Temptation's Song (Kimani Romance) Page 3

  A couple of nights later, an unsuspecting Dominic got another dose of Elle Jones.

  It was Saturday night and he was out on the town with his cousin, Gianni Romano. Gianni was the only son of his tia Maria, his father’s youngest sister. Of his father’s three sisters, Tia Maria had been the only one who hadn’t turned a cold shoulder to his new African-American bride when he’d brought her home to meet the family. Subsequently Tia Maria and Dominic’s mother, Natalie, had become best friends. The other sisters had come around eventually, but by then Dominic and Gianni had already forged a strong bond, as he and his mother spent a lot of time visiting Tia Maria. The women had encouraged the first cousins’ friendship because they wanted them to be close. Later, Tia Maria would give birth to a daughter, Dona Maria, and Natalie would give birth to two daughters, Ana and Sophia.

  He and Gianni, who worked in the fashion industry alongside Dominic’s father, Carlo, had dined and were talking about their family when Dominic’s cell phone rang.

  Gianni had been in the middle of telling him about his toddler’s new skill at launching himself like a daredevil off furniture, the greater the height the better. Dominic gazed down at the number on his cell phone’s display, saw that it was the police and quickly answered.

  An officer said that they had a young American woman in custody and she had given them his number as someone who could vouch for her.

  “What is the young woman’s name?” Dominic asked.

  “Elle Jones,” said the officer.

  “Exactly what is she charged with?” Dominic asked, astonished.

  “Striking a police officer,” was the answer.

  Before hanging up, Dominic asked for the address of the police station, assured the officer he did know Elle Jones and that he would be there as soon as possible.

  Regarding Gianni across the table, he frowned. “Elle Jones is in jail for hitting a cop.” Dominic had told him all about Elle over dinner

  Gianni laughed. “I like her already.”

  “I’d better get over there before she takes the entire police station hostage,” joked Dominic, shaking his head.

  The cousins rose and Dominic placed enough money on the table to cover their bill plus a generous tip. “Tell Francesca hello for me and buy little Gianni a helmet. He’ll soon graduate to trying to jump off the roof.”

  “God forbid,” said Gianni. “Let me know how Signorina Jones fares.”

  In front of the restaurant Gianni went to his Jaguar and Dominic to his Range Rover, where he sat behind the wheel for a moment, wondering why Elle Jones had struck a cop.

  He started the car. He would soon find out.

  Elle sat in the communal room of the police station alongside muggers, prostitutes and she didn’t know how many more types of criminals. She, Belana and Patrice had gone to dinner earlier in the evening and then she had gone to the train station to see them off to Rome. She was remaining in Milan in order to find an apartment and finish her paperwork. Her new agent had told her she needed to fill out the forms before she would be allowed to live and work in Italy during the time it would take to rehearse and star in Dominic Corelli’s new opera.

  As she had been walking back from the train station, which was not far from her hotel, she was accosted by a strange man. He had apparently found her irresistible in her evening attire, a modest, sleeveless white dress, its hem falling about two inches above her knees, and a pair of white, strappy sandals. Without saying a word, and for no conceivable reason, he had reached out and pinched her on the behind as she had passed him. Right after that, Elle had turned around and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

  It hadn’t ended there, though. He had obviously taken her slap as an invitation, because he’d grabbed her and pulled her roughly against his chest. Even though they were about the same height, he was very strong and Elle couldn’t push out of his embrace.

  She’d struggled, desperately looking around for someone to come to her aid. But the people passing them on the street had looked away, not wanting to get involved.

  “Let go of me!” she’d yelled at him.

  “Isn’t this what you tourists want when you come to Italia?” he’d asked, leering at her.

  His breath had reeked of stale wine. Elle had tried to push him away, jerking her head back from him as he tried to kiss her. She felt something hard on his left side under his jacket. He was carrying a gun.

  Now she panicked. Was she going to be attacked and killed on a Milan street?

  Well, if he was going to try to harm her, she’d just as well go for broke. She kneed him. She heard the breath escape his throat and smelled his vile exhalation. Then she ran for her life, right into the arms of a uniformed police officer.

  She was never happier to see anyone in her life. “Officer!” she cried in Italian, pointing at the man, who was doubled over in pain. “That man grabbed me against my will. And he has a gun!”

  To her horror the man she had kneed removed a policeman’s badge from his inside jacket pocket and wheezed, “She’s under arrest for attacking an officer.”

  “Me?” Elle cried, indignant. “He attacked me! Smell his breath—he’s drunk—drunk and out accosting innocent tourists. He told me I was asking for it!”

  The uniformed policeman calmly cuffed her. “Miss, I advise you not to say anything else until you call your lawyer.”

  So that’s how she had come to be handcuffed to a chair, sitting beside a bottle blonde who was dressed in a black leather dominatrix outfit and matching thigh-high boots. The woman smiled at her. “New to this part of town?” she asked in Italian.

  She obviously thought Elle was a working girl, too.

  “Very new,” Elle replied.

  “I thought so,” said the woman, her black eyes roaming over Elle’s clothes. “You’re wearing white. There isn’t much demand for innocence anymore. They can find that on the Internet these days.” She reached inside her cleavage and produced a business card. “But you have potential. I’m Violetta. Call me and I’ll get you on the right track.”

  Elle accepted the card and put it in her own cleavage. “Thanks.”

  Violetta smiled. “We girls have to look out for one another.” She sneered at an officer who passed too close to their chairs. “Why are you people so slow?” she hissed at him. “Some of us have better places to be. Move your asses!”

  The police officer bowed in her direction. “So sorry to keep you waiting, madam,” he said sarcastically.

  Violetta kicked at him with her stiletto-heeled boot. He quickly jumped out of range.

  “That’s right, run, you coward!” She laughed with satisfaction.

  Elle glanced down at her watch. They had confiscated her purse, but let her keep her watch. It was after eleven. She wondered if they had actually phoned Dominic Corelli or had simply told her they would.

  They had laughed at her when she had told them she had been hired by Dominic Corelli to appear in his next opera. She imagined that he was well-known here in Milan, and well respected. The derisive looks she’d gotten after making her claim was proof of that. They thought she was a raving lunatic.

  She had hated to have to contact him, but she didn’t know anyone else in Milan. After this, he would probably inform her that he no longer wanted her in his opera. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even want her in his city.

  Frowning, she sat up straighter on her chair and held her head up high. Why was she being pessimistic? She hadn’t done anything wrong. That drunken cop had put his filthy hands on her and if she hadn’t defended herself he might have done much more.

  But how would she prove her innocence?

  “Elle?”

  Elle looked up into Dominic’s face. He smiled. She grimaced. “Signor Corelli, I’m innocent, I swear.”

  “I know you are,” he said comfortingly.

  He gestured to an officer standing nearby, who stepped forward and unlocked Elle’s handcuffs.

  Elle looked on in amazement. W
as that all it had taken, for Dominic Corelli to show up and vouch for her? If so, this was a crazy country. What about her rights as a human being? What about being innocent until proven guilty?

  She stared up at him as she got to her feet. “What’s going on? Did they catch that officer in a lie?”

  A short, middle-aged man in a dark gray suit came up behind Dominic and tapped him on the shoulder. Dominic turned around.

  “You can take Signorina Jones home,” said the man. “The off-duty officer who accused her of striking him admitted that he had too much to drink tonight and may have behaved inappropriately toward Signorina Jones when he met her on the street.”

  “Thank you,” Dominic said, shaking the gentleman’s hand. “I apologize for waking you, Felix, but Signorina Jones needed someone who knows his way around the legal system.”

  “That’s why your family has me on retainer,” the lawyer said pleasantly. He smiled at Elle. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that very uncomfortable experience, Signorina.”

  “Thank you,” Elle said in a low voice. She was so relieved that she felt tears fill her eyes. She didn’t allow them to fall, though.

  “You can pick up your belongings on the way out and all evidence of this incident will be struck from the record. Except, of course, your statement about the condition the officer was in when he accosted you. That will remain on his record. He is being severely disciplined for his behavior.”

  Elle felt some satisfaction upon hearing this news, and even though she wanted to press charges and see him punished to the full extent of the law, she wanted to get out of there even more.

  “Thank you so much,” she said again to the lawyer.

  Felix left and Dominic offered Elle his arm. She took it, grateful for his support. He led her over to the evidence room, where she retrieved her purse, made sure everything was in it and they left the police station arm in arm.

  Outside, Elle breathed in the night air and looked up at the black sky. The city sparkled around them. Traffic, lighter at night but still somewhat heavy, made a racket as late-night pedestrians strolled leisurely down the streets.

  “Are you all right?” Dominic asked quietly.

  Elle met his eyes and smiled wanly. “Not really. But I will be after a good night’s sleep. I can’t let that guy freak me out. I’ve got an opera to star in, if you still want me, and nothing and no one is going to get in the way of that.”

  Dominic laughed softly as he led her to his car. “Of course I still want you. Do you think I would get on the wrong side of a woman with your punching power? I saw that cop’s face. It’s already turning purple!”

  Elle laughed. “He had it coming.”

  Dominic knew those were just brave words. Elle was still upset. He felt her body shake with nerves as he helped her into the car.

  Once inside Elle tried to relax against the leather seat. Dominic started the car and pulled into traffic. “Where are you staying?”

  She told him. He was glad she was staying at a nice hotel with twenty-four-hour security. He would feel better about leaving her alone tonight. At least, that’s what he told himself as he drove the few blocks to the hotel. By the time he had parked in their lot, he had made up his mind that he wasn’t going to leave her alone tonight under any circumstances, and he didn’t care how much she protested.

  They sat in the car a few moments after he’d turned off the engine. He turned to her. “Look, Elle, you’ve had a shock to the system, and I don’t think you should stay by yourself tonight.”

  She started to protest but he stopped her. “If you won’t let me in the room, I’ll sleep outside your door. But I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

  They gazed into each other’s eyes. Elle could tell he was determined. “There are two bedrooms in the suite. You can have one of them,” she said, her voice soft.

  Dominic breathed a sigh of relief. There was something so vulnerable about Elle. His first instinct was to protect her. Surely he could smother his powerful attraction to her for one night?

  Eyes still boring into hers, he said, “Thank you for not fighting me on this.”

  “I would fight you if I thought you were wrong,” Elle assured him. “But the fact is, I just put my friends on the train earlier this evening. I would welcome someone to talk to tonight.”

  He gave her a grateful smile, which sent her stomach into somersaults. “Then I’m your man.”

  They got out of the car and went into the hotel.

  Chapter 4

  “The Met must pay you well,” Dominic remarked upon entering the suite. “This is very nice.”

  Elle locked the door behind them. “I can’t afford this. My friend Belana’s father, who’s a very successful businessman, paid for our trip.”

  The suite, decorated in modern Italian, had a color scheme of earth tones. The thick carpeting muted their footsteps as they crossed the room. Elle gestured to the pale golden sofa in the living room of the suite. “Have a seat.”

  Looking back at him over her shoulder, she added, “I’m going to change. These shoes are killing me. There’s a bathrobe behind the bathroom door in the spare bedroom, if you’d like to get out of your clothes, too.”

  Dominic knew this was an innocent suggestion. She just wanted him to be comfortable, but the thought of getting undressed while he was alone with her in a hotel room made him imagine other reasons why she’d ask him to get out of his clothes.

  Watching her leave the room, her full, shapely hips moving enticingly beneath the white sheath she had on, he felt his groin tighten. He managed a strangled, “I’m fine, thank you. But you feel free to do whatever it is you do to prepare for bed.”

  “All right, then. If you say so,” she said lightly as she disappeared around the corner, into the hallway.

  In her absence, Dominic removed his jacket, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt at the wrists and rolled the cuffs up to his elbows. That was as comfortable as he intended to get tonight.

  In her bedroom, Elle hurried to the closet, removed her dress and hung it on a hanger, kicked off her sandals, bent down, picked them up, returned them to their shoe box and placed the box on the closet shelf. Even with Dominic Corelli waiting for her in the next room, she was, admittedly, anal-retentive and couldn’t just toss her clothing in the closet.

  She went into the adjacent bathroom, ran a brush through her long, curly hair and tied it back with a blue ribbon, washed the makeup off her face and flossed and brushed her teeth. When she stripped to put on her pajamas, Violetta’s card fell to the floor. She picked it up. She would keep it as a memento.

  Barefooted, she went back into the living room.

  Dominic looked up and burst into laughter. “You look like a little girl!”

  He had expected her to change into something feminine and soft. He had been hoping for it. Just because he intended not to touch her didn’t mean he couldn’t get his fill of admiring her.

  Elle folded her legs under her as she sat down. Amusement lit up her dark brown eyes. “I’m glad you find my pajamas so funny. That’s just the reaction from the opposite sex I was hoping for when I bought them. That, or an irresistible urge to revert to childhood and sit in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn and watch cartoons.”

  His laughter under control, Dominic regarded her with a warm smile. She was an unusual woman, sitting in front of him with her legs tucked beneath her. Her face scrubbed clean of makeup and in pajamas. Either she was the most unsophisticated woman he had ever met, or she was confident about her sexuality.

  Admittedly, she looked beautiful without makeup. Her skin was smooth and clear, a lovely shade of brown with red undertones. He bet he could actually detect it when she blushed.

  Maybe he should test it.

  “Believe me,” he said softly, his eyes caressing her face, “I am well aware that you are a fully grown woman underneath those pajamas.”

  He had been right. She blushed all the way to the tips
of her pretty ears. He got a certain satisfaction out of knowing he’d caused that reaction.

  Elle cleared her throat. She had to mentally shake herself before she found she could think straight again after that hot flash he’d purposely inflicted on her. She would have to be on guard around him. It was obvious he liked to flirt. She wasn’t exactly an amateur herself. But now definitely wasn’t the time to practice.

  That’s why she had put on the armor the pajamas were meant to be. She hadn’t met a man yet who had found them sexy. Except the men who were determined to get her into bed, no matter what. Dominic Corelli couldn’t be that hard up for a woman. He could have any woman he wanted. What would he want with a young, inexperienced, albeit good, opera singer dying for her big break?

  If he were a less scrupulous man he might be coming on to her right now. But she sensed he was an honorable man. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have allowed him inside of her hotel room, no matter what he’d said. She was raised in Harlem, after all. She might be young, but she wasn’t naive.

  Refusing to rise to the bait, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

  Dominic relaxed with his arm along the back of the sofa and stretched out his legs. “I could never have ignored your call,” he told her. “You’re alone in a strange city. I know it must have been an ordeal for you.”

  “I thought it was a myth,” Elle told him.

  “What?”

  “That Italian men pinch women tourists on the behind,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. “Patrice, Belana and I went all over Italy and no one touched us inappropriately. I mean, there was flirting going on, on both sides, but no touching! And then along comes that cop, who acted like he took me for a common prostitute. He said that’s what women tourists are looking for when they come to Italy.” She hugged herself as if she were suddenly chilled to the bone.

  “I assure you, most Italian men are respectful of all women, tourists or otherwise,” Dominic said. He wanted to go to her and wrap her in his arms, but thought better of it. “They are—we are—good husbands and fathers. We love our families. You had the bad luck of running into a drunk and a lout. Policemen aren’t exempt from foolish behavior. Isn’t it true that you can find disrespectful men anywhere on the planet, not just Italy?”