down her back. Had she completely mixed
up the events? Instead of being her champi-
on, had the second man actually been an ac-
complice to this terrible event? At the very
last moment before the robbery, perhaps he
had changed his mind and gotten into a dis-
agreement with his partner, which caused
the fight. If that were true, and if he really
did know her name, had she somehow been
drawn into a trap?

Marissa’s emotions spiraled from fright

to shock then back again in a rapid cycle. Her
pulse hammered at her temples while she
drew in huge gulps of air. As oxygen and

39/333

blood rushed to her brain, her vision became
blurry. Confusion was filling her body with
massive doses of adrenaline and panic. The
woman had to regain control of her sanity
and to force back the terror running through
her mind, because she was only seconds
away from blacking out on the concrete side-
walk. Even as darkness started to settle over
her eyes, Marissa pressed her palm to the
center of her leather jacket, just above her
covered breasts, and willed her erratic heart
rate to calm down.

After a frightening moment of nearly

succumbing to shock, smooth and even
breaths slowly paved the way toward her in-
ternal recovery. Seconds later, the blare from
a shrieking siren echoed off the brick wall
behind her, shattering the peace Marissa was
desperately grasping for. Nearby, the rumble
of the crowd intensified. Shrill screeches of
tires freezing up on the asphalt, followed by
car doors being thrown open, and the

40/333

vibrations from feet pounding up the
thruway pushed Marissa’s fragile nerves to-
ward an overload. A fresh infusion of cold
fear shot through her entire body, sending
her limbs into violent and uncontrollable
trembles.

Her eyes darted in every direction as a

half dozen men dressed in navy blue clothing
suddenly surrounded her. Were they going
to attack her? Or were they here to help her?
She couldn’t think straight. There were too
many people moving toward her all at once,
too many sounds raking over her tender
eardrums. On all sides, she was being con-
sumed by sharp and intrusive noises. Hor-
rible glaring faces that were twisted into
wicked scowls silently mocked her, while a
tangle of arms reached out to snatch her up.
On instinct, the woman jumped to her feet
and pushed her back against the wall once
more. She dug her nails into the hard brick

41/333

surface and prepared her body to stand and
fight or to flee if she was overpowered.

“Hey, miss, calm down,” a man’s voice

called out from among the approaching at-
tackers. “We’re not gonna’ hurt you.”

The menacing group moved in tighter.

Marissa’s mind yelled out and warned them
to stay away, but her lips were frozen in
place. When her mouth trembled slightly,
not even a tiny murmur rolled off her
tongue. Soon, one of the men was close
enough to lay his fingers on her upper arm.
The instant he touched her, the horrified wo-
man’s fear reached unimaginable heights,
gripping her in a paralyzing embrace. At the
sensation of his heavy palm on her shoulder,
Marissa’s body went numb. She screamed
until her lungs were emptied of every ounce
of air. Then her hearing went silent and her
vision faded to black.

42/333

Gargled voices floated in from the surround-
ing darkness.

Marissa’s eyes flickered open and were

immediately flooded with blinding white
light. Snapping her eyelids closed, she
quickly shut out the intense glow. She wasn’t
quite ready to confront the outside world.
Her mind preferred the cool darkness rather
than the reality awaiting her. Her thoughts
desperately wanted to float back behind the
dark veil she had just emerged from, but the
string of voices on all sides prevented her
escape.

It was only a nightmare, nothing more

than a bad dream. They’ll all disappear
when I’m asleep again.

Marissa continued to reassure herself

that she was safely tucked away at home.
Without reopening her eyes, she pulled the
thin blanket up around her shoulders and
snuggled her body deeper into the mattress.
As a cozy slumber slowly crept over her

43/333

thoughts, the voices trickled further away in-
to nothingness.

Marissa.
A familiar female voice sliced through

the ensuing silence. The woman bolted up-
right and stared wide-eyed into the small
group gathered near her bedside. Her sight
bounced from face to face; however, none of
them matched the person she was searching
for. Eventually, and to Marissa’s great relief,
a worried face parted the crowd of nursing
staff and police. The anxious female darted
toward her with outstretched arms, which
Marissa quickly accepted and wrapped her-
self in, clinging to the girl with every ounce
of her strength.

“Jasmine,” Marissa sobbed while bury-

ing her face against the front of her sister’s
cream-colored wool coat.

The younger woman wasted no time in

taking on the role of comforter.

44/333

“Missy…it’s okay, I’m here. Shh…don’t

cry.”

Her words came too late; the hot stream

had already started to flow freely over
Marissa’s burning cheeks.

Without warning, an icy hand touched

her bare wrist causing her to shudder.

“I’m sorry,” a polite voice quickly re-

sponded. Afterward, a pair of serene gray
eyes peeked over her sister’s shoulder. “My
hands are probably cold, I should have
rubbed them together first.” One of the fe-
male nurses offered a small smile, but
Marissa was hesitant to return the senti-
ment. “I’m going to take your vital signs and
check your IV, sweetie.”

Without knowing exactly why, maybe

because she could not trust her own mind to
make the right decision, Marissa looked to
Jasmine for help. Her sister nodded a reas-
suring approval. She moved her protective
hold away from Marissa only enough for the

45/333

nurse to apply the stethoscope and cuff to
the frightened woman’s arm, and not a single
inch more.

“I passed out.” Marissa spoke the words

as someone who was unsure of whether or
not the voice coming from her throat was her
own.

“Yes, sweetie.”

The nurse replied

without making eye contact with Marissa.
“You’re in the emergency ward of the county
hospital.” Her tone was flat and empty, as
though she had spoken this statement a
countless number of times beforehand.

“For how long?” Marissa asked the ques-

tion to the open air rather than to anyone in
particular.

Her mind was only beginning to focus in

on the present scene. The sensation was like
emerging from a dream, which had become
so deep and so intense that it refused to re-
lease its firm grip on her mind. The waking
world seemed like part of her wavering

46/333

imagination and felt almost nothing like ac-
tual reality.

“The ambulance brought you in about

an hour ago. As far as I know, this is your
first time awake since then.”

An hour? All of those terrible events felt

as if they had happened not more than five
minutes ago, maybe less.

“Ma’am, we need to ask you a few ques-

tions.” A raspy male voice cut their conversa-
tion short.

Marissa’s gaze shifted to her right. On

the other side of the bed, two policemen, one
Caucasian and the other Hispanic, were star-
ing at her with blank expressions. Years of
street patrol had probably made the two men
immune to feeling sympathy for most vic-
tims. Very few crimes would be heinous
enough to stir up their hardened hearts.
Based on the expressions of indifferent on
their faces, Marissa’s case did not qualify as
one of those instances.

47/333

Jasmine released Marissa from her arms

but kept a secure hold on her hand. She
stood up and turned toward the two male
officers.

“Sir, I don’t think this is the right time

for questions.”

The olive-toned officer advanced two

steps

then

tilted

his

head

forward

respectfully.

“We understand your sister has been

through a lot this evening, Ms. Stiles.
However, we still have a job to do. We can’t
catch whoever tried to attack her unless she
gives us some details.”

“She’s not ready,” Jasmine’s tone was

defensive. “Can’t you see that she’s still shak-
ing? How is she supposed to calm down if
you pounce on her the minute she opens her
eyes?”

“Ma’am,” the second police officer

moved in closer, “we’re going to have to ask
you to leave the room. You’re not helping the

48/333

situation. The faster we get a statement, the
faster we can investigate the crime.”

The air became thick with tension. From

the corner of her eye, Marissa saw the
nurse’s movements cease while she quietly
watched the standoff. Marissa’s gaze flicked
back to her sister, whose lips were poised to
shoot out another snappy response.

“I didn’t see their faces.” Marissa rushed

the sentence from her lips.

One more word from Jasmine’s mouth

may have been one more word closer to her
being escorted away in cuffs. Such an out-
come was probably highly unlikely, but
Marissa wasn’t willing to take the chance.

“Did you say they?” Jasmine’s eyes

widened.

Marissa nodded weakly.
“How many assailants were there,
ma’am?” The second officer asked the
question while walking over to stand be-
side Jasmine.

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“There were two.” Marissa hesitated as
the memories flashed across her vision.
“No…no…just one.”
“Excuse me?” The policeman nearest to
her lowered his eyebrows. His tone was
filled with impatience. “Which is it?”
“I told you she wasn’t ready.” Jasmine
turned an angry scowl toward the man
standing next to her. “She’s confused.”
The cop with the pale skin tossed the
feisty woman a warning glance.
“Only one man actually tried to assault
me,” Marissa said while pushing herself
up higher in the bed.
Before continuing, in effort to calm her

sister’s bitter reactions, she squeezed Jas-
mine’s slim hand. Even under the menacing
glare of an officer of the law, Jasmine Stiles
was strong-willed and not easily intimidated.

“He put a knife in my face and that’s

when a second man came running out of
nowhere. He knocked it out of the mugger’s

50/333

hand then the two of them fought. When the
man who came to help me was distracted by
the crowd standing at the corner, the mugger
hit him hard then ran off.”

“What about the second man?” The His-

panic officer asked the question while scrib-
bling onto a small notepad. “Did you see
where he went?”

“After he helped me to pick up my be-

longings, he ran back to his car and drove
away.”

The two men glanced up and eyed each

other. Their faces were fixed in serious
stares, as if they were communicating with
muted words. A few seconds passed before
either one of them spoke again.

“Was this a domestic dispute?”
The Caucasian officer folded his arms

across his chest. That one motion was
enough for Marissa to feel as if her role had
suddenly been shifted from victim to
suspect.

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“Is it possible that your two boyfriends

didn’t know about each other? Maybe you
were out on a date with one and got caught.”
He paused, possibly to rethink his next
words. “Were you caught in the middle while
they were trying to settle the matter?”

His sly accusation was beyond offensive.

Marissa snatched her hand out of Jasmine’s
hold. She leaned in closed enough for the
buffoon to see the fury in her eyes.

“What are you trying to say? I just told

you I didn’t see their faces. Wouldn't I know
what the men I’m supposed to be dating
looked like? I don’t have a reason to lie…Do
you have a reason why you’re trying to make
me into the villain?”

The cop narrowed his eyes at Marissa,

but remained silent.

“We weren’t trying to offend you

ma’am.” The sound of his partner’s voice dis-
tracted her simmering attention. “We need
to be as thorough as possible, that’s all.”

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“Yeah…sure,” Marissa answered in one

sharp breath. Afterward, she snapped her
lips closed before her temper flared any
wilder.

“Guys, I think Ms. Stiles has been

through enough for one night,” the ER nurse
finally spoke up. “Maybe you two can leave a
card and she can give you a ring tomorrow,
once she’s had some rest.”

She moved from the monitoring equip-

ment and gave the moronic man a slight tap
on the shoulder as she passed by him. His re-
sponse was a hard clench of his jaw muscles.

“Yeah…we’ll do that,” he said, but

walked out of the room immediately after
speaking.

After his partner disappeared into the

whitewashed hallway, the first cop stayed be-
hind. He pulled a business card from the up-
per pocket of his buttoned uniform shirt and
handed it to Marissa. Out of habit, she auto-
matically reached out and accepted the offer.

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“Call that number when you’re ready to

schedule an appointment to come to the sta-
tion and give a full statement. You ladies
have a safe trip home.” He gave another cor-
dial nod of his head then followed his col-
league’s route through the open door.

When the man was out of sight, Marissa

crumpled the card in her palm. This experi-
ence was almost as horrifying as being at-
tacked for a second time in a single night.
There was no way she was going to willingly
volunteer for another interrogation.

There are times when good people must en-
dure the icy touch of evil hands. Unfortu-
nately, this was Marissa’s season to live
through such a dreadful ordeal. Tonight had
become a turning point in her life; for the
rest of her days, she would never forget the
events of this evening. Although she was
thankful to still walk amongst the living, she

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was yet to shake off the sinister shadow that
remained crawling across her anxious body.

Could it be possible that the robber had

not chosen her at random? If so, would he
return to stalk her again? From this day
forth, would Marissa have to study every
creeping and dark silhouette to ensure that
the villain would not emerge from its bot-
tomless depths?

These frightening thoughts swirled

around in the woman’s mind while she
stared through her apartment window. Even
at midnight, the city that never sleeps would
not pause for a small nap. The rows of bright
streetlamps, twinkling billboard displays,
and streams of car headlights and blazing
rear bumpers illuminated the busy Manhat-
tan boulevard below as if it were midday out-
side and not two minutes passed the witch-
ing hour.

“You okay?” Jasmine’s soft voice floated

in from behind.

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“Yeah…I’m fine,” Marissa lied through a

small smile.

She wanted to keep the younger woman

from becoming stricken with panic and fear,
which was still holding her hostage, even
several hours after the actual event.

Marissa rubbed her hands along her

arms. Despite wearing a thick sweater and
the thermostat being set at eighty, the frigid
chill would not release its frosty clamp on
her bones.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit

up with you?”

“No, Jaz, you go to sleep.” She forced a

broader smile to form on her lips. “I’m on my
way to bed in a few minutes. I need to get
some sleep before my shift tomorrow.”

“You’re not seriously thinking about go-
ing to work, are you? Not after this crazy
night.”

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Marissa laughed. It was the first cheer-
ful moment she had experienced in
hours.
“Well…it would be kind of hard to call
out sick when I live upstairs from my
job.”
“Missy, what happened to you tonight

was serious.” Jasmine’s face and voice were
full of concern. “It’s okay to take a day off to
get your thoughts in order. You don’t always
have to be brave, and especially not in front
of me.”

“I know, and I will…soon, I promise.”

Marissa nodded slowly. “But Friday’s are al-
ways the busiest day of the week. I just need
to make it through tomorrow then I can relax
a little.” A mischievous grin lifted her cocoa
cheeks. “Nichole is coming to stay this
weekend.”

Jasmine raised her arched brows; an

amused look washed over her face.

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“She is?” A small giggle slipped through

her lips. “Oh, I cannot wait to see how she’s
doing. What is it? Three month countdown?”

“Yes!” Marissa’s stomach cramped with

laughter. “Don’t forget to add in the six
months of complaints and whining. I
swear…I have no idea how Eric is managing
to deal with her.”

“Me either.” Jasmine shook her head

from side to side. “Love is a very strange dis-
order, one which I am so glad I do not have
to suffer through.”

“Mhm…so you say…right now.” Marissa

tossed her sibling an amused half-grin. “Just
wait until an ebony prince comes to sweep
you off your feet. Then we’ll see what your
new opinion on love is.”

“Not likely to happen,” Jasmine said and

rolled her eyes. She walked over and kissed
her sister’s cheek lightly. “Between working
at the group home and classes, my schedule
is too busy to fit him in. Maybe in the New

58/333

Year, I might be willing to schedule an ap-
pointment for him.” A small yawn slipped
from her mouth as she spoke. “Night…love
you.”

The younger woman turned and dragged

tired feet toward the direction of her
bedroom.

“Love you too, Jaz. See you in the

morning.”

Once she was alone in the living room

again, Marissa returned to her vigil at the
window. Marissa. Her mystery man’s hoarse
voice echoed in her ears. Haunting light blue
eyes watched her through the glass. She
would never forget his arctic stare; one
powerful glance had frozen time and cap-
tured every breath in her body.

A twisted web of emotions churned

within her heart’s secret place. Desire fused
with terror is an alarming combination, to be
expelled from the soul without haste. Yet,
her dark hero evoked strange new feelings

59/333

from deep within Marissa. The sudden fas-
cination was too strong, too tempting to be
completely denied. The passion she had ex-
perienced while locked in the flaming gaze
they shared was only rivaled by the memory
of the intense fear that had merged their two
paths together.

Marissa pulled the curtains together

then walked to her bedroom in silence. A pe-
culiar trace of bold romance had weaved its
way into her ordinary life this evening. Her
champion was out there somewhere, roam-
ing the long gray streets of the city. Though
her eyes hungered for another glimpse of his
icy sapphire stare, and her mind ached for
another close encounter with the daring
stranger, Marissa was certain she should
never dare cross paths with him ever again.
Strong intuition had convinced her that her
safety depended on keeping as far away from
the hooded man as possible. She would do
better to push this forbidden attraction from

60/333

her thoughts and bury his memory forever.
Some love affairs should never be pursued,
only lost to the four winds, to be swept away
like an unwanted destiny.

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Chapter Three

Villain

In spite of the unanticipated and violent
brawl in the alley, the villain had managed to
escape with the exact item he needed from
the woman.

This minor victory brought a pleased

smile to his handsome face. However, as
quickly as the amused expression lifted his
rose-tinted lips, he abandoned his tiny
spasm of glee. Complete success was still a
long way off, and he could not afford to make
any more mistakes or to be drawn into any
further distractions, such as the unexpected
scuffle he had become tangled in earlier
tonight.

The smuggler’s brow creased slightly as

the image of his foe entered his mind. He
knew the man well, and it had taken the vil-
lain every effort in his boiling blood not to

swiftly snatch the life from his rival’s body.
Without realizing he was doing so, the evil
man folded his mighty hands into tight and
deadly fists. His powerful body was prepar-
ing to launch another vicious attack, as if his
enemy were crouching in a nearby corner of
the motel room. The thief squeezed his fists
into hard knots until his knuckles cracked
loudly. The sharp sound halted his escalating
agitation. Paranoia, especially at this critical
stage of the game, would cause him to make
a grave error. Reluctantly, he shook the furi-
ous and howling anger from his mind and fo-
cused his scheming thoughts on his real
goals.

The timeline was short and simple: Con-

fiscate the package at the pickup location;
deliver the merchandise; and collect his fee.
As long as his associates played their roles to
perfection, the heist would be successful and
would end with a very lucrative payment be-
ing deposited into his anonymous account.

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While the crafty man replayed the de-

tails of the plan in his mind, the doorknob to
the motel room turned slowly. He un-
clenched his fists and glanced down at the
gold watch strapped to his thick wrist. Out of
habit, the villain was sitting in the cheaply
upholstered armchair with his back toward
the window and his eyes fixed on the front
door. If anyone other than his dark-haired
beauty stepped through that entryway, he
would have about three seconds to fire off a
few rounds from the semi-automatic lying
within arm’s reach on the table next to him.
Afterward, he would fling himself over the
third floor balcony behind him, jump down
the fire escape, and flee on foot toward his
car parked two blocks away. That would be
his exact exit route, if his lovely lady were
not the first person to cross the entrance he
was watching with hawk eyes.

At the sight of her slim figure entering

the dingy room, he relaxed his tense

64/333

muscles. The woman closed the door behind
her with a soft click. In response to his
hungry stare, the smuggler’s donna immedi-
ately tilted her ruby red lips upward to form
a naughty grin. Emerald green eyes, outlined
by dark lashes, lowered seductively in his
direction. In seconds, his manhood hardened
and was throbbing to sink deep inside her
creamy walls. Before he claimed his woman
in the throws of beastly passion, he had one
small detail to attend to first. It was time to
give his client, that sickly fool, a status
update.

The rogue turned his eyes away from his

delicious prize only long enough to retrieve
the cell phone from the pocket of his pressed
pants. He dialed the number by memory;
after two rings, a hoarse male voice
answered the call.

“Yes?”
This was not a social call, so the thief by-
passed all pleasantries.

65/333

“Phase one is completed.”
“Excellent,” the other man replied.

There was a slight wheeze hidden behind his
raspy words as he spoke. “I’ll handle my end
once you arrive tomorrow.”

Before the thief could respond, a dry

cough crackled across the line. After a few
seconds of painful hacking, the other man
quieted down but his breathing remained
labored.

“Make sure that you do so.” The smug-

gler’s words were sharp and impatient.

He rolled his eyes with agitation, while

squeezing the edges of the mobile phone un-
til the plastic groaned under the pressure. He
had little tolerance for amateurs, and had
only taken this job as a means of cashing in
on its enormous reward. In return for his
elite services, this one assignment would pay
enough to finally retire from this draining
business. The idea of wreaking havoc and re-
venge on his sworn enemy also brought a

66/333

glimmer of joy to the villain’s restless mind
and would satisfy his malicious tastes.

Just as his aggravation was climbing to

its peak, the arousing scent of his bella
donna filled the villain’s flaring nostrils and
soothed his mounting anger. She always did
have a way of easing his tension. As a prize
for her continued devotion to him, soon he
would have her screaming out an intense
release.

“We will be checking into the hotel by

midday tomorrow.” The words rolled from
his tongue with less strain.

“Okay, good. I should be able to have

everything situated by then.” The gravelly
voice was only a half octave above a whisper.
“Do you expect any issues with delivery of
the package?”

“None.”
Another ear-splitting cough shot across

the line.

67/333

While he waited for the ailing man to re-

cover from the terrible respiratory attack, a
delicate hand touched the nape of the former
agent’s neck, just above his starched white
collar. The same hand dipped below the
dress shirt’s neckline and began to follow a
slow and sensual trail around his hard upper
back, over the bulging curve of his shoulder,
and finally coming to rest on his smooth
broad chest.

The thief eyed the sexy vixen staring

down at him seductively. She cupped his free
hand between her two milky palms and play-
fully pulled him up from the seat, luring him
toward the nearby bed. Her sparkling glare
spoke volumes about what her intentions
would be once the heated couple reached
their destination. When her legs stopped at
the edge of the bed, she snaked her thin arms
around the full width of his shoulders. The
European woman with model features casu-
ally leaned forward and pressed her crimson

68/333

lips against his tanned neck. The intoxicating
scent of her French perfume caused his
arousal to flare wildly.

Another labored cough cut into his ab-

sorbed thoughts. For a moment, the villain
had become so consumed by dizzying lust
that he had nearly forgotten his business call
was ongoing. Without further delay, he
turned his mind back to more important
matters. Raising his forearm, he used his
brute strength to nudge the sly female away.
His push caused her to lose her footing and
she fell against the bed with a muted thump.

“How about your associate? Is she ready

to do her part?” The man on the phone asked
the question with nervous concern floating
in his voice.

The villain’s cobalt blue eyes eased to-

ward the woman. She had sprawled her per-
fectly sculpted body across the bed, further
tempting his restraint.

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“Sì.” A wicked grin touched his lips. “She

is very ready to do whatever I command.”

The alluring treat began to unbutton her

silky white top. He could make out the shape
of the creamy breasts that were spilling
halfway over her lacy bra. Slowly, he ran a
hand through his short blond hair. He
needed a distraction to keep his appetite un-
der control for a few more moments, until he
could end this exhausting conversation.

Before he turned away from his deli-

cious donna, the man thrust his index finger
in the air to signal that he was almost done
with the call.

“Don’t forget…I can’t have this situation

traced back to me.”

“As I have said many times, uomo, I am

no amateur.” His fiery anger flashed once
more, but he managed to rein it in. “I will re-
trieve the valuables and pass them on to you.
What you should keep in mind, si-
gnore…what is very important to your

70/333

health…is that once you receive the package,
I expect to receive my final payment without
any delays.”

“I understand the terms,” the other man

replied in a dismissive tone.

“So long as you do, then there will be no

problems between us. For now, our business
is concluded. I will be in contact once the
goods are secured. Addio.”

Without awaiting a response, the thief

hit the end button on the disposable cell
phone. He broke the cheap plastic into two
pieces. Afterward, he used the strength in his
large thumbs to crack each of those pieces
into two smaller ones. For the time being, he
set the four fragments on the wooden table
at the back of the room. Later, once his lusty
fantasy was satisfied with his raven-haired
siren, the man would crush the pieces again
then flush the remnants of the phone down
the toilet.

71/333

His hungry eyes returned to his woman.

When she saw that she had regained his at-
tention, she cast another sizzling grin at him.
Her slim fingers lifted the hem of her short
black skirt above her tiny hips. Then she al-
lowed her thighs to spread wide for his full
view and enjoyment. There were no panties
hiding under her garment, and this drove the
villain’s desire beyond his control.

“Vieni, amore mio.” The woman's sultry

voice beckoned to him as she opened her legs
wider.

He would not keep her panting any

longer. Tonight she would be his weak lover
and tomorrow she would be his willing ac-
complice. The rogue walked closer to the
bed, stalking the woman with a cruel and
hungry gaze. In a flash, he reached down and
grabbed a fistful of her dark hair then pulled
her face to his. The female winced slightly,
but obeyed his silent command, willingly
submitting herself to his ravenous kiss. She

72/333

understood that she was his property, to be
used and controlled at his discretion. From
now until her dying day, the villain’s woman
belonged to him only, body and soul.

73/333

PART TWO

~G~

Distractions

Chapter Four

Familiar Faces

Throughout the night, haunting nightmares
taunted Marissa’s shaken nerves.

Her body was weakened from being

restlessly tossed across the bed for several fe-
verish hours. Minutes before dawn touched
her bedroom window, exhaustion pulled the
delirious woman into a bottomless sleep. At
the sound of the alarm, she awakened to the
sight of a frail glare of morning light filtering
through the nearby window. The pale stream
provided little escape from the lurking shad-
ows, which remained patiently waiting to
continue their harassment on her waking
thoughts.

The first half of her shift as one of the

supervisors at the upscale Manhattan hotel,
La Grande Roi, floated by in an empty blur.
During most of the hectic Friday, Marissa

managed to stumble through her usual
routine, refusing to allow her mind to be
lured into repeatedly reliving her frightening
ordeal.

While walking from the concierge desk

toward the center of the crowded lobby, the
heavy chime of a mahogany Grandfather
clock thumped her eardrum. Seconds after
the massive timepiece at the rear of the large
atrium struck noon, a wave of dread ex-
ploded through her body. Instantly, a dismal
gloom descended on Marissa’s conscious. All
around the woman, the tepid air shifted to
ice cold, as though a chilling and malevolent
presence was looming close by.

Marissa paused mid-step; a renewed

terror clung to every inch of her skin. Intense
fear overwhelmed her senses, freezing her
body in place. One alarming thought raced
through her mind – Wicked eyes were
watching her, studying her every move. The
dreadful power of the unseen gaze sank deep

78/333

under her skin, touching the raw nerves be-
neath. Immediately, the terrified female be-
came desperate to catch a glimpse of the hid-
den stalker. Her eyes darted from person to
person, from face to face, anxiously search-
ing the active crowd, trying to seek out the
menacing glare.

Whenever a male lightly brushed her

shoulders, a harsh shiver ran down Marissa’s
spine. Every masculine voice filled her ears
with horrible fright.

Then she saw his silhouette.
A tall man with broad shoulders stood

motionless against the backdrop of the busy
atrium. The slanting shadow of the gigantic
marble pillar he was leaning against masked
the full view of his face. When her hazel gaze
connected with the dark stranger’s cobalt
blue stare, Marissa saw death in his eyes. An
intense impulse to dash for the sliding doors
at the front of the hotel, not more than five
frantic paces to her left, instantly seized her

79/333

mind. The slight touch of a hand against the
curve of her shoulder stopped the woman’s
hammering heartbeat. Marissa fixed her lips
to scream for help from one of the security
guards standing near the entryway. At the
same time, she prepared her body to flee into
the safety of the moving crowd.

“Marissa,” a female spoke cautiously.

The sound of the soft voice calling out to her
halted the woman’s escape. Eyes the color of
midnight stared at Marissa with concern
swirling at their centers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to scare you.”

Confusion quickly passed, and Marissa

finally recognized the face of her assistant,
Lysette Quinones. A tiny breath of relief
slipped past her full lips then Marissa
pushed a small smile across her flushed
cheeks. None of the staff had any knowledge
of her horrible episode from last night, and
the woman preferred to keep her anxiety and
fearful thoughts private for as long as

80/333

possible. Quiet strength was part of her fam-
ily’s heritage. Only by this same strength was
she able to maintain a grip on sanity, until
her mind could find a way to bury these un-
wanted memories and emotions forever.

“You didn’t,” Marissa said, forcing her

smile to become more genuine. “I thought I
saw someone I knew standing over there –”

When she angled her body to point out

the man she was speaking of, the words went
dead in her mouth – He was gone. She
searched the entire crowd, but there was no
sign of his unique profile or of those burning
eyes anywhere in sight.

“Who?” Lysette moved up beside her.
“Where are you pointing, Missy?”
Confusion swept over Marissa, followed
by the unmistakable first thump of a
throbbing headache racing across her
brow.
“Never mind,” she sighed.

81/333

A set of nervous fingers ran through her

lengthy dark auburn hair. Marissa pressed
her lips together tight and squeezed her dark
lashes closed for a few seconds. She used the
brief pause to fight off oncoming paranoia
before it spiraled out of control. Once her
pulse slowed to a normal pace, Marissa
wasted no time in trying to convince herself
that the man she had seen was only a ran-
dom guest, not a wraith nor a ghost who had
come to terrorize her.

“Did you need help with something?”

She quickly turned her attention back to
Lysette.

The attractive young woman with hair

the color of onyx glanced at Marissa with a
baffled look but hastily blinked the expres-
sion away.

“Yeah, can you come to the front desk?

Someone needs to check some luggage into
the vault.”

82/333

“Why didn’t Julius and Schaeffer handle

it?” Marissa knitted her thin eyebrows. “Juli-
us was standing at the counter right before I
walked away.”

“Not anymore,” Lysette answered with a

shake of her long curly hair. She tossed her
friend a knowing glance as she continued.
“He cut out early. He said he had an urgent
appointment to get to.”

“Another one? That’s the third time this

week.”

“Mhm…yeah, I know,” the other woman

said while rolling her eyes in disapproval.

The second dayshift supervisor, Julius

Smith, was a notorious slacker and narciss-
ist. His afternoon appointment was most
likely with a masseuse at an uptown day spa
or a stopover at a men’s boutique on Broad
Street. Although both women were easily
convinced that their story was the true reas-
on for the glamorous man’s sudden disap-
pearance, neither of them spoke this

83/333

assumption. Instead, the pair moved on to
concerns that were more worthy of their time
and attention.

La Grande Roi was lavishly designed to

cater to its pampered and wealthy clientele.
Movie stars, foreign diplomats, and hun-
dreds of the world’s most famous citizens
crossed its Romanesque archways on a daily
basis. One hundred deluxe suites and elegant
penthouses, accented in classic black and
white motifs, filled its fifty magnificent
floors. Plush leather sofas and armchairs
dotted the length of the hotel’s spacious
ground floor lobby, while colossal crystal
chandeliers soared from the towering height
of the domed ceiling. A row of exclusive
shopping boutiques and specialty cafés lined
the rear wall of the main foyer. Behind the
bustling scene, five star chefs created extra-
vagant dishes to appease the finicky pallets
of the affluent guests and a superior support
staff catered to the visitors’ every necessity.

84/333

While the ladies tapped their tall heels

against the luxuriant foyer’s swirling black
and white patterned marble floor, several
pairs of intrigued male eyes followed their
feminine figures. Marissa’s slim black uni-
form skirt and three-quarter-length button
top hugged her curvy shape perfectly. Ordin-
arily, she would have accepted the admiring
glances as compliments, and would have
offered a demure smile to each of the tailor-
suited gentlemen as she passed by. However,
the events of today and the previous evening
were nothing similar to anything the twenty-
eight-year-old had ever experienced in her
lifetime. For this reason, the roaming eyes of
the males only added a heavier weight to her
unbearable anxiety. The sooner the nervous
woman reached the safety of the concierge
desk, the faster her erratic pulse would be
stilled.

As Marissa and Lysette approached the

reception area, dozens of patrons, who were

85/333

impatiently waiting to be serviced, continued
to stream through the hotel’s front doors and
line up along the length of the receiving desk.
Piles of expensive luggage were stacked near
the feet of each new arrival. This last week-
end in November was heralding in a massive
influx of guests. Visitors from around the
globe had started to swarm New York in an-
ticipation of enjoying the city’s dazzling
Thanksgiving and Christmas festivities, and
the internationally famous La Grande would
be the first stop for many of the high society
tourists.

“Which one is it?”
Marissa asked the question as the wo-

men began to slow their paces several inches
away from the crowd. She needed to men-
tally prepare herself to welcome the guest.
Although she was not eager to greet anyone
with a smile full of false cheer, hotel policy
required her to do so.

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“Mr. Blue Eyes is right there.” Lysette’s

tan finger pointed in the direction of a man
standing with his back toward the two wo-
men. He was dressed in a designer charcoal
gray suit, which flawlessly outlined his wide
shoulders and trim waistline. “He’s been pa-
tiently waiting to meet you,” she teased.

As if on cue, the man turned his golden

head toward them. Bold and mesmerizing ice
blue eyes captured Marissa within the grip of
a thrilling spell. A long pause hung in the air.
In the background, the steady murmur of the
crowded lobby faded from her ears.

Where had she seen these intoxicating

eyes before? The memory was begging to be
released from her mind and satisfy her run-
away thoughts. Seconds before Marissa
locked in on the identity of the man behind
the familiar gaze, a rich Italian accent rolled
over her senses, silencing her curiosity and
flooding her secret places with a warming
glow.

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Marcello’s heart pounded in his chest.

Was there a hint of recognition floating with-
in the woman’s stunning hazel eyes? He
studied

Marissa’s

expression,

carefully

watching every movement of her lovely fea-
tures. Her cinnamon skin shimmered under
the bright glare of the chandeliers’ glittering
light.

The guilty hope that she would immedi-

ately recognize him was also a nagging fool-
ishness. To save his cover, the covert agent
had to prevent the female from remembering
it was his face that she had encountered on
the street last night.

“Ciao, buon pomeriggio.” Marcello

spoke the words of his native tongue with
ease.

He offered the woman a broad smile,

hoping that the unfamiliar greeting would
disrupt her thoughts. From the surprised
look lingering on her shaded cheeks, he had

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been successful. To further distract her, Mar-
cello folded his right arm across his lower
torso then offered the pretty woman a slight
bow. Afterward, he opened his right hand
and extended his palm toward Marissa. Hes-
itation clung to her face, and a short delay
followed. Slowly, with much uncertainty in
her eyes, the woman placed her fingertips in-
to his hold. A slim silver band, with a small
watch face at its center, slid along her tiny
wrist. Once her palm was under his control,
Marcello gently folded his fingers around
hers. He lifted the backside of Marissa’s soft
hand to his lips. While pressing a chaste kiss
on her hand, the charmed man quietly
savored the taste of her warm butterscotch
skin against his mouth. Abruptly, her finger-
tips slipped from his grasp all too soon, but
he should have been thankful for the inter-
ruption. The rush of desire was stirring up
inside his chest, and he had to hastily shove
the simmering emotion away.

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When he straightened his posture, Mar-

cello saw that the woman’s cheeks were
painted in a heavy blush. Marissa’s bowed
lips, tinted with a delicious raspberry hue,
parted slightly then snapped closed again.
The impromptu diversion had worked in his
favor. All the questions hovering behind her
diamond-dotted irises appeared to quickly
blink away.

“Mi scuso,” he said, touching his hand

over his heart. “I…apologize…I sometimes
forget I am no longer in my native Italia. If I
have offended you with my gesture, please
forgive me.”

Marissa lifted her cocoa cheeks into a

polite

smile,

which

Marcello

eagerly

returned.

“No…not at all,” she said in a small

voice. A fresh hint of crimson crept into her
cheeks. “I’m the one who should be apologiz-
ing. My reaction was slightly rude. I wasn’t

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prepared for such a gracious greeting. Thank
you.”

As he stared down at her, the embrace of

her alluring beauty trapped him. Completely
focused on the light brown tint of her al-
mond eyes, Marcello’s concentration slipped
once more.

“You are most welcome,” Marcello

widened his grin. “It was a joy to bring a
lovely smile to a lovely face.”

Even in tall heels, Marissa’s height was

significantly smaller than his; this difference
intensified Marcello’s yearning to protect
her. As his eyes slid along the graceful curve
of her face, he saw the fear still lurking be-
hind her soft gaze. A sharp impulse to gently
stroke her cheek and soothe away her fright
sent tingles of anticipation to the tips of his
thick fingers. In spite of this strong craving,
important matters – far more urgent than
his adolescent crush – prevented him from
comforting the distressed woman. Marcello

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held his hands at bay and did not reach out
to lay a warm palm against her flawless skin.

To cool his burning thoughts, he imme-

diately turned his focus back to the reason
for his trip to the States. La valigetta. The
word hummed across Marcello’s mind, and
he clutched the handle of the brown leather
attaché case tighter in his grip. Now that he
was stationed at the hotel, his mission would
begin moving at an accelerated pace. The
agent could no longer allow matters of the
heart to sway him further off course from his
duties. The pawns were finally being posi-
tioned into their appropriate places on the
chessboard; he could not afford to make any
more errors in discretion. Marcello pushed
the conversation forward, forcing himself not
to linger in Marissa’s sweet gaze any longer.

“Are you the one who will help me?”
He glanced down at the briefcase in his

hand, and Marissa’s eyes followed his lead.

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“Yes, of course.” She smiled politely and

resumed a professional tone. “Marissa Stiles.
I’m one of the supervisors here at La Grande
Roi.”

“It is my pleasure to finally meet you in

person.” Although the woman would not un-
derstand the significance of this statement,
the unsung hero was perfectly aware of its
true meaning. “Il mio nome è Marcello An-
toni Rossi,” he said then nodded his head re-
spectfully. “However, I ask that you call me
Marco. All of my friends and loved ones ad-
dress me this way, and I would be pleased if
you would do the same.”

“Marco,” she whispered. When Marissa

spoke his name, a trace of desire dripped
from her beautiful lips. Before she continued
on, probably once she realized how sensually
she had said the word, Marissa flattened her
tone and emptied her voice of all emotion.
“Welcome to our hotel. You may call me

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Marissa, if you wish. How can I assist you
today?”

“I need to deposit this briefcase as soon

as possible, Marissa.”

At the sound of her name leaving his

light cranberry-tinted lips, a bright flame
sparked to life in her eyes. Deep in his heart,
in the concealed place where Marcello kept
his true feelings masked from the world, it
pained him to know that he could never pur-
sue the attraction they shared. If he permit-
ted his fondness for the American woman to
become

too

intense,

dangerous

con-

sequences would surely follow.

In spite of this dire possibility, the smit-

ten man suddenly surrendered to the ines-
capable pull of her magnetic loveliness.
Marco stepped forward, sealing the distance
between their two bodies, daring fate to do
its worse. In response to his consuming
closeness, a tiny quiver raced across

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Marissa’s bottom lip, and she stepped one
pace backward.

“If you don’t mind waiting a few more

minutes, I can help you with your request.” A
breathless tremble was hiding in her voice.
The woman quickly tried to straighten her
stuttering words. “The lock on the vault re-
quires two keycards. The other supervisor on
duty has the afternoon off, so my manager
has to bring his access card to the deposit
room. When I get back, we can start your
paperwork.”

“I await your return,” Marco replied cas-

ually in a low bass.

She had announced her departure, but

Marissa seemed unwilling or unable to walk
away from him. An unseen bond held the
couple in a steamy gaze.

With one unexpected motion, the spell

hovering between the pair was abruptly
broken. Two milky arms slithered around
Marco’s waist, followed by a red-coated kiss

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to his right cheek. A raven-haired woman
with creamy skin wrapped her tall, slender
body around his broad frame. Once she was
facing him, the emerald-eyed woman tipped
her sharp chin upward.

“Marco…il mio amore…I have been

searching everywhere for you. I thought you
had abandoned me,” she purred out with a
heavy accent.

While the newest arrival beamed a

gorgeous pearly-white smile at him, Marco
made fast work of removing the second wo-
man’s arms from around his waist. Without
responding to her, he kept his full attention
on Marissa.

“Marissa, this is my…companion…Ka-

terina Corvino.” He smiled apologetically.
“She is accompanying me during my visit in
your city.”

Silently, the special ops agent scolded

himself. The sultry woman clinging to his left
arm was part of Marco’s masquerade. He

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had to remember to be more convincing
whenever they were seen in public together.
In the future, he would have to avoid hesitat-
ing when introducing her. Marco would also
have to resist the urge to explain any further
details regarding his relationship with Kater-
ina to Marissa. Revealing too much informa-
tion to anyone outside of his unit would be a
critical error.

“Of course, Mr. Rossi.” Marissa pasted a

thin smile on her face. The affection that was
swimming in her eyes mere seconds ago had
completely washed away. “If you will please
excuse me, I’ll go see to your request. It
shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. In
the meantime, please feel free to browse
around and enjoy our full services. I’m sure
your companion will be very satisfied with
the extensive shopping choices available in
our Grand Foyer.”

Once she finished saying her rushed

statement, Marissa made an agitated about-

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face and marched away. As Marcello watched
the retreating woman weave between the
patrons standing nearby, his chest sunk. A
dull ache was pounding against the wall he
was frantically trying to raise around his
heart. Within seconds, Marissa disappeared
behind the crowd gathered at the front of the
lobby and he lost sight of her.

Although Katerina was clutching his

arm and flashing her signature green-eyed
gaze at him, Marissa was the woman who
held Marco’s mind and body captive. Even
so, the sooner he accepted the plain truth of
this frustrating scenario, the better he would
be able to carry out his assignment. The
team leader needed to increase his efforts to
stamp out the distracting passions that were
still lingering in his mind. Any pursuit of a
true romance with Marissa would ruin his
mission, and possibly cost thousands of lives
around the world.

98/333

Chapter Five

Phone Calls

From his seat in the oversized lounge chair
at the rear of the crowded lobby, the smug-
gler could easily observe every footstep and
monitor every word spoken within fifteen
feet. His years of service in an elite Special
Forces unit had heightened his senses; it had
also trained him with the ability to hide in
plain sight in almost any environment, in-
cluding a ridiculously overpriced Manhattan
hotel. To a causal onlooker, he was simply
another wealthy executive idling in the lavish
atrium and waiting to be escorted to his
suite. In reality, he was a rogue agent who
was in the process of ensuring that his pre-
cious cargo was delivered on time. Once his
co-conspirator made the drop, he would tele-
phone his second accomplice, who also
served as the thief’s investor, to provide him
with another update.

While sitting cross-legged with a news-

paper lying over his lap, the guilty man
watched Katerina sashay her slim hips
through the heavy throng of people. Without
ever having to glance directly at her, the vil-
lain surveyed the sensual woman’s every
movement. Even though her perfect figure
enticed his wicked lusts, his casual façade
never faltered. She tucked her clutch purse
under her arm as she passed by; a look of se-
duction was painted on her exotic face. The
gorgeous woman winked a sparkling jade eye
at him then glided further away. She knew
better than to stop, which would have drawn
unwanted attention on the former spy. With
a subtle stare, he followed her flawless pro-
file until she disappeared into the atrium’s
extravagant jewelry shop, about twenty paces
to his left. Once she was gone, he retrieved a
cell phone from his suit jacket’s inside pocket
and dialed the contact number.

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After several rings, a man’s voice, still
hoarse and ragged, answered.
“Yes?”
“The drop is being made as we speak.”
The villain glanced at his gold-faced
watch. “We can complete the exchange
in one hour.”
“Okay.” A harsh cough crackled over the

line. The second man cleared his throat be-
fore continuing. “I’ll arrange to have the bal-
ance due wired to your account.”

“Bene.”
“Hold on for a minute.” Shuffling noises

filled the thief’s ear; afterward, muffled
voices began talking in the background. An
entire minute dragged by before the second
conspirator returned to the phone. “I’m
back. Keep in mind, the transaction won’t be
approved until I have the merchandise in my
hands.”

“Understood,” the thief replied flatly.

“Be sure that you keep my condition in

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mind. Once I fulfill my end of the arrange-
ment, should I not receive my payment,
something most unpleasant will happen to
you within one week’s time.”

“Don’t threaten me!”
“Never threats, signore. Promettono

sempre…always promises.”

Without saying another word, the villain

ended the call. Casually, he removed the
back plate of the mobile device, slipped the
SIM card from its holder, and then placed
the phone onto the polished black oak table
in front of him. As he ran a hand through his
hair, the silky blond strands immediately fell
back against his scalp in perfect order. On
the surface, the man was the epitome of calm
and charisma. Beneath his hot skin,
however, the villain’s patience was boiling to
its lethal limits. He was growing weary of his
associate’s cocky attitude. No further debat-
ing was necessary; the dangerous mercenary
quickly decided to kill the little weasel once

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the last payment was deposited into his un-
traceable bank account. The thought of snap-
ping the other man’s frail neck – strictly for
laughs – brought a fiendish smile to his
handsome face.

A sudden wave of annoyance flashed

through his mind causing the rogue to clench
his fist tight. He glimpsed over his shoulder
at the quaint shopping lane, which wrapped
around the lobby’s interior wall.

What was taking Katerina so long to

return?

A few feet before Marissa reached the

door to her manager’s office, the smell of ci-
garette smoke began to drift up her nose. She
was not surprised to catch the distinct scent
of nicotine hovering in the air. The hotel had
a strict no-smoking policy; however, her
boss, Dennis Schaeffer, was the type of per-
son who believed that if a rule did not suit

103/333

his needs or his lifestyle then it did not apply
to him.

Marissa paused in front of the closed

door and prepared her mind to do battle
with the ogre waiting on the other side. A
stern face and nerves as hard as steel were
her best defenses against Schaeffer, a sloppy
man who freely abused his high position and
prided himself on provoking fear in others,
especially the female staff. Above all else, no
matter what rude or ruthless words passed
from his filthy mouth to her ears, she wanted
to maintain her cool composure. Foolish and
angry words paved only a legacy of shame;
the sign of a true lady is wearing a veil of
grace in the face of an enemy.

She knocked on the wood sharply, but

only silence followed. A heavy cough erupted
from behind the varnished door; however,
there was still no response to her taps.
Marissa folded her hand to knock again then
stopped. He’s asleep in there, she thought.

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The hands on her watch showed that it was
nearly twelve-thirty, the customary time for
the sloth to disappear for a long nap.

Marissa moved her ear closer to the

door, fully expecting to hear beastly snores;
instead, a gruff voice was locked in an
intense one-sided argument. She stepped
back and considered waiting until the man
was finished with his phone call before trying
to get his attention again, but quickly aban-
doned the thought. Since he glorified himself
as an overseer, not a respectable manager, he
would have to accept all the inconveniences
tagged to that asinine title as well. Marissa
folded her hand and pounded on the door.
There was no way Schaeffer would be able to
ignore her loud banging. After another mo-
ment of dead silence, heavy footsteps
thundered nearer, and then the door swung
open wildly.

A man with beefy shoulders and a

refrigerator-sized waistline, and who filled

105/333

up most of the doorframe, stared at her with
seething anger leaking from his tiny eyes.
Marissa watched several beads of sweat roll
down the edges of Schaeffer’s forehead and
gather at the thickest layer of his first chin.
Her eyes scanned the rest of the disheveled
man standing before her. A head full of
overly oiled hair, a dress shirt that was at
least a half size too small, no tie, wrinkled
slacks, and a pair of worn dress shoes were
the exact description of the man who was the
manager at one of Manhattan’s most luxuri-
ous havens. With great effort, the repulsed
woman clenched her stomach and fought off
a churning wave of nausea.

How had such a man earned this

coveted position? The answer was ironically
simple – He had not earned anything at all.
His father-in-law was the CEO of the corpor-
ation that owned and operated La Grande
Roi and dozens of other premiere properties
throughout the area. While fate may have

106/333

dealt Schaeffer the upper hand in wealth and
social status, only a passing glance was ne-
cessary to see him as the glutton and tyrant
that he truly was.

“What?!” He spit the question out like a

poisonous dart.

A sickening hack spilled from his blub-

bery belly, forcing Schaeffer to grab his
round gut to control the nasty cough. Once
the man cleared his lungs, Marissa offered
him a smooth reply, never raising her voice
above a polite octave.

“I need you to bring your access card to

the vault.”

Schaeffer wrinkled his sweaty forehead.
“For what? I’m busy.”
“One of the guests would like to deposit

a suitcase.”

“How come you can’t handle it? It’s a

simple task, very little thought required.” His
volume approached hostile as he continued

107/333

to sneer at her. “Isn’t that what you get paid
to do?”

Schaeffer narrowed his beady eyes; a

hard scowl formed on his pudgy face. The
malicious expressions were supposed to
cause fear and intimidation; nevertheless,
Marissa held a blank and unflinching stare.
She would never allow this despicable man
to believe that his words had any sting in
them.

“Believe me, Dennis, I never enjoy com-

ing here to drag you away from your private
island.” Barely controlled anger heated the
inside of her throat. “I am much, much hap-
pier when I can handle as many simple tasks
as possible without you. Unfortunately, this
isn’t one of those times.”

“Watch your tone, girl.” His reply was

meant as a silent threat to her job. This was
not the first time he had done so, and it
probably would not be the last.

108/333

To rein in her fuming nerves, Marissa

released a low exhale. She stretched her lips
into a thin smile, refusing to give this
wretched man the satisfaction he was seek-
ing. Being dragged into the grip of a violent
argument would only elevate his inflated
pride and leave her with harsh regrets.

“Julian has left for the day and I need a

second card to unlock the safe. I’m only re-
questing five minutes of your valuable time.”

Schaeffer blinked, caught off guard by

her sudden calmness. Once his confusion
passed, he rushed out his next sentences.

“I don’t have all day,” he said impa-

tiently, obviously trying to hurry back to his
phone call. “Who is it?”

“The Italian businessman standing in

the lobby is dressed in a designer linen suit.
He has a beautiful model clinging to his arm.
He’s holding a leather case that probably
costs more than even you would earn in a
month. So,” Marissa raised a sculpted

109/333

eyebrow, “if you’re asking me if the guest
looks rich enough for you to waste a minute
of your time talking to him, then yes, he
most certainly does.”

Schaeffer’s eyes rolled from side to side

while he tried to choose which was more im-
portant, the call or the wealthy client.

“Fine,” he finally said flatly. “I’ll be there

in a few minutes.” Before shutting the door
in her face, he made one final irksome com-
ment. “Make sure you give him the special
treatment until I get there.”

Marissa dismissed his vulgar suggestion.

She had already wasted too many precious
seconds of her life dealing with Schaeffer’s
stupidity.

On her way to retrieving Mr. Rossi and

his pretty companion from the lobby, a flash
of Marco’s magnetic gaze raced through her
mind, quickening her pulse. The feel of his
palm holding her fingers with a delicate
touch and the sensation of his rosebud-

110/333

shaded lips pressed to her skin sent an elec-
trifying shiver rushing into Marissa’s moist
nether region. With abundant effort, she
fought off the tantalizing heat flowing
between her breasts and ignored the tingle of
her nipples caused by the memory of his
magnificent face and suave old-world Italian
charm.

In spite of her instant attraction to the

wealthy and charismatic man, the cautious
woman wanted nothing more to do with him.
When she was done helping Marco to secure
his case, Marissa planned to maintain a very
wide distance between herself and Mr. Rossi,
at all times and for the duration of his stay at
La Grande. The foreign cravings Marcello
Rossi was drawing from her body’s intimate
places were almost too powerful for
Marissa’s chaste resistance. Her last remain-
ing defense was remembering that devastat-
ingly handsome men usually left a trail of
trouble and tears behind them. Gushing over

111/333

his seductive baby blue eyes and allowing
herself to fall under Marcello’s enthralling
spell would only invite a mountain of mis-
chief into Marissa’s life.

Marco slipped the cell phone into his

pants pocket. He had informed his superiors
that the operation was progressing as
planned. Although the members of the bur-
eau were pleased with the status of the case,
Marco was disappointed with his behavior
thus far. Matters of the heart were continu-
ing to pull his focus away from important
concerns and impairing his judgment.

The agent looked down to double check

that the case was still next to his feet. This
was the only task he could trust himself to
complete

without

becoming

distracted.

Never before had any woman sidetracked his
mind from his appointed duties, yet Marissa
Stiles effortlessly seized his exclusive atten-
tion. Every man loved to admire a beautiful

112/333

woman, but his sudden fascination with Ms.
Stiles was alarmingly intense. Whenever he
was in Marissa’s presence, Marco’s vigilant
concentration immediately became frac-
tured. Even now, in place of scanning the
busy lobby for signs of activity from his in-
visible foes, Marcello’s thoughts slipped back
to visualizing her angelic face. Faceless con-
spirators lurked in the shadows all around
him, but one glance into sparkling hazel-tin-
ted irises was enough to sweep all his worries
and responsibilities to the wayside.

An unnerving thought, with all the

dreadful powerful of a pulsing lightning
strike, touched his mind. Was the exquisitely
attractive female purposefully misdirecting
his attention toward her? Were her enticing
glances only a ploy to draw his eyes away
from their guard over la valigetta? Could it
be possible that Marissa was in league with
his enemies and was using his obvious at-
traction to her to compromise his mission?

113/333

Impossibile. Every flash of her lovely eyes,
every quiver of her lips in response to him,
was sincere. Some emotions could never be
imitated. The sizzling passion that had
flowed from her fingers into the palm of his
hand was genuine. However, until the spy
could definitely determine whose side – if
any – the woman was playing for, he would
have to keep his resistance to her charm set
to its maximum at all times.

On every side, the air surrounding

Marco became electric with anticipation. He
shifted his gaze and spotted the face of his
lady floating toward him. Instantly, his rose-
stained mouth tilted upward to form a
pleased smile. The curvy outline of the dark
skirt and blouse, coupled with the confident
stride of silky caramel-coated legs gliding
across the room, stirred up a mischievous
arousal within the beguiled man. Il mio
amore bellissima. As soon as the thought
entered his mind, Marco was desperate to

114/333

keep the confession from escaping his
tongue.

When Marissa stopped in front of him,

his grin widened then Marco bowed politely
at her return. After he straightened his pos-
ture, he searched the woman’s eyes for a
flicker of excitement in response to his affec-
tion, but was greeted with an empty stare.
The coldness he received from Marissa sank
into Marco’s heart, and his smile dropped
away.

“You are ready?” Marco’s voice was

monotone. He was struggling to return his
focus to the business at hand.

“Yes, Mr. Rossi,” Marissa replied. Her

words were flat and emotionless. She had
also returned to using his surname and
Marco did not attempt to correct her. “If you
will please follow me, we can have your item
secured in a safety deposit box.”

The agent lifted the attaché from the

floor then nodded to signal that he was ready

115/333

to follow her lead. His eyes watched the sleek
strands of Marissa’s dark hair gently sweep
against her shoulders while she glanced
around.

“Your…companion…Ms. Corvino, will

she be joining us?”

“Something very sparkly in your jewelry

shop has captured Katerina’s attention. It
will not be necessary to await her return.”
Marcello took three steps closer to Marissa
and held out his folded arm to her. Even
though he could not pursue his attraction to
the elegant woman, he would not abandon
all of his humble manners. “Shall we?”

Marissa hesitated and studied him, si-

lently contemplating whether to accept his
offer. He saw the indecision running across
her smooth cinnamon brow. Seconds later,
to his relief, she slowly threaded her slim
arm through his. Her hold on him was loose
and uneasy; nevertheless, he smiled at her
gently. Marcello forced himself to accept that

116/333

the detachment he sensed from Marissa was
for the best. This gloomy conclusion sud-
denly moved his mind to wish that his covert
mission in the States was finished, so he
could return to his homeland. Perhaps, when
a vast ocean permanently separated them,
his heart would finally be free from the grasp
of Marissa’s powerful allure.

The attractive couple floated arm-in-

arm through the crowd, past a second set of
armed security guards, and toward a long
hallway behind the concierge area. From the
corner of his eyes, despite the blank expres-
sion Marissa was desperately trying to cling
to, Marco could see a dusting of crimson cov-
ering his woman’s toasty cheeks. If destiny
were to somehow allow him one opportunity
to court her and draw the enticing female in-
to falling madly in love with him, would he
be a fool to accept the offer? Marco halted
the runaway thought; his mind was spiraling
off course again. Uno…due…tre…he counted

117/333

his steps as they walked; it was a simple and
effective method to smother his wayward
distractions.

“Here we are.” The woman paused in

front of a pair of brown oak doors. Once they
stopped, Marissa swiftly pulled her arm from
his embrace. Without looking in his direc-
tion, she kept her tone very formal, adding
another sting to Marco’s wounded pride.
“This is our private conference room. We’ll
go through the contract and disclaimers.
After you review and sign them, we’ll place
your property into the vault.”

When Marissa reached for the gold-

plated handle, Marco moved twice as fast.
He pulled open one of the doors then waved
his arm to signal her passage into the room.

“After you, mia signora.”
Her hazel eyes twinkled up at him, send-

ing his heart into a rapid pounding behind
his hard chest. The strong connection was

118/333

broken only when Marissa fluttered her
lashes and turned her gaze away.

She glided four steps into the room then

stopped abruptly; her entire body stiffened.
Marissa’s motion was so sudden that Marco
almost collided with her from behind. Not
long after he stepped into the room, Marco
realized the reason for her sudden distress.

“Come in and take a seat.” An untidy

man with a wobbling face jumped from one
of the chairs at the conference table and
rushed toward Marco. His belly bounced
slightly with each step. “Thanks for visiting
The Grand Roy,” he said, terribly mispro-
nouncing the hotel’s name. “I’m the man-
ager, Dennis Schaeffer.” The man named
Schaeffer grabbed Marco’s right hand and
shook it wildly. The unmistakable feel of a
greasy oil sheen was left lingering on Marco’s
fingers. “Sit down and get comfortable. Have
your bags been taken care of?”

119/333

Without

bothering

to

acknowledge

Marissa’s presence, the stubby man with
slick black hair and wrinkled clothing
waddled over to his chair.

“Are you going to offer Ms. Stiles a seat

first?”

“Ms. Stiles?” Schaeffer blinked his eyes;

a puzzled expression hung on his round face.
His bottom lip dropped open slightly.

“Sì…Marissa,” Marco responded with

aggression rising in his voice. “She is a lady
and should be treated as such.”

Marco quickly concluded that the sloppy

man sitting before him was even more boor-
ish in person than when he was under sur-
veillance. After a tense and silent moment, a
stab of understanding lit up the manager’s
tiny black eyes.

“Her?” Schaeffer narrowed his glare at

Marissa. “A lady,” he huffed, “If you say so.”

The rude words instantly clipped

Marco’s thin patience. He charged forward

120/333

and leaned in menacingly close to Schaeffer.
In response to the threatening motion, the
other man instinctively shrank back and
hunched his beefy shoulders in fear.

“Marco…don’t.” Marissa stepped for-

ward and touched his forearm. “It’s fine.”
Her eyes dashed to the side as she motioned
toward Schaeffer. “He’s the least of my
concerns.”

Calmare…calm.

Marco

relaxed

his

flexed muscles. For the time being, he reined
in his fit of rage. Next time, however, the
man cowering in the chair might not be so
lucky.

“Watch your words in her presence.”

Marco’s deep voice did not attempt to hide
the hostility in his warning.

His eyes were filled with fury when he

spoke to Schaeffer, who managed to nod
weakly but kept his lips clamped shut. When
he was certain that the other man under-
stood the strength of the threat, Marco

121/333

pulled out a chair from the table and mo-
tioned to Marissa to be seated. Too much an-
ger still burned in his chest, and he did not
want her to witness him behaving viciously
any longer, so he chose to remain silent for
the next few minutes.

For the remainder of the meeting,

Schaeffer was eerily polite. While explaining
the disclaimer and registration forms, he
never glanced in Marissa’s direction and
looked up at Marco only when it was abso-
lutely necessary.

The paperwork process and deposit

were relatively brief and simple. On the re-
gistration form, Marco decided to log the
briefcase as containing classified documents
from an international monetary board. Once
this stage was completed, Marissa and
Schaeffer escorted him up the corridor. They
walked about twenty paces farther up the
hall then stopped at another set of doors.
Marissa punched a code into a keypad for a

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pair of sealed metal doors that resembled el-
evator flaps. Once the outer entryway was
unbolted, the trio stepped inside of a small
square room. The double doors automatic-
ally closed and locked behind them. In front
of the group, a massive circular chrome gate
stretched from floor to ceiling. Marissa and
Schaeffer each pulled out a keycard similar
to the type that hotels now opted for in place
of brass keys. Both of them slid their indi-
vidual access cards into thin digital slots at
the center of the entrance to the colossal
safe. The computerized display on the front
of the vault flashed a series of numbers be-
fore bold black letters reading ACCESS
GRANTED scrolled across the rectangular
screen. As Marco quietly observed this ac-
tion, the events of the previous evening sud-
denly made sense.

The inside of the actual safe was cav-

ernous. Dozens of rows of safety deposit
boxes, in various sizes and shapes, lined the

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full length and width of the room. Marissa
opened the container that would house
Marco’s attaché then stepped outside of the
vault to allow him privacy. Once she was
gone, before placing it inside of the deposit
box, the agent opened the case and surveyed
its contents. Now that the bait was ready and
secured, he would be able to pull his nemesis
out of hiding.

To secure the vault and the outer doors,

the hotel’s supervisor and manager repeated
their procedure in reverse. In the outside
corridor, Marissa remained behind while
Schaeffer mumbled a farewell and slinked
away. The round man coughed a few times as
he trudged up the extended hallway. Once he
reached the entrance to his cluttered nest,
the manager disappeared from view. When
Schaeffer was out of sight, Marco turned his
attention to his charming lady. Her bright
eyes were alive with renewed fascination for

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him, which she frantically tried to conceal
behind a placid smile.

“Enjoy your stay at our hotel, Mr. Rossi.

Please feel free to let any of the other staff
know if you require additional services.”

“I will see you again, Marissa…very

soon.”

When she turned away to make a silent

exit, Marco succumbed to a sharp impulse to
reach for her. He stopped Marissa’s rushing
motions by lightly touching the back of her
hand. Her breasts rose and fell with every
heavy breath she released. Her steamy eyes
watched his every motion. Slowly, Marcello
brought the woman’s trembling fingers to-
ward his warm lips once more. He opened
her palm and placed a small kiss at its soft
center.

“Until then…Addio, amore,” Marco

whispered.

Marissa sucked in her lips; her face was

flushed with passion. In one swift tug, she

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pulled her hand free from his hold and raced
away, never once looking back. Marco
watched the fleeing woman until she disap-
peared into the throng of people up ahead.
The teasing thought of tasting her full rasp-
berry lips lingered in his mind long after she
was gone.

“Molto presto,” his low voice repeated

the promise. Very soon.

126/333

Chapter Six

An Invitation

An amused expression lifted Marissa’s face.
She watched with glee while the woman be-
side her wobbled forward at a slow and
labored pace. As the duo continued their
sunset stroll along the Manhattan sidewalk,
a strong gust of frigid November wind blew
past them causing Nichole Edwards Raven to
tilt off balance. The pregnant woman imme-
diately began a frantic balancing act, as she
fought to regain control of her swollen legs
and the heavy belly poking up from beneath
her thick pea coat. At the sight of her friend’s
struggle to tame her round tummy, a burst of
giggles, which Marissa had been trying to
fight off, finally escaped in one loud
stomach-clenching laugh.

“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Nichole

streaked. A sad pout formed on her lips. The

expression mirrored a woman who was on
the verge of weeping. “Wait until it’s your
turn,” she whimpered.

“Not any time soon, sweetie,” Marissa

teased.

After taunting her weary friend, Marissa

moved closer and hooked her arm around
Nichole’s elbow. She helped the newlywed
balance her plump limbs so they could con-
tinue their walk toward a café at the end of
the crowded block.

“If I had known I would end up looking

like this,” Nichole pointed her chin down to-
ward her motherly stomach, “I would never
have let Eric sleep in the same bed with
me…ever.” She murmured another sour note
under her breath then inched forward on
puffy feet. “I would have double bolted the
bedroom door every single night…even on
our honeymoon.”

“Nicky, sweetie, you look fine.” Marissa

sent a kind smile in Nichole’s direction.

129/333

“You’re about to become a mother of the
earth so you’re twice as beautiful now.”

In reply, Nichole huffed and rolled her

eyes, but kept a tight hold on Marissa’s arm.

“Says the woman who doesn’t have to

drag a basketball around under her shirt all
day and night for the next three months.”
Nichole sped up her pace as much as her oval
shape would allow. She spoke her next state-
ment with unshakable confidence. “I know
one thing for sure…I hope this baby is a
boy…‘cause there is no way I’m doing this
twice.”

Tears dotted the corners of Marissa’s

eyes. She dropped Nichole’s arm while riot-
ous laughter spilled from her chest. When
she pulled herself up, the woman swiped the
salty stream off her cheeks with the back of
her hand.

“I don’t know how Eric survives living

with you,” she said.

130/333

“Because he loves me.” A smirk tugged

at Nichole’s lips. “He knows I’m the best
drama that ever steam-rolled into his life,”
she said with a proud grin.

Marissa straightened her face then nod-

ded. She silently recounted the details re-
garding the chaotic beginning of Nichole’s
harrowing romance, which very nearly ended
in tragedy. Her husband, Eric Raven, a loc-
ally famous Public Defender, remains
fiercely devoted to the stubborn woman.
Marissa’s relief at knowing that her girl-
friend since high school was now safe and
only a trimester away from being blessed as a
mother was soon countered by a slight
twinge of envy for Nichole’s new and idyllic
life. As the last thought flowed through her
mind, Marissa quietly wondered if she would
ever wear the serene glow hovering angelic-
ally around Nichole’s face – the joyful por-
trait of a young wife and mother. Would

131/333

providence ever fill Marissa’s life with this
kind of happiness and love?

A vision of clear blue eyes began to

dance through her wandering thoughts, and
Marissa did not delay in pushing the image
away. In its place, a flash of red summoned
her attention.

“Let’s stop here for a minute,” she said.
Her eyes became fixed on a brilliant

bouquet standing gracefully in a flower shop
window. The large display of crimson roses,
perfectly arraigned and vibrantly shaded
with

true

love’s

color,

held

Marissa

spellbound.

Out of nowhere, a crisp breeze caressed

the tip of her ear. As the tickle of wind flowed
onward to destinations unknown, it paused
only long enough to whisper an enchanting
phrase to Marissa. Addio, amore. The
memory of the two words ignited a torrid
blaze across every inch of her body, stirring
up an unfamiliar longing in Marissa’s soul.

132/333

One man was the cause of these tempestuous
emotions. He was also the same man whom
she had sworn to avoid. Marcello Antoni
Rossi already had one woman clinging to
him; who knows how many dozens of others
were weeping for a chance at sampling his
seductive touch. Regardless of how intensely
her body reacted to the gorgeous Italian
man, Marissa refused to fall prey to a rich
man’s disastrous games of the heart.

“Perfetto…Proprio come te.” The warm

breath from an arousing accented tenor
stroked her earlobe. “If you will permit me, it
would be an honor to purchase them for you,
amore.”

Startled by the nearness of the alluring

voice, Marissa turned sharply. Her wide-
eyed gaze collided with the suave executive’s
artic stare; she became trapped within its di-
vine charm. Each time their eyes cascaded
together, hushed volumes of emotion were
exchanged between the pair. Feelings too

133/333

thrilling to speak aloud, sensations far too
intense to whisper freely flowed from Mar-
cello’s blue eyes into Marissa’s hazel gaze
then circled back again.

Though Marissa’s mind begged her curi-

ous stare not to sweep over Marco’s towering
frame, she did so anyway. His Mediter-
ranean tan blended well with the dark sweat-
er and jeans he had changed into. The bul-
ging outline of sculpted muscles peeked from
beneath the stylish top, and a sturdy waist
filled in the slim pants perfectly.

Seconds later, a sobering thought

dashed across her mind. The vow Marissa
had spoken to herself earlier crept into her
common sense. He’s trouble…Keep away.
The warning was so strong that Marissa had
no choice but to forcefully throw off the ef-
fects of Marcello’s bold and irresistible pres-
ence. She blinked away from the mesmeriz-
ing eyes and regained her composure.

134/333

“Mr. Rossi,” she said, offering him a pla-

cid smile. “I’m surprised to see you out on
the street. I assumed you would only travel
by limousine during your trip.”

“Not tonight,” he said with an eager

grin. “After this weekend, I may not return to
your city for a long while, so this is a special
occasion for me. I wanted to make the most
of my time here, and to enjoy the beautiful
sights.”

Marcello’s eyes seemed to be searching

her face. He was trying to evoke a suitable
response, yet Marissa would not submit to
the demand from the blue gems. She simply
lifted her mouth into an agreeable smile. A
quick glance around revealed that the man
was alone. No dark-haired, green-eyed siren
was in tow.

“You’re alone again.”
His face straightened and the flirtatious

smile dropped away.

135/333

“Katerina and I travel together from

time to time.” He hesitated but continued.
“Mostly for professional purposes, nothing
more.”

“Of course,” Marissa replied, raising her
cheeks slightly higher. “It’s none of my
business anyway.”
“I’m Nichole Raven, and you are…?”
A brown hand jutted between the
couple.
“Pleased to meet you,” Marcello smiled

politely. “I am Marcello Rossi.” He accepted
Nichole’s gesture then cordially tipped his
head toward her. “I see you are with child.
Many blessings on your family. May your
home be filled with joy, always.”

“Thank you,” Nichole beamed. It did not

take very long before her proud expression
suddenly morphed into a sly grin. Behind
thin glass lenses, a hint of mischief was lurk-
ing in Nichole’s brown eyes. “Do you have
children of your own?”

136/333

Marissa’s lungs clamped shut and her

ears buzzed. When Marcello’s cool gaze drif-
ted over, her pulse exploded. The pounding
was so hard that all of the busy nightlife
noises on the sidewalk and in the street went
mute.

“No…unfortunately, I have no wife nor

any children.” His eyes never dropped away
from Marissa as he spoke. “There will be no
woman awaiting me when I return to my
home.”

His stare flicked back to Nichole.
“I see.” Nichole tilted her head sideways.

This time, brown eyes floated in Marissa’s
direction. They stopped for a dramatic pause
then blinked away. “Maybe one day soon
you’ll find a woman to fill your home with
joy…always.”

“Well, we should be going.”
Marissa stepped forward and cut the

conversation.

137/333

“Please…stay.” Marco reached out, his

warm fingers gently cupped Marissa’s hand
before she could turn away. “I was about to
enjoy a quiet dinner alone, but it would be a
true pleasure to have you join me.” He
offered another courteous smile to Nichole.
“You and your dear friend, of course.”

Marissa’s mind was in conflict with it-

self. Since their first meeting, she had been
frantically trying to dismiss her consuming
attraction to this man. Danger and desire
swirled all around him, and each one persist-
ently tapped at her mind and body for con-
trol. Marcello Rossi tempted the intrigued
woman like no other man she had ever en-
countered. Even so, the clues were obvious
and undeniable; once she gave in to the sway
of his magnetic essence, Marissa’s life would
never be the same. The question that was her
constant companion – Would this change be
a blessing or lead to her demise?

138/333

“No,” her heart was breaking even as she

said the word, “but thank you anyway. Nich-
ole and I already have plans for this evening.
Good night, Marco.”

Nichole’s expression was stunned; her

eyebrows were pushed toward the top of her
head. Marissa turned to leave, but her ad-
mirer was determined to have his way.

“Tomorrow night? Will you be free

then?”

“I’m afraid not.” In spite of a gripping

urge to go against her decision, Marissa held
strong. “The hotel has a policy against staff
and guests having personal relationships. I
can’t…I’m sorry.”

“As am I,” he said.
Sullen defeat mixed into Marco’s low

voice. The jubilant glow on his face dropped.
The sparkle in his eyes fizzled into nothing-
ness as his stare drooped toward the gray
pavement. Had Marissa been mistaken about

139/333

Marco’s true intentions? Was there genuine
affection behind his pursuit of her?

Marco stepped several inches away from

the women. He placed his right hand over his
heart and bowed solemnly, never raising his
gaze to meet Marissa’s eyes.

“I apologize. I shall bother you no more.
Good night.”
The crushed man turned and started a
slow pace up the crowded walkway.
“Wait!” Nichole’s voice clipped the air.
She wobbled as fast as her swollen body

could move then called out to him again. At
the very last second, before disappearing
around the corner ahead, Marco stopped and
angled his body toward the calls. Once he
spotted her in the crowd, Nichole did not
waste any time lifting her hand to signal him
to return, which he did without hesitation
and hastily parted through the pedestrians.

“Can you wait here for one minute? I

need to have a word with my friend.”

140/333

Marco’s eyes flicked from Nichole to-

ward Marissa and held their position. The
clear blue shade had deepened to a gleaming
and hopeful cobalt.

“Sì.”
“Thank you. Don’t disappear, this won’t
take long.”
Marcello nodded then moved a few feet
away to leave the women to their private
conversation.
“What’s the matter with you?” Nichole
snapped the question at Marissa.
“With me?” Marissa replied, shocked by
her friend’s tone. “Nothing. I can’t have
anything to do with him outside of
work.”
“No, Missy, that’s not the reason. I can
see it all over your face. You like him,
and you’re scared.”
Nichole’s remark hit too close to the ac-

tual truth. Marissa did not reply, because she

141/333

was too tempted to lie. Instead, she looked
away and stared at nothing in particular.

“I know these feelings are scary, because

that’s exactly how I use to feel. You know me,
and

you

know

how

I

was.

Couldn’t…wouldn’t…be bothered with any-
thing to do with love and all the craziness
that comes with it. All I wanted to do was live
in my own little lonely world. I didn’t want
some random guy to fill my life with empty
promises and then break my heart.” Nich-
ole’s voice softened. “I remember every word
of my first conversation with Eric. I remem-
ber hating him and adoring him…all in the
same breath. I remember being afraid to let
my guard down. I also remember seeing how
much he loved and adored me too…even
during that very first argument. Seeing that
expression only made me even more afraid
to accept his affections.” She moved closer
and laid a comforting hand on Marissa’s
arm. “I see that same look on Marcello’s

142/333

face…in his eyes…when he’s watching you.
Missy, I love you, you’re like a sister to me,
and I would never do anything to hurt you.
Trust me…don’t let this moment slip by.”
Nichole squeezed a little tighter, pushing
more sentiment into every word she spoke.
“I love Eric with all my heart and I love
knowing that we’re about to bring a baby in-
to the world to love…together. I want the
same love for you, Marissa.”

Nichole’s admission struck straight at

Marissa’s hesitant heart. Despite all of the
obstacles that stood between them, Nichole’s
reward for taking a chance on loving Eric
was finding her soul mate. Eventually, a tiny
voice, hidden in the most veiled part of her
soul, convinced Marissa that she should not
let Marco walk out of her life, at least not this
way. Amazing possibilities, the likes of which
even her vivid imagination could never
dream of, awaited the couple. Destiny was
calling, and Marissa would answer the plea.

143/333

“Marco,” Marissa said, lifting her eyes

timidly to his. “Tomorrow night at seven?”

His eyes lit up; he stepped forward.

Marcello’s signature and charismatic smile
returned to his face. He reached forward,
laying the tips of his thick fingers at the
curve of her cheek.

“Perfetto,” he grinned. “Until then, I will

be thinking of you, Marissa.”

144/333

In her dream, Marissa was waltzing across a
ballroom floor in the arms of a strong man.
Dozens of faceless onlookers were admiring
them from the shadows. The event felt so
real and so authentic that when she awoke,
Marissa was surprised to be lying in bed next
to her sister and not still floating around the
regal scene.

The sound of the doorbell pulled the wo-

man further away from her enchanted sleep.
Jasmine stirred once, and then went motion-
less. Marissa also made no attempt to exit
the comforts of the warm bed. In addition to
trying to regain her sense of reality, she was
also trying to settle her churning stomach.
The huge servings of pasta, wine, and garlic
breadsticks she had gorged on last night
were having a revolution in her aching belly.
Why had she ever dared to compete with a
pregnant woman’s bottomless appetite?

Apparently, pregnancy also included bed-
hogging privileges. After Nichole rolled over
and nearly smothered her sometime after 1
AM, Marissa decided that her best chances
for surviving the night were to squeeze into
her younger sibling’s bed.

While Nichole was merrily snoring away

in the next room, Marissa was trying to cling
to the last remnants of a much-needed rest.
After surviving two hectic days and nights,
there was no way Marissa was vacating the
cozy cave under the quilt any time soon.
Today was also her first Saturday off in a
month, so she was not accepting questions,
comments, complaints, or requests from
anyone who was not related to her by blood
or friendship. Unless one of the other two
women decided to answer the door, whoever
the visitor was would either have to take a
hint and walk away or be left standing there
for the remainder of the morning.

146/333

One of the best benefits of working at La

Grande Roi was that Marissa had the con-
venience and security of living in the center
of Manhattan at a hugely discounted rate.
Three floors on the lower section of the
building were used exclusively as apartment
housing for employees and were only access-
ible with an ID badge. The morning after the
grim incident in the alleyway, she had to is-
sue herself a new access card. It was a very
small weight off her mind that the robber
had only swiped her ID card and not the en-
tire wallet, or else he would know her ad-
dress and where she worked. The thought
caused the woman’s entire body to tense
with apprehension. Marissa had to force her-
self to unclench the rigid knots her muscles
had flexed into.

To flee from the shadows that were try-

ing to creep into her mind, Marissa roused
herself awake a little more. She opened her
eyes only wide enough to watch the burnt-

147/333

orange and honey-yellow double halo of the
rising sun climb to the top of the skyscrapers
crowding outside of her window. Satisfied
that a better day was dawning, she tossed the
blanket over her head and slipped into a light
sleep.

When the doorbell dinged for a second

time, Jasmine huffed beside her then used
her feet to kick the blanket they were sharing
off her body. At the third buzz, Marissa
heard her sister grumbling something nasty
while she stumbled around the dim room,
probably in search of her pink slippers.

“I’m coming!” Jasmine’s snappy voice

bounced off the walls. Afterward, her shuff-
ling footsteps disappeared through the bed-
room door.

In her sister’s absence, Marissa grabbed

Jasmine’s share of the blanket and wrapped
herself up like a living mummy. A sigh of
contentment slipped from her nose…or was
that a snore? All at once, her mind was

148/333

anxious with worry. What does a woman
with a middle-class wallet wear on a date
with a wealthy businessman? Marissa
frowned at the answer her conscious sent
back to her. A paper bag over her head to
distract him from the thrifty ensemble she
was going to have to throw together. Why
had she allowed herself to be bullied into ac-
cepting his offer? Both she and Marco would
be much better off not crossing over into
each other’s lives. Why was that such a hard
idea to accept? Because he’s gorgeous and he
makes your thighs tingle every time he looks
at you, that’s why, again, her conscious was
brutally honest with its reply.

A loud giggle floated into the bedroom.

Then several more filled the apartment.
Some of the laughter was from her sister,
however, the other half of the muffled con-
versation was definitely a male voice, maybe
two. Marissa pushed the covers back and
perked up her ears; curiosity was quickly

149/333

washing away her drowsiness. A few seconds
later, riotous laughter pulled her out of the
bed and down the short hall. When she ar-
rived in the living room, Jasmine was stand-
ing in the door leading into the outside cor-
ridor. Her lengthy, naturally thick and curly
hair was bouncing up and down while she
joked with an unseen person who was just
beyond the doorway. The sound of Marissa’s
footsteps padding across the carpet finally
touched her sister’s ears, and she turned her
cheery cocoa face around.

“Hey, girl,” Jasmine beamed a broad

smile at Marissa. “You have a special delivery
waiting.”

Marissa knitted her brows together.
“Me? From who? What is it?” She spoke

so fast that the three questions rolled into
one.

Marissa took a handful of giant steps

across the room and landed next to Jasmine
at the front door. To her surprise, the head of

150/333

a dark-skinned man leaned over the
threshold.

“Hi Marissa.” James, one of the dayshift

guards grinned pleasantly at her. “I checked
his references and brought him up to deliver
this package in person.”

Marissa pulled her lips into a worried
smile.
“Brought who up for what?”
“He said he had special instructions to
give you door to door service.”
“Instructions from who?” There was

agitation in her voice. Her questions were
only leading the way to more questions, none
of which were being answered.

“Mr. Marcello Rossi.” A second male,

young but very handsome, with light straw-
berry blond hair and thin eyeglasses stepped
from the side and moved closer to the edge
of the doorframe. He was wearing a driver’s
cap and a pressed black suit and tie. He

151/333

offered Marissa a genuinely friendly smile as
he spoke. “I’m Alex, your driver for today.”

“Driver?” Marissa’s voice hit a dry high
note. “Why do I need a driver?”
“Mr. Rossi provided a specific itinerary
for today’s trip.”
Her

lips

dropped

open;

Marissa

stammered out her next questions.
“Trip? To where?”
“A full service salon and day spa, fol-
lowed by a shopping excursion on Fifth
Avenue.”
Her mouth snapped closed, shock had
sealed it tight.
“What’s going on?”
A disheveled Nichole shuffled up behind
the small group wearing a robe loosely
tied around her round belly.
“What else did Mr. Rossi say?” Eager to

hear the rest of the details regarding this
early morning surprise, Marissa ignored her
friend’s question.

152/333

“He said that you were to be treated like

a princess for the entire day.” A sweet grin
lifted Alex’s face. “I will be serving as your
personal chauffer and butler. Whatever you
want or need, I’m your man.”

“And…how much is this going to cost

me?”

Marissa

never

assumed

anything;

whenever possible, she liked to deal in facts,
not feelings.

“Zip and nada, Ms. Stiles. All is taken

care of. Mr. Rossi made it very clear that no
expense should be spared. Whatever catches
your eye today, it’s yours.” The young man
grinned again, more slyly this time. “He
thought you might have some concerns…so
he also sent a pre-package as well.”

“Where? I don’t see anything.” Nichole’s

head miraculously grew out of Marissa’s
shoulder.

The man tossed one slim digit in the air

then ducked out of the room. Seconds later,

153/333

when the young driver returned, Marissa
nearly collapsed on the floor. He entered the
apartment carrying a colossal bouquet of
long stem roses. The mixture of scarlet-red
and snow-white roses flooded Marissa’s
home with the scent of romance.

“There’s a card in the front,” Alex spoke

from his place behind the huge floral-filled
crystal vase.

“Well,” Nichole’s finger nudged the cen-

ter of Marissa’s back, “what are you waiting
for? Read it…out loud.”

Nichole slipped the last half of her com-

ment in just as Marissa’s trembling fingers
reached for the tiny cream-colored envelope.
Ignoring her girlfriend’s firm request, the
dazzled woman silently studied the words
scrolled across the small card. The lovely
message was printed in elegant writing and
embossed with golden letters.

Rosas per il mio amore. Whatever you

desire is yours. Marco.

154/333

Her eyes danced over the message sev-

eral times. With each reading, Marissa’s
pulse fluttered faster and she received the
words deeper into her heart. A tiny tear dot-
ted the tip of her curly eyelash.

“Where do you want me to sit these?”
The sound of Alex’s voice returned

Marissa to reality. In her mind, the sweet
serenade of an imaginary symphony’s slow
melody – a gentle waltz similar to the one
from her dream – faded away and the
present moment pushed forward.

“I’m sorry …right there,” Marissa replied

while pointing to a tall table near the open
door.

“Mr. Rossi also added one more note to

the agenda,” the young man said as he
placed the bouquet on the stand. “He said
that your dear friend, the glowing mother-to-
be, was to accompany you, and that she was
also to be given the royal treatment.”

155/333

“Oh, he’s good. I like him…a lot.” Nich-

ole nodded her head with excited approval.
“I told you he was definitely a keeper,
Missy.” The pregnant woman quickly turned
and moved toward the bedrooms. She yelled
her exiting words over her shoulder. “Me and
this baby will be dressed in twenty minutes
or less…guaranteed.” Just before her voice
disappeared into the background, she called
out once more. “Jasmine…come help me get
into this tub.”

Jasmine shook her big fluff of hair, and
then started a slow march further into
the apartment.
“Catch you later, Jaz? Don’t forget about
tomorrow.”
Alex’s eager sea-green eyes followed
Jasmine’s every step across the room.
A tint of burgundy flashed at the top of

Jasmine’s light brown cheeks. Her golden
hazel eyes, similar to the shade of her big sis-
ter’s, blinked away shyly.

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“I won’t…see you then,” she said while

slipping out of the room at a fast pace.

“Bye,” the young man lifted his voice

higher, but the woman had already left the
room and was completely out of sight.

Marissa made a mental note to remem-

ber to ask Jasmine about that intriguing ex-
change. She wondered if those two had met
before today; the sly grins the pair had
shared did not seem to be the casual glances
of strangers. For now, however, Marissa
could only focus on her own curious
romance.

While the trio of women fumbled

around in the bathroom and bedrooms, Alex
and James drank coffee and talked sports
over the eggs Marissa scrambled for them.
As she dressed, a thousand distractions and
twice as many worries weighed down her
progress. Most women would have rushed
with carefree and open arms into Marco’s
embrace; however, Marissa could only think

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of all the complications waiting for her after
she followed that path. Beneath her mask of
caution, a fragile heart – easily shattered –
was beating inside her chest. If sincere love
blossomed there, would Marcello ever feel
the same? Or was Marissa only setting her-
self up to be made into a fool for everyone to
see and scoff at?

One night was all Marco had asked for,

and one night was all Marissa was willing to
risk. After this evening, she would make
good on the promise she had whispered to
herself yesterday. Her love story with Marco
had to end. Once Marissa said goodbye to
him, there would be no looking back and no
regrets. She simply could not – would not –
take the gamble of facing the heartbreak that
was sure to follow if she ever truly fell in love
with Marcello Rossi.

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PART THREE

~G~

Deception

Chapter Seven

Fatal Wounds

Early Saturday evening, the smuggler
rechecked the account balance displayed on
the laptop’s wide screen. He had made the
drop yesterday afternoon, stashing the mer-
chandise in the designated pickup location,
yet the buyers had failed to deposit his final
payment. Like the hands of a time bomb
ticking down to detonation, the villain’s pa-
tience was dwindling down to zero.

His thick finger scrolled across the touch

pad then clicked on a link to open the ac-
count’s recent history. Furious eyes quickly
scanned the screen until they found the de-
tails he was searching for. Two hours ago,
five million euros had been placed on hold in
the account then withdrawn thirty minutes
later. There were no notes to accompany the

strange transaction, only a crushing negative
sign placed in front of a huge sum of money
that was rightfully owed to him.

Idioti! These bastards must think I am

playing games.

The volatile man stood up, stomped over

to the bed, and then smacked the porcelain
lamp from the nightstand, sending the delic-
ate item crashing against the hard surface of
a nearby wall. Wicked minds were never at
peace; instead, they’re always fixated on
planning the next move on the chessboard or
endlessly trying to outrun nightmarish
memories, and his was no exception.
However, despite having not slept for days
on end, the madman’s mind remained cun-
ningly sharp and dangerously close to a tip-
ping point.

One hour. One hour was all his financier

would be granted before the killer would
rampage the other man’s home and strangle
him in his sleep. Afterward, though it would

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be nowhere near the full payment due for the
thief’s services, he would also hack into the
middleman’s personal and business accounts
then funnel the money to his foreign bank as
compensation for his mounting troubles.

While the man replayed the murderous

scheme in his head, his laptop chimed; a new
instant message had been delivered to his
computer. He walked over and scanned the
alert flashing at the lower right-hand corner
of the screen.

New Message from Anonymous User

Click here to Accept

The rogue agent rubbed his fingers

around his smooth chin. Contacts and buyers
were given discreet instructions on how to
contact him directly, but only to be used in
the case of an emergency. Could this be one
of those times? Had one of the local law en-
forcement units stumbled onto the plot?
No…not possible. My plans are always
flawless, he mused. The only logical

163/333

explanation for this urgent communication
must have something to do with his missing
payment.

He quickly scrolled over the message

and accepted the incoming IM. In a fiery
flash, the wretched words filled his boiling
blood with seething venom.

Anonymous: payment denied

RAM: explain

Anonymous: merchandise is forgery

RAM: impossible! items were verified as authentic

Anonymous: expert testing confirmed contents as fakes…payment was withdrawn

from account

RAM: pay my fee or return goods

Anonymous: refuse…forgeries well done…will be resold…consider first payment

already sent as full amount due…no further contact will be accepted

While reading the last sentence, a viol-

ent roar clawed to escape the villain’s throat.

RAM: then you will die and I will take what is owed from your pockets

Immediately after he hit the enter key,

another message appeared on the screen, but

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the killer ignored the musical alert. He was
done with this pointless conversation and
done with the man who assumed that he was
sitting in safety on the other side of the en-
crypted transmission. The fool had signed
his own death warrant, which was soon to be
delivered in person and with merciless
vengeance.

However, before he visited his sickly as-

sociate, first the killer had to deal with ex-
ecuting another prompt punishment on the
traitor who was closest to his own black
heart. He should have known better than to
trust that green-eyed banshee. While dis-
tracting his attention with swinging hips and
scorching kisses, the treacherous woman had
been plotting on how to switch the real gems
with forgeries all along. Until today, Kater-
ina’s greed had always served his purposes
well. In spite of this, he would not allow his
fondness for her to prevent him from using
whatever harsh techniques were necessary to

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force her to reveal the location of the authen-
tic jewels. Even if he had to snatch her last
breath, the deceitful woman would confess
her secret.

As Marcello Rossi stood in front of the

bathroom mirror and adjusted his tie, the
suffocating aroma of an excessive use of
heavy French perfume filled the air. Kater-
ina’s scent drifted up Marco’s nose long be-
fore her slinky arms wrapped around his
waist. She hugged his body from behind then
looped a thin finger through a short blond
curl at the base of his neck.

“Marco, amore,” she purred in his ear.

Her roaming hand slid beneath the curve of
his strong jaw. “Dove stiamo andando?”

Ignoring the woman’s false affections,

Marco nudged her hand with his shoulder
and stepped out of her hold.

“We are not going anywhere.” He fin-

ished folding his tie before speaking again. “I

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have a business meeting to attend to this
evening. I will not return until much later.”

While the deceptive woman sulked

nearby, Marco put on his pressed evening
jacket then brushed his hair once more. Be-
hind him, Katerina flopped down hard onto
the edge of the bed he refused to share with
her. She crossed her arms and legs tightly,
staring at his wide back with deadly aim the
entire time.

“Business? Huh,” she sneered then used

a finger to fling her long dark hair over her
slim shoulder. “It is that woman.” The agit-
ated female stood and advanced closer, stop-
ping directly in front of him. “I have seen
how you look at her. Americana! Huh…so
plain and homely.”

The jealous female tossed another hand-

ful of hair around her shoulder, both for dra-
matic effect and to accentuate the distaste
for her rival.

167/333

The agent silently dismissed his com-

panion’s attempt at rousing his anger. This
was not the first time Marcello had rejected
her flirtations, nor had this been Katerina’s
first fit of rage when he had done so. Despite
the fact that he had once considered this wo-
man, whom he had known since childhood,
to be a close friend, Katerina had lost all her
inner beauty and charm long ago. She had
only succeeded in growing more volatile and
manipulative over these past few years. In
Marcello’s eyes, she had become unattractive
and dreadful to endure.

“It is none of your concern, Katerina.”
“None of my concern, eh?” She shoved

his chest with both hands. Though she tried
hard to rock the man off balance, she failed,
which infuriated her even more. Green fire
poured from her slanted eyes. “Do not anger
me, Marco. You need me now more than
ever.”

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“You’re insane,” Marco replied coolly.

Her threat held no weight in his ears.

He stepped around her then moved at

an easy pace toward the door.

“Do not forget that I was there when

your brother was shot down like a dog in the
street. Do not forget that I was the one who
tried to save him while you fled in terror.”

Marcello froze. His hand was fixed on

the doorknob, but he was too horrified to
turn it and escape from the woman’s cruel
words or the haunting memories they
summoned in his mind.

“Silenzio.” Although he only managed to

whisper the order, in his thoughts he had
screamed the demand.

The death of his brother had left a

ragged scar across Marcello’s spirit, and Ka-
terina’s scathing reminder had torn the old
wound wide open. The agent carried the
events of his sibling’s terrible demise like a

169/333

badge of disgrace; it was a raging torment,
which taunted him night after night.

“Guardami!” The furious woman rushed

up to Marcello and pulled him by his
shoulder, forcing him to face her. “Look at
me!”

How could a woman so pleasing to the

eye be so vile and bitter inside? Marco had
contemplated this question many times and
was yet to find a suitable answer.

With four broad strides, the tense man

stepped away from Katerina. In all of his
thirty years on this earth, he had never
placed a heavy hand upon a woman, and
today would be no different. Fearing that he
might destroy his own reputation as a gentle-
man, Marcello knew he had to leave the suite
at once.

“When I return, I will request separate

room arrangements. We may have to be here
longer than I had anticipated. A suspicious
wire transfer has been placed by one of the

170/333

suspects. Also, our analysts are trying to de-
cipher several messages we intercepted from
his computer afterward.”

“Hmph…Ask me if I care,” she said and

turned her back to him. “You brought me
here…I never wanted any part of this stupid
mission.”

“We are under the same orders and

serve the same purpose, Katerina.” Marcello
raised his voice slightly when he spoke, re-
buking her defiant tone. “It was your duty to
accompany me.”

“I serve no one,” she hissed. “When we

return to our country, I am done. I will no
longer be used this way.”

Their conversation had become useless;

there was no point in trying to reason with a
sour mind.

“Alert me if there are any further up-

dates,” Marcello said flatly. He pulled the
front door open and stepped into the outside
hallway. “I will return in a few hours.”

171/333

Upon his return, Marcello would notify

his supervisors of Katerina’s deteriorating
mental state. For now, he would continue to
pursue other leads in the case. If one of the
hotel staff was confirmed as an accomplice to
the terrorists he was seeking, could it be pos-
sible that others were also in league with the
villains?

The

spy’s

original

suspicion

slammed his thoughts with full force. Was a
charming American woman working as a
well-placed decoy to distract the special ops
solider? Marco dreaded the answer his
trained mind declared to him.

After he had taken only a couple steps

outside the doorway, a whoosh of wind
whizzed by his left ear, followed by the thun-
derous crackle of crystal shattering. The vase
that Katerina had thrown against the
doorframe fractured into a thousand spark-
ling flecks on the floor near the entrance. A
few of the tiny shards sprinkled the shoulder
of Marcello’s black tuxedo jacket.

172/333

“I hate you! You disgust me,” the rabid

woman screamed. “You will always live be-
neath your brother’s shadow. Codardo! You
will always be a coward compared to him!”
Suddenly, a chilling calm filled her voice.
“We should take what is rightfully ours,
Marco…what we have earned by years of
dedication and service. We can live like roy-
alty…all of us.” She whispered her last three
words, almost as though they were an after-
thought. “This is your last chance. Since that
tragic day, nothing has been the same
between us…but it is not too late. We can be
happy…together…again.”

Marco held his position. His ears re-

mained on high alert, awaiting the sound of
feet running across the thick carpet. When
Katerina did not attempt to rush at him, he
stepped farther away from the threshold. As
he walked up the hall, Marcello swiped frag-
ments of crystal from his shoulder, never
once bothering to turn and face his raging

173/333

accuser. Even as the elevator doors slid shut
and sealed the vision of her face out of his
sight, Katerina’s unsettling finale continued
to echo in his ears.

174/333

Chapter Eight

Last Dance

On the backseat of a stretch limousine, Agent
Marcello Rossi sat in deep meditation.
Gloom hung on Marco’s face while he con-
templated the world’s affairs as if they were
all his personal burdens to bear. His
shoulders were slumped and a large lump
clung to the bottom of his throat. Jewels
were only the showpiece of this crime, and
the thought of Marissa – his heart’s true de-
sire – as a conspirator in this intricate game
of weapons smuggling filled his heavy chest
with a dull ache. Conflict raged within his
tormented mind. If Marissa were truly an en-
emy to his cause, would the dedicated agent
have the willpower to arrest her and turn her
over to an international tribunal? Or,

perhaps, would he dare to abandon his
sworn oath to uphold justice? If necessary,
would Marco do everything within his power
to protect her, possibly even aid Marissa in
fleeing the authorities?

A tap against the tinted window on his

right side signaled that it was time to shake
off the dismal shadow draped around him.
After his chauffeur opened the door, Marco
exited the vehicle and readied himself for the
performance of a lifetime. Before this even-
ing concluded, he would have to decide if it
was time for his masquerade to end. He had
been bold enough to entangle desire with
duty, and was desperately trying to walk a
dangerously fine line between the two. One
misstep and his entire life would be left in
splintered ruins, whether by way of heart-
break or by disgrace was yet to be determ-
ined. Tonight, his shaky balancing act would
come to its conclusion; Marcello would have
to choose which side to stand and fight for.

176/333

There would be no turning back, so the worn
man had to decide on the path he would fol-
low – his heart or his mind – wisely.

While he and his driver exchanged light

conversation, a second luxury car pulled into
the long cul-de-sac driveway of Le Salon Au
Soleil, a French restaurant in Midtown. After
the car was parked, a cheerful young man
stepped out of the dark vehicle and jogged
toward them.

Marco greeted the driver with an easy

smile and a firm handshake.

“How was today, Alex?”
“Everything was perfect, sir,” Alex

replied with a confident grin. “Ms. Stiles and
Mrs. Raven had an excellent day. Spa, shop-
ping, lunch…exactly as you requested.”

“Bene,” Marco nodded in approval. He

tipped his head toward the dark sedan be-
hind the men. “Ms. Stiles is inside?”

“Yes, sir, she is, and Mrs. Raven is

already dining at the restaurant you picked

177/333

out for her.” Alex quickly lifted his sleeve to
check his watch. “I’ll be going to pick her up
in about an hour and a half.”

“Well done, Alex,” Marco said as he pat-

ted the younger man’s shoulder. Afterward,
he placed several folded US bills in the
driver’s palm. “Please escort Ms. Stiles this
way.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rossi,” Alex said with a

wide grin. As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on
the large sum of cash in his gloved hand.

The chauffeur wasted no time in return-

ing to his parked limo as directed. When he
pulled the rear passenger door back, a set of
shimmering brown fingers dropped into the
center of his open palm. Marcello’s chest
squeezed tight and a lungful of air rushed
from his parted lips. The captivated man
stood motionless as seconds crawled to a
halt. His hungry gaze eagerly consumed the
sensual and flawless vision as she appeared
before him. Two high-heeled peep-toe

178/333

sandals, adorned with sparkling white gems,
gently tapped the asphalt below. A pair of de-
liciously shaded calves soon followed. His
passionate stare glided up the full length of
the silver evening gown’s generous split,
which climbed from a delicate right ankle up
to a thick chestnut-coated thigh. Next, he
slowly traced the hourglass curves of two
round hips. His wandering gaze was soon
filled with the sight of plump milk chocolate
breasts. Marcello wordlessly caressed their
supple skin as the round arches spilled teas-
ingly over a plunging strapless neckline. A
bejeweled mini tiara sat atop an elegant
French twist, while sparkling white gold
bracelets dangled from tiny wrists. Earth
tones highlighted the beautiful woman’s an-
gelic face, which was framed by thin spiral
curls draping down to her smooth shoulders.

Once the couple’s fiery stares connected,

no words were necessary. Marcello simply
opened his arms to her and Marissa glided

179/333

toward his embrace. All they had was this
one night together, unhindered from the de-
mands of the outside world. Under the frosty
sky, Marissa was truly Marcello’s princess –
his living muse – and the love-struck man
had become her endlessly devoted prince.
Even now, his heart was pounding with an
audacity to hope – to fantasize against all
odds – that someday she would become his
loyal queen.

“You are…magnificent, Marissa,” Marco

whispered down to her, beaming with a for-
bidden pride. “In all my days, I have never
seen a vision more lovely than you.”

“Thank you, Marco,” a shy smile lifted

her painted lips, “for everything.”

Hypnotic hazel eyes looped around his

mind, pulling Marco under a magnetic
trance. Every breath flowing from his body
begged to kiss her luscious almond-tinted
lips. As if she had heard his exact thought
and was awaiting his tender affection,

180/333

Marissa’s eyes drifted closed. Swimming
with desire to capture her mouth, Marco fol-
lowed his urge and leaned in. At the very last
second before their mouths cascaded togeth-
er, in spite of his dizzying craving, the dutiful
agent settled for a polite taste of her soft
cheek instead.

Sinister thoughts about falling victim to

a ruthless trap of seduction swiftly flooded
Marcello’s mind. His trained instincts forced
him to smother the joy swelling inside his
lungs. He had to remember that his objective
for tonight was to extract information – not
to fall in love. One sealed kiss and he would
surely become the tempting woman’s willing
suitor for always, forsaking all else, even his
career, to please her.

Reluctantly, Marco stepped out of their

shared embrace. From several inches away,
he allowed his gaze to dance over the alluring
features of Marissa’s natural grace once
more. Quietly, he tried to memorize every

181/333

curl in her hair, every shade of her skin and
elegant gown, every glint of her sparkling
eyes. Once he had appeased his silent ap-
praisal, Marco held out his arm to the stun-
ning woman.

“Shall we, mia signora, Marissa?”

Marco’s velvety accent instantly cast a

powerful enchantment over Marissa. She
quickly memorized how her name dripped
from his lips like a sweet treat. Ma-ree-sa,
she repeated his low bass in her spellbound
thoughts. She would never forget the linger-
ing hum that filled her body as he spoke the
word with highest honor.

Marissa’s eyes drifted over Marco’s

strong body. She carefully traced the image
of the robust man standing so near – ready
and willing – to attend to her every need or
whim. The colossal man’s stylish evening
tuxedo framed the square cut of his brawny
physique with absolute perfection. Hair that

182/333

was only a single shade shy of finely spun
gold dazzled her eyes. His hungry pink smile
lured her lips into a soft quiver, while his
regal face – almost as flawless as a
marbleized Greek soldier – stirred Marissa’s
heart to strum like a faint and haunting mur-
mur in her ears.

Her nobleman offered her his bent el-

bow then stepped forward to gently drape
her hand through. Marco pressed her
tingling fingertips into his own, twining their
hands together in an unbreakable hold. The
bond that sealed their two palms was so se-
cure it seemed as if he held even her heart-
beat under his protection and control. After-
ward, Marcello glided Marissa beneath the
restaurant’s sprawling lattice archway and
gently swept her into the center of a fairytale
ballroom. Under the grand dining hall’s
massive glass dome, red wine and rich foods
flowed freely, and the awestruck woman

183/333

became mesmerized within a late twilight
fantasy.

While the waiters rounded the table to

clear the last entrée, Marissa raised a long-
stemmed crystal flute to her lips. From be-
hind the clear glass, she watched Marco
glance at her with a curious frown. The in-
tense expression disappeared the instant he
realized she was staring back at him. Even
when it was gone from his handsome face,
the look rattled the woman’s nerves, pulling
her mind from beneath the enchanted haze it
had been shrouded in. Before the house of
cards Marissa had stacked against herself
came crashing down, the time had come to
find out the exact reason why she had be-
come the object of this man’s intriguing af-
fections. What were his true motives for
heaping all these lavish gifts upon her, and
why did Marcello seem to be pining for
Marissa’s attention in place of his beautiful
and exotic traveling companion?

184/333

“Katerina is…stunning,” she said, finally

speaking her anxious thought aloud.

Marissa’s hand trembled slightly as she

sat the delicate glass down on the linen
tablecloth. Marco did not reply; however, his
eyes followed her shaky movements. A low
sigh slipped from her throat. There was no
easy way of digging into a truth that would
probably chill her to the bone, so Marissa
forced the words forward.

“Marco,” she lifted her solemn gaze to

meet his, “why did you bring me here to-
night? You and I barely know each other. All
these gifts…all this attention for a woman
you met in a lobby yesterday.”

Marcello remained silent, but Marissa’s

mind began to supply its own version of the
answers she was seeking. Against her better
judgment, Marissa had succumbed to the
thrill of the attraction she felt for the appeal-
ing man sitting across from her, and now she
was going to pay the price for her mistake.

185/333

Was she only a pawn in a flirtatious play-
boy’s schemes? If so, she deserved to know
the whole truth, no matter how bitter it
might be to accept.

“None of this makes any sense to me.”

The exasperated woman released a loud sigh.
“People don’t fall in love at first sight…it just
doesn’t happen that way.”

Marissa’s voice drifted off to silence. She

leaned back and hugged her body as close as
possible against her high-backed chair. Her
eyes darted away to a distant corner of the
room, while embarrassment stamped itself
across her drained face. A frantic wave of
panic rolled over the woman. Love. What
had stirred her spirit to speak that passion-
ate slip of tongue?

Suddenly, a rapid motion caught her at-

tention. Marcello’s movement was too fast,
and Marissa couldn’t pull her hand away in
time. In a flash, he reached out and cupped
her fingers in the strength of his own. She

186/333

made a slight attempt to free herself from his
grasp, but was glad when the man she
privately craved held on to her tightly, refus-
ing to let go.

When he finally spoke, Marcello’s ice

blue eyes flickered to life then pulsed with a
cool azure glow. A surge of prickly energy
coursed from his skin, flooding her palm
with satisfying heat.

“What if love does happen in such a

way?” Marco’s blue flames searched deep in-
to Marissa’s eyes, impatiently awaiting her
response.

“Impossible,” she whispered. The defi-

ant word hung somberly in the warm breaths
they shared.

Though Marissa refused to speak her

hope into existence, she finally understood
the secret that bonded her spirit to Marcello
with such startling intensity…almost at first
sight.

187/333

“What I say at this moment is true,

Marissa.” Marco cupped her hand with more
urgency, pulling her slim fingers closer to his
chest while he poured the staggering confes-
sion from his rosy lips. “Since the very first
moment I saw you, you have held me captive
beyond my own understanding. No other
woman has ever touched my soul this deeply.
The more I try to push away what I feel for
you, the more passionate these emotions
grow inside of me. You are the only woman I
see, Marissa. Tu sei il mio amore bello…you
are my beautiful love.” Marcello pressed her
fingers against the side of his tan face. “You
are the only woman I would sacrifice
everything to protect.”

From somewhere nearby, the house

band struck up a slow rhythm. Sexy piano
keys blended in with the hypnotic sway of a
low saxophone. The atmosphere all around
the enraptured pair became electric with an-
ticipation.

Small

screeches

echoed

in

188/333

Marissa’s ears as chairs were pushed away
from surrounding tables. She glanced over
her shoulder and saw that the dance floor at
the center of the large dining hall was quickly
filling up with loving couples. Each duet
began to move at a gentle pace in time with
the sultry medley.

“The final dance of the evening.”

Marco’s

sensuously

low

tenor

pulled

Marissa’s thoughts back to him. As soon as
she was facing him again, he placed the thick
fingers of his second hand at the curve of her
naked neck. In response to the delicate
touch, Marissa’s eyelashes drifted down. She
immersed herself in the warmth of his palm
pressing into her bare skin. “May I have this
dance, Marissa…mio amore?”

Her head lifted from his soothing

embrace.

“I…can’t dance…not like this…” she

stuttered.

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“I promise your feet will never touch the

floor. I will hold you in my arms, and will
never let you slip.”

Marco rose from his chair and kneeled

before Marissa. He lifted one of her petite
feet into his hands and slipped the strap of
the jeweled shoe under her heel. Then he re-
peated the same motion with the other foot.
With a lover’s tender touch, Marcello’s long
fingers tangled Marissa into their adoring
hold. He pulled the glowing woman up from
her feet and into the fold of his big arms. Her
suave Italian man brought Marissa closer to
his chest and clutched her tight. The charm-
ing gentleman twirled his lady in smooth
motions that were in sync with the sultry
tune until their bodies drifted into the
middle of the crowded ballroom. As they
swayed, Marissa’s lengthy silver gown barely
touched the floor below.

On all sides of them, specs of silvery glit-

ter danced across the walls of the dim dining

190/333

hall. A loving blue gaze caressed Marissa’s
face, stroking her emotions and urging her
fingers to clamp onto the hard bicep muscles
hiding beneath Marco’s dinner jacket. Marco
responded to her feverish hold by wrapping
an equally possessive grip around her slim
waist, pressing Marissa’s shivering belly flat
against his muscular body. The rhythm of
the sultry jazz melody lured Marissa into lay-
ing her head on the wide span of his chest.
As she listened to the soothing patter of
Marco’s heartbeat, her hands began to roam
up the collar of his pressed shirt. Eager fin-
gertips quickly twined themselves in the
groomed and glossy tresses of his blond hair.
Silky strands that glinted like sun streaks
slipped through Marissa’s greedy palms.
Again and again, the infatuated woman
swept her hands through Marco’s short hair.
The pads of her fingers massaged his pale
scalp, and every caress evoked a sensual
groan from her man’s throat. The faster

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Marissa’s fingers played in Marco’s golden
locks, the quicker he tossed their waltzing
forms around the ballroom, and the tighter
he cuddled her rocking hips to his colossal
build. Thick fingers pressed deep into the
sensitive spot on her narrow back, just above
her round bottom cheeks. When Marissa lif-
ted her face to Marcello’s gaze, she was im-
mediately immersed in a sea of erotic blue.
There was true love for Marissa swimming in
Marco’s longing stare. Nothing else could
have been as perfect or more fulfilling than
this blissful moment.

All at once and unexpectedly, the music

ended and so did the entangled couple’s
twirling courtship. Marco dipped his head
closer. After an eternity of aching for this
moment, his burning lips brushed ever so
lightly across Marissa’s trembling mouth.

“As promised,” he said. The whispered

vow sent a soft stream of warm breath past

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her lips. “You moved flawlessly, without ever
touching the floor.”

Every second of Marissa Stiles' entire

adult life had been leading up to this one ex-
act pause in time…This was the man…this
was the feeling…this was the romance she
had secretly dreamed of. More than empty
ghosts from a half-forgotten dream, this was
Marissa’s breathtaking reality, wrapped up
in the strong arms of Marcello Rossi and
consumed by his heavenly love.

Marissa cupped Marco’s face. Words

were no longer enough. She pushed away her
hammering suspicions and silenced her hes-
itations. In a dizzying rush, two pairs of wet
and probing lips collided together with in-
flamed passion and feverish curiosity. A
pulsing ache drifted through the valley
between her moist breasts, and a puddle of
slippery

dewdrops

trickled

between

Marissa’s heated thighs. The delicate strings
of a violin began to serenade Marissa and

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Marco, pulling the future lovers outside of
time and space. Silently, the couple day-
dreamed of all the promises that lay before
them.

All

too

soon,

sharp

applause

thundered across the open air and called
them away from their first taste of eternal
love’s kiss.

As Marco’s limousine approached the arch-
ing driveway of La Grande Roi, bright
flashes of blue and red filtered through the
vehicle’s tinted windows, catching Marissa’s
attention. At the sight of the fleet of police
patrol cars parked in front of her hotel,
Marissa’s amorous emotions were rapidly
switched with razor-sharp panic. Had there
been an accident? Had one of the guests or
one of her staff been hurt? It suddenly oc-
curred to Marissa that she had neglected to
call Nichole in over two hours. Could she
have gone into premature labor or had a

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complication? Worry after worry raced
through Marissa’s frazzled mind.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, Marissa

pushed the lock back, swung the limo door
open, and ran toward the hotel’s sliding glass
entryway. When she was within six inches of
crossing the threshold, an African-American
man dressed in a navy blue uniform stepped
forward and blocked her path.

“What’s going on?” The question rushed

from the woman’s dry throat. Her heartbeat
pounded like a jackhammer inside her chest.

“I can’t let you go any farther, miss, this

is a crime scene. You’re going to have to wait
until we’re finished before you can enter.”

“But I work here.” Terror filled

Marissa’s mind. Her eyes were wide with
fright, and an urgent need to push past the
large man consumed her instincts. “I’m one
of the supervisors. You have to let me in. I
need to know what’s going on.”

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The officer scanned her dress. A look of
doubt floated over his face.
“I live here, too,” she said, answering his
unspoken questions. “I’m returning
from dinner.”
“And your name?”
“Marissa Stiles.”
As soon as the tall man fixed his lips to

speak, Marco stepped up from behind. He
slipped a hand onto Marissa’s right shoulder.
The touch calmed her shaking somewhat,
but her fear remained just as strong as it had
a moment ago.

“I am Marcello Rossi. Perhaps you may

be able to explain the situation to me.”

“Rossi.” A look of recognition flashed

across the police officer’s dark brown eyes.
He pulled a small notebook from his top
pocket then flipped through a few sheets of
paper. “Yes…here it is,” he said. His eyes
traced something scribbled on the notepad
he was holding. “Mr. Marcello Rossi of

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Genoa, Italy, and…M. Stiles, hotel manage-
ment.” The man read a few more notes then
glanced up at Marco and Marissa. “I’m going
to have to ask you and Ms. Stiles to go down
to the precinct station. The detectives are go-
ing to have some questions for both of you.”

“Yes, of course,” Marco nodded. “But,
before we leave, please tell us what has
happened.”
“I can only tell you a few details, Mr.
Rossi. The rest you’re going to have to
get from the lead investigators on this
case.”
“I understand,” Marco replied with a
nod.
“Ms. Katerina Corvino was registered as

the second guest to your room, correct?” The
officer’s first question, coupled with the veil
of dread hanging in his tone, was ominous.

“Yes, it is.”
Once Marco answered, the detective

made a thoughtful expression, as if he were

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trying to piece together an appropriate way
to say his next sentence. Nevertheless, there
were no suitable words to soften the terrible
report that followed.

“Dispatch received a call from the

hotel’s front desk about thirty minutes ago.
One of the house cleaners found Ms. Corvino
unconscious in your room, Mr. Rossi. It ap-
pears she may have been strangled. The
EMT’s didn’t arrive soon enough to revive
her. I’m sorry…she’s gone.”

Blood rushed to Marissa’s head; her vis-

ion went blurry. Ice flooded through her
veins and her pulse dropped below the
danger line. In the blink of an eye, Marissa’s
enchanted evening had morphed into a hor-
rible waking nightmare.

198/333

Chapter Nine

Truth & Alibis

A security guard nodded at him as they
passed one another on the elevator.

“Good evening, Mr. Rossi,” the black

man said while stepping off and exiting onto
the ground floor.

The villain offered no reply, not even a

slight tip of his golden head. His frustration
was barely controlled, and he had no time to
waste on being cordial with anyone. It had
taken the police well over an hour to vacate
the hotel premises, which had significantly
delayed the next phase of his retribution
plan.

Once on the elevator, the criminal

swiped the stolen badge across the digital
slot and pushed the button for the appropri-
ate floor. While the metal box made a swift
climb toward the employee apartments, he

focused on his new objectives. Besides his
contact at the hotel, the woman named Stiles
was one of very few people who had easy ac-
cess to the briefcase. It was quite possible
she had discovered that the attaché con-
tained the priceless gems. Even more infuri-
ating was the possibility that she had been
the emerald-eyed wench’s silent partner
from the very start. The idea that the two wo-
men might have been working together and
conspiring to steal his fortune right in front
of his eyes had never occurred to him. If he
had recognized the truth sooner, he would
never have allowed the sneaky minx out of
his sight when she was stashing the mer-
chandise for him. In those few seconds when
his attention had been distracted during the
phone call to the buyer, Katerina must have
found a way to switch the real jewels in the
carrier bag with fakes.

During the short ride upward, a fleeting

vision of the dark-haired vixen floated into

200/333

his mind. If the villain were capable of feel-
ing anything other than blistering rage at
this inconvenient situation, he might have
taken a brief moment to shed at least one
tear for his lost love. A muted inner scream
quickly smothered the tender sentiment. His
veins flooded with a renewed fury, and his
ferocious hatred boiled over. Katerina’s
greed had been her death sentence, and he
would not spend another valuable minute
lingering on her memory.

His single goal was to retrieve his pack-

age. Finding the missing gems was the thief’s
only chance for salvaging this failed opera-
tion. The rushed sale of the authentic jewels
would earn him at least half of a very hefty
commission, which had been denied by those
idiotic fools who had swindled him. To gain
the rest, he would siphon funds from the ac-
counts of his last living accomplice. After-
ward, he would track down each of the buy-
er’s nameless bosses and rob them of their

201/333

fortunes too. If he should happen to find the
forged merchandise along the way, the vil-
lain would seize the opportunity to turn a
profit from their auction as well. No matter
which way each of these scenarios ended, he
would emerge as the victor, just as it should
always be.

When the elevator doors opened, the

stealthy man stepped onto the residential
floor and did a fast survey of the hallway. He
was not concerned about being seen on the
security cameras; even in plain view, his face
would cast little suspicion. Even so, a trained
agent always ensured that he was fully aware
of every detail within his surroundings. It
was Saturday evening and most of the em-
ployees who lived on this floor had probably
gone out for drinks and dancing. He had
seen Stiles and one of the other women leave
the apartment hours ago. The third female
had also left within the last thirty minutes, so

202/333

he was not likely to encounter anyone for a
while.

Standing at the door to the apartment,

he passed the access card through another
automatic lock then turned the knob with
slow precision. The front room was pitch
black and no voices filtered from anywhere
within the muted space ahead. Once the door
was closed behind him, the thief flicked on a
pocket-sized flashlight and scanned the en-
tire room. With the intention of trying to
mask the fact that he had ever entered the
residence, the man kept everything in order
during his initial search. Nonetheless, after
ten minutes of futile searching, his psychotic
anger exploded. Inconsolable rage from the
loss of the only woman he had every con-
sidered loving fueled his spiraling fury. Piece
by piece, his powerful fists ripped each of the
rooms apart; nothing was spared from the
chaos spilling out of his mad hands. In less
than five minutes, the rogue agent had left a

203/333

long path of destruction and shredded clut-
ter across every square inch of the
apartment.

While standing in the center of one of

the bedrooms, heaving huge gulps of blister-
ing air in and out of his massive lungs, a
clear thought finally crept into the man’s dis-
turbed mind. If the jewels were not here then
the dark beauty must have hidden them else-
where. All he had to do was to calmly wait
for her or one of the other pretty females to
return to the apartment. One at a time, he
would catch them and then slowly interrog-
ate each of the women. Even if he had to pa-
tiently crush all of their throats, he would
force at least one of them to reveal the loca-
tion of the priceless gems. He had already
done the same with Katerina – sadly, to no
success – but the tormented man was certain
that this second round of questioning would
produce better results.

204/333

The sound of shuffling feet caught his

attention. Padded footsteps were approach-
ing the front door. The villain crept closer to
the entrance and silently waited to pounce
on whoever crossed the threshold. As the
door inched open, the shrill creak of the
doorframe filled the muted room. Then,
without warning, the movement stopped.
Heavy steps pounded away from the apart-
ment’s door and disappeared further up the
corridor. Pushing his body on sprinting feet,
the killer sprang into action and pursued the
visitor out of the room. Not wanting to rouse
suspicion on the security monitors, he
slowed to a fast-paced walk out of the apart-
ment and up the hall. To his aggravation, the
instant he reached the elevator, the metals
doors slammed shut in his face.

The rogue resisted the sizzling urge to

bang a tight fist against the metallic surface.
Frantic fingers rushed through his short
locks of hair. Fate was continuing to mock

205/333

him with its twisted games of irony and
botched plans. There was no doubt in his
mind that one of the women had returned
and had somehow sensed his presence
creeping behind the darkness. By now, se-
curity personnel were probably on their way.
He had less than a minute to exit this floor.

Calmly, he straightened his suit and tie

then pushed the up arrow on the elevator
panel. While riding the second elevator to-
ward his destination, the man regained con-
trol over his pulsing nerves and resumed his
casual façade. If questioned regarding his
reasons for entering this floor, he would
simply tell security that he had been on offi-
cial business. There was no reason why they
would doubt his answer. A grim smile tugged
at the villain’s lips; one event had played out
to his advantage. The woman who had just
escaped a brutal demise did not get a
glimpse of his face. His identity remained
safe, at least for a short while longer.

206/333

“Are you certain?” Marco asked the question
while staring intently at the man seated next
to him in the surveillance room.

The day of his arrival as a guest at La

Grande Roi, the Italian Embassy had ar-
ranged for his team of data intelligence ex-
perts to move their headquarters out of hid-
ing and into one of the local police depart-
ments. Nevertheless, most of the details sur-
rounding the operation remain highly con-
fidential, even to the commanders of the NY
police force. However, due to the suspicious
death of his associate, Katerina Corvino,
Marco was given permission by his liaison at
the embassy to grant the police detectives as-
signed to her case limited knowledge of his
covert investigation.

“One hundred percent positive, sir,” the

middle-aged man replied with a short nod.
He looked up from the computer screen he
had been reading his analysis from. “Initial

207/333

chemical testing is conclusive. The gems you
brought from the hotel tonight are the ori-
ginals.” The analyst adjusted his eyeglasses
then reworded his sentence. “Well, they’re
the original imitations. This batch never left
the hotel. The tracking device is still
deactivated.”

Marco stood and walked over to the

two-way mirror. Hidden behind the reflect-
ive glass coating, he watched Marissa glance
at the doorway to the interview room. She
was alone and frightened; panic filled her
eyes and covered her expression. He could
sense her alarm and truly wished he could
ease her fears. Despite the aching urge to
comfort his lady, this new revelation only ad-
ded more intrigue and confusion to a case
that was rapidly unraveling before his eyes
and slipping from under his control.

Why had Katerina been murdered? Al-

though her death had been tragic, and
caused a hint of sadness to touch his heart,

208/333

the female agent’s sudden demise also raised
Marco’s honed instincts. Very few people had
knowledge of their arrival in the US, even
less were aware of the exact reasons for their
presence in New York. Questioned spilled
out of his pacing thoughts. Was it possible
that someone had breached their ranks and
discovered their operation? Had the unseen
killer been searching for the hidden jewels,
believing them to be authentic, and stumbled
upon a surprised woman instead?

“So what should we do now?” The assist-

ant looked up at him and awaited further
direction.

“Without Agent Corvino, our original

strategy will have to be altered,” Marco said,
fatigue hovered in his voice. “I need you to
decrypt the IM conversation by tomorrow
morning. We also need a full trace on the
computer IP addresses, including all user
data and locations for the owners of the ter-
minals.” The lead agent turned his attention

209/333

to a female technician sitting at another
monitor on the opposite side of the starched
white room. “Upload any forensic evidence
the local police crime scene unit pulled from
Katerina and my hotel room and send it to
the federal lab in Arlington. Tell them we
need it analyzed STAT.”

The woman nodded then began typing

furiously on her keyboard. As Marcello star-
ted to speak again, his cell buzzed. He cut his
words short and scrolled his eyes across the
message displayed on his phone. His next
announcement was spoken at a high volume,
so that all who were present would hear the
crucial update.

“I just received a text confirming that

the district judge has granted our search
warrant requests. The hotel will be sending
their security tapes over no later than mid-
night tonight. The other information that
was requested should be arriving around the
same time. I need every second of tape, from

210/333

the time Katerina and I walked into the
lobby until right after her time of death thor-
oughly reviewed.” Marcello moved toward
the exit of the private door then stopped. “On
second thought, review at least thirty
minutes prior to our arrival.”

“Is there anything in particular we

should check the footage for?” The question
came from one of the other female analysts.

“Sì. Watch Katerina closely…also watch

the woman Stiles and any other staff who
were at the front desk that morning. There is
a key element that we have missed, and we
need to know exactly what that puzzle piece
is before tomorrow night.”

The analyst made a quick note on a

sheet of paper in front of her then returned
to staring at her computer screen.

“One final reminder.” Marco’s voice be-

came ominously serious. He walked a grave
stare across each face in front of him. “Re-
member that all these tasks should be

211/333

completed in record time. Our villain is des-
perate,

which

means

he

will

strike

again…very soon. This time, I need to be
several steps ahead of him. Understood?”

After each of the attentive technicians

acknowledged his warning with a firm nod,
Marco walked out of the tight quarters.
Every footstep closer toward the interview
room on the other side of the mirror
thundered in his ears. Time slowed to a men-
acing crawl and his body temperature leaped
to a severe degree. A dismal task loomed
ahead. How would he tell the woman who
stirred up such delicate emotions within his
beating heart that she was also a suspect in
his criminal investigation? How would Mar-
cello confess to Marissa – the woman who
drew such an intensely intimate craving
from every muscle in his body – that he had
been spying on her, even contemplating us-
ing her as a pawn, since before day one?

212/333

The minute after Marissa and Marco in-

troduced themselves to the homicide detect-
ives assigned to investigate Katerina’s death,
they were each escorted in opposite direc-
tions. According to the clock hanging on the
wall of the blank white room Marissa was sit-
ting in, that separation had occurred over
forty-five minutes ago.

Although her eyes raced around the

room, as if her mind were in desperate
search of an escape route, she had no reason
to feel this sudden burst of panic. Other than
having a dash of jealousy toward her,
Marissa had done nothing wrong to the re-
cently deceased woman.

Lately, her biggest offense seemed to be

allowing her high guard against a certain
man drop all too easily. A complete stranger
had come out of the shadows and swept her
up in a whirlwind fantasy romance, while
Marissa had eagerly shoved all her common
sense into quiet submission at every given

213/333

opportunity.

A

silent

hope

suddenly

trampled her runaway thoughts. Could
Marco’s words have been true? Was it pos-
sible that he had fallen in love with her at
first sight? Or were his whispered sentiments
only the false confession of a man whose
only intention was to seduce the dazzled wo-
man into a single evening of reckless
passion?

For some reason, whenever Marco’s

name floated into her mind, Marissa’s eyes
darted toward the mirror on the other side of
the room. Until today, Marissa had never ac-
tually seen a two-way mirror in person, but
she was certain this was the type of glass she
caught herself staring into. Who was watch-
ing her, and why was it taking this person so
long to make an appearance?

At the exact same moment when the last

question passed through her thoughts, the
door next to her opened and two men
stepped inside. The first man was one of the

214/333

detectives she had spoken with upon arriving
at the precinct. The second face belonged to
the handsome man with whom Marissa had
shared a fairytale waltz an hour ago. The face
was the same, yet subtle differences had
transformed the man she was staring at into
a peculiar stranger. Marco had abandoned
his evening jacket and untucked his dress
shirt. Moreover, his expression had altered
dramatically since they had parted ways
earlier. Gone was the gentle and adoring
glances of a man who had fallen under love’s
spell. In their place was an appearance of au-
thority and scrutiny. What had caused this
intimidating shift in his personality?

The duo stationed themselves on the op-

posite side of the tight space. Both men, in-
cluding Marco, glared at Marissa accusingly.

“Ms. Stiles,” the plain-clothes officer ad-

dressed her first, “you and I met when you
came in earlier. Just to remind you, I’m
Detective Nick James and this is my

215/333

associate,” he motioned his head toward
Marco, “whom I assume you already know
somewhat…Agent Marcello Rossi.”

Agent? Her heart pattered fiercely be-

hind her breasts. The most Marissa could
manage was a small nod in response.

“Ms. Stiles,” Marco said with an official

tone. As he talked, his eyes burrowed into
hers. “Detective James and I have been as-
signed to investigate a very serious set of
crimes. We have some questions we need for
you to answer as honestly as possible.”

The rich accent was familiar but had

been drained of all its warmth and kindness.
It was as though Marissa were simply anoth-
er woman Marcello had been introduced to
within the past few seconds, not one he had
almost confessed undying love for only an
hour beforehand.

“Okay,” was the only word with enough

strength to creep past her lips.

216/333

Before Marco began his questioning, it

suddenly occurred to Marissa that he had
mentioned crimes were committed. As far as
she was aware, Katerina’s death – possibly a
murder – was the only crime she knew of.

“Did you have any previous association

or involvement with Katerina Corvino before
meeting her at La Grand Roi?”

Marissa shook her head in response.
“No…Friday was my first time meeting

her. The only reason why I even remember
her name or her face is because she was
standing next to you, Marco.”

Marissa had become so comfortable

with addressing him under casual circum-
stances that the nickname slipped from her
mouth without her consent. Detective James
glanced curiously at Marco but said nothing
about the slip of tongue. Instead, he pro-
ceeded to ask his own question.

“Ms. Stiles, what do you know about
smuggling stolen merchandise?”

217/333

Shock and confusion caused Marissa to
wrinkle her brow.
“I don’t think I understand you.”
James stepped forward and crossed his
big arms menacingly.
“Are you involved with a ring of jewel

thieves? Were you trying to steal them from
Ms. Corvino? Did it end with her being
strangled to death?”

Tears of frustration stung the corners of

Marissa’s wide eyes. She was absolutely clue-
less about the accusations the rough cop was
trying to throw at her. Why was she being
kept in this tiny room and badgered for in-
formation without legal representation?

Suddenly, Marco moved forward and

tapped the other man’s shoulder. Marissa as-
sumed it was a sign for the detective to ease
back his forceful tone, because that was ex-
actly what the second investigator did. After
Marco laid his hand on him, Detective James

218/333

rolled his eyes and walked to the rear of the
room.

“Marissa.” Marco started his sentence

with a trace of sweet sincerity hiding in his
voice. A hint of his gentle nature peeked
from behind his pale blue eyes. “I under-
stand your confusion.”

“No…you don’t.” Marissa abruptly cut

his words. She wanted none of whatever
kindness he was trying to share with her. His
sentiment could not possibly be sincere, just
more mind games and cruel taunting of her
sensitive emotions. “You don’t understand
anything that I’m feeling right now.
Everything I thought I knew about you is a
lie…every word you said is worthless…and
you have no idea how much that hurts.”

Her sharp rebuke must have flicked a

switch in his mind. Marcello’s gaze softened.
His eyes became desperate to connect with
hers on a deeper level.

219/333

After a brief pause, Marco looked over at

Detective James.

“Please allow Ms. Stiles and I a moment

to speak in private.”

Whoever he really was, Marco’s author-

ity must have overshadowed the police of-
ficer’s rank. Clearly, the detective was reluct-
ant to leave; however, he quickly obeyed the
request and exited the interview.

Once the cop was gone, Marco pulled

out the chair facing Marissa and sat down.
He folded his hands on the table. Even
though the agent did not make any motion to
reach for her, a burst of magnetic energy
touched Marissa’s hands, as if his fingers
were pulsing to touch the woman’s skin. His
blue stare, although not as effective as it had
been earlier in the evening, still managed to
pull her mind into a profound connection
with his. The weight of the powerful and un-
explainable bond Marissa shared with the
deceiving man made hearing Marco’s second

220/333

confession

of

the

night

even

more

devastating.

“What I am about to tell you is a matter

of great importance.” Marco looked straight
ahead the entire time, never once dropping
eye contact with the disheartened woman.
“Under penalty of imprisonment, you are
legally bound by the terms of an internation-
al treaty between your government and my
own never to repeat what I say.” Marissa did
not respond, only stared blankly at the
stranger sitting in front of her. He swallowed
hard before continuing. “I am a special oper-
ative for an agency known as the GEA…the
Global Extraction Association. Publicly, its
primary purpose is to track and monitor the
sales and exchange of priceless items from
antiquity. In truth, it is a covert anti-terror-
ism bureau that falls under the shared juris-
diction of several nations. The value of
money shifts from day to day on a volatile in-
ternational stock market. Many crimes

221/333

across the world are now financed with rare
artifacts from history…gold excavated from
ancient sites, coins and relics from un-
earthed societies…and precious gems re-
trieved from prehistoric ruins.

“The case I am currently working on in-

volves a set of jewels from the early Renais-
sance Period. They are classified as the Gio-
vanni Diamonds, and were named after a
wealthy Roman merchant. His power,
wealth, and influence were without limit
during that time. At some point over his life-
time, he financed a pilgrimage to the Holy
Land where his servants unearthed a trove of
very rare diamonds, which were almost per-
fectly cut, even in their natural state. These
diamonds and many of the merchant’s valu-
ables were lost over the centuries since his
death and the downfall of his family’s for-
tune. However, a few years ago, they were
discovered inside of a castle wall within one
of Rome’s ancient city-state landmarks.

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Recently, my agency received a report con-
firming the attempted theft of the jewels
from the museum that housed them. We also
received credible information that, when
captured and sold, the diamonds would be
used as currency to purchase and smuggle a
large shipment of dangerous weapons across
international waters. We immediately went
to work to prevent this from happening. We
secured the Giovanni gems at one of our se-
cure facilities and immediately began to
track down the cartel that tried to steal them.
The next phase was to trace the buyers who
sent the original bid and use them to discov-
er the name of the terrorist group who would
supply the weapons.

“Fast forward to a couple of weeks

ago…Our analysts followed the money trail
to this city, but then our leads went cold. We
needed to set a trap for the anonymous buy-
ers, so we could draw these horrible crimin-
als out of hiding and shut down their

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weapons trafficking as quickly and thor-
oughly as possible. Katerina and I were pos-
ing as the sellers of the Giovanni Diamonds.
We were going to contact various moles
throughout the region and begin a silent auc-
tion for the jewels. Once they were sold, a
beacon planted inside the stones would track
them anywhere around the world. As you can
see, several problems have arisen since then.
The most serious being the death of Kater-
ina, the second is that I am back at the begin-
ning, with many suspects and few pieces of
evidence to tie anyone to these crimes. I have
no proof yet, but I am certain Katerina’s sur-
prising death may be linked to our case.
There are missing pieces which I need to un-
cover, and I am asking for your help,
Marissa.”

An offensive wall went up between

Marissa and Marco.

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“Marissa?” She sat up straighter in the

stiff chair and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Now it’s Marissa, and not Ms. Stiles.”

A look of pain hung low over Marco’s

face.

“Until tonight, I was not certain of your

level of involvement with this investigation.
A few days before our arrival to New York,
the analysts were able to decipher the digital
signature of the last payment sent to the first
thieves who tried to take the diamonds. The
transaction originated from somewhere
within your hotel. For this reason, all per-
sonnel, especially senior staff, were con-
sidered suspects…including you.”

A ragged tear cut straight down the

middle of her heart. The rip was so intense
that Marissa heard the horrible sound scrap-
ing across her eardrums. The sickening feel-
ing from the betrayal saturated her belly like
hot coals.

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“So…all of this between you and I really

was a…lie…deception…an act…just to study
me and figure out if I were a criminal or not,”
she said, unable to raise her voice above a
hopeless whisper.

Marissa’s spirit would forever be marred

by this huge gash of devastation and embar-
rassment she was suffering from.

“No, Marissa,” Marco’s words flew from

his mouth.

He tried to reach for her. This time,

however, Marissa was faster and snatched
her hands away before Marcello could cap-
ture them. Her hazel eyes gouged his blue
ones.

“Why would you do this to me?” Her

tone pushed higher. “Why would you make
me believe you had real feelings for me…and
that you…might have,” she hesitated. Hot
tears threatened to burst forth at any mo-
ment, but she forced the words out. “I

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thought you might have…loved me…but the
truth is that you were only spying on me.”

“Amore…please listen,” the anxious man

pleaded.

“Stop saying that!” She yelled out her

frustration as the streams of salty liquid
began to drip from beneath her eyelashes.
“You don’t mean it…you never did.”

“Marissa, what I told you at dinner is the

truth.” Marcello leaned forward and used his
thumb to flick the warm drizzle off each of
her cheeks.

She didn’t move away because she was

too weak to cringe back. The weight of this
revelation had drained all her strength.

“I would risk anything and everything

to protect you, right now and…when we
crossed paths on a dark street two days ago.”

Her eyes dashed in Marco’s direction.

Why hadn’t Marissa seen this before? Bold,
crisp blue eyes, the same color as those of
her hooded hero, flashed back at her. Had

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she been so blinded by a silly adolescent
crush that the woman had completely missed
the very first clue to Marco’s deceit?

“You were one of the men from the

alley?”

He nodded.
“You were…watching

me…following

me…that night?”

His expression turned grim as Marco
offered another nod.
“For how long?”
“One week.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Nausea

swiftly replaced heartache. She grabbed the
wretched man’s palms and shoved them
away from her face. Marissa was too re-
pulsed by Marcello to have his skin touching
hers. “The mugger…was he working with
you? Did you plan that attack to steal my
badge?” She didn’t give him a moment to re-
spond before another burst of anger over-
came her. “I wish I could have seen the

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stupid looks on your faces when you figured
out it wouldn’t work. I deactivated that card
the morning after you tried to mug me in the
alley. That plastic card would have been use-
less to anyone after that.”

Immediately after she spoke her furious

words, Marissa dropped her head and
sobbed into her shaky hands. Marco stood
and rounded the table that separated them.
He kneeled before her and cupped her hands
in his big palms. In determined defiance, the
weeping woman turned her sight away, re-
fusing to look at him. Marco wasted no time
in

trying

to

cough

up

a

desperate

explanation.

“Marissa,” he pulled her fingers to his

cherry lips. The warmth of his mouth nearly
caused a tremble in her thighs, but Marissa
swiftly pushed back the rebellious quiver.
“That is not how it happened. I assigned my-
self to shadow you, and left the task of ob-
serving the rest of the senior staff to other

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agents. That night, when I saw that you were
in trouble…I abandoned my post and my
cover to save you. If you had recognized my
face the next day…when we were first intro-
duced in person…my entire mission might
have been destroyed with one glance.” He
kissed the inside of her palms softly. “This is
how much I care for you…I have already
risked so much to keep you out of harm’s
way. I know you had nothing to do with Ka-
terina’s death, and I will make sure the local
authorities know this as well.”

Marissa’s face snapped back to him; she

lowered her eyebrows.

“Is that the real reason why you sent me

on the day trip and took me to dinner? So I
would have any alibi when your mess finally
unraveled? If I had not been with you to-
night, would I have been the one in a morgue
right now? Is this the way you protect the
people that you care for…by leading them in-
to the crosshairs of danger and doom?”

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Marissa pulled her fingers from his lips

and stood up. She stepped around the bent
man and marched straight for the door. Mar-
cello followed her to the exit. He stopped
close behind, but made no motion to reclaim
her.

“Marissa, please…do not say these

things.”

“Agent Rossi, you’re holding me without

cause and without counsel. I don’t care what
international crime fighting agency you work
for, I’m an American in an American city,
and what you’re doing is illegal.” Marissa
grabbed the doorknob and held on for dear
life; it was the only motion that was keeping
her from crumbling to the floor. “Either you
let me leave or you’ll be reading about what
happened to me in the early edition of to-
morrow’s newspaper. I would rather accept
the consequences of revealing the details of
our conversation than have to be near you
for one more minute.”

231/333

“The door is not locked,” Marcello mur-

mured from close by. His breath floated
across the tip of her ear, but Marissa held her
ground and would not be enticed by this
subtle temptation. “You are free to go. Be ad-
vised that you will be under observation at
your apartment. My team still needs to sort
out some other matters.”

Marissa didn’t bother to respond. The

shaken and hostile woman pulled the door
open then slammed it shut after she crossed
the threshold.

On her way up the corridor, which was

severely overcrowded with uniformed of-
ficers and various levels of offenders,
Marissa passed two more interview rooms.
She paused briefly at the last two she walked
by, making a mental note that she had spot-
ted her manager, Dennis Schaeffer, sitting
slumped in one of the spaces and the hotel’s
second supervisor, Julius Smith, in another.

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Each man was wearing a nervous and fever-
ishly red face.

Seconds later, two more familiar faces

appeared in the distance ahead. At the end of
the long and dismal hall, near the edge of a
busy and cramped receiving area, were a
very pregnant Nichole, a distraught Jasmine,
and the worried face of the young man who
had been her driver earlier tonight. Marissa’s
mind was racing with so much fear that she
could not recall his name at this exact
moment.

“Jasmine…Nichole,” Marissa cried out.

She darted forward with frantic arms waving
at her loved ones. Using her slim weight,
Marissa pushed through small groups of
people who were blocking her path until she
finally reached her family. “What’s going on?
What happened?”

At first sight, the two disturbed women

appeared equally as surprised at seeing her
in the police station. After a few delayed

233/333

seconds, each of the other women came
closer then wrapped weak arms around
Marissa.

“Oh, Missy,” Jasmine mumbled under

shaky breaths, “I…I don’t know what
happened.” The younger woman moved
away and tried to steady her speech. “As
soon as I stepped into the front room, I
knew…I could feel someone else was in
there, so I just ran. I heard whoever it was
running out the door behind me, but…thank
God…the elevator hadn’t moved. I pushed
the button and left before he got there.”

“Are you hurt?” Marissa began a fren-
zied visual survey of her sister, from
head to shoe and then up again.
“No…no, I’m fine. I went downstairs and
told security. By the time they reached
the apartment, there was no one
there…but…”

234/333

“But, what?” Marissa grabbed her
frightened sibling’s hand, urging the girl
to continue.
“The guards said that everything in the

apartment was torn to pieces. They said the
robber must have been looking for cash or
jewelry…or something else to take and sell. I
met Alex and Nichole downstairs…”

While Jasmine continued to give a re-

play of the shocking tale, her voice faded into
the distance. Could the thief have been
searching for the infamous diamonds Marco
had told Marissa about a few minutes ago?
She had no proof to support the theory spin-
ning around in her head; even so, the scen-
ario Marissa’s mind summoned up was terri-
fying. Had the same man who had grabbed
her on the street been the same devious per-
son who had forced his way into her apart-
ment and scattered her belongings to the
wind? More questions rapidly tumbled
through her thoughts. Like a relentless

235/333

whirlwind, they repeatedly buzzed her brain
– If this were true, how had he reactivated
her card? Why had no one noticed him
roaming around on the employee floor? The
last questions were even more chilling than
all the rest…Jewelry…They must have been
looking for jewelry, is what Jasmine had
said. Where was her faceless stalker lurking
right now? From what blackened corner
were his wicked eyes glaring at her?

Had

the

stinging

words

Marissa

screeched at Marco been ominously true?
Had some perilous finger marked her for
death? If fate and Marco had not intervened
in her life once more tonight, would Marissa
have been the villain’s second victim of the
evening?

When a harsh shudder ran down her

back, Marissa suddenly realized how ridicu-
lous she must have appeared. Standing in the
middle of a police station wearing a formal
gown, jeweled sandals, and a tiara sitting on

236/333

top of her head, she must have looked like a
dethroned and humiliated princess with no
homeland to return to. The crushing weight
of nakedness and fear descended down and
clung to Marissa’s body mercilessly.

Despite having sworn a second oath in

her mind that she never wanted to see his
face again, Marco’s arms were the only safe
refuge Marissa wanted to retreat to. Never-
theless, in spite of this strong yearning,
Marissa would have to face the gloom of this
dark horizon alone. Marcello Rossi was the
enemy now, not her long-awaited prince.

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Chapter Ten

Aftershock

The trio of women arrived at the hotel
shortly after 3 AM. The chauffer, Alex, was
kind enough to sit and wait while Jasmine
gave her statement to the police. Even as
Marissa insisted that she could call a cab, the
ever-cheerful man continued to smile po-
litely and wave away her concerns. He
seemed determined to stay so he could give
them a ride home. Although she kept her
opinion mute, Marissa was certain that
Alex’s sudden fondness for her little sister
was probably the cause of his after-hours
dedication.

During the drive back to the hotel, the

women talked amongst themselves and
quickly made new housing arrangements. In
a single night, their feeling of safety and

comfort had been shattered. There was no
possible way any of them would be able to
sleep within five feet of the violated apart-
ment. Even though Marissa felt obligated to
remain near the place that was both her
home and her office, she wouldn’t allow her
pregnant best friend and younger sibling to
return until all the chaotic nonsense was fi-
nally settled. It was decided that Jasmine
would return with Nichole to her house in
Timber Falls, NJ and Marissa would take up
temporary residence in one of the vacant em-
ployee units. Since the officer who had taken
Jasmine’s report sternly cautioned them
against returning to the apartment before
daybreak, Nichole and Jasmine would have
to leave with only the clothes they were
wearing.

After the limo pulled up to the hotel’s

driveway, Marissa and Nichole slid from the
backseat and drudged toward the sliding
doors, but Jasmine stayed behind to whisper

239/333

a thanks to Alex for all his time and help. The
instant Marissa walked into the foyer, she
immediately sensed the high tension lurking
in every corner of the once serene and
charming atmosphere. The regal elegance of
La Grande Roi had been hastily replaced
with fear and apprehension. Morbid dread
was written all over the faces of the staff and
guests who were still roaming around the ex-
pansive space. Each person stared at the oth-
ers with grave caution. It was as though they
were all anxiously expecting to be attacked at
any second, even in full view of the pre-dawn
crowd.

Grim faces were not the only drastic

change Marissa noted upon arriving at the
hotel. Several men with hulking bodies, cold
stares as hard and blank as stone, and
dressed in midnight black military-style uni-
forms had mysteriously appeared during her
absence. Each member of the ferocious-look-
ing armed and silent militia stood in combat

240/333

stances at various places throughout the
hushed atrium. Whoever they were – pos-
sibly from an elite special-forces unit or
emergency tactical team – none of them
were from the security agency the hotel con-
tracted with. Marissa’s best guess led her
suspicions back to one name. Agent Marco.
The very sound of his name, even when
spoken in her thoughts, caused a double tor-
rent of frustration and annoyance to flash
through her mind. To cool her rising temper,
Marissa turned her focus in another, less ag-
gravating, direction.

Her eyes scanned the concierge desk

and spotted one of the night shift super-
visors. Marissa raised her hand to catch the
other woman’s attention then dropped it
again when she saw the flustered expression
spread across her face. Amy, a woman of
about forty, was nearly purple in the cheeks.
The busy woman’s lips were puckered and
poked out like she had just sipped something

241/333

very sour and pungent. The reception area
was empty at the moment; however, there
was little doubt that dozens of guests had
already phoned or clambered down to the
ground floor to harass the staff for details re-
garding the evening’s crimes. A hint of guilt
at not being here to help pacify the mob
touched her thoughts, but Marissa immedi-
ately dismissed it. Seeing to the well being of
her loved ones would always take priority
over dealing with whimpering strangers.

Nichole suddenly made a loud gasp.
“Oh…help me, Father.”
Fearing that the stress of the evening

had finally pushed her friend into premature
labor pains, Marissa reached out and
grabbed Nichole’s swollen fingers.

“Nicky, what’s wrong?”
“My ride’s here,” Nichole replied bit-

terly. A look of tragic disappointment hung
on her round cheeks and loathing filled her
brown eyes. “Why did Eric have to be out of

242/333

town this weekend? Ugh,” she said in one
long sigh.

Marissa turned her head toward the dir-

ection Nichole was staring in. As if on cue, a
tall and mischievously handsome man in his
mid-twenties approached the women with an
arrogant swagger. When he stopped a few
inches away, his broad frame hovered over
them. A wicked smile with the word trouble
sewn into it dashed across his attractive face.
Green eyes, filled with a forbidden mix of ex-
plosive fire and cool sensuality, glinted at
them. Lovely lips, a quivering shade of rose-
pink, perfectly accented his peachy tan
complexion.

“Hey, Big Sis,” he said. Velvety charm
dripped past his wide grin.
Another huge gasp of frustration leapt
from Nichole’s mouth, which quickly
twisted into a tormented frown.
“Pierce, I told you to stop calling me
that.”

243/333

“Why not?” His grin morphed into an

amused smirk. The shifty man seemed to be
savoring Nichole’s heated reaction to him.
“You married my brother sooo…technically,
that’s what you are, right?” His eyes dropped
down to her protruding tummy. “Oh,
right…gotcha…the whole chubby pregnancy
thing. Guess big wasn’t the best word
choice.”

While Pierce chuckled at his own in-

sensitive joke, Marissa looked over at Nich-
ole. She could almost see the puffs of white
smoke and sizzling orange flames shooting
up from Nichole’s skull. The heavily preg-
nant woman defensively grabbed her stom-
ach. She clenched her teeth until it looked
like they would crack under the intense pres-
sure from her jaw.

“Wrong!” She shot him down with a

harsh rebuke. “It has nothing to do with the
baby. Technically, Eric isn’t you’re real
brother, so I’m never going to be your

244/333

sister.” After Nichole made her point, a sad
pout floated around her lips. “Besides…I’m
not fat…this is baby weight.”

“If you say so,” Pierce said with a

Cheshire cat smile pasted to his face.
“Besides, you’ll be my sis soon enough.” The
cocky man tossed Nichole a confident wink
then glanced at his wristwatch. “In fact, I
need to hurry up and get you home so I can
freshen up for my lunch date.”

Nichole’s wide eyes darted to Marissa,

who shrugged her shoulders. She had no
comment to offer for that peculiar clue.
When no answer came, Nichole’s confused
stare rushed back to Pierce.

“A date with who? Who in the world

would ever want to date you?” Nichole
flicked the remarks at him with sharp dis-
taste pouring from her mouth. “You can’t
stop smiling at yourself in the mirror long
enough to attract anyone other than your
own reflection.”

245/333

Marissa remained silent during the fam-

ily bickering, but her friend had made a very
good point. Despite the fact that Pierce was
an undeniably attractive man with obvious
sex appeal, his ego was his fatal flaw. He
rarely dated because most women con-
sidered him crude and unappealing.

“You should already know.” Pierce

countered Nichole’s insult with a proud and
rebellious grin. “Doesn’t your sister tell you
anything?” Straight away, his expression
went blank. All the color drained from his
face. Shock filled his green gaze and
smothered the conceited fire in his eyes.
“Wait…you don’t know, do you?”

“Know

what?”

Nichole’s

eyebrows

dropped to her nose. After a few seconds, a
distressing revelation stunned her face. “Oh,
no…No, I am not having this mess,” she
screeched. “Take me home…right now.” She
waved her hands through the air and
stomped her foot to stress her demand.

246/333

“Actually…don’t take me home. Take me to
Jersey City. I need to talk some sense into
Nivea. I bet my dad doesn’t know anything
about this craziness.”

Nichole wobbled her way toward the exit

with Pierce in tow. A look of wounded pride
remained clinging to his face. Marissa fol-
lowed the squabbling pair into the early
morning scene. While Pierce and Nichole
muttered amongst themselves, Marissa said
her goodbyes to her sister and gave Jasmine
a departing hug.

“Call me when you get there.” Before

continuing, Marissa glanced at the two in-
laws, who were still battling in hushed
voices. “Please…call me. I want to be sure all
of you made it there safely.”

“I will,” Jasmine replied with an ex-

hausted nod of her head.

When Pierce revved up his engine,

Marissa stepped away from the curb. Her
heart skipped a beat when the fire red sports

247/333

car whizzed out the arching driveway. The
racing vehicle zipped into the steady flow of
traffic without breaking to merge. If Jasmine
was in the middle of a quick doze, she was
surely wide-awake after Pierce’s stunt
driving.

Once the speeding vehicle made a sharp

left then disappeared out of sight, Marissa
walked back into the hotel lobby. She had
not moved more than three feet inside the
empty foyer when a gigantic man, one of the
brawny security officers she had spotted
earlier, stepped forward and blocked her
path.

“Marissa Stiles?” The man’s terrifying

bass spoke her name as though he were ask-
ing a question; nevertheless, it was obvious
he already knew who she was.

“Yes?” Marissa’s reply was withered and

weak. The aftershocks from a series of dis-
tressing events over the past few days had
trampled her confidence and energy.

248/333

“I’m here to escort you to your new

room assignment.”

Marissa never had a chance to walk near

a computer registry, so it should have been
impossible for anyone to know which apart-
ment she was switching to.

“Excuse me?” Summoning as much vig-

or as possible, Marissa raised her slumped
shoulders and folded her arms across her
chest. “Why would I go anywhere with you? I
don’t even know who you are, which means
I’m not moving from this spot. And when I
do, I’m still not following you.”

In response to her gruff tone, the goliath

stiffened his wide body. He grazed over her
face with a mean counter-glare.

“Under international authority of the

GEA, you are required to accompany me,
ma’am.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes at the

swollen storm trooper, but pinched her lips
tight. Before last night, she had never heard

249/333

of this shadowy bureau and had no idea what
kind of powers they were privileged to. For
now, she would have to yield to this out-
rageous harassment. However, as soon as
dawn touched the skyline, the furious wo-
man would be on the net researching how to
file a complaint with the US embassy.

“Fine,” she hissed, “Lead the way,

Commando.”

250/333

PART FOUR

~G~

Flashpoint

Chapter Eleven

Closer

The armed guard escorted Marissa to the el-
evator in silence. He didn’t step an inch away
from her side until they reached the door to
one of the private penthouse suites on the
thirtieth floor. Standing in the hallway, next
to the doorway, was another man who was
equally as large and intimidating. The
second soldier was also suited up in the same
black ops uniform. On approach, the two
men wordlessly acknowledged each other
with a sharp brow solute.

Marissa’s shadow pulled a white keycard

from his upper vest pocket and swiped it
along the digital lock. Once the dial buzzed
green, the magnetic bolt released. After the
guard twisted the knob and pushed the door
open, he moved no further, never crossing

the entryway. Marissa, on the other hand,
stumbled her limp body over the threshold in
search of rest and solace on a comfortable
bed.

When her red-rimmed eyes spotted the

serene eggshell accents of the luxurious
space ahead, her weakened form drooped
even more. The soft medley of a symphony
orchestra floated out from the speakers em-
bedded in the suite’s walls. The gentle music
danced in the woman’s ears and soothed her
tired mind. Without further delay, Marissa
kicked off the high-heeled sandals, allowing
the cramped shoes to fly in whatever direc-
tion gravity carried them to. The feeling of
her aching feet sinking deep into the plush
carpet was heavenly.

Marissa angled her strained form to

shut the door, but a hard hand halted the
motion. Her eyes drifted up slowly and she
almost pleaded with the man to leave her in
peace.

254/333

“We will be stationed here for the re-

mainder of your stay,” the man barked out.
Marissa responded with a sleepy nod. “If you
need anything, let us know. We would prefer
if you didn’t talk to anyone else until our unit
leader gives the okay.”

One more frail dip of her head was the

most she could manage before Marissa shut
the door to the outside world. If her body-
guard planned to give her more rules to fol-
low, he would have to wait until she was fully
rested and revived.

As Marissa reached the edge of the king-

sized bed, a new sound roused her senses
from their dreamlike state. The heavy spray
of a waterspout called the drowsy woman’s
attention to the fact that there was steam
floating from the bathroom at the back of the
penthouse. There was also a pile of clothes
spread out on the floor near the tiled room.
The instant her sight landed on the crumpled
clothing, Marissa gasped. She immediately

255/333

recognized the men’s formal wear. Fumbling
backwards, she tripped over the shoes on the
floor behind her. Escape was her only
thought as the fleeing woman stumbled
closer toward the front door. In the back-
ground, the water pressure eased down to a
tiny trickle. As soon as Marissa’s trembling
hands clutched the doorknob, a familiar ac-
cent – a tormenting echo that had once been
like a sweet serenade – filled her ears.

“Marissa…stop,” Marco’s voice called

out to her. “Please allow me to explain.”

Marissa was frozen in place; frigid shock

stunned her body. The deceptive man had
used his authority and influence to lure her
to his room.

“Marissa,

look

at

me…per

favore…please.”

No, she said the refusal in her mind, but

could not summon the strength to breathe
life into the word. She had been humiliated
more than enough for one lifetime and did

256/333

not want to fall victim to any more treacher-
ous lies.

Although her lips would not obey her

command, Marissa’s body held its position
and would not satisfy Marcello’s request to
face him. The soft thud of bare feet walking
across the carpet touched her ears. He
paused unbearably close to her. The steam
heat rolling off his wet body pushed against
her back. Hot streams of air poured from
Marcello’s nose and spilled over Marissa’s
bare shoulders. She quivered then clenched
the knob tighter between her palms. He
stepped closer, only a fraction of space sep-
arated their two bodies. Two broad hands
came forward and cupped Marissa’s slim
shoulders.

Don’t, her mind whimpered. Don’t touch

me ever again, was her timid thought, yet no
sound escaped her throat.

Marco used his gentle strength to care-

fully draw her toward him. When her back

257/333

pressed into his slick and naked chest, every
ounce of stubbornness slipped from her grip
and Marissa collapsed into his powerful em-
brace. As her limp body, exhausted beyond
measure from a confusing whirlwind of emo-
tions and stresses, dropped to the floor,
Marco scooped her up into his mighty arms.
Right away, whether Marissa had intended
to do so or not, her weak limbs curled up
against his rigid physique. She buried her
face between the hard ridges separating his
stiff U-shaped muscles.

“I thought you were...falling in love with

me,” she whispered into his skin. “Was I
wrong?”

If a reply was spoken, Marissa never

heard it. A cloak of black sleep slipped over
her consciousness. The weary woman had fi-
nally succumbed to the call of an intense
slumber.

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Marco’s light blue eyes followed the trail

of the orange-tinted sun as it climbed high
into the lavender sky hanging beyond the
balcony window. While he watched dawn
break over the city, his mind slowly retraced
the events of the previous evening.

A night that started with fantasies of

love and romance had ended with tragedy
and mayhem. Once Marco finished question-
ing the hotel’s manager, he had the beady-
eyed man named Schaeffer assign him a new
suite. Since his first residence was now an of-
ficial crime scene, the exhausted man could
not return to that room. When the agent was
still at the police station, word had reached
him about Marissa’s apartment being ran-
sacked. He immediately sent orders for his
team to find her and escort her directly to
this new residence. There was no conclusive
evidence to tie the burglary at the apartment
to Katerina’s murder; even so, Marco was de-
termined to keep Marissa safe from the

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invisible menace lurking nearby. She would
only be secure when she was by his side,
where he could protect her at all times.

The small woman Marcello was holding

like a precious doll shifted on top of him. He
wrapped his long arms around his woman
and gathered her closer. Her soft and supple
skin pressed harder into his bare flesh, stir-
ring up an immense hunger deep inside of
the man’s flat stomach. He glanced down
and watched Marissa’s dozing eyes twitch.
While she slept soundly on the wide space of
his chest, he brushed his palm across her
toasty cheek and combed his fingers through
her dark auburn hair. When he twisted a lock
of the sleek strands around his finger and
looped it around her petite ear, she stirred
again. The sensation of her taut nipples graz-
ing his hot skin sent an urgent shiver
through Marcello’s loins, causing his man-
hood to stiffen. The sweet sigh that slipped

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from the woman’s tiny nostrils drove his
arousal even further toward an aching point.

Marcello was tempted to pull Marissa

from her sleep with a burning kiss, but satis-
fied himself with a taste of her cinnamon
brow instead. The moment his lips teased the
top of her cherub face, a tickle from flutter-
ing eyelashes floated across his pec.
Marissa’s face darted up and her eyes flew
open wide. A short gasp parted the silent air
and her body tensed. She pushed herself out
of his hold then started a back-peddle toward
the opposite side of the spacious bed, pulling
the crispy sheets along with her. The woman
heaved them up to her chin and covered the
curve of her breasts with her elbows.

“What is this?” She gripped the sheets

tighter. “Why are we in bed together?”

Marcello motioned his hand forward to

try to calm her, but Marissa shrugged away
from his touch and moved toward the ex-
treme edge of the mattress.

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“Marissa, nothing happened,” he said in

a soothing tone.

“Then why am I naked?” Her bright

hazel eyes scurried over his naked form.
“Why did you trick me into coming here?”

“I did not trick you, amore. I wanted to

protect you. I was told of what occurred at
your apartment, and I wanted to make sure
you were kept safe.” Marco reached for
Marissa again, carefully laying his thick fin-
gers at the soft curve of her shoulder. This
time she didn’t move, but a troubled expres-
sion clung to her pretty face. “A few hours
ago, you were so exhausted that you col-
lapsed into my arms. I was also very weary,
so we rested together in silence. That is all...I
promise.”

Marco stroked her skin soothingly. He

was hoping his words had succeeded in
calming her fear of him. Her eyes flicked
away, as if she were thinking. He assumed
she was trying to determine if the details he

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had told her matched her own memory of the
events. After a minute, Marissa glanced at
him again. A layer of anxiety lifted from her
face and her hunched shoulders relaxed, but
doubts remained floating in her eyes.

“That

still

doesn’t

explain

what

happened to my clothes.”

“I wanted you to sleep well. I slipped

your dress off and laid you on the other side
of the bed. When I awoke a few minutes ago,
you were nestled in my arms.” As he contin-
ued, Marco cupped her delicate face. “And I
was happy to have you so close to me. Since
the very beginning, it has been my wish for
us to hold one another this way.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore.”

Marissa’s voice trailed off into a half whisper.
Hurt filled her words. “And you don’t have to
watch over me, I can take care of myself.”

Marco lifted her chin so that his lady

would see the sincerity in his soft gaze.

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“Bella signora, I never lied to you.” He

brushed her cheek tenderly with his palm.
“The first time I saw your photo, Marissa, I
was mesmerized. The first time we spoke, my
heart already belonged to you. The first time
I pulled your beautiful body close to my
chest, I knew I never wanted to let go of you,
amore.”

Marissa’s glistening irises flooded with

affection, yet something still restrained her
love.

“Katerina…did you…love her too?”
Marcello swallowed hard. Although his

fingers lingered on Marissa’s skin, he eased
his body away slightly. This was a story he
did not want to relive; nevertheless, to win
Marissa’s heart, he would bare his soul to
her.

“No, I did not...not in the way you are

thinking. Ever since we were teenagers, she
has always been in love with my brother.
They were inseparable, following each other

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anywhere and everywhere. We all attended
university together, and even enlisted in my
country’s special forces together. As time
went on, and as our missions became more
stressful, I began to drift further away from
them. Katerina developed an insane thirst
for wealth and my brother became consumed
by an uncontrollable bloodlust. Simply for
sport, he began to kill unnecessary targets,
and Katerina blindly obeyed his every com-
mand. One year ago, during an operation in
Central America, we were ambushed. My
brother died instantly, but I was able to es-
cape with Katerina. She kicked and screamed
the entire time, fighting to go back for his
body.”

A dull ache stabbed Marcello’s tight

chest. The sting of a small tear dotted his
eye. The guilt-ridden man did not want
Marissa to see him in such a weakened state
so he looked away. The velvety feel of her fin-
gertips massaging his burning cheek brought

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his attention back to her. She slid closer
while he rubbed his face deep into the
warmth of her open palm.

“What happened after you escaped?”
Her soft and caring voice caressed the

hurt and disgrace Marco had been carrying
for so long. No one except another soldier
can ever understand the terrible guilt of los-
ing a comrade – a brother – on a bloody bat-
tlefield. Until now, Marco had never dared to
pour out a single drop of his grief. His
greatest fear was that he would never recover
if his inner sorrow ever slipped out.
However, fate must have brought this wo-
man into his life for a purpose. She was the
only person he was willing to freely share his
shame with.

“We could not go back...we never re-

covered his body,” he sobbed. Remorseful
tears trickled silently down his tan face. “I
had to leave my own brother in the dirt while
I ran for my life.”

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The sheet separating their two nude

bodies dropped from Marissa’s grip and fell
to the bed. She opened her arms to him, and
Marco quickly hid his face in the valley
between her perfectly rounded toffee breasts.
He pushed himself further into Marissa’s
tender hold while she comforted him in her
loving arms. After a much overdue bereave-
ment, Marco finally wept for his loss and for
his failure.

“You rescued the woman he loved,”

Marissa said softly in his ear. Her fingers ran
consoling circles across the hard muscles of
his shoulders and lean torso. “Your brother
would be thankful that you saved her life,
even if you couldn’t save his.”

Her hands lifted and began a sensual

stroke through the short edges of the hair at
the nape of his neck. Marcello’s urge to claim
this delicious woman flared up with feverish
intensity again. A storm was brewing within
him and Marissa had become both the cause

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of this blazing tempest and the cure required
to appease his roaring passion. Marco’s
probing fingers cupped the back of her neck,
drawing Marissa’s face so close that only a
single breath separated their quivering lips.
He inhaled the air she pushed out between
them in large gulps. In a heated rush, con-
suming flames of desire ignited between the
couple. The hungry man quickly sealed the
gap separating them then used his mouth to
gently trace slow circles within her tinted
lips. In response, Marissa’s slippery tongue
dipped deep into Marcello’s hot mouth.

“Ti amo,” Marco moaned into her

mouth. “Ti amo, Marissa,” he eagerly
confessed.

The excited man rolled toward the cen-

ter of the bed, pulling Marissa’s whimpering
body with him. Using his strong hands, Mar-
cello lifted her curvy hips and sat Marissa on
top of his sweaty flat torso. He palmed his
aching shaft then delicately eased his

268/333

throbbing hardness between Marissa’s vo-
luptuous mocha thighs. The instant his
bulbous head slid inside her moist pink cen-
ter, Marissa’s lower lips clamped down on
him tight. She grabbed the bulging muscles
of his upper back with a frantic grip, stirring
Marco into a rabid craving. The sensation of
her creamy juices coating his hardness over-
whelmed Marcello’s feverish mind. As his
wide shaft, pulsing with thick veins, sank in-
to her slick walls and stretched them apart, a
shower of euphoric tingles forced him to dig
insanely deeper into her dripping channel.
Marcello lifted his body up to suckle Marissa.
Greedy lips were panting for a taste of her
ebony breasts. With each chilling and sensu-
al stroke inside his lover and after every teas-
ing nip to her plump breasts, Marissa
whimpered and moaned with breathless
delight.

Just before his ecstasy climbed to its

peak, Marco released Marissa’s breast from

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his mouth. He put his red lips to her soft
throat and burrowed his hands into her long
hair, pulling it back so he could push his face
further against her moistened skin.

“Say it,” Marcello demanded. He would

accept nothing less than her confession of
absolute devotion to him from this day forth.
“Give yourself to me, Marissa. Love me and I
will protect you forever. I will give you
everything I have until my dying day.”

Marissa’s head dipped forward, drawing

his eyes to hers. Enchantment swirled in her
hazel lenses, and Marco became trapped in
their hypnotic charm.

“I love you, Marco,” she breathed out.
Her arousing confession summoned him

to force one last intensely erotic plunge into
her shivering core, up to the tip of her womb.
Fire coursed through Marco’s veins. His seed
burst from the tip of his slick head, driving
the shrieking couple over the edge of exotic
oblivion.

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“Ti amo, Marissa!” Marco shouted his

vow into the air as they screamed out their
pleasure in unison.

Once their climax had been conquered,

the couple had become bonded together
forever. Marco pulled Marissa against his
soaked chest to cradle his future bride in his
arms. He was now bound by a new sense of
duty, one that far outweighed any other oath
he had ever taken before today. He would
love Marissa until the day he passed from
this earth. Until the moment when he had no
breath remaining in his body, Marcello Rossi
would never allow any living being to ever
harm his true love…il suo vero amore.

While the early morning sun continued

its slow drift across the steamy windowpane,
and with the woman he loved napping se-
curely in his adoring embrace, Marco fell in-
to a peaceful sleep.

271/333

Chapter Twelve

Loose Ends

With one forceful blow, the villain kicked in
the bedroom door. Two quick strides were all
he needed to cross the room within the Cent-
ral Park West condo. The instant the other
man attempted to jump from the bed, the ra-
bid killer put the barrel of a silencer to his
target’s temple.

“Move and your brain will hit the pillow

before you do.”

The other man whimpered through his

nose, too frightened to open his mouth and
release the sniveling noise. When he stared
into his male victim’s eyes, the villain almost
laughed at the cowardly man. The pathetic
fool was only seconds away from crying out a
useless plea for his life.

“You have been very bad, Julius,” the

killer spoke from between a thin-lipped
smile. “Sending me those terrible mes-
sages…refusing to pay me my finder’s
fee…convincing my beloved to betray me.
Did you really think I would simply slink off
into the dark without coming to find you?
Your bosses will miss your services for no
more than a minute or two before they re-
place you. However…no worries…you will
not be alone in death for long, I will be visit-
ing each of them soon too. I should end you
right now, shouldn’t I?”

The question prompted the other man to

actually believe he had a choice regarding his
fate. As Julius coughed violently and swiftly
shook his head no several times, tendrils of
hair, drenched with cold sweat, matted
themselves to the sides of his forehead.

“Bang,” the cruel voice declared, “you

are dead. Why? Because I already told
you…not…to…move.”

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The former special agent pushed the tip

of the gun forward at a snail’s pace, forcing
the frigid metal deeper into his victim’s wet
forehead. He was purposefully dragging out
the action so that the frightened man could
feel his life slowly slipping away.

“Should we try this again?” The air re-

mained gravely silent. He smiled down at the
semi-nude man. “You are catching on. I will
end you, but not at the moment. First, you
have some work to do for me. I have loose
ends that need to be tied off. Pay careful at-
tention to what is going to happen next, be-
cause one more slip and my smiling face is
the last image you will ever see. If you play
well this time, I just may hold off on pulling
this trigger a while longer. Understand?”

More silence greeted him. Psychotic glee

accompanied the wicked adrenaline running
through the rogue’s icy veins. He reveled in
the control dripping from his fingertips. The
killer pulled the silencer back only far

274/333

enough for the hostage to lift himself up
from the bed, but he kept the second man’s
head within deadly aim.

“Get dressed. I will give you all the de-

tails on the ride to the hotel.”

“Marissa, my love…” Marco whispered,
“Open your beautiful eyes.”

He was kneeling beside their bed, delic-

ately brushing his lady’s soft hair. The
noonday sun filtered through the window at
a tilted angle, casting an angelic halo across
Marissa’s sweet face. When her eyelashes
fluttered slightly but remained closed, Marco
leaned forward and kissed her smooth brow.
Another few seconds passed before his senti-
ment finally began to pull the woman from
her deep sleep.

“Marco.” Marissa smiled up at him, gra-

cing the infatuated man with the gentle
caress of her lovely hazel-shaded gaze.

275/333

When she reached forward to touch his

cheek, Marcello turned his face and kissed
the center of her palm. Her smile lifted then
Marissa moved in to taste his lips, and he
eagerly returned her adoring kiss. Their
tender embrace was over far too quickly. Re-
luctantly, Marcello pulled away and stared
longingly into Marissa’s angel eyes. After one
passionate union, he was already endlessly
devoted to the woman lying in front of him.

“I must leave, sweetheart,” he said. Mar-

cello used his lips to caress her tiny knuckles
after he spoke. Silently, he daydreamed of
placing a precious gem on his woman’s beau-
tiful ring finger.

“Where are you going? What’s going

on?”

Marissa sat up straighter. The sight of

her sumptuous nude form evoked another
wave of arousal within Marcello. Quickly, he
pushed down the erotic flame before it

276/333

became too powerful and too heated for him
to control.

“I must return to the police station. My

team has just phoned me. They have reports
I need to review.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I guess I should go

down to my apartment and get some
clothes…maybe grab a few personal items.”

“No,” Marco’s frenzied voice cut her sen-

tence short. He cupped Marissa’s chin and
stared intently into her eyes. “Marissa, I do
not want you to leave this suite, at least not
without me. I will have a member of my unit
bring or buy whatever you need to feel com-
fortable. You are safe from danger only be-
hind these doors. The only people in this
building who can be trusted are myself and
the two men standing in the hallway.” He
saw the look of hesitation on her face. “Per
favore,” Marcello ran a palm over her
flushed hazelnut cheek, “do this for me,
Marissa. The man who has become my

277/333

nemesis is still roaming around somewhere
out there. I need to catch him but, more im-
portantly, I need to keep you safe as well. He
has killed once and I have no doubt that he
will do so again. He wants the jewels and he
will ruthlessly stalk whoever he believes has
them in their possession. As of right now,
that list only consists of the people who have
direct access to the vault or to the hotel room
I shared with Katerina. However, only one
person on this list is the woman I love and
have sworn to protect at all costs.”

His renewed oath cheered the woman’s

sullen face. Her bright smile lifted some of
the worry and tension from his heavy chest.

“Alright, I’ll stay here and wait for you.”
“Grazie,” Marcello replied with a

pleased grin. “Your clothing will be on its
way up soon.” He placed a moist kiss on her
brow. “When I leave, be sure to turn the
manual lock on the door. Open this door for
no one other than myself or one of my men.”

278/333

Marissa nodded her head to signal that

she understood. Marcello touched her warm
face one final time then exited the suite and
headed toward the police station.

279/333

Chapter Thirteen

Paper Trail

The second after Agent Marcello Antoni
Rossi entered the makeshift crime lab, the
droning noises from the hectic conversations
of his forensic and data technicians came to
a halt. He spoke his directions to the first
pair of eyes his sight landed on in the
crowded room.

“Tell me everything you have so far.”
An African-American woman in her

twenties was the first to respond.

“We reviewed all the footage from the

hotel’s security cameras and traced all the
calls and emails that were sent and received
from the computers, office phones, plus the
business and personal cells of the super-
visors and the manager on the date you and
Agent Corvino arrived.”

“Give me the update on the data trans-

missions first,” Marco quickly replied.

A thirty-something blond woman read

her findings to him.

“The hotel manager, Dennis Schaeffer,

spoke to his wife a few times from his office
line. The night shift supervisor sent over a
dozen emails to various family members and
friends from the front desk terminal. One of
the day supervisors, Marissa Stiles, texted
and phoned her sister, Jasmine Stiles, and
another woman named Nichole Edwards
Raven several times. And the second daytime
supervisor, Julius Smith, only had two phone
calls the entire day.”

“To whom?”
“When he was at a doctor’s office on La-

fayette Street, he received an incoming call
from a prepaid number on his private cell.
About an hour and a half later, he called a
unit at the hotel registered to Marissa Stiles.”

Marco’s heart missed a beat.

281/333

“He called her apartment?”
“Not the apartment we have on file for

her,” the black woman responded. “He called
another employee suite on the third floor,
one floor above Ms. Stiles’ unit. Both are re-
gistered to her personnel ID number.”

Marco wrinkled his brow.
“That makes no sense. You are saying

she is registered to two apartments within
the hotel.”

“Exactly,” the blond woman continued.

“As of Friday morning...the day of your ar-
rival...Marissa Stiles was registered in two
units at La Grande Roi. Data records from
the hotel’s CPU indicate that, at 0800 hours,
Ms. Stiles deactivated the serial number on
her personnel ID card then activated a new
card and number. She logged in the new seri-
al and badge as a replacement and coded
them for access to her original employee
apartment on the second floor...the first one
we had listed for her in our records. At 12:05

282/333

PM, the serial number from her first
badge...the one she disabled...was reactiv-
ated and assigned to a separate apartment
on the third floor.”

“By whom?” The answer was obvious,
but Marco required verbal confirmation.
“Julius Smith.”
While Marco’s brain quickly sorted the
pieces together, one of the male data
analysts jumped into the fast-paced
discussion.
“There’s more,” he said. “We received

the financial records for the four people we
just named. Only one of them has a record of
Certificate of Deposits spread out over sever-
al personal accounts that add up to a total of
a quarter of a million US dollars…Julius
Smith.”

Marco looked to a distant corner of the

room. He pinched the tip of his chin as he
mentally scanned through the information
reported to him. Was Julius Smith the villain

283/333

he had been seeking? Could routine data
searches have unmasked a criminal master-
mind so easily? No, there had to be more.
Before his arrival to the hotel, Marco had
studied each of the supervisors and their
manager closely, monitoring their habits and
observing their personalities. Julius Smith
was by no means a cold-hearted killer. In ad-
dition, Marco knew that well-documented
research on criminal psychology conclusively
stated that strangulation is an act of devious
passion. Whoever murdered Katerina had
been close enough to grab her without the
trained female agent ever realizing the
danger the man posed. He must have been
someone she knew well and had no reason to
fear. Nevertheless, this person had de-
veloped a sudden and uncontrollable hatred
for the woman. Someone was still missing
from this complicated equation.

“What else?” Marco turned his attention

to the excited team again.

284/333

“We finally decrypted the content and

the IP addresses from the instant messages,”
one of the women answered. “One of the
computer’s belongs to Mr. Smith, but the
only information we could track for the
second user was that his or her computer
was located within the hotel during the time
of use and the name the person used as an
ID was RAM. The messages stated that
Smith discovered the merchandise he re-
ceived from RAM was a forgery. He refused
payment to the seller and planned on keep-
ing the faked goods.”

This new piece of evidence offered no
insights for him, so Marco moved on to
the remaining details.
“What about the security footage? Go
back to that. Did you find anything?”
“Yes and no,” the blond analyst replied.
“Elaborate, please.”
Marco’s mood had turned edgy; he had
no time to spare for word games.

285/333

“The only unusual detail about the foot-
age was you, sir.”
Confusion jumbled his face.
“What do you mean?”
“You asked us to go back thirty minutes

before you and Agent Corvino entered the
hotel, correct?” Marco nodded that this was
so. “Well, that’s exactly what we did. We
watched every second of the film then
double-checked our findings. Based on the
footage we received, it looks as if you walked
into the building twice. The first time was fif-
teen minutes into the video…You were alone
then walked into the lobby and mingled with
the crowd. Another fifteen minutes passed
by…You walked in again...This time you were
with Agent Corvino, then you approached
the concierge desk.”

“It gets weirder.” The male technician

wearing eyeglasses moved his rolling desk
chair from behind his station. “During the
rest of the video, you’re walking around in

286/333

places where you weren’t supposed to
be...like on the third floor, near the employee
apartments. Sometimes you’re on the footage
twice…in two separate shots…on separate
floors, but within the same timeframe. For
instance, during the period when the police
CSI unit believe Agent Corvino’s murder oc-
curred, you appear to leave the room you
shared with her, return, then leave the room
again. You’re also seen exiting Ms. Stiles’
apartment immediately after the time of the
robbery.”

Dread raked over Marco’s mind. Im-

possibile…impossibile, he repeated the word
to himself over and over.

“There’s one more thing, sir,” the ana-

lyst said. Hesitation drained his voice. “It’s
about the DNA samples we sent to the Feder-
al Crime Lab in Arlington.”

“Tell me,” Marco hastily replied.
The anxious man did not actually need

to hear the report, because he had already

287/333

drawn his own shocking conclusion. Still,
Marcello had to know for certain...he had to
hear the words spoken aloud.

“They analyzed the DNA from the skin

cells found beneath Katerina’s nails and
from the strand of hair that was on her
dress.”

“And?” Marco was impatient to confirm

his worst fear.

“The results are ninety-nine point nine,

eight percent conclusive that the DNA is
yours, sir.”

The analyst swallowed hard after he

spoke the accusing words. He and the rest of
the dedicated team were reluctant to believe
that their noble commander was both the
killer and the allusive smuggler they had
been hunting for all along. Marcello,
however, knew the full and terrible truth.
The reality stinging his ears raced forward
into a full collision with his doubting mind
like a savage train wreck. If all the evidence

288/333

had not been so clearly laid out before him to
stitch together with shaky reluctance, the
seasoned agent would have refused to believe
the revelation that was dropped on him. The
startling truth had been mocking him at no
more than an arm’s distance away this entire
time.

Marcello’s fascination with Marissa had

blinded the distracted agent to so many obvi-
ous clues. But now he had a crystal clear un-
derstanding of how each piece fit together to
form one incredible discovery…Katerina’s
increasingly disturbed behavior over these
past few months…The brawl with the strong
man – who was nearly his equal – in the al-
leyway…Marissa’s

stolen

keycard…the

second hotel room…his own face shadowing
him from concealed corners on the security
footage…Katerina allowing her killer to
move in so close without a struggle…the
DNA…the initials RAM – when reversed –
all pointed to the same rotten conclusion and

289/333

the same vile person...Mauricio Antonio
Rossi, his once beloved, and supposedly de-
ceased, twin brother.

A man who has already been declared

dead does not need to conceal his face or
cover his identity very much. The world as-
sumed that Mauricio no longer roamed the
earth. Being caught on the hotel’s security
cameras was never an immediate threat.
Mauricio was free to hide in plain sight, be-
cause his face was practically identical to
Marcello’s, a man who was never under any
suspicion.

Terror struck Marcello in the pit of his

stomach. He had revealed so much to
Marissa in the early AM hours concerning
his past, yet he had neglected, by simple mis-
fortune, to tell her that the brother he had
spoken of was a man who wore a face that
perfectly matched his own. Even the two
men’s voices were strikingly similar. The
only distinctive difference between their

290/333

appearances was the very subtle contrast of
their eye color. Mauricio’s deep cobalt blue
eyes were a few shades darker than Mar-
cello’s ice blue tint. Other than this small
variation, there was no way Marissa would
immediately perceive any other differences
in the identical brothers’ rich Mediterranean
features. Even worse, he had left her with a
strict instruction not to open the door for
anyone other than himself. She would never
know that the imposter was lurking nearby
until it was tragically too late.

“Send more agents from the embassy to

my new hotel suite. Tell the ones already sta-
tioned at the hotel not to let anyone…not
even anyone who looks like me…enter until I
get there. Also, tell them to bring the port-
able retinal scanner. They are going to need
it to confirm who I really am.” Marco barked
out the orders as he dashed toward the exit.
“I cannot explain everything right now.

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Please believe me when I say that a vicious
imposter is headed that way.”

With his urgent commands given,

Marco disappeared from the room and raced
toward his parked sedan. The agent’s tires
peeled away the cold asphalt street as he
sped toward La Grand Roi. During the entire
heart-pumping drive, he prayed he was not
too late to save his love from the merciless
man whom he had once shared a lifetime of
laughs, dreams, and even the moment of
birth with.

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Chapter Fourteen

Illusion

“How was the service?”

Marissa chatted with Jasmine while she

finished dressing. She stretched out on the
bed to button the jeans her bodyguard had
delivered thirty minutes ago. Just as she was
about to speak again, a muffled thump
caught her attention. Marissa pulled the
phone away from her ear and listened for the
sound to be repeated. Once a few seconds
crept by, and only silence filled the air, she
assumed one of the two men standing out-
side the door had dropped something.

“Okay, that’s good,” she said, returning

to her conversation. “I always like when their
assistant pastor preaches. He makes his
point easy to understand.”

The ding of the chiming doorbell drew

her eyes toward the entrance of the

penthouse. A heavy veil of dread dropped on
her chest. Without realizing it, Marissa’s
sight had automatically fixed on the manual
deadbolt hanging across the doorway. A sigh
of relief slipped from her nostrils when
Marissa saw that the safety latch was in
place. It was the only real barrier standing
between her and any trouble looming in the
outside world. Even so, she would not feel
completely at ease until Marco returned.
Memories of the fiery kisses they had shared
a few hours ago vividly flashed through her
mind. He had been gone less than an hour,
yet she already missed and craved his pro-
tective and passionate presence.

“Where are you going now?” The appre-

hensive woman continued talking to her sis-
ter, desperately trying to keep her voice calm
and to pull her erratic pulse to a steady pace.
“Going to lunch with who?” While she waited
for Jasmine to fill her in on the details of her
double date with Nivea, Pierce, and Mr.

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Nice-guy Alex, Marissa moved a few inches
closer toward the door. “Hmm…I don’t know
about this, Jaz. Nichole has never had a soft
spot for Pierce and I don’t want you getting
mixed up in their drama. Besides, when did
you and Alex become so tight? I thought you
just met him yesterday.” Marissa paused and
listened to the previously untold details of
her sister’s first meeting with the sweet man.
“At the park? When was this?”

The bell rang again, and then once

more. The sounds were longer and more ag-
gressive this time. After Marissa crept closer
toward the eyehole, she peered through and
was slightly stunned to see Julius’ distorted
image staring blankly at the front of the
door. Without saying a word, she stepped
away from the entrance. No one should have
known where she was staying now, because
Marissa never logged herself into the hotel’s
registry.

295/333

“Jaz, I’ll call you back in a few minutes,”

she said, dropping her tone down to a whis-
per. Another buzz of the doorbell echoed
against the walls of the suite. The creek of
the knob caused Marissa to almost drop the
cell phone. Someone had swiped an access
card and was trying to push the door open.
Only the deadbolt halted their entry into the
penthouse. “No…nothing’s wrong, I just need
to check on something. I promise to call you
right back. Love you.”

Marissa hastily ended the call. Sud-

denly, the door pulled completely closed,
sealing Marissa alone in the room again. Her
mind raced for a decision...Approach the
door or silently wait for the man to announce
himself? It was odd that Marco’s men had al-
lowed Julius to come this close. The cautious
woman turned her ear toward the outside
corridor and listened for their voices, but
heard nothing. Strange, she thought, taking
another step backward. The men were

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trained to only follow Marco’s commands.
They were both built like tanks, so a man as
tragically thin as Julius would never have
been able to harm either of them. So why
aren’t they saying anything…not a word?
Another worried thought pierced her mind.

Then Marissa heard it, an intimately fa-

miliar voice. The hushed bass was definitely
infused with a fluent Italian accent. Even
though his voice was muffled, Marco’s angry
tone was obvious to the naked ear. Why
hadn’t he called to let her know he was on his
way?

Marissa approached the door and

grabbed the bolt. Her fingers were clenched
and ready to turn the lock, and then a
stabbing jolt of apprehension froze her
movements. There was something unusual
about Marco’s voice. Now that she was
closer, although Marissa still could not de-
cipher the muted conversation, she could
hear that he did not sound like himself. His

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usually casual tone sounded furious and vi-
cious. Before this moment, she had never
heard him speak to anyone this harshly.
There was only one way for Marissa to de-
cide whether she should unlock the bolt or
remain cringing behind the door.

“Who is it?” Once Marissa called out the

question, she positioned her face near the
peephole again.

“Hey, Marissa…It’s me, Julius.” When

the man spoke, there was nervousness hid-
den in his voice.

“Hi…Did you need something?” Marissa

and the second supervisor had been cordial
to each other, but never friends, so there was
no reason to pretend otherwise at a crucial
minute such as this one.

“Yeah…I came to check on you. I

mean...after last night...I wanted to make
sure you were okay. It was stressful for all of
us, you know?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”

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He didn’t budge. Silence hung outside

the door. No one spoke…Not Marco, not his
men, and neither did Julius. As Marissa was
staring at him, Julius glanced to his right
side. Afterward, he looked to his left and
glanced downward. The grimace of terror
never abandoned his pale face.

“Actually, I do need something from

you.” He sputtered out a cough then spoke
up again, sounding more edgy this time. “I
have to open the vault and you know I need a
second keycard to get inside.”

“Why do you need mine? Can’t you call
Schaeffer?”
It was at that moment when Marco fi-
nally spoke. His request was sharp and
directly to the point.
“Marissa, open the door, please.”
“Marco?” She paused, forcing her fin-
gers not to turn the latch. “Where are
you? I can hear you, but I don’t see you.”

299/333

“I am here,” he answered then stepped
in front of the eyehole. “I need to gain
access to my jewels. Please open the
door.”
A nagging intuition continued to urge

Marissa to be cautious. The woman knew she
had no reason to fear Marco; nonetheless,
her mind would not ease its guard against
him. She slipped the old-fashioned hook and
chain into place. It was an aging remnant of
a long ago era, before digital security; still, it
was enough to keep the men on the other
side of the door until she could make a closer
inspection of them. Marissa unlocked the
bolt and eased the door away from its frame.
A tiny sliver of the view into the hallway ap-
peared, which was hastily blocked by a slim
outline of Marco’s handsome face.

“See,” he smiled, yet there was no sin-

cerity behind his grin, “It is me.”

Perhaps this case was wearing the man’s

nerves down to a raw and agitated edge. This

300/333

was how Marissa reasoned out the harsh
change in Marco’s charming features. Maybe
her own frazzled nerves were causing the il-
lusion of a cruel transformation in the man
who had loved her so tenderly a few hours
ago. Marissa nodded and returned a low
smile to him.

As she pulled the chain away from the

brass latch, a shrill noise – like a cruel whip
snapping the air – broke the brief silence.
The sound of a damp thud, almost as though
a body had crumpled to the carpeted floor,
soon followed. A heavy hand forced the door
from its frame, nearly breaking it completely
off the rigid hinges.

Before Marissa could open her mouth to

scream in terror, Marco lunged at her. The
barrel of a gun’s silencer was pointed at her
head and his menacing hand was reaching
for her hoarse throat.

301/333

Chapter Fifteen

Reunion

The drive to the hotel was frantic and nearly
fatal. Marco had blazed his speeding car
through no fewer than half a dozen red
lights, burning a trail through the middle of
congested midtown traffic, and barely paus-
ing to round sharp corners. He had lost sight
of the police cruisers that were tailing him
five minutes ago.

Although the station was only a few

blocks from La Grande Roi, the alarmed
agent’s destination seemed impossibly far
away. When he ran into the lobby, the three
men from his unit that were stationed on the
ground floor were nowhere to be seen. He
assumed they must have received the orders
to retrieve the portable eye scanner and were
headed up to the penthouse apartment by

way of the stairs. He had no time to stop and
check because too many precious seconds
were already slipping out of his frantic grasp.
Time was ticking down, and his chances for
saving Marissa’s life from a dismal fate were
growing slim with every passing minute.

Wide and frightened eyes tagged his

frenzied path through the main lobby. Under
normal circumstances, standard training
would have led him toward the safer route
up the hotel’s stairs. However, this was no
routine emergency. Marcello needed to re-
trieve as much time as possible so he opted
for the elevator instead. As soon as the metal
doors swung open on the thirtieth floor, the
black ops soldier exited with stiff arms and
his handgun extended toward the first target
that moved. A quick survey in both direc-
tions along the corridor revealed two import-
ant facts. Marcello was the first living person
to arrive on the scene. He was also the only
living person in the hallway. His brother had

303/333

left a grim and bloody trail at the end of the
corridor. Two members of his tactical team
were mortally wounded. Each man was lying
in a broken slump on each side of the door.
Just above their bodies, dark crimson stains
were spattered on the walls. They had prob-
ably made the tragic mistake of assuming
Mauricio was their team leader. This would
have been the only reason why the men
would have allowed him to approach without
drawing their weapons first.

Marco approached the door to the suite

on stealthy feet. As his adrenaline-filled body
moved silently into the penthouse, his foot-
steps barely touched the carpet. There was
no need to use his shoulder to hammer the
door open. The solid material was already
twisted in a crooked position away from its
frame. Just inside of the doorway, the agent’s
eyes dashed downward and landed on a third
body crumpled between the guards...it was
another male. Julius’ eyes were wide-open,

304/333

frozen for all time in mortal terror. Mauricio
must have brought him along to gain access
to the penthouse. When that plan had failed,
probably because of the deadbolt Marco told
Marissa to use, the scheming man had be-
come useless to the killer.

A gruff voice exploded into the air, and a

fearful whimper quickly followed. Not want-
ing to waste another moment on those who
could not be helped, Marco returned his fo-
cus to the rescue of his woman. He sprinted
further into the space of the suite. His
weapon was aimed and ready to discharge
once the enemy was in range. His sweep of
the first room revealed no one in sight, but
the voices were very close. Marco crossed the
vacant foyer then rounded the corner leading
into the master bedroom.

Shock…anger…hate…love…confusion,

all these emotions raced through his mind
and body in one congested and severe rush.
The cruel vision he saw standing before him

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stripped Marco’s sense of reality to its pain-
ful limits. The man he was staring at was no
illusion. Everything Marco hoped was a mis-
take was all proved dreadfully true. His twin
brother had somehow managed to claw his
way from an empty grave, and had brought
all the chaos of the pit with him to wreak
upon the world.

“Mauricio!” Painful agony drenched

Marco’s voice. He yelled out his brother’s
name, calling the murderer’s attention to
him.

As the villain turned, an inhuman smile

clung to the face of the man who, for most of
their lives, was once Marco’s best friend and
partner. Sharp blue eyes, several shades
deeper than Marco’s irises, caught sight of
the semi-automatic he was aiming. In a frac-
tion of a heartbeat, Mauricio pulled Marissa
in front of him and locked her against his
chest. With one hand, he snapped a brutal
vice grip around her neck. Mauricio used the

306/333

other palm to position the long silencer of
his gun only a hair’s breadth from the terri-
fied woman’s temple.

“Marcello…fratello,” the villain said

while beaming out a maniacal smile.

Sincere glee was painted on his cheeks.

Truly, his brother had gone mad. This was
not a tender reunion. The two men were now
facing each other as enemies to the death, yet
Mauricio’s face seemed delighted, even re-
lieved, to lay eyes on his closest flesh and
blood once again.

Another soft cry crept into Marco’s ears.

The killer gripped Marissa’s throat so tight
that she was struggling to drag in precious
sips of air. Her hazelnut skin was quickly
draining of its rich color. Marco’s pulse
pounded beneath his skin. Drops of sweat
slithered from the corners of his slick blond
hair and coursed down the sides of his face.
He stepped forward, desperate to save his

307/333

lover from Mauricio’s cruel hand, which held
her life within its brutal fold.

“Non ti muovere!” Mauricio’s glare

mutated from loving to insanely dangerous.

He tightened his grip even more.

Marissa’s eyelashes fluttered wildly then the
whites of her eyes floated upward. Marco
steadied his aim, lining up his finger on the
sensitive trigger.

“Move again, and she is dead. I can

crush her throat faster than you can pull the
trigger, fratello. You remember my speed…I
was always faster than you, and I still am
today. If I can squeeze the life from my own
love, you know I will do so to yours without a
thought.”

Realizing the truth of his brother’s

words, Marco lifted his index finger and
lowered the weapon, but only slightly. His
hands remained tingling and ready to react
at a second’s notice. It was not his wish to
end his twin’s life; nevertheless, to save

308/333

Marissa, he would do so without hesitation.
The other man – once a protector of justice,
now a deranged criminal – had made that
decision for him.

“Let her breathe.” Marco spoke the
words flatly, as though speaking to a
stranger, not family.
Mauricio opened his palm slightly and
Marissa instantly sucked in a huge gulp
of oxygen.
“See, Marco, I can still be a good guy,”
his brother said with a mutant grin.
“Perché,

Mauricio?”

Marco’s

voice

softened. A tiny wave of sympathy and
brotherly love touched his spirit. “Why have
you done all these horrible things? What has
happened to you, mio fratello?”

“You ask this question to the man you

left for dead?” Mauricio seemed deeply of-
fended at Marco’s plea. “To the brother you
abandoned to a cold ditch?”

309/333

As Mauricio spoke the memories into

existence, sorrow and regret stabbed at
Marco’s heart.

“I saw you die…the bullets flew from all

directions. I had no choice. If I had not left,
the entire field team would have been buried
in nameless graves…including Katerina. How
could you kill the woman who clawed to re-
turn and retrieve your body, even as gun
smoke clogged the air?”

“Because I did die that day,” the other

man snapped. He turned the gun away from
Marissa and pointed it at Marco’s chest. “My
own brother left me gunned down in the
street, so there was no reason for me to go on
living as who I was. They tortured me for
weeks, Marco…Weeks!” Mauricio’s grip on
reality slipped as his mind appeared to travel
back to the dismal torment he suffered by
the militant rebels’ army. “During the first
few days, I kept expecting you to return and
shoot them all down. By the next week, I

310/333

hated you like no other living person on this
earth. When the national soldiers invaded
the camp and freed all the hostages, I lied
about who I was. I wanted no part of the
world that had forgotten me and left me to
bleed out all alone. Now, I live for me only.
Katerina was a greedy wench.” Mauricio spit
the words out with bitter distaste for the
memory of his lost love. “ She tried to keep
what was mine, and she paid the price for
her second treachery. If she loved me so
much, she would have clawed your skin
harder and ran back to drag me out of the
dirt. It was no secret that she loved you, too,
Marcello. We are the same in many ways.
She slept in my bed, but she also desired to
have you there many times. She saw her op-
portunity to finally run off with you and my
money, and she took it. Katerina is exactly
where she deserves to be.”

“You took her life, Mauricio…You, the

man she betrayed her own country to

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obediently march behind once again. She
loved you with such blind obsession that she
followed you to her grave. Doesn’t that count
for anything in your memory of her?”

“Ahhh!” The killer screamed. His cry

raked Marco’s ears. The deep bellow was like
the howl of a wounded and dying animal.
Mauricio fired off four rapid shots beside
Marco’s head. The agent heard the crunch of
each slug digging faster than a fiery rocket
into the wall behind him. “Silenzio! Shut up
and give me my diamonds!” He squeezed
Marissa’s throat again then threatened to
burn her with the hot tip of the smoking gun.
“Give them to me now or I’ll take her from
you. Then you will mourn and grieve with
me, as brothers should.”

“No!” Marco’s arms stiffened. He aimed

high. Both of his biceps were clenched rock
hard and waiting to flex. Tense seconds
dashed by. One false move and Marissa
would be no more. Marco had to calm

312/333

himself and talk his way through this stan-
doff. He huffed out a wet breath, trying to
steady his nerves. “There are no diamonds,”
he confessed to the madman.

Intense awe and disbelief flamed across

Mauricio’s face.

“You lie! I saw you enter with the at-

taché. The purse that Katerina left in the jew-
elry store was filled with fakes. You must still
have

the

real

gems…and

I

want

them…NOW!”

“Do you know what the stones were go-

ing to be used to buy, fratello?” Marco knew
that trying to reason with a criminally insane
man would be nearly impossible. All the
same, and in spite of everything that had
already transpired, this was his twin brother.
He had to make an effort to try to pull Maur-
icio back toward the light of sanity, to help
him understand what his actions and what
the sale of the jewels would have meant for
mankind. “Nuclear weapons…dirty bombs

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that would have been used to inflict havoc
and destruction around the world.”

“I

do

not

caaarreeee!”

Mauricio

screeched out his delirious reply. “I deserve
them…after all I have been through…they is
my reward! I will not let you take everything
from me. My woman is dead, I will not allow
you to have my fortune too!” An eerie calm
descended over Mauricio. His flustered
grimace straightened and his azure eyes
turned frosty white. “Give them to me now.
You have ten seconds or I will pull the trig-
ger. Ten…nine…eight…”

314/333

Chapter Sixteen

Endgame

Marissa’s eyes flickered open and she sucked
in a gulp of air. Everything was occurring in
a rush of motion. She barely had time to
make sense of all the chaos flowing all
around her. From what she could under-
stand, the man holding her hostage was
Marco’s brother. He was the same brother
who had supposedly died in a gunfight over a
year ago. He was also Katerina’s killer, and
was more than willing to do the same to
Marissa if he was not given the diamonds he
was crying for.

As Marco and the man who had attacked

her twice – the man who had the same face
as her lover – argued relentless in both Eng-
lish and Italian, Marissa tried to piece her
strength together. Dizziness from lack of

oxygen threatened to consume her into a
dark oblivion. She had to figure out how to
help save her life from the pinch of death,
which was only a hair trigger or a crushing
palm away.

“Seven…six…” The villain’s countdown

continued on a rapid descent.

“I am telling you the truth!” Marco’s yell

was filled with grave desperation. “The Gio-
vanni Diamonds are not here! They were
never here. The jewels never left Italy.”

A solemn silence hung around the tense

trio. In the hushed moment, while Mauricio
remained somewhat distracted, Marissa con-
templated

two

possible

escape

routes…Should she take a vicious bite at the
killer’s brutal hand? Or attempt to plunge
her elbow into his chest, forcing him to re-
lease her? When neither option seemed like
the best move, the woman continued to plot
as Marco continued his story. While he
talked, Marcello never lowered his weapon,

316/333

and Marissa hoped his aim was better than
that of the killer. The edgy woman knew,
down to the marrow in her bones, that the
villain had no intentions of allowing her to
leave this room alive.

“The agency’s plan was to come to the

States, seek contacts here, and try to ransom
off the jewels. We were certain that the
highest bidder would lead us back to the
weapons’ dealers we were in search of. The
diamonds were only a decoy to gain access to
the anonymous buyers, the dealers, and any
other intermediate parties between the two
groups. You were once one of our best
agents…You know our mission stand-
ards…The GEA would never take the risk of
allowing the real jewels to end up in the
wrong hands. If that every happened, the
nukes they were going to purchase might ac-
tually be delivered to their destination. To
fool the criminals, we made clones that
would have passed any chemical analysis.”

317/333

“You are wrong,” Mauricio cut Marco’s

speech. “Julius and his partners tested the
jewels, they knew they were fakes.”

“That is because Katerina did not hand

over the decoys I brought to the US. She nev-
er knew about the cloned diamonds. After we
assumed that you had died, her mental state
declined. I knew she could not be trusted
with sensitive and highly classified informa-
tion any longer. After Katerina’s death, I had
Schaeffer and Julius remove my attaché
from the hotel’s vault. Our analysis showed
that the diamonds in the case were the cop-
ies I brought with me. The homing devices
embedded inside of them never switched
on.” Marco stepped forward. He continued to
try to reason with the insane man.
“Mauricio, my brother, you must believe
me…I never told her to make the drop in the
hotel’s galleria jewelry store. That was part of
her own plan. I am not sure of what she was
plotting or how she was able to bring her

318/333

own forged gems into the country. Perhaps
Katerina thought she had figured out a way
to keep the money from the sale of her fakes
and how to steal the real diamonds from me
later.” The look of a recent memory flashed
across Marco’s eyes. “Katerina’s final words
to me were…We can live like royalty…all of
us. Perhaps she thought her plan would
somehow unite us all as one happy family
again…I really do not know, fratello.” Marco
lowered his voice. “I do know this…you are
wrong, Mauricio. You were the only man Ka-
terina ever loved. She would have done any-
thing to please you.”

The villain had murdered the one wo-

man who had loved him with a tainted and
fatal devotion, even until her final breath.
There would be no jewels to soothe his pain
and no money to cover his bloody trail.
Another ailing howl crawled from Mauricio’s
throat. He threw up his arms in wrenching
agony over his horrible mistake.

319/333

When the killer lifted his gun from

Marissa’s head and pulled his fist from her
throat, the bold woman saw her chance for
freedom. As soon as Mauricio was emotion-
ally wounded, his hostage seized on the dis-
traction and saved herself from the brink of
death’s door. Marissa thrust the top of her
head upward and struck the underside of his
chin with a vicious blow. Gurgling noises
mixed with a shrill crunch filled her ears as
Mauricio’s teeth shattered and scarlet spittle
dripped from his mouth. Once she was com-
pletely free from his grip, Marissa wasted no
time in dropping to the floor. Crawling on
her hands and knees, the woman made a
mad dash away from the injured villain and
toward the farthest side of the hostile room.
When she reached the other end of the suite,
Marissa crouched against the wall in a tight
ball.

Four gunshots shredded the air. One hot

projectile embedded itself in Mauricio’s

320/333

trigger hand while another burned deep into
his left wrist. The second pair of bullets twis-
ted painfully through the center of his knee-
caps. As twirling whiffs of smoky tendrils
floated from the tip of Marco’s gun, his
brother – the merciless villain – was in-
stantly crippled. A wailing moan clawed its
way from deep within Mauricio’s chest, while
his heavy body dropped to the floor in a loud
thump. Whether the cry was from the
scorching bullet wounds or from agony and
remorse for the treacherous deeds he had
committed, Marissa would never know.

Strong arms, with rigid muscles that felt

tense and painfully swollen, quickly wrapped
themselves around Marissa and lifted her
aching body from the floor. When Marco
cradled her to his chest, relief swept over the
shaken woman. Marco Rossi pressed his hot
mouth to her blistering ear and swore the
same solemn promise again and again,

321/333

kissing his rescued lover’s moist brow with
each renewal of the oath.

“Ti amo, Marissa…ti amo…I love you…I

will never let you go….No one will ever hurt
you again…I swear.”

Marissa memorized ever word Marcello

cried out to her. Her soul swam in the elec-
trifying emotions he poured out. The thump-
ing heartbeat of her true love, echoing in her
ear, confirmed the eternal depths of his
promises. With the last ounce of strength re-
maining in her weak arms, Marissa Stiles
clung to her hero – breathing in his pure de-
votion and weeping out her love.

322/333

AFTERWARD

~G~

Forever

Epilogue

Tuscany, Italy

“Sorridere,” Marco said from behind the di-
gital lens. “Smile for the camera, Marissa.”

In response, the beautiful woman he

was admiring from a few feet away beamed a
gorgeous smile at him. Her arms were rest-
ing against that famous leaning tower in the
middle of Pisa, and Marissa pretended to
keep the building from toppling over onto
the crowded plaza below.

After Marcello snapped the keepsake

photo, the young couple continued their slow
stroll through the vibrant and culturally rich
Italian district. The day after the terrifying fi-
nale of Mauricio’s crime spree, Marcello and
his lady escaped to a well-deserved vacation
far away from the demands of big city life or
the strain of global policing. It was never

Marcello’s goal to wound his brother so hor-
ribly. Nevertheless, the agent did not regret
his decision. Mauricio’s insanity had driven
him beyond redemption and, like a rabid an-
imal, the killer would have never willingly
ceased his relentless blood thirst. Marcello’s
relief at knowing his demented sibling was
finally jailed behind the thick walls of a max-
imum security institution for the criminally
insane was only rivaled by the unanswered
questions still taunting the agent’s sharp
mind. Although one very small accomplice to
the international smuggling and terrorism
ring had been identified, Julius Smith was
merely an underling. Who were the nameless
bosses who had supplied him with the hefty
financial support to place his orders? There
was also the uncertainty of the level of in-
volvement – if any – of Dennis Schaeffer.
Another trace of his phone records indicated
he had dialed his wife’s phone number on
the day of Marcello and Katerina’s arrival to

325/333

the hotel. However, further research showed
his wife had been making a separate call
from their home number, not her mobile
phone, to her mother at the exact same time.
So, who had Schaeffer actually been speaking
with during that conversation? His bank ac-
counts showed several odd transactions –
fast movement of large funds over the course
of a few days before the incidents at La
Grande Roi – but nothing that would cause
immediate suspicion or tie him to the origin-
al villains that Marcello and his agency had
been urgently trying to hunt down. For now,
at least, the inquisitive man would have to
put his racing suspicions to the rear of his
mind.

Marissa had regained her sense of peace

and security. Her happiness had always been
Marcello’s primary concern. As long as his
lady was safe and cared for, Marco felt his
sense of duty was satisfied. On the other side
of the world, the loving duo walked hand-in-

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hand through the warm Mediterranean sun-
shine. Marco pointed to various highlights
during their stroll, and explained portions of
the province’s intriguing artistic history.

“Let’s sit here for a moment, sweet-

heart,” Marco said.

He led Marissa to a nearby stone stair-

case, which sat in front of a magnificent
marble fountain that was dancing with crisp
sprays of cool iceberg blue water. Once they
were seated, Marcello began to fumble with
his camera. While he tinkered with the latch
of the tiny machine, Marissa’s cell phone
chirped. The glowing woman retrieved the
phone then smiled curiously at the message
she was reading.

“What is so amusing, amore?” Marco’s

eyes remained glued on the digital toy while
he asked his love the question.

“It’s Nichole.” Marissa giggled as she

spoke.

“Oh, yes? How is our mother-to-be?”

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“Hm…she’s still my same darling

friend,” Marissa laughed again as she contin-
ued to scroll through the message, “who just
sent me a text in all caps to remind me that I
had not sent her a vacation photo from today
or yesterday.”

“I cannot seem to figure this thing out,”

Marco mumbled. He stared intensely at the
ultra modern machine. “Il mio amore, per-
haps you might be able to fix this problem,”
he said then handed the camera to Marissa.

“Sure…let me see,” she said while ac-

cepting the item. The woman glanced over
the digital camera. She surveyed each side
until she spotted the problem. “There’s
something stuck in the battery panel.” When
Marissa opened the latch, her raspberry lips
began an uncontrollable tremble. The cam-
era dropped to the ground as Marissa’s shak-
ing hands flew to her mouth. Two glistening
tears streaked from each of her tinted eyes.
“Marco,” she said in a breathless whisper.

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“Ti

amo,

Marissa…per

sempre…forever,” the gallant man said in a
hushed voice. Marcello retrieved the spark-
ling diamond ring from inside of the cam-
era’s battery panel then slid onto one knee.
When he was kneeling before Marissa, Mar-
cello raised the token of his eternal love to-
ward the weeping woman. “I know it is not
Giovanni, my love…but I hope it is enough to
please you.” A nervous smile dashed across
his handsome face. “Marissa Stiles…Mi vuoi
sposare?…Will you do me the incredible
honor of becoming my wife?”

If Marissa answered with an actual yes,

Marco never heard the word spoken. He had
become tangled in his woman’s rushing em-
brace and swept away by the soft kisses she
rained over his lips and face. From some-
where close by, onlookers clapped and
whistled their approval of the new union. In-
side Marcello Rossi’s heart, endless hope and
joy bloomed. Providence had finally blessed

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him with the love and devotion of the woman
who had captured his heart at first sight.

? The End ?

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So where do we go from here?

Great Question!

The possibilities are limitless…I have dozens
of stories floating around in my head.
However, I can only type out a few at a time.
My goal is to release a couple more titles be-
fore the beginning of the summer, but we’ll
see how that goes…My Inspiration is strong
but can never be rushed, and I honestly
wouldn’t want it to be…Until then, Dear
Reader, I truly hope you enjoyed this tale of
suspense and romance. Here’s my question
for you…Did you catch on to one of the back-
ground scenes? Perhaps it might be a clue for
what I’ll be rolling out with next…Blessings
and love to you all, always…LL ?

PS –

As always, I love hearing from you…send me
a line or two…I definitely like reading your
comments…

con-

[e-mail]

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