All Wrapped Up in You

“Just drop me at the corner, and I’ll make my own way,” she said, not even acknowledging his words.

He filled his lungs with air and blasted out a typhoon. Of course, he drove her to her doorstep. “Here you are, principessa.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer, Mrs. Medeci?”

His words gouged her heart, and, yanking the door open, she scooted out and ran into the building. Once inside she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to kick back into normal tempo.

When she thought she’d heard him drive off, she trudged up the stairs, set the basket down and went for her purse to get the key. But in her haste to leave him, she’d left it on the seat in his car. Even now he had such a hold over her that she’d felt compelled to escape his presence as soon as possible or risk giving in to her desires. What was she going to do? She needed her purse; it had her keys, her phone…

“Are you looking for this?” Peter climbed the stairs two at a time and held out her purse.

She nodded her thanks, took her purse and rifled in it for the key. “Why are you still here?”

He stood his ground.

Inserting the key in the lock, she pushed the door open.

“Invite me in.”

She shook her head, stepped inside and was about to close the door when he blocked it with his foot. “You can’t avoid me forever, Ellie.”

“That may be so,” she murmured. “But I can for today.”

“Tomorrow.” He hesitated, and then turned and without a backward glance descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing back to her.

And as much as she denied it, she already missed him…but she had to be strong and not succumb to his overpowering sexual attraction.

Her body flamed and her heart longed for him, but her mind rebelled.

She shut the door, and still gripping the doorknob, blinked up at the ceiling. The defective plumbing from the apartment above hers had leaked, blotching the ceiling. She lowered her sights a notch to the peeling paint on the walls, then glanced to her right. Loose fitting sheets, now hooked to the side with nails, doubled as curtains on the one window.

Wind whistled through the cracked pane, chilling the already cold room. A raindrop splattered against the window.

She’d called this dump ‘home’ for three weeks. What was she thinking?

Tilting her chin, she straightened her shoulders and marched across the floor, then skidded to a stop. Outside, the odd horn sounded in the rush hour traffic, and she was glad she was indoors, away from the craziness on the street. She sucked in frigid air, and blasted out a blizzard.

Clutching the collar of her coat closer around her neck, she futilely attempted to buffet the chills assaulting her body.

A spider crawled along the crack on the wall above the refrigerator, dangled a moment and shimmied up the silver thread into the corner of the ceiling. Ellie forced down a shriek, but it burst from her in a hysterical laugh. Tottering along several steps, she set her basket on the stained carpet, and collapsed on the tattered sofa doubling as her bed. Her single suitcase served as a bedside table. On top of it, a portable radio was now playing, “Away in a Manger…”

The melody filled the room, but she barely tuned in. She leaped up, tossed her purse across the sofa and heard the coins jingle inside. A quick glance in the full-length mirror behind the door reflected her gaunt look. Urgently, she yanked off her cap, tossed it on the sofa, removed her gloves and ran her fingers through her golden brown locks to detangle. Dark lashes fringed her eyes, the color of warm chocolate, now shadowed with uncertainty.

Anxiety. Fear?

She had to get a job or she’d be out on the street…freezing in the cold.

You could call him…return to him.

For better or worse…to honor and obey…she’d promised. But to her Italian husband, it seemed as though his career had overtaken his vows. Obviously, he’d forgotten the part about to love and to cherish.

Hear him out. Maybe you’re wrong.

She slammed those ‘weak’ thoughts down. Somehow she would make her own way. She wouldn’t put up with feeling second best anymore.

With a dollar and ninety-nine cents to your name? The taunt ripped through her psyche, but she ignored it.

Had she been foolish and overreacted? After five years of living with the hotshot doc, she doubted it.

A tremulous smile brushed her mouth, and she pinched her cheeks to add color. Closing her eyes, just for a moment she drifted back to her fairy tale life in the luxurious Beverly Hills mansion with her sexy husband, chauffeur, servants, Rodeo Drive fashions, Tiffany jewels, designer shoes .… but it had upended. Disillusionment and pain mocked her.

A pounding on the door splintered her reverie, and she started.

“Ellie, open the door!”

She wound the woolen scarf around her fingers, the sound of his voice sent ripples of joy through her, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the sadness.

“I will not,” she said, forcing the words from her stiff lips.

“I demand it.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Something you’re good at.” That’s why she’d left. His grueling schedule and demands had infiltrated their private life to such a degree that she’d lost herself in his life; while he thrived with his career, she stayed home, acting the good doctor’s wife and turning into a shadow of herself. She’d left him and his wealth, but somehow she couldn’t divorce herself from him…this man she’d tumbled head over heels for and married.

CHAPTER TWO (#u32630d07-dc93-585f-9dd1-0f3d37504f24)

“Ellie, we must talk.” He jiggled the handle, and she must’ve forgotten to lock the door, for he stumbled inside. Her heart vaulted in her throat, her breath whipped her lungs and her breasts tightened. He filled the doorway like a welcome beacon, wearing his Armani coat, his dark hair damp from the drizzle outside. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, but she bit her lip, resisting his sexual magnetism.

She’d just ditched him and the fairytale castle, hadn’t she?

“Ellie.”

The sound of her name on his lips, turned her insides topsy-turvy, but she gritted her teeth, stiffened her spine against the erotic sensations rocking her body.

He shook his head and droplets sprayed her face.

“Oh,” she giggled, but smothered the sound with her palm.

He shot her his killer smile, the smile that made her bones melt and her stomach dive deep. “This is nonsense, Ellie.”

She sidestepped him to the door and gripped the doorknob. “There’s nothing more to say, Peter.”

“Really?” He shuttered his eyes and advanced a step, bringing him within an inch of her. His heat mingled with the dampness of the wool of his coat, the familiar scent somehow comforting yet, unsettling.

She veiled her eyes with her lashes and nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Look at me and say that.”