Under the Sicilian Sky Read online

  “In the meantime, these children go uneducated?”

  “We do the best we can, Bella.”

  “You have the money. Why can’t you just build the school when you put in a well?”

  “The well goes in first because that frees up the time they normally spend walking for water and is also a key ingredient in the product. The money for the school comes out of the profits. So until they produce enough to pay for that . . . ”

  “Still . . . ”

  “It’s the way it’s done, amore. Come now, we need to be back in Marrakech tonight or we’ll miss our flight to New York tomorrow.”

  Bella rubbed her thumb over her left ring finger. He’d wanted to buy her a new ring, but she’d refused until they resolved their issues. This was her tell that she was upset. She did it every time he brought up New York. It might be a better plan to leave her in Tunis while he went alone to the States. Or have her wait for him in Sicily. Except returning to Italy wasn’t an option for him. According to his lawyer, Roberto Della Vedova was very suspicious. The missing person reports on Matteo had never been filed and the investigation into the other men’s deaths had barely merited one sheet of paper.

  Going on his gut instinct, Batista was sure the questore was involved somehow. If not directly, then he was covering for someone. It would take a while to investigate, and until it was sorted, Matteo’s return to Sicily would jeopardize his freedom. Della Vedova needed someone to pin the crime on to take the heat off himself. Matteo was the most likely patsy.

  He couldn’t bear to tell Bella that he might never be able to go back to Sicily. Losing her to the farm was still too real a possibility.

  He had five more days to prove to her that their marriage could work. To do that, he needed to find something to keep her occupied, something she was passionate about.

  Bella stood and immediately the children began to protest her leaving. She hugged as many as she could before following him out of the hut. She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the harsh sun, so he reached out and popped the sunglasses from the top of her head back down to her nose.

  “Is every village like this?” She glanced around at the collection of huts, some in better condition than others. A goat wandered around, tasting anything that didn’t move too fast. A few scrawny chickens pecked the ground, more out of something to do than the existence of any food. A woman pounded a few grains with a wooden mallet while singing a mournful song. He didn’t understand the language, but it was nothing like the happy songs he’d heard in the villages where they’d already established an artisans’ cooperative.

  “Too many are. But soon I’ll take you to one where we’ve been working with the women for a while. You’ll see the difference we can make.”

  Three huts down, Farrah handed the little boy back to his mother. The truck driver had already fired up the vehicle, and it lumbered away from the village down the dusty track. Empty.

  “I thought we were here to pick up the first load of plates,” Bella said.

  “They’re useless. Not made properly. By the time the shipment got to its destination, it would be a pile of colorful dust. Farrah has retaught them the mixture, and we’ll come back again in a few months to see if they’ve got it right.”

  “Three months? So these kids won’t get a school until when?”

  “Eighteen months, maybe two years.”

  “That’s unacceptable—”

  He wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “It’s better than the alternative. If we didn’t come and offer the women employment, there’d be no school at all, ever. Besides, even if the product was acceptable and we could speed up the payments, it takes time to find a teacher willing to come to the middle of nowhere. We’re lucky if we can get a newly qualified teacher desperate to pay off some of their student loans. The most they stay is six months, and then we have to find someone else.”

  “There has to be another way.”

  The tension in his neck eased. Could this pull her heart from the farm?

  • • •

  Bella leaned out of the hotel window in Marrakech. She could see a bit of Jemaa El Fna, the main square, as full now near 10:00 p.m. as it had been when they arrived at five in the afternoon. The pounding of tribal drums was muted, but the smoke from the hundreds of stalls selling grilled meat still lingered in the air.

  They’d wandered around a little earlier and had even purchased a Berber carpet from the souk for the cottage in Sicily. Would she be there to enjoy the feel of it under her feet in the winter, or would she be in Tunisia trying to find ways to keep her days busy?

  Once she’d let go of her farm mentality, always thinking about the next thing that had to be done, she’d had fun on this adventure with Matteo. She’d enjoyed soup for breakfast, drank more mint tea than she ever thought possible, and had tears stream from her eyes when listening to a group of women sing even though she didn’t understand a single word of the lyrics.

  It was an awesome vacation. But not reality.

  Matteo strode into the room from the adjoining bathroom with only a small white towel around his hips. His muscles bunched and danced as he rubbed another towel through his hair. He did this deliberately, strutted his magnificent stuff every chance he got, to remind her of what he had to offer. Not that she was likely to forget.

  “Did you want to go back out? I can get dressed,” he said.

  She shut the window and licked her lips. “What are my other options?”

  His smile could’ve set her pants on fire. “We could stay in and play strip poker.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Aren’t you at a bit of a disadvantage, wearing only a towel?”

  “I’m giving you a sporting chance.”

  “Oh, really?” She’d always let him win before, not wanting to crush his masculine pride. This time it was game on. “Call for the cards, Matteo. I just need the restroom for a minute.”

  “You’re not going to add more clothing, are you?”

  “Nope. Just change up some of what I’ve got on. I’ll keep the number of pieces the same.”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  By the time she emerged from the bathroom, Matteo lounged on the huge divan, two glasses of champagne, the cards and a bowl of strawberries on the coffee table in front of him.

  Bella took the chair opposite, sitting primly on the edge. She sipped the champagne while Matteo shuffled the cards and dealt them both five. She bit down on her bottom lip, feigning disappointment as she sorted her hand. Two tens and a handful of smaller cards. She could work with that. When she glanced at Matteo, he looked smugly satisfied.

  “I’ll take three cards, please.” She slid her useless cards onto the table and picked up the ones Matteo dealt. Another ten, an eight, and a two. Matteo took two replacements, his lips twitching upward when he saw his new cards.

  Bella forced her mouth into a frown and munched on a strawberry as she pretended to decide what to do. “Can I get one more?” She put the two of clubs on the table and had a moment of trepidation when Matteo decided to keep what he had. Peeking at her new card, she held back her sigh of relief. Another eight. Full house.

  “Call.” Matteo placed his cards face up on the table. He had a flush.

  “Oh, I think maybe I’ve won this hand.” Bella laid her cards down and bit her tongue as Matteo’s eyes flashed from her cards to her face and back to the cards again. “I’ll take your towel, thank you.”

  As though still unsure what had happened, Matteo pulled the towel off and handed it to her. He reclined again in all his naked glory. “I don’t seem to have anything left to play with.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I can see something to play with.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  He burst out laughing. “I meant I have nothing to wager in the card game.”

  “Orgasms,” she blurted out. “For every hand I win, you have to give me one orgasm.”

  “Now I don’t know whether to win or lose
.” He dealt another round of cards. “I quite enjoy seeing you writhe in ecstasy, knowing I brought you there.”

  “Hmmm, okay, how about for every round you lose, I put on one more piece of clothing. As an added incentive, I’ve got on a new lingerie set you haven’t seen yet.”

  “I preferred the orgasm bet, but as I’m sure to win, it’s a moot point.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, giving him a coy smile as she picked up her cards. It was hard to concentrate with him lying naked across from her. She deliberately lost two hands so she was down to her new bra and panties. A self-satisfied smile curved her lips to see Matteo’s cock stand at attention when she pulled her shirt off, revealing the black lace bra that pushed her breasts up until they threatened to spill from the top at any moment.

  As Matteo stood to pour them both more champagne, she took his dick in hand until he was hard and his breath came in short, sharp pants.

  “Are you forfeiting?” he said when she bent over to take him in her mouth.

  With one long lick, she released him. “Never. Is it my turn to deal now?”

  She shuffled the cards while Matteo lay down on the divan. He was on his back, his erection waiting for her to finish what she started. It was a distraction technique, and two could play that game. As he looked at his cards, she trailed her fingers across the top of her breasts and then down to the waistband of her lace panties. His eyes followed the movement.

  “I’ll have that next,” he said, gesturing at her bra.

  “You have to win first. And if I win, I’ll be putting my shirt back on.”

  “Not going to happen, bellissima. I’ve already got one very fine pair.”

  She grabbed her breasts. “So do I.”

  They exchanged cards three times before Matteo insisted they show their hands. He did indeed have two pair, but she had a straight, so she won that round. With a gleeful laugh, she pulled her shirt back on. The disappointment on his face was priceless.

  “Either you’ve been playing a lot of poker while I was gone or you were losing on purpose before.”

  She shrugged. “You used to say there were no losers in strip poker.”

  “That was when I won every hand.”

  Three rounds and two more glasses of champagne later she was down to her underpants and she’d joined Matteo on the daybed. There was more fondling than card playing going on, and the suits were all blurring together in her hand.

  “Ha, I’ve got a full house. Pass me back my shirt,” Bella said. No way her fingers would work well enough to refasten her bra. She reached past him to snag her top, running her hand up his thigh on the way.

  His fingers encircled her wrist. “Not so fast, tesori, I’ve got four of a kind. All aces. Hand over that sexy excuse for underwear.”

  She stared at his cards. He’d cheated. She’d had an ace earlier in the game—no way he had four of them now. But she was done playing—this game anyway.

  Putting extra sway in her hips, she sauntered over to the bed and shimmied out of the lace panties. She perched her ass on the bed and leaned back on her arms.

  “We’re both naked. Now what?”

  He stalked over to her. “Now I deliver that orgasm you won. Or was it two?”

  “Two, because you cheated that last hand.”

  Dropping a pillow on the floor between her feet, he sank to his knees in front of her. “Ah, you caught that. Two orgasms, it is.”

  He picked up her foot and kissed and licked his way from her ankle to her upper inner thigh. Hooking her leg over his shoulder, he gave the same treatment on the other side. With both her legs over his shoulders, he licked and sucked on her core until she came apart on a wave of bliss.

  “That’s one,” he said with a smug smile when she could focus.

  He reached for her again, but she caught his hand against her breast.

  “I need a few minutes to recover. Switch positions.”

  He raised one eyebrow but dutifully sat on the bed while she kneeled before him. She stroked and licked him until he moaned with each caress of her tongue. Instead of lying back on the bed though, he had both hands on her breasts, massaging and rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until she ached to have his mouth on her.

  He gently disengaged her from his cock and lifted her until she straddled him. His tongue flicked her nipple at the same time he slid into her heat.

  “Condom,” she managed to gasp as his finger found her clit.

  “In a minute. I’ll pull out before I come. I need to feel nothing but you.”

  God, she wanted that, too. She’d thought of going back on the pill, but it seemed too permanent, like she was deciding they’d stay together. Right now, however, she wished she’d listened to her first instinct and they could remain like this forever.

  When he pulled out several minutes later, she moaned in disappointment. “I can go back in. Finish the job.” His voice was low and husky. “But as we’ve already rolled the pregnancy dice once, I didn’t think you’d want to gamble again.”

  “No, you’re right. But hurry back.”

  She moved onto her stomach while she waited for him to race to the bathroom to grab the condoms out of his shaving kit. Her whole body hummed, anticipating Matteo’s to return. When he did, he pulled up her hips and slid into her from behind. They both moaned with pleasure.

  He slowly increased the pace, his cock gliding in and out of her in a sensuous torment. Reaching around, he put one finger on her clit while the other toyed with her nipple. She exploded into a thousand shards of pleasure. Surely, she’d never be the same. How could he do this time and time again? Bring her to one impossible height after another until she had no idea where she even came from.

  Matteo pounded into her until his body tensed and he came with a roar that would probably get them kicked out of the hotel if he weren’t the owner. He collapsed on top of her, and she reveled in the weight of his body on hers.

  “And that’s number two,” he whispered into her ear. “What do you say we go for a bonus round?”

  “I love bonus rounds.”

  Especially when it might be a limited time thing. Why couldn’t she just accept what she had and be happy? She’d laughed and loved more in the past nine days than she’d done in the six previous years. But while the princess treatment was great as a fantasy—what woman didn’t want to be pampered?—it wore thin after a while. Like when Matteo took a call from his lawyer and then fobbed her off with an “everything’s fine.” It wasn’t “fine” if her husband was about to be charged with a triple homicide.

  And she had this damn New York trip to survive. The peace and quiet of her little farm called to her like a chocolate cake to a dieter.

  But that siren song had nothing on the tick, tick, tick of the countdown clock before she had to decide whether to give up everything she’d worked so hard for to seize a love that had limits.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Had New York always been this gloomy? Even on a bright summer’s day, the sunlight was muted as though the beams of light had better things to do than linger here. Or they’d been appropriated by the Wall Street demigods, and lesser mortals would just have to find their own source of illumination.

  “What will you be doing today, tesori?” Matteo fiddled with his cuff links and she went over to assist him.

  “Kai contacted some of my old friends, and I’m meeting them for lunch. Then I thought I’d head over to the Metropolitan Museum and see what’s new there. What time do you expect your meetings to finish?” She fastened his cuff links and straightened his tie, more out of a need to touch him than it being crooked. She was home, where she’d been born and raised, but it now felt as foreign to her as the tiny Western Saharan village with the uneducated children.

  “Around five. Where do you suggest we go for dinner? What’s your favorite place to eat?”

  Her favorite was the table in her kitchen in Sicily, after they’d cooked together, sampling and kissing along the way.
They hadn’t done that since they’d left Italy, and she missed the small domestic chore. Would they ever go back to that? Matteo had a cook in Tunis and it was clear he had no plans to return to the farm.

  “I’ll find some place and text you the details.”

  “Will Kai be joining us?” A muscle jumped in Matteo’s jaw.

  “No, he’s in surgery all day. Evidently, he’s performing a heart transplant on a two-year-old boy. If you’re not busy, we’ve been invited to lunch with him, his daughter, and his parents tomorrow at 1:00 p.m.”

  “I’m sure I can make it. Will your mom and dad be there, too?”

  She dropped her hands from his chest and wrapped them around herself. “Not as far as I’m aware. Knowing Kai, he’ll try a reconciliation, but I have no interest in seeing them again.”

  “Bella—”

  “What time’s your meeting with the Saks’s buyer? Traffic is a nightmare in this city; you have to allow twice as long as expected to arrive on time.”

  “My meeting’s at ten, so I’ll leave in just a minute. Here’s a credit card in your name, no limit, so buy whatever you want.”

  She took the card and flicked the edge with her thumb. Just as she’d dressed conservatively in Tunisia and Morocco in deference to the culture, if she showed up to lunch wearing anything less than a designer dress and ridiculously expensive shoes, she’d be pitied by her New York friends.

  “Thanks. And good luck with your meeting.”

  He gave her a lingering kiss on the lips. “It’s all just filler until I’m back in your arms.”

  “Sweet talker. Seriously, though, I hope you get the contract so those beautiful children can get their schools faster.”

  “I will. And you have fun.” He kissed her again quickly before he hurried from the hotel room.

  She needed to get a move on as well; she had appointments for a haircut and manicure before she hit the shops.

  When she strolled into Veducci’s three hours later she felt like a new woman. And not one she particularly wanted to be. Her hair was styled and fell in soft waves down her back, her makeup was flawless, and she wore a black Donna Karan dress and Prada shoes. So far today she’d spent more money than she had for her wedding to Matteo. And undoubtedly more than enough to build and staff at least one school in North Africa. Her skin crawled with the extravagance.