Ruthless Perfection (The Rosa Legacy #1) (12 page)

Letting the rose-colored wine slide across her tongue and down her throat, she realized she was enjoying his company. He could be charming but she reminded herself not to let her guard down.

“Try some antipasto.”

Isabel took a small bite of a piece of bread with
lardo
and was surprised by the complex rich flavor.

“It’s delicious.”

Isabel watched Marc enjoy his food and acknowledged to herself that he captivated her. There was something about the combination of his intensity and focus that drew her to him.

“How are the interviews working out?” Marc asked.

After a brief hesitation, Isabel said, “The men who worked in the quarry have been very open and inviting. They have shared many, many stories and one of them even offered to sing on camera.” Isabel smiled at Marc’s surprised expression. “It’s been good. I thought I would need to encourage them to talk, but instead the challenge will be which stories to spotlight.”

“In this region, the quarries are part of the everyday culture so it would surprising if the locals were reluctant to talk about the old way of life.”

“I haven’t been able to talk the younger generation.”

“There isn’t a lot of work in the area so most of the younger generation has moved to the cities.” Marc then asked, “Are you missing home?”

“No, not at all. It’s exciting to be off immersed in a new project and doing something completely different. And truthfully, I’m not off alone. Your aunt and Maria make me feel welcome and at home.”

“Alda has been singing your praises each time I see her. She seems to have made a full recovery. I’m grateful that you were able to help her through her ordeal. I know she is a difficult patient.”

“I’m a little worried that she believes that we will become an item. You may need to tell her that a relationship is not in the cards.”

“I have no problem setting boundaries. I admit when she was lying on a hospital gurney about to be wheeled into the procedure, I didn’t want to disillusion her. But in the end, I told her the truth. I do find you captivating.”

Isabel met his gaze and felt an awareness sweep over her as her mind contemplated his words.

Then he added, “Now that she is recovered, she will have to face the fact that marriage is not something that she can dictate.”

Bruno appeared with grilled eggplant. Slowly, Isabel let down her guard and began to take pleasure in the meal.

Isabel knew Marc spent a considerable amount of time in his office at the villa and only went to the quarry for an hour here or there. She decided to ask him, “Do you enjoy spending time at the quarry?”

“Many people depend on me for their livelihood. Some families have worked in the quarry for generations, but as the world economy changes it’s becoming more difficult to stay profitable. At times, I see it as a responsibility but then at other times I enjoy the challenges it brings.”

The roast chicken was served and Bruno refilled their wine glasses.

As Marc spoke, it occurred to Isabel that he greatly enjoyed his life. He not only had extensive knowledge of the production process, but as he described the marble, it was apparent he loved marble from beginning to end. Isabel remembered seeing him at the design studio in Boston when he was unhappy with a shipment of marble he received.

While sipping her wine, she studied Marc. Until now, she had thought of him as a demanding boss and perfection-seeking designer, but tonight she saw a different side of him. He greatly cared about the people who worked in the quarry and about keeping his family’s legacy alive.

Marc flagged down Bruno and asked for espresso and dessert.

“There is only one dessert each night, so we will have to see what Bruno’s wife prepared today.”

After a moment of silence, Isabel asked, “Is it difficult to keep the quarry open?”

“Basically my philosophy has been to keep up with the technology but keep a tight rein on production so the quarry workers have steady work but are also safe. The difficulty for me is not to get too involved in the work. My company now holds large shares in many other mining interests and while marble is important, I need to stay focused on the bigger picture.”

“Enjoy the
Zuppa Inglese
,” Bruno said, as he placed one plate of delicate sponge cake with custard layers in the center of the table. Next he set down small cups of espresso and then handed them each a fork.

Marc took a small piece of the rich cake on his fork and offered it to Isabel. She wasn’t sure how to respond but allowed him to place it in her mouth.

“It’s delicious.” She allowed the rich taste to slowly dissolve in her mouth.

After they finished the espresso, Marc paid the bill, gave a warm farewell to Bruno, and they headed out into the night air.

“Would you like to see the quarry at night?”

Isabel nodded yes as her mind tried to make sense of his actions.

It took only a few minutes to drive to the quarry, and Isabel was immediately taken aback by all of the activity.

“Work continues throughout the night. Not in the sculpture room, but in the quarry. Sunday is the only day the quarry closes.”

Isabel could hear the machines at work before she could see the actual work site. Marc took her hand as they walked down a stone-covered path.

“We’re not dressed for exploration so I won’t take you down to the underground galleria, but this will give you an idea.”

Isabel looked around and was amazed by the sheer size of the marble cliffs below and the large cranes moving massive blocks of marble. Large lights illuminated work areas and men worked in pairs. The noise was deafening. Isabel noticed the men hardly talked at all.

“Come this way and I’ll show you where some of the artists work.”

He led her to a large stone building that had statues, sinks, and pieces under construction. She felt as if she were stepping back in time.

She reached out to touch a block of marble. It felt cool and smooth under a layer of dust.

“Be careful; you shouldn’t breathe the dust.”

Isabel said, “Can I see just a little more?” and moved further into the work area.

“These are models the artists use when creating replicas of famous statues,” he said, pointing to an area with many marble hands displayed on the wall.

“Do they use actual models?” Isabel asked.

“No, typically more production work is done here so another sculpture is used. When custom work is done in Boston, sometimes a picture or drawing is used, but models are used as well.”

A memory surfaced of modeling for him during the kick-off party and she could easily remember his intensity and focus and how it made her feel. Walking through the shop, she stopped to examine a work in progress. Isabel ran her hands over the statue of a woman. It was life-size with intricate folds of a dress the artist was still working on.

Marc began to brush some of the marble dust off of her arms in a brisk manner. “Isabel, you should wait until it is complete and cleaned off. You’re a mess.”

“I don’t mind a little dust.” She smiled at him, amused at his useless efforts to remove the white dust from her black dress. As he continued to wipe away the dust, his hand grazed her breast and she drew in a sharp breath.

Marc stilled as Isabel looked up into his eyes. Without realizing it, she held her breath. Marc ran his hands along her shoulders and down her arms.

An ache of yearning so strong filled her, causing her to unconsciously move closer to him. The dim light of the room reflected off the marble statues surrounding them, and for a fleeting moment Isabel felt free to openly explore his shape.

Stepping slightly forward she reached up and lightly ran her hands over him feeling the tight muscles in his shoulders and torso. The warmth emanating from him seemed to enter her hands and circulate wildly throughout her body. It was delicious, this heat, delicious and intoxicating. She bit her lip.

Why was he so intensely aware of her? She was his aunt’s choice, he reminded himself, purposefully reining in the fierce reaction of his body. She was too traditional for him. She would want happily ever after and a pack of children.

Angry about his own response, Marc cursed his decision to bring her to the studio. It was a place where he normally let his guard down and enjoyed the process of working with the marble. Now he regretted bringing her to a place that was so personal to him.

Why was he so drawn to her? What was it about her that made him want to abandon all of his carefully constructed rules about women? What did she have, this curious filmmaker who hid so much of herself away?

He wished she would stop touching him, and yet he wanted her to go further. There was something incredibly sensual about her having the freedom to explore his body. Was she turned on by the feel of his body? Yes, it was written all over her face. It was announced in the moan of pleasure she couldn’t keep inside.

Painful waves of lust engulfed him as he dragged his eyes away from her face and allowed his gaze to linger over her body. The moonlight coming in the windows outlined her feminine shape. He was given a tempting view of the round, full breasts clearly defined against the clinging fabric of her dress. The heat inside him grew and his eyes slid lower still, past her flat belly and onto the curve of her hips. She was inquisitive and relentless, yet he couldn’t remember ever feeling so passionate about a woman.

Something primitive stirred inside him and he stood for a moment in the grip of a lust so potent that it threatened to consume him if he didn’t take action.

He could hear the distant sounds of men working outside, but here in the studio, they were completely alone.

He could identify the precise instant that she recognized his lust for her. First she had seemed wary, then curious. Finally her eyes dilated slightly as she understood his message. The atmosphere between them intensified, and his resolve to keep her at a distance evaporated in a flash of white-hot desire.

Acting on instinct alone, Marc caught her hands, pulling her closer, and his lips came down on hers. The physical connection was immediate and he met her surprised gasp with the demands of his mouth. After a brief hesitation, her arms went round his neck and she returned his kiss. She let out another soft moan as her mouth parted under his and he explored the softness within. He could feel her body melting into him as he pulled her closer. His entire body felt drawn to her as he sucked in a steadying breath.

He briefly lifted his head and stared into her face, surprised by the depth of his reaction.

“
Cara mia
,” he whispered as he lifted her chin and claimed her mouth again. His hands were on her hips, pulling her closer as his tongue explored the taste and feel of her mouth. He continued to explore the warmth of her body, moving from her hips to her breasts.

Through the thin fabric of her dress, he felt the outline of one of her nipples with his fingers and felt her body shiver. His desire was inflamed a notch by her immediate response and, impatient to feel her body, he slid his fingers inside her dress and luxuriated in the feel of her smooth skin.

Sounds of the quarry stayed in the background, he felt his desire heighten at her sounds of encouragement and could hear his own labored breathing.

He moved his hands to unzip her dress, wanting to remove all barriers between them. Just when he thought he might explode with the sheer intensity of his desire, she pushed against his chest.

“No.” The word was barely more than a whisper as her mouth slid from his. She took a moment to steady her breathing and said, “We have to stop.”

It took a moment for her words to fully register. Stepping back, he was shaken by the ferocity of his response. He wanted her now. He would have taken her here in the studio if she hadn’t stopped him.

He tried to make sense of her actions. Why would she encourage him and then tell him no? Was she holding out for a commitment of some type?

His entire body aching, Marc glanced over his shoulder towards the doorway. “No one will interrupt us. It is completely private in here.”

“It’s not that. The situation between us is complicated. We are working on a project. And your aunt is hoping we fall in love.”

The mention of love dampened his desire more effectively than any interruption. “I have no intention of promising you a permanent relationship.”

She smoothed her dress down with a shaking hand. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

The atmosphere between them was still thick with desire, but he ran his fingers through his hair instead of reaching for her again.

She might not be asking for anything but Marc could feel the need emanating from her. He knew she desired him. Did she really want to shield Alda from false hope, or was there another reason?

“You want me every bit as much as I want you.” His voice was rougher than he had intended.

“Maybe, but I am not willing to act on that desire.”

An icy chill snaked through his veins. Eventually all women wanted the same thing. Control. And a guarantee the relationship was heading somewhere. This was why he stayed clear of women who wanted a proposal of marriage. “If you were able to let go of your inhibitions or desire for a permanent relationship for a split second, then you would have enjoyed it as much as I would have with no regrets.”

He noticed her face flushed with uneasiness and she moved several steps away. “I’m not angling for a permanent relationship, but there are many reasons why it would be a huge mistake.”

“Over talking this issue is a mistake. Sex is actually quite simple. Do you want to have sex or not?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Marc tightened his jaw in frustration. Why did she have to ruin a passionate encounter with an apology?

“I’ll take you back to the villa.” His clipped words rang into the silence of the dim room and, without replying, Isabel followed him to the car.

On the short ride home, Isabel looked out into the darkness and counted the seconds until she could escape his presence. When he drove up to the villa, Isabel unbuckled her seat belt and glanced over at him.