Marco's Redemption Page 2

  “Um—yeah,” he snapped back sarcastically, irritation coloring his voice.

  Natalie closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. She was beginning to get a stress headache. Slipping her sunglasses to the top of her head, she took a couple of seconds to massage her temples. Knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she raised her eyes to his. “Can we work something out?”

  Chapter Two

  Marco watched as if in slow motion the trembling fingers that raised her sunglasses to the top of her head. He froze and waited for her to lift her face to his, sudden impatience grabbing him and holding him in its grip. When he finally saw her eyes, his guts clenched in automatic response.

  A wave of lust hit him hard, and if he’d believed in a place called Hell, then there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that’s where he’d end up. His gut response to her innocent question, combined with the annihilating beauty of her eyes, was that bad. As he looked her over, standing still and incredibly tiny in front of him in frayed jeans and tennis shoes, the beauty of her face surging into sudden prominence, two things hit him simultaneously. He couldn’t remember ever having wanted a woman so wildly inappropriate, this hard and this fast, and it suddenly occurred to him that her driver’s license hadn’t told the truth. “You’re not five-three.”

  She blinked up at him. “Yes, I am.”

  “Bullshit.” She was smaller than that, and his body began screaming at him even more loudly, begging his brain to let him at her. It was as if there were two parts of his person, diametrically opposed and in a face-off. His guts and his cock wanted her—wanted her badly—but his brain was fighting back. And it was a toss-up as to which part was in control.

  Bristling indignation filled her as she arched her back and lifted her shoulders in determination. “My driver’s license says I’m five-three—so I’m five-three.”

  Marco puffed out a laugh at her temerity, while steeling his insides against the almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch the small swell of her breasts. “So you lied to the Department of Public Safety. And now I’m supposed to believe you when you say you’re going to make this good?” he questioned somewhat threateningly.

  “I’ll make it good, I swear!”

  Heat slammed his guts as she repeated his words and unknowingly turned them into an accidental innuendo. He couldn’t stop himself; he had to test her. “You even know how to make it good?”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Pay—pay you back,” she stuttered.

  Marco fought his arousal as he studied her. She had understood his innuendo, and chose to ignore it. It said a few things about her. It said she wasn’t looking to work off the debt on her back, so to speak, and it meant that if she reacted as she had at twenty-four-years old, she probably wasn’t overly experienced.

  He didn’t know whether he was pleased or disappointed. There was a woman he slept with occasionally, and Tanya liked to think of herself as his girlfriend, although he didn’t see her as such—not even close. She’d been wearing on his nerves lately, becoming more and more demanding, and he knew that before too much longer she was going to slide past her expiration date. In fact, she was already there. He didn’t think getting rid of her would be easy; she’d probably go kicking and screaming. But she didn’t live with him, no woman ever had, and when he was ready, it wouldn’t take long to expel her completely from his life.

  He didn’t imagine for even a minute that this girl would have what it would take to hold his attention for long—no woman ever had and he didn’t think she’d be an exception. She sure as shit wouldn’t fit into his world, his—casual and depraved world—and he suddenly knew that he wasn’t ruthless enough to expose her to it—in fact, he was feeling a roiling anger in his gut at the thought of her obvious innocence being spoiled. But there was something very compelling about her, something that was electrifying his insides, something that wouldn’t allow him to let her drive off and leave. He could afford to, certainly. He didn’t need her money or her insurance; getting his car repaired would be a nuisance at most. But he didn’t want to let her off the hook. Call him misguided or even a bit evil, but there was something about her and the raging erection she had induced that was making him act out of the ordinary and even though he recognized it, he didn’t try to fight against it.

  He wanted to get things settled with her and needed to know her situation. “You live in Vidor?” He named the town he’d read on her driver’s license.

  “Not anymore. My mom and her boyfriend live there still, but I’m using my cousin’s couch while I try to get a job here.” Here, of course, meant Houston, and now he knew she had no insurance, no income, and probably no money of any kind to repair the damage she had caused.

  “So how, exactly, do you propose working this out?” he asked stiltedly, referring to her previous offer.

  “I can make payments to you as soon as I get a job,” she offered quickly.

  Marco took a deep breath and looked toward the heavens in disgust. She must have interpreted his annoyance to mean an imminent phone call to the police, because she began speaking again in a rush, trying to appease him. “In the meantime—I can clean your house—do your laundry. I could even cook meals and freeze them for you—you know, instead of money?”

  Her voice was soft and frantic, and sexual heat filled him from her nervous appeal. A vision of her in his home, cleaning for him and trying to keep him happy, hit him between the eyes and hard, in the groin. Oh, yeah. He was a sick bastard. “Domestic help as restitution?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes held his for the count of two seconds and then dropped to the ground.

  He continued to look her over while he debated the idea. The suggestion would certainly keep her in his radius; that was for certain. He tried like fuck to ignore the incendiary heat throbbing in his pants that demanded he agree at once, but it wasn’t working. He had a cleaning service that came in once a week and was scheduled for the next day. After six days since the last visit, his place was a mess as usual. He quickly made up his mind to cancel the service, and lock her in to the offer before he talked himself out of it. “You’ll have to start today. If you’re serious about this, and you don’t want the police involved—” Going to Hell, Donati— “you’ll need to prove it by starting today. I’ve got plans for the weekend and my place needs to shine. You understand?”

  “Yes. Okay, but—”

  “You really aren’t in a situation to start with the ‘buts’, Natalie.”

  She licked her lips. “I know, it’s just that—”

  “Just what?” he asked darkly.

  He watched as she took a deep breath and held it in a second before letting it out with a trembling hitch. She looked directly at him with unwavering blue eyes. “It’s just that—I don’t know you. I want to make it up to you—go with you. I’ll do a good job, I promise, but I don’t know you and I—” she hesitated, “need to be careful.” She took another quick breath and let it out with a deflated sigh as she dropped her eyes from his.

  Marco studied the downcast head momentarily. “You’re scared of me?” He hadn’t quite thought of it from that angle, but now that he had, he couldn’t blame her. She’d be stupid to leave with someone she didn’t know and be sequestered with him in the seclusion of his home.

  “Yes. It’s just that—”

  He interrupted what she was going to say. “Yeah, I know. Good girl.” He handed her his phone once again. “Let’s get this over with. Dial four and ask for Joy. She’s my personal reference.”

  ****

  Natalie pressed the digit and put the phone to her ear, turning away from him slightly.

  It was answered on the first ring. “Donati Banking and Investments. How may I direct your call?” A smooth, professional female voice asked.

  Natalie felt flustered from hearing that name again so soon. So her cousin had been correct. She gave Marco Donati a searching glance and then quickly looked away a
gain. “Joy, please.”

  “Just one moment and I’ll connect you to the office of the C.E.O.”

  C.E.O. Shit. “Thank you.”

  Natalie listened to soft music for approximately five seconds. “Marco Donati’s office.”

  Once again, Natalie’s eyes flew to his and saw that he was watching her very carefully. His dark brown eyes were running over her features and he was standing indolently as if he had all the time in the world. This guy was somebody, obviously. Crap. A freakin’ CEO. But that didn’t necessarily mean he could be trusted, did it? “May I speak to Joy, please?”

  “This is she.”

  “Oh. Hi. My name is—” Shit, he had her so flustered. What was her name? “Natalie Lambert. And I—I’m considering taking Mr. Donati on as—” Her mind searched frantically for what to say. “… a client. He’s in need of a housekeeping service and has supplied your name as a reference.” Natalie glanced at Marco again and the small, quizzical smile that appeared on his mouth along with the single eyebrow that lifted diabolically made her heart beat faster. She finished up quickly with her question. “Do you believe his home would be a safe working environment? He’s not—like a felon or anything, is he?”

  “Marco? A felon? Noooooo. He’s the CEO of this bank, the perfect boss and a perfect gentleman in every way, and he can be trusted with anything and everything up to and including state secrets. So yes, I’ll vouch for him. Is there anything else?”

  “No, thanks very much.” Natalie ended the call and handed the phone back to Marco. “You passed.”

  “Good to know,” he deadpanned. Instead of pocketing the phone again, he dialed another number and arranged for a cab and two tow trucks.

  Natalie tried to interrupt him and give him Justin’s address, but it was impossible. He continued with his conversation and only when he’d pocketed the phone again did he turn to her. “What?”

  “Justin told me to have it towed to his driveway. He’s going to be offshore working for a while.”

  She couldn’t interpret the look he was giving her. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now we need to get you home. You’ve had a shock.”

  She’d had a shock? Really? That was putting it mildly. She cleared her throat. “That’s crazy having it towed twice. Where are they taking it?”

  “For now, to the dealership for an estimate.”

  “Estimates are free?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, because I really can’t afford a bunch of towing and repairs and—”

  “We’ll add it to what you owe me.” His voice sounded rough and determined—completely serious.

  Her eyes widened. “No! I already owe you too much—”

  Natalie’s words faltered and then stopped entirely. Her breath hitched as he turned to her and very softly lifted her chin with two fingers and then grazed those fingers up her cheek, pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear, and then released her just as swiftly from his touch. “I’m teasing, sweetheart. I’ve got this one.”

  Heat from that brief touch slid down her spine in intoxicating ripples. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest and Natalie concentrated on breathing evenly. A cab was already pulling into the parking lot and she saw the tow trucks drive up together as well.

  Five minutes later, she sat in the back of the cab next to him, clutching her purse to her chest and trying to understand the reaction she was having to him. Evidently, the course of her day had just taken a huge turn.

  ****

  His home was a penthouse apartment, located in the middle of Downtown. The building was a huge glass and steel monolith, and Natalie rode beside him in the private elevator that made only one stop. The top floor.

  The doors opened with an almost silent whoosh, and Natalie found herself walking directly into a huge living area. A wall of windows faced the west, and the sun was already turning the sky into a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors.

  The interior was very modern, with white walls, metal sculptures and impossibly sharp lines. It was minimalistic, the furniture was straight and the most prominent colors in the room were black and white. It screamed wealth and affluence but lacked in any real warmth or comfort that she could see.

  She hated it immediately.

  She schooled her features to hide her thoughts and stood quietly waiting for his instructions. He walked across the room and began unloading his pockets onto a glass-topped table that stood behind a sofa.

  When he was finished, he glanced up and his eyes landed on her, as if surprised to see her in his home. “Get to it.”

  “Where—where do you want me to start?” she asked as she looked around.

  “Kitchen would be best. It’s through there.” He lifted a hand and motioned behind him while picking up and sifting through a small pile of mail.

  “And then? The rest? Vacuum, change your sheets, that sort of stuff?”

  “Yeah. And my laundry. Suits and shirts are dry-cleaned, so there won’t be much. Just look around and help yourself. I’m sure you can figure out what to do. I don’t know how any of it’s done.”

  “It just magically happens for you?” She asked the question with no emotion.

  His mouth flattened and as he looked across at her she tried to breathe normally under his scrutiny. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  She fidgeted a moment, worry making a fine crease between her brows.

  “What’s the hold up?” he asked.

  “Am I putting someone out of work? Someone who needs this job more than me?”

  She sensed a tensing of his body as his gaze became more thoughtful, and he seemed to study her features, one at a time. “No, the service I was using is a large corporation. No one will go hungry, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Okay.” She tried to smile at him but was afraid she missed the mark by a mile. “Is it just you here? Or do others live here as well?” She wasn’t asking if he was married. She absolutely was not asking if he was married.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Just me. I’m not married, Natalie.” He said the words without inflection as he studied her intently, his eyes roving over her, from her head to her feet and then back again.

  She dropped her eyes from the intensity of his. “I’ll get started then.”

  “You do that. I’m going to shower in one of the guest bedrooms so I won’t be in your way when you clean the master. I’m leaving later for an event tonight so I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to leave the room and she called out to stop him, “Mr. Donati—”

  “It’s Marco. Call me Marco. What do you need?”

  “I was wondering if—if I could fix a quick bite to eat before I start—”

  He frowned, giving her a layered look. “You’re hungry?”

  “Yes, I haven’t eaten since last night. I was too nervous this morning, I guess, from trying to find a job.”

  He watched her for a moment more, the distance of the room between them. “You can help yourself to absolutely whatever you want, Natalie.”

  The look he gave her was both piercing and inscrutable, and Natalie lost her courage and dropped her eyes from his. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  Chapter Three

  Five hours later, his home was pristine again. Natalie was tired and a little bit sore. The kitchen had been a mess. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in a week and the dishes were piling up. Although it didn’t appear as if much cooking was being done in the room, there were dirty coffee cups, beer cans, and highball glasses left strewn about. She cleaned the refrigerator out as well while she was at it.

  She’d easily located the master bedroom and had stripped and washed his sheets. Doing his laundry had given her pause, because it was his underwear as well as some casual clothing. She’d never washed a man’s underwear before. And she was a little shocked to find it wasn’t a wholly unpleasant task.

  Everything else had been basic cleaning. The
floors, mirrors, and his bathroom. The bathroom hadn’t been as bad as she had expected, except for the dirty towels and the pile of clothes.

  It was just past nine-o’clock now, and Natalie was wiped. She’d gotten up early that morning and had spent the day running around town, looking for a job, until the wreck. And now she realized she didn’t have a way home. She certainly couldn’t afford a cab back to her cousin’s house, and she didn’t know if Marco expected her here tomorrow anyway.

  She absolutely could not do anything to raise his ire—which leaving might do. There was no way she could afford a lawsuit against her, or even to lose her driver’s license. She didn’t want him to get home and think she’d done a runner on him.

  She almost plopped down on the white couch, but realized her clothes were a bit grimy and chose the chaise longue upholstered in black instead.

  She’d think about the problem while she rested. Maybe Marco would drive her back to her cousin’s when he got home.

  ****

  All the lights were still on when Marco let himself into the penthouse. God, he was glad to be home. Tanya had almost driven him out of his fucking mind tonight, and even the thought of her naked body couldn’t get his libido running. In fact, it did just the opposite. She’d tried her damn best to get him into her apartment when he’d dropped her off, but there had been no way he would allow himself to be cornered.

  She’d flirted her ass off and flaunted herself at every man at the charity event tonight, and he knew she’d done it in a bid for his attention. It had gotten his attention; that was for damn sure. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that side of her character before tonight? And just as quickly realized he had noticed—he knew exactly the kind of person she was, but overlooked it because he flat didn’t give a shit. He’d never given a shit. She was a convenient sexual outlet to him; that was all. And lately, she wasn’t even that.

  Everything in the penthouse smelled clean and fresh, and even though the lights were on, it was as quiet as a tomb. He walked through to the kitchen, and found everything in perfect order. He looked around a moment, a new, soft scent lingering in the air that caught his attention and struck a chord in the pit of his stomach. There was a note in front of the coffee maker and he picked it up. Timer is set. Coffee will be ready in the morning. He fingered the piece of paper a moment, taking in the neat, feminine handwriting before setting it back down.