Making Mina 3: Compromising Positions (6 page)

Ivy nodded once in satisfaction at his agreement, and then turned back to her friend.

“You’ve run away from him twice, Mina,” she said, rising from her chair.  “I don’t think you’re going to get a third chance. ”

Mina stared at her.  Ivy was the one person she had always trusted.  Scary smart, hard-working, and snarky, she hid the biggest heart in the world under seventeen layers of black.  She was no one’s fool, and had said, “fuck off” to more than one pretty face, but she wouldn’t steer Mina wrong if she could help it.

“You believed his story?” Her voice was soft but steady, and Ivy nodded.  “I did.”

Mina stood up and straightened her shoulders.

“I guess I’d better to talk to him, then.”

As soon as the words escaped she wanted them back.  Her bravery was tissue thin, but fear pressed down on her like a mountain.  Her heart was beating erratically, and her hands were shaking.  Marco was sitting outside, waiting--something he didn’t do well at the best of times.  Fifty feet separated them--
fuck
, the streets here were so narrow it was probably more like twenty--but she wasn’t sure she could make it.

Ivy was standing across from her, watching her closely.  Probably getting ready to trip her if she ran.

She is in for a world of payback. 
Mina met her gaze and Ivy smiled. “I’d like to see you try it, Hemingway.  I can outplot you seven days a week, and you know it.”

Mina laughed in spite of herself.  “Yeah, but you know me.  Queen of Ignoring the Obvious.”

She stepped forward and gave her a quick hug.  “Thanks.  No matter how this works out.”  She looked down at Giovanni and said, “Keep an eye on her, okay? There’s no telling what kind of trouble she’ll get into now that she’s here.”

He looked up at her, his face serious again.  “If you want me to go out…”

Ivy poked him, “Stop that!  She doesn’t need you sticking your big nose in the middle…”

Mina turned away from them, letting the squabble fade away behind her.  One step… two…  It seemed to take forever to reach the door, but she finally made it.  Blood pounded in her ears and she forced herself to take a deep breath and open the door.

The street looked so normal--apartments and cars and a fat orange tabby cat sitting on the patio wall watching her suspiciously.

Yeah, I’m not sure why I’m here either, bud
.

She walked down the three steps to the street and saw him immediately.

He was standing in a beam of sunlight, leaning against the bumper of a low-slung Italian sports car she didn’t recognize.  His eyes were fixed on her and her breath hitched in her chest at what she saw there.

He looked wonderful and terrible, his dark eyes full of longing and anger, and she wondered if she looked as conflicted as he did.

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, every instinct screaming to turn and run the other way, and before she thought it possible she was beside him.

They stood there like there for what seemed like forever.  She soaked in his scent, the heat of him so familiar and comforting that she had to fight the urge to lean into him to let it thaw the ice that had swallowed her for days, and she wondered that she’d ever thought she could have abandoned that feeling forever.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” He sounded accusing and she shook her head. It was pointless to deny it.  “No.  Not much.”

More silence.  She looked up at him and made herself speak

“Thank you for bringing Ivy here.” It wasn’t what she expected to say, but it was true. Marco looked at her, and she could see him trying to gauge what she was thinking. 
Good luck with that
, her inner voice mocked,
if you figure it out, make sure to let us know.

“It was no trouble,” he said stiffly. “I was returning and there was more than enough room.”

Mina sighed.  This wasn’t working.

“So, the only reason you brought her along was because you had extra carry-on space?”

Marco looked frustrated, a tinge of red creeping into his skin.  “Of course not.” Irritation clipped his words and she could tell he was angry. “I thought,” he looked down at her, “you might need a friend.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised her.  He expected her to believe that the only reason he brought Ivy was for
her
? And what about why she
needed
a friend?  Was he going to address
that
?  Anger masked heartache, and she lashed out. 

“Sure.  I get that.” Mina stepped away a fraction and nodded sagely. “The best lever is the one that’s already in place, right?  You bring someone I care about and let them make your excuses
for
you.  Perfect.” Sarcasm oozed from every pore.  “Well, we all knew you were a master manipulator, but it’s good to see that you haven’t lost your edge.”

Marco growled low in his throat and Mina had a moment to gloat over drawing first blood before he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against him as an ancient
Citroën made the turn and rattled past them. Her yelp of surprise melted into a groan as he held her in his arms, the position a perfect storm of emotional triggers. Just having his hand on her set her nerves buzzing.  She could feel his heartbeat and smell the coffee on his breath--it was absolutely intoxicating.

The muscle at the corner of his jaw clenched and relaxed, and she watched mesmerized as he fought his temper for control. He shifted his grip on her arm, and his eyes fell on red marks that his grip had left under his fingers. He stood there for a long moment staring at them, and then his mouth twisted.  He pulled her closer making sure not to hurt her again, and placed a breath of a kiss against the injured skin.  Mina sucked in a breath as his lips touched her, sighing as Marco released her arm, leaving it to rest on his shoulder.

“I am not trying to manipulate you.” He sounded exhausted.  Mina couldn’t imagine he’d slept much more than she had, although for different reasons. He’d been traveling almost non-stop for seventy-two hours, with two trans-Atlantic flights and God knows how many miles traveled.  “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Mina curled her hand along the back of his neck.  She felt his hair tickle her and she couldn’t help but thread it through her fingers.  Marco wrapped his free arm firmly around her waist and held her there, almost as if he were afraid she’d run away.  Again.

“You could have called.” She knew she sounded flippant, but she was too hurt to tread carefully.

“Called where?” The frustration was back.  “You weren’t in our rooms, you weren’t at the office. 
Mamma
said that Gio had put you on a plane, so I flew to Miami, but when I got there you weren’t there either.”  Marco glared at her, accusation clear in his eyes.  “You disappeared. No word.  No warning--just gone.”

Mina put a little space between them so she could look at him.

“Hang on a second--you’re not putting this on me,” she said, trying to pull away, but Marco refused to give an inch, and she refused to give him the pleasure of struggling. “I didn’t disappear. I
left
.  With good reason, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Marco loosened his grip and Mina pushed until she was as far away from him as possible. 

It wasn’t far enough.

He was standing there, less than a foot away, and yet she felt like they were still worlds apart.  How could he blame her for not calling, not explaining? 
He
was the one who needed to explain, but no, that would never occur to him.  He’d never admit that he was just as bad as Ethan, just as guilty as his father, stringing women along.  Making promises and then breaking them, leaving a string of bleeding hearts in his wake.

Hurt flashed through her, and she grabbed it, slashing out at him with its razor edge.

“How is Serafina, anyway?” Mina showed her teeth in the semblance of a smile. “You didn’t lose her, too, did you?” She made a tsking sound.  “You really should be more careful with your toys.  Someday you’re going to break one and not be able to get a replacement.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed in the sunlight, dark hair falling over a frowning brow, and Mina shivered as she watched the emotion fade from his face. The stony expression was more unnerving than his temper ever could be.

“Serafina can go to the Devil for all I care,” His voice was flat and inflectionless. “If you’d stayed and let me explain instead of running off with Giovanni, you’d know that.”

Again with the blaming.  Really?

“Of course!  It’s my fault because I ran off with Giovanni.  Did you forget the part where you punched Giovanni in the face trying to get to me?” She threw the words at him.  “You’ll forgive me if I didn’t see that as an invitation to a civilized conversation.”

“I’ll tell you what I remember: I remember a conversation where you promised--
promised
--not to run away again.  You promised to stay and deal with things instead of throwing everything away because it was the easy way out.”  He sneered down at her, and her temper flared again.

“Easy?  You think this has been easy?”  Her voice was so shrill she was surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the cops on them for disturbing the peace. “I haven’t slept for three days.  I couldn’t eat.  I spent four hours Friday night crying until Gio thought he was going to have to take me to the hospital for dehydration.”  Her eyes burned with tears. “This wasn’t about easy, Marco--it was about survival.  It was about getting out with my skin intact, because it was clear that was the best I was going to get.”

The hands holding her let go so suddenly that she lost her balance, grabbing for the car for support.

“I told her this wouldn’t work.” Marco ran one hand through his hair as he threw the other up in the air. “I told her you wouldn’t listen.
Fam!
” He turned away from her, slamming both hands on the roof of the car.  His breath was coming like he’d just run a race.  Mina had never seen him so agitated.

“Told who I wouldn’t listen?” She latched on to what he said.“
Serafina?
I’m sure she was really happy to hear that.”  Marco looked at her and shook his head. “Again you’re not listening.  Ivy.  I told Ivy you wouldn’t listen.”

That was unexpected. And offensive.

“Why would you tell her that?  I listen.”  Mina stuck her chin out. “I always listen.”

Marco let out a stream of Italian and raised his eyes to heaven.

“English, please,” she snapped.  Damn she hated not understanding what was going on. Marco looked at her over his shoulder. “You didn’t care what I was saying Friday.”

Mina stopped for a moment, but it still didn’t compute.

“What do you mean, what you were saying Friday? You didn’t say anything Friday.”  Every minute of that night was burned into her brain; she was pretty certain he never spoke Italian to her.

“In the office,” Marco turned to face her, his expression carefully blank again and Mina watched him, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “When I was with Serafina  I was speaking Italian.  You didn’t want to know what I was saying
then
.”

She thought about it for a minute--the scene crystal clear in her mind--and nodded slowly. They had been speaking Italian, but that didn’t explain why that woman was pressed up against him, or why they were kissing.  They’d known she was there.
Serafina certainly knew
, she thought sourly.

“I don’t see what understanding Italian has to do with it. Kissing is pretty universal.” Even saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth.  “You don’t normally need subtitles with that.”

Marco leaned toward her, casting a shadow across her face.

“Really?  Because my understanding of what happened seems to be very different than yours.” He sounded too calm.  It made her nervous. 

“I may be inexperienced,” she said wryly, aware that she could chalk almost all of her experience up to what she’d learned from him, “but it was pretty obvious to those of us in the audience what was going on.”

A light glimmered in Marco’s eyes, and he looked hopeful for a split second, before his expression shuttered again.

“It’s odd that you used that word. Audience.”

“Odd? Why?  You two were certainly putting on a show.”  She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. She drew a circle on the roof of the car with her fingertip, around and around and around.  Just like this conversation.

“Actually, only one of us was putting on a show.” 

Mina looked at him and her finger stopped moving. Dark eyes bore into hers and she shivered at the intensity she saw there. 

“Wha-at do you mean?” She felt like Demosthenes with his pebbles, trying not to stutter. “What show?”

“What does it matter?” Marco took a deep breath and gave her a twisted little smile that hurt. “It won’t change anything.  You’ll just find another excuse, another sin, and you’ll run again.  Maybe you should just go now.”

“What show?” She demanded.

He stared at her for a long moment and she feared he wasn’t going to answer, and she needed that answer.

“Please.” Her voice was quiet in the busy street, her throat sore from crying and yelling, but she knew he heard. A second passed, and then another until something fell into place and he nodded in answer to some internal argument.

“Will you listen?”  The words were simple, but there was a world of meaning in them.  She knew that if she agreed she was committing herself to something bigger than this conversation in the street.  She knew it could hurt, but she was already hurting more than she’d ever imagined.