Page 9 of Forbidden Bride (Forbidden 1)
My lips ache with the phantom feeling of his pressing deeply, hungrily, searchingly.
I know better than to chase this, to keep it going. To want. My curiosity is getting the better of me. But God, is it so bad that I want to know who he really is? It can’t hurt.
Wandering down to the last row, I head in the direction Romeo and his colleagues went. I get on my tippytoes and do a cursory check over the top of heads to see if I can spot him, but to no avail. I’m not giving up this easily, though. Romeo, wherefore art thou? Glancing around me casually, I resume my wandering, trying my best not to be conspicuous.
I’ve almost reached a clear spot where I should have a better view of the ground level when a large man steps directly in front of me, his body like a mountain shielding everything, including the sun. Pulling up with a start, I grip my book to my chest to keep from dropping it. The man turns and I recognize him. He’s been to my home before for meetings with my father and my uncle. He’s never said anything to me save for a polite greeting.
And yet…something is off about him. He’s terrifying, and not just in a physical way. He reeks of danger and violence despite the cordial smile.
“Hello, Ms. Rossi. Good to see you.”
I force a smile. “Yes, you too.”
His eyes dart over me and his smile deepens to a definite smirk, as if he knows something that I don’t. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
The corners of my lips remain plastered in place. “Thank you.”
“Where are you headed?”
The question takes me off guard until I remember all the eyes on me today. On my family. I won’t be able to blow my nose without someone knowing. While I can’t remember this guy’s name, I’m sure my father never asked him to take a personal watchdogging interest in me. Then again, a lot goes on behind closed doors where my father and uncle are concerned.
“Looking for Mercutio,” I fib easily. “Have you seen him?”
I have no idea if he knows who my cousin is. The man just shrugs and shakes his head, then tips his hat. “You enjoy the race now, Ms. Rossi.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
He moves to the side, and I slip awkwardly past him, all too aware that he’s watching me with that strange gleam in his eyes. When I glance back over my shoulder, I see him chatting with two other men, equally brawny and scary. They must be muscle. Security. Protection.
Men like these have come in and out of my life as long as I can remember. I’m well aware that my family is connected, but it’s not something I like to think about. At this stage of my life, I’m more worried about the fact that I have no life. When I start thinking about that too much, it only drums up anger that my mother tolerates the male-run family we live in and has done nothing to change that. She just deals with it, accepts it, maybe even relies on it…and I’m supposed to as well. Like a good little Rossi woman. Seen, but not heard. Cared for. Owned.
I finally reach the ground level where the pits are. Each space is packed with teams getting ready for the race. There are cars that I recognize and many that I don’t. Resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, I go a little farther toward a car that I don’t recognize at all. There is something familiar about it, but I can’t determine what it is.
Going closer, I move around in the crowd until the pit comes into better view. I’m almost there. The car—my foot strikes something and I stumble, grabbing for the railing around the pit to catch myself.
“What are you doing?” A rough hand grabs my shoulder, spinning me around.
Mercutio! I am so busted.
“You damn near fell straight into the Bellanti pit!” His words are pungent with disgust, his eyes glaring into me as if I’m supposed to know something that I don’t.
“Bellanti?”
He doesn’t explain, just looks me over and smooths his hands down my arms. “Get back to the box, Karina. And stay there.”
Mercutio and I have a working understanding. We’re related, but there’s no big love between us, and I know better than to argue with him. I move around him and start climbing the stairs back up into the stands. When I glance back to see if my cousin is following me, my heart flutters.
Romeo is staring up at me from the Bellanti pit.
