Читать книгу I Want You To Want Me - Kathy Love - Страница 9

“He is here.”

Orabella met Maksim’s eyes in the reflection of her vanity mirror. She continued to brush her long hair, suppressing the giddiness that rose up in her chest.

Maksim strolled into the room, his long limbs loose and graceful, his muscles rolling under the fine material of his tailored shirt. He was a stunningly handsome man with thick dark hair and mesmerizing pale green eyes. But Orabella wasn’t considering that at the moment, nor had that been her real interest in him anyway. Though it didn’t hurt.

But what held her attention now was what he’d said. Those three words were far more thrilling to her than his pretty face and powerfully built body.

“You’re sure?”

Maksim came up to stand behind her, regarding her in the mirror, his unusual eyes glittering as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “Of course I’m sure, my pet.”

He leaned down to press his lips to the side of her neck. She leaned into the kiss, but her mind was focused on his revelation. Vittorio was here. She’d found him finally.

She hadn’t truly believed he would be here. It seemed too easy. Too simple. Especially since he’d disappeared so totally for almost four months. But she’d banked on the fact he wouldn’t be able to stay away from his brother for long. Vittorio had such an odd affinity for his half-brother. Personally, Orabella had little use for Renaldo. So like his damned father.

But Vittorio. He was here. A swell of giddiness filled her bosom.

She looked at herself in the mirror, watching Maksim as he pushed aside the collar of her robe. She always had deliciously beautiful men as her lovers, and Maksim was no different.

But in truth, she preferred blond hair, in the same shade as her own. Long, thick—again like hers, cascading over his shoulders. And dark eyes, midnight eyes.

She tilted her head to afford Maksim better access to her neck, but also to admire the way her long lashes, dark in comparison to her hair, made her eyes glitter nearly black.

She bit her bottom lip as Maksim nipped her, watching how the soft pink flesh pillowed around her white teeth.

Blond hair, dark eyes, full lips.

Her Vittorio.

“Why again must we watch this vampire?” Maksim murmured against her bared shoulder.

Orabella sighed, hating to be interrupted from her images of her perfect love. A creature who was an offshoot of herself. Perfect. Lovely. And hers.

“I’ve told you, darling,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended, “he is obsessed with me.”

Maksim lifted his head to regard her in the mirror. “If he is so obsessed, then why are you the one searching for him?”

She met his gaze, widening her eyes slightly, noting the pretty innocence it gave her features. “Haven’t you heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

Maksim straightened and strolled toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. “In fact, I have,” his voice low and almost distant.

Orabella wondered briefly about the flat tone, but then dismissed it. Her mind was too filled with Vittorio to concern herself with her lover’s petty moods.

“Was he with anyone?” she couldn’t help asking. She needed to know—and the idea that he could prefer any other woman’s company to hers made her ill.

“What does it matter?” Maksim collapsed on the bed, his shirt falling open to reveal his perfectly muscled chest and stomach.

“I’d hate to think he could be stalking another,” she said, re-creating that wide-eyed, innocent look.

Maksim stretched, then raised a sardonic brow. “Is that because you are afraid he might have lost interest in you? Or because you actually fear for some other woman’s safety?”

Orabella didn’t have to feign her outrage—Maksim was far too smart. A flaw in a lover to be sure, but she still needed him. She couldn’t have him being too suspicious of her actions.

She slammed down her brush and turned on her vanity stool. “You know I live in fear.”

Maksim looked briefly as if he didn’t quite believe her, but then his eyes softened. After all, why wouldn’t he believe her? She did live with fear—she feared losing Vittorio. To lose him would be to lose half of herself.

“Well, I know where he is, and you are safe. In fact, why don’t we leave now? Get as far from him as we can.”

Again alarm pooled in her belly, cold and harsh. She shook her head. “No.”

Maksim sat up from his lounging position, regarding her again with those strange, almost catlike eyes.

“Why? Staying near a man you dread makes no sense.”

Orabella hated having to explain her decisions. So very irritating. Again, if Maksim didn’t have the special abilities he did—both in and out of bed—she’d have long ago broken off their relationship. But she did need him.

She turned down her lips and regarded him with an expression she knew would gain her anything she wanted. And she wanted to stay as close to Vittorio as she could. She rose, walking slowly toward the bed.

“I feel better knowing where he is. And you will watch him for me, won’t you? Protect me?”

Maksim’s eyes roamed down her body as she approached him. She untied the belt of her satin robe, letting it part to reveal glimpses of her ivory skin.

Again, he raised a wry eyebrow, but she could see the hungry glitter in his eyes.

“Of course, my Bella.”

She smiled, letting the robe drop to the floor, her own body reacting to his heated look. She crawled onto the bed and up his hard body.

After all, she did need the caress of a man’s touch, the feeling of his mouth on her flesh, the stretch of his cock filling her. She needed physical love. And she needed what Maksim’s loving could give her.

But her true love, her pure love was saved for Vittorio.

Her very heart.

Her darling son.

And he was so near.

Erika stumbled around her kitchen, her eyes feeling gritty and a dull ache at her temples. Sleep had evaded her most of the night, and this was the price. Feeling generally crappy.

She poured tea into a cup and sat down at her kitchen table, a round café-style table that she’d painted bright yellow. The color usually reminded her of sunshine and made her feel cheerful. Right now the color seemed glaringly bright and just made her head throb even more.

She glowered up at the ceiling, aiming her irritation toward the man up there somewhere, probably sleeping soundly and oblivious to the annoyance—and headache he’d caused.

“Not that he’d care anyway,” she muttered, then took a sip of her hot tea. The sweet liquid tasted wonderful and she waited for it to work its magic. Tea always calmed and relaxed her.

Not this morning, clearly. He had been so rude! She set her cup down with more force than necessary. But more than that, his cool attitude had goaded her into being rude back. And she wasn’t normally a rude person. In fact, she prided herself on being quite nice.

But that man! She pulled in a calming breath, then reached for the tea. After several sips, she did unwind a little.

“Okay, so let’s be reasonable,” she said aloud to herself, and Boris, if he happened to be listening. “So you don’t get along with him. You can’t expect to like everyone. And have everyone like you.”

That was all very reasonable and true, but there was another fact that was still adding to the continuing pain in her head. She’d spent a majority of the night recalling all the things she did like about him.

Okay, they were mainly physical, but despite her aggravation with the man himself, her body did react to his body. Very intensely, in fact.

She sighed. Why would she be attracted to a man who was so distant, so repressed? Those traits went against all the things she looked for in a man. She liked her men fun and open and kind, definitely kind. Serious was a bore. Her dad was serious, and look at the relationship she had with him. It was strained at best.

So why couldn’t she stop thinking about Vittorio? Why had she found herself thinking about him even from their first short meeting?

Groaning with frustration she rose and placed her cup in the sink. These were all thoughts and questions that had plagued her last night. Nothing new and still no answers.

And really, she didn’t want someone so emotionally cut off in her life anyway. For a friend or lover. No sooner had she finished telling herself that—again—when an image of Vittorio kissing her filled her head.

Growling, she shoved the image aside. She glanced over at the sculpture that had become the bane of her existence, and decided that with her headache and her irritation, she just could not face that too.

Instead she headed down the hall to get dressed. She needed to go out and remember why she loved this city. She needed to find her creativity. And she needed to think about something other than an unpleasant upstairs neighbor.

And maybe she knew where to go to get answers to the questions she’d had swirling through her mind since her run-in with said neighbor.

“Erika! Good to see you back, sweetheart!”

Erika smiled at the man standing in the doorway of the small room in the back of In Your Cups Tea Room. He was tall and a little thick in the middle, but he had sparkly eyes, highly arched eyebrows and a wide smile. Erika would classify him as cute—in a very camp way.

Philippe pushed aside the curtain that served as a makeshift door and sashayed into the room. “Where have you been?”

Erika smiled, deciding Philippe’s brand of warm attention was just what she needed.

“Working.”

He sat down across from her at a small table, then leaned in, his eyes filled with interest. “How is the show coming along? Henry and I cannot wait to go. I have a gorgeous vintage Bob Mackie pressed and ready.”

Erika laughed. “Friday, October thirty-first. At seven p.m.”

“Well, even I can remember that date.” He wiggled his immaculately groomed brows. “Halloween. A very auspicious date.”

“Let’s hope.”

“Have I been wrong yet?” He gave her a pointed look, and she laughed again. No. He hadn’t. Since the first time she’d met him on a vacation down here nearly eight months before, he’d gotten her life eerily accurate. Right down to the sudden interest in her art and to her moving to New Orleans. He’d only seemed to be wrong on one topic.

“Speaking of which, let’s see what your cards say today, shall we?”

Erika nodded as Philippe handed the deck of worn tarot cards to her. She shuffled them, concentrating on her question. When would the prince that Philippe had predicted arrive?

He’d mentioned this prince the first time they’d done a reading—and continued to do so with other readings. But as of yet, no prince, no knight, not even a page. Or even a court jester. Nothing. Maybe Philippe had simply been wrong. He was an amazing psychic, but even the best could have an off day.

She handed the cards back to him, and he arranged them on the table into a Celtic Cross. The large topaz ring he wore on his left index finger flashed in the candlelight as he flipped the first card.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are still struggling with your love life, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Erika smiled, albeit a little feebly, but she was not surprised he’d gone right to the subject bothering her. Philippe was good.

He reached out and patted her hand. “Only in the cards, honey.”

She appreciated that. Knowing she looked outwardly desperate wouldn’t help her headache.

He turned another card. “Well, dear, it’s here. Finally. Lord, that prince of yours has been slow, hasn’t he?” He frowned at the card. “Yes, he’s definitely here now though.”

Erika’s heart jumped. “Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve seen any prospects.”

Philippe regarded her for a minute in the way he often did. She was sure he could read a person just as he did the cards. It could be a tad disconcerting—which it definitely was now.

“Oh, I think you have a prospect in mind.”

As he’d been doing all day, Vittorio popped into her mind. But it couldn’t be him. She hadn’t met a man who was less interested in her. Heck, his feelings went beyond disinterest straight to dislike.

Philippe didn’t wait for her to respond. He turned the card at the top of the cross. “Well, surprise, surprise. There he is.”

Erika peered down at the card that had appeared in every one of her readings over the past two months—and in the first reading all those months ago. The card depicted a regal-looking man with long blond hair riding a white horse and carrying a sword straight in the air. A prince headed into battle.

“Your blond-haired, dark-eyed prince.” Philippe sighed as if the beautiful man was real and standing right in front of them.

“Are you sure?” Erika still had doubts about the reality of this person. She certainly hadn’t met anyone who fit that description…well, except her new neighbor. And while he did fit the look, he didn’t fit anything else.

Philippe nodded, staring at the card. “This man is your soul mate. He’s right here in the layout, as clear as day. A dark-eyed prince. Right there above you.” He tapped the card below the knight, the card that represented her. But she didn’t see that card. She only heard Philippe’s words.

Right there above you.

Vittorio was literally above her apartment. But was she honestly supposed to be with Vittorio? And how the heck was she going to do that? He’d literally dismissed her last night. Dismissed her and then walked away without a backward glance. Not an auspicious start for soul mates, in her opinion.