Stone’s smile confirmed his honesty. “She is,” he said.
It was true. Rosella Campagnone’s looks were undeniable. Her hair was a mass of short, dark coils framing a plump, pretty face. Her round dark eyes were fringed by lashes of stunning length. The beauty mark in the center of her cheek gave her a ravishing quality.
Rosella’s olive cheeks darkened and she studied the table in an attempt to hide her smile.
Athena shifted a wink to Stone. “Drink up, now!” She ordered. “This is some of our finest wine. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste, eh?”
When Athena left, it was as though a storm had settled. Laughter followed.
“She means well,” Stone said.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Rosella waved off the apology. “She’s a mother concerned with the happiness of her children.”
Stone observed his wine goblet. “I sense a tone,” he noted slyly.
“What?” She laughed out the word, but it was clear that a nerve had been struck.
Stone smiled, shook his head. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Rosella frowned for an extended second and then grimaced. “No, you didn’t. I-I’d love to work for Tesano, if there were international offices.”
“Ah...you want to travel.”
“I want to be free. A job far away would get me from under my parents’ thumbs-give me the freedom to be who and what I wish,” she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “If only I’d been born a boy.”
Stone chuckled. “Don’t be fooled. Boys don’t have all that much freedom. Parents are just as demanding on sons, especially when there are things about them that would be easier, if changed.”
Rosella put a fist to her cheek and gazed at Stone through narrowed eyes. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.”
“Then you’re no freer than I am.”
Stone grinned, slouching back in his chair. “If you only knew, Miss Campagnone. If you only knew.”
Appearing resolved, Rosella moved in to reach for her goblet. She raised it in toast. “Here’s to freedom-to being who and what we wish.”
“Here! Here!”
They touched goblets and the wine sloshed, purpling the damask tablecloth.
Rosella giggled. “Maybe if we drink the rest, we won’t get in trouble about the spill.”
Stone rolled his eyes. “You don't know my mother.”
They toasted, emptied their goblets and dissolved into more laughter.
~47~
“Damn!”
“I’ll get it. You keep stirring,” Imani had heard the doorbell as well. She slipped off the stool at the cooking island and went out into the living room. After a quick brush of invisible lint from her jeans, she pulled open the door.
“Pitch?” Recognition pooled her face when the man’s distinctive voice touched her ears.
Pitch turned to the door. Imani’s happy surprise turned to stifling shock when she saw who stood with him.
Roman looked equally shaken while moving closer to the door. Tirelessly, he scanned Imani from head to toe as if trying to prove to himself he was really seeing what he thought he was. Pitch staggered back to allow his brother more room to fill the doorway.
Imani staggered back as well. She retreated into the house as Roman advanced. Pitch followed, pushing the door shut behind him.
“Imani, who-?”
Candace had arrived in the living room. She clipped her question while wiping her hands on the apron at her waist. Emotion seemed to be clogging the room, unexpectedly robbing her of voice and breath. She couldn’t fully comprehend the mood, but guessed it had everything to do with one of the two sinful looking men present. The one towering over Imani seemed the more likely candidate. He watched her like she was something unreal.
Pitch caught his girlfriend’s eye. Quickly, he made his way toward Candace before she saw the need to go to Imani’s defense.
“Miss Strong,” he greeted in a tone of syrupy politeness when he took Candace’s elbow. “We need to talk,” he led her from the room.
“Roman?” Imani was watching him with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Are you crazy?” He countered. A moment later, he yanked her close. His head fell to her shoulder as if the need to rest it there was what he desired most in the world.
Concerned still, Imani brought her hand to his chest. “Are you alright?” she asked again.
“Not yet,” Roman’s voice was soft yet with an edge that made the words barely decipherable.
He was kissing her then, his tongue filling her mouth as he drew her impossibly closer. Soft, desperate sounds of need vibrated from his throat. They seemed to echo with every deep thrust he gave.
