“Ah,” he said with solemn understanding.
“Yes. Their daughter was sick her whole life and died when she was twelve. Sung-mi talked about her a lot. That’s how I learned Korean. She taught me to cook and took me to the sewing circles where the local women made uniforms for the army. In many ways, she became the mother I’d missed all my life. Byung-woo was kind, too. He took me fishing sometimes. We barely spoke, but we sat by the river for hours.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“Not really.” Her wandering gaze landed on the square head of the handheld shower nozzle. She realized it perfectly reflected his face in its gold surface.
“No? Why not?” His voice lazily encouraged her to confide, but she jolted as she realized he was looking right at her in that tiny reflection.
He casually turned his head so his mouth nuzzled into her hair.
“I, um...”
She didn’t know what disconcerted her more, the realization he might have been watching her the whole time she’d been talking or his languid return to assaulting her senses. Beneath the water, he cupped her breast and gently massaged.
“What were you saying?” He nibbled along her nape.
“Hmm? Oh. That I had to be very careful,” she recalled dimly, tilting her head to expose more of her neck. “We were under constant surveillance.” Her nipple tightened to stab into his palm. “My classmates at university didn’t understand how I cared for my hosts and wanted to protect them as much as myself. They said that sort of thing makes me a traitor.”
“Are you?”
“No.” She twisted to face him.
His eyelids were heavy, but his gaze keen beneath. All he said was, “Good.” And he pressed his mouth to hers. They didn’t talk again until he said, “We should take this to the bed.”
Giovanni had been fifteen when the car his father had been driving was broadsided and sent over an embankment, rolling three times before coming to rest. Everyone else had been killed instantly. Giovanni had spent a year in hospital, enduring endless pain and surgeries that culminated in amputation of his remaining leg when a stubborn infection had forced him to choose between his limb or his life.
He’d always been stubborn and competitive, but it had taken two more years of grit and effort before he felt comfortable in this new body, learning how it worked and ultimately achieving the independence he craved.
He’d never stopped hitting on girls. Charm was a quality Sicilian men possessed by law. He’d become sexually active around the same time as his peers, but there’d been a steeper learning curve for him when it came to giving and receiving pleasure.
Until a few days ago, he’d been satisfied with the frequency and quality of lovemaking he engaged in and thought he had it all figured out.
Freja was rewriting his entire scope of experience.
He kept telling himself he was only continuing to see her for investigative purposes, but as day four dawned and they’d barely been out of each other’s sight since dinner that first night, he had to admit it was the sex. He couldn’t keep his hands off her.
He had tried to take her home. Their first lazy morning had turned into an indolent afternoon, but she’d been scheduled to work that evening. His driver had parked outside her building and their goodbye in the back seat of his town car had turned into a steamy suggestion that she call in sick.
She’d left him long enough to run up to her flat for her laptop and to pack a small bag. She’d been here ever since, coaching a couple of her Korean students over video chat, helping with their English pronunciation and offering feedback on some writing assignments. She had made no effort to hide any of it while Giovanni answered emails on the other side of the room.
Yesterday, they’d strolled through the park, but the rest of the days they had stayed in. They worked, ate, swam, and waited for his small army of aids, therapists, assistants and housekeepers to leave so they could make love and lounge around half-dressed.
They had intimate encounters constantly. A light kiss turned into heavy petting that turned into an intense, inventive interlude. Other times he woke from a lengthy debauched session that had left him wrung out and supremely satisfied. His sense of contentment lingered into those moments when he turned his head to find her beside him, blinking awake and smiling through a yawn.
Those unguarded moments were the best and the worst. They convinced him she was exactly as she seemed—unusual, but ultimately harmless. For a woman who hadn’t had a lover until a few days ago, however, she was taking to it like a duck to water. That forced him to ask himself if he was being played by a champion manipulator.
Even Everett was starting to worry, sounding impatient when Giovanni accepted his call. “She’s still there. Why?”
Giovanni bit back asking Everett if he’d ever gotten laid, because he definitely should try it sometime.
“I’m in the pool.” Despite the April rain spitting from the overcast sky. “What do you need?”
“Leave early and plan for a week in France in June,” Everett said in crisp tone.
Giovanni didn’t ask why. Everett would have a contact he wanted Giovanni to intercept or a party he wanted him to observe. It was the work he’d signed on for, but as he watched Freja continue to lap the pool in a graceful crawl, Giovanni resented Everett’s claim on his time. He wasn’t ready for this liaison to end.
Which was the most compelling reason it should.
“Sure,” he muttered and clicked off his phone, sliding it into the pocket of his robe where it hung next to his pool lift. He pushed away from the ledge and windmilled a backstroke until he crossed paths with Freja.
She stopped to catch her breath. They both hooked an arm on the ledge.
“Is everything okay?” She pushed her wet hair off her face. “You look annoyed.”
“Details about my trip. I’m leaving early.” He had deliberately mentioned this trip their first evening. He was always clear with women that he wasn’t looking for anything but a brief, enjoyable dalliance.
That same evening, Freja had called him a sexist for suggesting she aspired to marry and have children. Inexperienced she might be, but she wasn’t immature. There were no unrealistic fantasies dancing in her eyes. There was no guilt trip that he had been leading her on. She expressed exactly the right pout of disappointment, then turned it into a rueful smile.
“Probably for the best.” She wrinkled her nose. “The owner of the catering company asked if I should be admitted to hospital, I’ve called in sick so many times.”
He slid his free arm around her waist, floating her into contact with his chest. Swimming always aroused him, but the desire sizzling in his wiring was all for her. That and the tendrils of possessiveness that were becoming barbed hooks within him as their time together drew to a close.