Page 4 of The Virgin's Dance with the Devil
“Can I call you?” he called as she walked away.
She flipped her stare over her shoulder, and, still grinning, said, “No. Goodbye, Rico.”
“Looks like you owe me ten thousand,” Tommaso said the moment Rico rejoined his brothers at the bar. He knew damned well the pair of them had watched the entirety of his dance with Marisa and had seen her sashay away from him without looking back. She’d downed what had remained of her champagne and then, with her sister and brother-in-law, left the party. Again, without looking back at him.
But she’d wanted to. She’d walked out of the party with the posture of someone feigning nonchalance.
“Losing your touch, little brother?” Mattia asked with an ironic lift of his eyebrows.
Rico flicked his chin and made a pft sound. As if he’d lost his touch. He’d felt Marisa’s hot little body tremble in his arms. Seen, too, the confused desire in her stare when she’d met his eyes after their dance. His hot little virgin unicorn was attracted to him.
“Ten thousand. Bitcoin works for me,” Tommaso said.
Rico met his stare thoughtfully and smiled. “How about we extend the bet?”
“No. You lost. Pay up.”
His smile widened. “This one is going to take time and effort, so let’s make the bet reflect that.”
Tommaso laughed. “You will never have her. Not that one.”
“I bet you that by the time our sister marries, I will have had her. Name your price.”
“If you’re that confident, I want in too,” Mattia said while Tommaso’s eyes narrowed in thought. “If you bed her by the wedding, I will give you my Swiss chalet.”
Rico’s eyes widened in glee. “And if I fail?” Which he wouldn’t.
“Your Dali collection.”
Now Rico winced. Dali was the only artist, living or dead, he had any time for, and he’d spent a small fortune over the years hunting originals and paying an obscene amount to make them his. Still, he wasn’t going to fail so there was no danger of him losing them.
He held his hand out to Mattia. “Deal. And when I win the bet, I’ll hang the collection in my new Swiss chalet.”
They shook on it, and then Rico turned back to Tommaso. “Well?”
Tommaso’s eyes gleamed. “Your Neiman Marcus in exchange for my Patek Philippe.”
“Go screw yourself. The Neiman’s worth much more than your watch.” Rico’s limited edition motorcycle was his pride and joy. He was more attached to it than to any woman, including his mother. “Add your Ferrari and you’ll have a deal.”
“Deal. But I want evidence. No evidence, and you lose by default. There will be no extension.”
Rico rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sure. Whatever. Your watch is going to look great on my wrist.”
The second bet shaken on and sealed, the three brothers clinked their glasses together and downed their shots.
Chapter Two
Dear Marisa,
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you like this. I respect that you said I couldn’t call you, but as you didn’t forbid me from writing, I hope you will forgive my way of getting around it. It has been many years since I put a pen to paper, so I hope you can forgive the messiness of my handwriting too!
I am writing because I can’t get you out of my mind. Please, allow me to take you to dinner next Tuesday evening. We can dine anywhere you choose. I just want to get to know you.
Yours without expectation but with hope,
Rico
PS: My privatephone number is…
