Page 19 of His Beautiful Revenge
She broke into laughter. “Such adirtyboy …but,” she grinned wickedly, glancing over at his office door, which was shut but not locked, then slowly pulling up her skirt, “Why wait until later?”
Giacomo grinned and made to walk to the door, but she stopped him, a sly grin on her face. “No. Leave it.”
His eyes widened for just a second, then he moved, quick as a cat, his hands under her dress, tearing her panties from her. Norah gasped in excitement as he hitched her legs around his waist, unzipping his fly to release his cock, then thrusting into her. He pinned her hands down on the sloping desk and fucked her hard and fast, his eyes never leaving hers. She came just as they heard voices in the ante-office and he muffled his groan as he came inside her.
A knock at the door. “Just a moment, please.” Giacomo pulled out and they both, breathless and laughing, tidied themselves up. Norah bent back over her work, trying not to giggle as Giacomo strode to the door.
Sebastian—whoe clearly knewexactlywhat had gone on—was grinning wildly. “Just wanted to tell you that catering has arrived.”
Giacomo kept his face straight. “Thanks, Seb.”
“No problem,” he called over his shoulder. “By the way, I think it’s hot –dogs—unless you’ve justhadone, Norah ...” He cackled with laughter.
“Thank you, Seb.” Giacomo could barely hold it together then and Norah let a giggle out, then couldn’t stop until she was crying with laughter. Giacomo was shaking his head, grinning.
“I’m going to fire that guy.”
Norah put her arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare.” She kissed him. “Or I won’t come on vacation with you.”
“You’ll let me take you away?”
She grinned. “I will.Afterwe’ve finished this campaign.”
“Tyrant.”
“Hot dog.”
Carmel was absolutely sure she was being followed now, and with Orlando, she went to the police. The officer who dealt with them was kind, but told them unless they could gather some actual evidence to prove she was being followed, there was little they could do.
“I thought California had pretty stringent stalking laws now?” Orlando asked, his expression wan and concerned. The officer, Det. Lawrence, nodded.
“But until we can prove definitively that Mrs. Priceisbeing stalked by someone, and who that someone might be, we can’t do anything. Your work as a human rights lawyer, Mrs. Price, may, of course, throw some light on who would be a suspect. Could you make a list?”
“Of course.”
They thanked him for his time and he promised that he would follow up with them.
They went for coffee afterward at a small diner they knew. Orlando was distracted and Carmel tried to cheer him up. “Sweetie, look, maybe it’s nothing.”
“And maybe it’s something.”
She touched his face. They had been married for nine years now, and every day they spent with each other just strengthened their bond. They had met in college and they both bemoaned the cliché, but to hell with it, that’s where she had fallen in love with the tall, rangy musician. With her focus on law, they couldn’t have been more different with their passions, but they became inseparable from the first day, when, after a boozy evening in the student bar, they discovered they shared the same sarcastic, dry humor and were equally as disdainful of the pretentious arty set. They had enough in common to have something to talk about and enough differences to make it interesting. He’d had competition, of course. Almost every man at the college, including the tutors, practically drooled when they saw her, but to her credit, she was completely oblivious to the attention.
Orlando won her precisely because he made an effort to see past the dark Creole good looks inherited from her mother. To him, she revealed a humorous, intelligent side and confidence tempered with humility. And in turn, she brought him out of his shell. He was still shy, but hid it well, the result being that people would often find him the life of the party. If only they knew the real man. When he’d come to California from Oregon at fifteen, he’d felt like a shadow—half a person. His beloved Aunt Kathleen, who’d raised him from a boy, had been an amateur photographer and her enthusiasm and vision had inspired him. He’d applied to the art college. Orlando strongly believed in fate and when, on the first day of college, he saw the lovely, dark girl full of life and laughter bounding through the corridors, something had changed over in him and he measured the start of his life from that moment.
“Baby,” she said now and smiled at him, bringing him back into the present. “I say we change the subject. I’ve been thinking. Now that Ferma is getting so big …maybe she’d like a sibling.”
Orlando looked surprised. “What happened to, ‘Impregnate me again, and I’ll feed your danglers to a rabid dog?’”
Carmel laughed. “You can’t hold me to comments I made in the middle of a fifteen-hour labor.”
“The image was so striking, it haunts me. But he grinned and took her hand. “You want another anarchist?”
She nodded. “I do. I’m really ready.”
Orlando leaned across the table and kissed her. “Then I am too. Let’s do it.”
Norah kept her word and as soon as the campaign finished, Giacomo flew them down to his private island in the Caribbean. Walking through the airy, spacious villa, Norah marveled at the beauty of it all. Giacomo showed her around the property—beach-front, palm-trees with their silky, spiky fronds hanging down, and the crystal clear blue ocean.
