Chapter One
Jackie's gaze wandered from headstones to somber faces. But not to the casket that held the body of her only true friend Desmond Sinclair. She recognized all of the people standing around her. Except for...
Now she knew she hadn't worn the black net veil because it matched her black suit. She'd worn it to hide her eyes. She continued to stare at the man. The handsome stranger who looked familiar even though she was positive she'd never met him. She searched her memory until it came to her. Andrew Michaels. She saw his picture in her Los Angeles newspaper a lot. The last time he'd posed on the courthouse steps, relief radiated from his eyes as he smiled for the cameras after achieving a guilty verdict on a high profile murder case.
How dare he show up here? Thanks to her Desmond couldn't harm anyone anymore. A cold chill rolled through her. Perhaps the district attorney had come for her.
Undecided if she should bolt or approach the man, Jackie was suddenly frozen in a time past when Marcus DeMario stepped into view.
The sight of him took her breath away just like the first time she saw him all those years ago. She watched him step away from the limousine and weave around headstones in her direction. As he neared, she saw his features had changed little. What had changed was the hardness in his composure, a coldness that sent another chill through her.
With her chin tucked into her chest, she watched him step up to the casket to pay last respects. Once or twice his steely eyes glanced her way. But he showed no signs of recognizing her.
Of course he wouldn't recognize you, she reminded herself. You were just a disposable piece of property to the man.
But Marcus did recognize her. Not the first time he glanced in her direction. The second time his gaze traveled up her black nylons he knew of only one pair of legs so perfect. But what was Jackie Bertoni doing at Desmond Sinclair's funeral? What was she doing in America?
He'd buried thoughts about the woman who stole his heart a life time ago. No point dwelling on what might've been.
The crowd of mourners began departing. Jackie watched them go. The district attorney lagged behind them like he was waiting for someone. Jackie breathed easier when he ducked inside a blue sedan and drove away. But an immense amount of heat fired through her when she met Marcus's mesmerizing gaze.
His stare made her pulse race. A faint smile played around his mouth. Then he spoke.
"It's been a long time, Jackie. How are you?" He waited for her to say something. Anything to give him a clue she recognized him. But there was nothing but the unreadable stare through the veil. "You're looking good." Again he waited. Nothing. "Don't you remember me?"
How could she forget the person responsible for severing her heart so badly that it had never fully mended?
"I remember, Marcus. I'm surprised you remember me."
"I always wondered what became of you." He started taking short steps around the casket toward her as he spoke. "I looked for you, Jackie. It was as if you vanished from all of Italy."
He stood so close that the intoxicating scent of his cologne made her head spin. She felt a vaguely familiar fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. How could this be after all these year? And even with the knowledge of how the man had used her, the sight of him was bringing every one of her senses life again. Even the smooth huskiness of his voice made her tremble with pleasure.
Fight it. The man isn't worthy enough to breathe the same air as you, an inner voice reminded. Jackie listened. But trying to control her senses when they were sending so much pleasure was difficult. If not impossible.
"Desmond brought me to America the year we met. I've never returned to Italy."
Marcus took a moment to turn back the clock. So much had happened that spring. The brief war with the Delio family. His father's murder. Marcus's first kill. Then he had a multi-million dollar empire to run. But among the confusion and changes, he remembered the night when Roberto mentioned Desmond Sinclair had called in need of a passport.
"Desmond never told me." But then there were a lot of things Desmond Sinclair saw fit not to tell me, Marcus kept to himself.
"I ask him not to."
Marcus glanced away from her cold stare then refocused on her sea blue eyes. "Will you join me for lunch, Jackie?"
A no screamed within. No to feeling so wonderfully alive when she should be outraged.
"I suppose I do have to eat."
She took a moment to be alone with Desmond before joining Marcus in the limousine.
"So, where shall I have Tony drive us?" Marcus put to her as the car pulled away from the cemetery.
Jackie shrugged. "You choose."
"My hotel suite okay?"
Fear gripped her insides. She knew better than to trust Marcus. But could she trust herself alone with him in his hotel suite? A public place would be much safer, a much easier place to fight off the passion mounting within her. But she nodded him a yes anyway, then managed to look away from the pair of eyes that were capable of hypnotizing her.
When she peered through the tinted window, she spotted the blue sedan parked at the end of the street. The car was there again when she stepped out of the limousine at the hotel.
Be careful. You mustn't let your guard down for a second, the voice within returned to caution as Jackie moved ahead of Marcus into the luxurious suite. Too late. She let her guard down the second she said she'd have lunch with the man.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be a minute," Marcus told her as he reached for the phone. It took him less than a minute to call downstairs to have the lunch sent up he'd ordered from his cell phone in the car.
When he fumbled with the receiver, putting it back on the hook, Jackie sensed he felt equally awkward. Precisely what gave her the courage to speak with more ease.
"Tell me, Marcus, did you travel all this way just to attend Desmond's funeral?"
Tempted to lie, Marcus decided it would be too dangerous. He had no idea how much she knew about his relationship with Desmond Sinclair. Until he did, he needed to be extremely careful about what he said.
"Actually, no. I was here on business when I got word about my good friend, Desmond."
The knock on the door saved him from going into more detail. He let in the waiter and stood near the door while the man pushed the food cart to the small corner table and set two places. Marcus handed him a few folded bills as he passed back through the doorway. Then he focused on Jackie standing with her back to him near the table.
He swallowed hard before taking that first step in her direction.
She glanced up at him and smiled when he pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Then he took the seat across from her.
He focused on the napkin he unfolded on his lap when he spoke. "This sort of reminds me," he slowly raised his head and gazed into her eyes, "of another meal we shared."
Jackie saw them at the table that night too. It was after the shopping spree on Capri. They'd returned to the yacht anchored off shore to find Roberto had a three course meal waiting for them in the lower cabin. Jackie could almost taste the shrimp salad. Then the aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the air. When she blinked and glanced down at the table, she saw she wasn't imagining the smell. The three course meal awaited them on the table.
Her one hand fidgeted with her napkin, while she placed her other one on the table. "You have a very good memory."
Marcus reached across the table for her hand. "I was hoping we might start again."
Jackie jerked away from him. From the touch that sent small volts of electricity through her.
"How can you say that? We aren't the same people we were sixteen years ago. You don't know anything about me."
"I know I loved you once. I'd like to fall in love all over again."
A painful blast of heat fired through her. "Then what? Do you divorce your wife and marry me?"
"I admit I don't know anything about your life. But you seem to know mine."
His statement eased Jackie's anger enough for her to relax in her seat. "You married Talia Calvetti fifteen years ago. Ten years ago you were blessed with a son, Joseph, named after your father. Five years later, your daughter, Maria was born. You are one of the most successful businessmen in all of Italy." She could've added that she knew all about the political leaders on his payroll and how with the help of Desmond he was shipping heroin into this country from his ties in Afghanistan. But she skipped that part. "A few years ago you began branching out, buying up real estate around the world. How am I doing so far?"
"Please continue."
"Last year you purchased a few properties here in LA. Properties condemned by the city. I believe the buildings were torn down and new construction is underway?"
"Correct. A housing project for the elderly."
"A commendable thing to do for people in a foreign country."
"We all feel better when we can do a good deed for others." Is what he told her, but the truth was the buildings would make him a fortune and legitimize him as a businessman in this country.
"It's good to know you have a heart."
Marcus accepted her bit of sarcasm and chuckled. Then his jaw line narrowed.
"Am I correct to presume Desmond is the one who kept you up-to-date on my life?"
"He gave me a full report each year when he returned from his annual vacation to Italy." What he forgot to mention she'd read in the journal he kept locked away in the vault in his study.
"How considerate of him," Marcus commented with growing annoyance. "So just how was it between you two?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, knowing perfectly well what he was fishing for. But she thought it might be nice to watch him sweat a little.
He cleared his throat out loud. "Were you lovers?"
Jackie trembled when that night just a few short weeks ago flashed in her head. Desmond had come home in an angry uproar. She watched him carry a full bottle of bourbon to his favorite chair in the study. She thought it best to wait until morning to confront him about what had upset him and went up to bed.
The wetness roused her from a deep sleep. Then the alcohol odor cut off her breath. The pressure of him hovering atop her was suffocating. She tried fighting him off her. But she was no match for those powerful arms even though she could see he was drunk out of his mind. Her only alternative was to close her eyes and let it happen. Only when she tried to block it and escape to America did she remember that she was already in the land of the free.
She found a handwritten note from Desmond on the nightstand in the morning. She told him she accepted his apology, but it was impossible for things to remain the same between them.
How to answer Marcus was easy though. "That really is none of your business, Marcus DeMario. But if you must know, the answer is no. We were not lovers." She took a moment to sort through her feelings. "But we did love each other." Her 'once upon a time' she kept to herself.
"Desmond was a good man," Marcus told her. Desmond Sinclair is a traitor, he kept to himself. "I will miss him." As he said the words, Marcus realized they were true.
He'd become fond of the man over the years. He even had occasion to look upon him as a father figure. What a fool he'd been. Now that the man was dead, his only regret was in not knowing why Desmond Sinclair had betrayed him. Could Jackie Bertoni have the answer?
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