Raffaele smacked his lips together and grimaced at the dryness and horrible taste in his mouth. Both were sure signs he’d been sleeping with his mouth open, and probably snoring, he thought, opening his eyes, and then he frowned with confusion as he noted that he was in the sitting room. In a chair actually, he realized.
His gaze slid over the pull-out couch and he wondered why he hadn’t slept there rather than the chair, and then his memory returned and he sat up abruptly.
Jess.
She’d been sleeping on the couch and he’d taken the chair to guard her, but she wasn’t there now. He was just starting to jump to his feet when a squawk on the balcony caught his ear. Turning, he peered out and was momentarily frozen in place as he stared at the legs kicking in the air at the far end of the balcony. They were a woman’s legs, long and shapely, and easily recognizable mostly because of the bikini bottoms at the top of them.
“Jess,” he hissed, and rushed to the French doors to the bedroom, shouting at Santo and Zanipolo as he thrust them open and continued to the sliding doors leading to the balcony from there. Raffaele had no idea if the men woke up, and didn’t have the time to check; he simply unlocked and dragged the sliding door open and then rushed out to grab Jess just as she started to rise out of sight. Catching her beneath the knees, he started to lean out, but heard a deep voice growl, “Stand up, Cristo, and I’ll pass her to you.”
Mouth tightening, Raffaele tightened his grip on Jess’s legs and yanked, hard. He heard Jess’s startled cry, and then a deep voice cursed, and Jess’s upper body fell back. Moving quickly, Raffaele released one leg, and got that hand under the base of her spine as she dropped. He then tugged her toward him as he stumbled back from the railing. Holding her close, he watched the owner of the voice he’d heard tumble past them, heading for the ground below.
Jess flinched in his arms as they heard the thud when the pirate hit the ground three stories down, but Raffaele didn’t look to see how the rogue immortal had faired. Instead, he turned and carried Jess into the suite.
“Lock the door,” he growled to Santo and Zanipolo, who were up, but only just stumbling toward the door, pulling their pants on as they went. Raffaele then carried Jess to the sitting room and sat on the pull-out bed with her in his lap. The moment he did, she crossed her arms and turned to bury her face in his chest.
Mouth compressed, Raffaele held her tight, one hand patting her back soothingly. He’d come so close to losing her, he needed the time to calm himself, but after a moment, he eased her back to look her over.
Raffaele’s mouth tightened when he saw that she had a few new scrapes and bruises on her cheek, and what he could see of her chest. From scraping against the wall when he’d pulled her down and toward him, he supposed. She also had bruising starting on her one wrist, he noted. But all in all, she’d made out relatively well, he thought, just before she turned toward him and pressed close, trying to hide herself.
“It’s all right,” he said, his voice a growl of sound. Now that his concern for her well-being had been eased, he was very aware that she was sitting there in his arms wearing nothing but the damned bikini bottoms.
Sighing, Raffaele tried to pretend she wasn’t nearly naked, and his life mate, and said, “Tell me what happened. How did you end up hanging in front of the balcony? Did they come in and steal you from the bed and try to drag you upstairs?”
It sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t imagine any other way she could have ended up out there.
Jess shook her head, and then, her voice soft and almost embarrassed, she admitted, “I went up to shower and change.”
“To your room?” he asked with dismay as Santo and Zanipolo came out to the sitting room, both fully dressed now.
Jess nodded.
“By yourself?” he asked with disbelief, his voice raising. “Why didn’t you wake me? I would have gone with you.”
“You were sleeping, and you’ve already done so much, and I just wanted to . . .” She paused and shook her head helplessly, and then said, “But they came in and . . . I tried to climb down, but it was too far and I lost Allison’s dress and he wanted to tie me up and quiff river trout,” she ended on a moan, and buried her face against his chest again.
“She means grope for trout in her river,” Santo explained quietly.
“He also mentioned quiffing,” Zanipolo added. “She’s confused the two.”
“Dear God,” Raffaele breathed, his arms tightening protectively around Jess. He hadn’t heard those terms in years . . . like hundreds of years. Shakespeare had used “groping for trout in a peculiar river” to mean infidelity, but the young lords of the day had quite got a kick out of the term and it had quickly come to be a euphemism for other things back then. The pirate had been telling her he was going to stimulate her digitally, before quiffing her, which was slang around the same time for sex. The bastard wanted to tie his life mate up and rape her and was terrorizing her by telling her ahead of time exactly what he meant to do.
Sighing, he peered down at Jess. All he could see was her back. She was still huddled against his chest . . . like a child seeking protection from monsters, he thought sympathetically. This must be terrifying for her.
“She’s huddling against you because she has no clothes on,” Zanipolo told him with exasperation.
“We should go buy her some,” Santo said.
“Good idea,” Zanipolo said, heading for the door.
Raffaele was opening his mouth, intending to protest that they had to stay, Jess needed protecting, but then Jess mumbled against his chest, “Oh, God, thank you so much. Just something cheap, a resort T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops are fine. I promise I’ll pay you back the first chance I get.”
Raffaele closed his mouth. The woman was sitting here in bikini bottoms, the only item of clothing she had to her name at the moment. At least here in Punta Cana.
“We might be a while,” Zanipolo said, stopping at the door.
When Raffaele glanced to him with surprise, the man waggled his eyebrows up and down, and then dropped his eyes to Jess and back up to his face, obviously trying to convey some kind of message. It didn’t take much effort for Raffaele to sort out what the man was suggesting. Shaking his head, he waved the men out, and then just sat there for a minute, unsure what to do while they waited.
“Would you like me to get you a shirt while you wait?” he asked finally, and then said, “Oh, wait, you said you were going to shower, did you get to do that?”
“No,” Jess sighed against his chest, her breath ruffling the short hairs there and sending a shiver of awareness through him. Now that his shock and worry for her well-being were easing a bit, his body was having the expected response to holding her nearly naked in his lap.
Time to change that, he decided grimly. If he didn’t, his determination to refrain from the physical side of life mates until they were both safely back in North America would fall by the wayside. Standing abruptly, he carried her into the bathroom and set her down on the side of the large whirlpool tub. He then straightened and grabbed a towel.
“Would you rather have a shower or bath?” Raffaele asked, keeping his face averted as he handed her the towel. “I’m sure you have time for a bath if you want one. Zanipolo is a slow shopper at the best of times, but when shopping for someone else he can agonize forever.”
“Maybe I’ll take a bath, then,” Jess decided on a sigh as she accepted the towel and wrapped it quickly around herself, sarong-style. “It might ease my shoulder. I think I pulled something. Or Vasco pulled something when I got free of Cristo and he caught me mid-fall.”
Raffaele hesitated, and then moved closer and looked her over. “Which shoulder?”
“This one.” She gestured to her left shoulder.
Raffaele probed the shoulder gently, taking her arm and raising and lowering it as he felt around the joint. “How bad is the pain?”
“Not bad,” Jess assured him. “Just a little tender.”
Raffaele nodded and released her arm. “I was afraid it might be dislocated, but it doesn’t seem to be. There’s a little swelling, though. You’re probably right and a muscle got pulled. A nice long soak might do it a lot of good. But I’ll call down to reception and have them send up some ice and ibuprofen.”
“Thank you,” Jess said solemnly.
“You’re welcome.” Raffaele smiled faintly, and then moved to set the plug in the tub and start the taps. Straightening, he then headed for the door, saying, “I’ll be out in the sitting room. Take your time, and shout if you have any problems.”
Raffaele heard her murmured, “Thank you,” over the sound of rushing water as he pulled the door closed. He paused then and leaned back against the door with a sigh. Damn, it had been hard leaving her in there alone when all he wanted to do was strip off her bikini bottoms and . . .
Yeah, not good to think too much about what he wanted to do, Raffaele told himself grimly. Go call reception and get her ice and ibuprofen. And order her some breakfast. She was probably hungry. He was. A sensation he hadn’t experienced in millennia. It was most uncomfortable.
Jess watched the door close, and then peered at the bottles on the side of the tub. Spotting one that said bubble bath on it, she grabbed and opened it to take a whiff. When the scent of tropical flowers wafted from the bottle, she nodded and upended the contents into the tub. Setting the bottle back, she then stood up and had to grab her towel as it started to unravel. She tucked it back in place, with a grimace that only grew when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Obviously, she should have looked at herself before sneaking out of the men’s suite earlier that day to return to the one she shared with Allison. She was wearing a towel, had a serious case of bedhead, and her face had tearstains from her upset last night. This was how she’d made her way through the halls to her room, and how she’d looked when Vasco had been trying to drag her back onto the balcony. Honestly, she didn’t know why he’d bothered, looking as she did.
Making a face, Jess reached under the towel to tug down her bikini bottoms and then stepped out of them and moved to the sink to turn on the taps. She wasn’t wearing them for another twenty-four-hour period without washing them first. Jess stuck them under the water, frowning as she noted that they were getting a bit frayed. It looked like the material had got caught on the sides of the porthole as she’d squeezed herself through it. There were some runs on both sides, and the material around the elastic trim was pulling away from the seams.
Sighing, Jess grabbed the bottle of liquid body wash, squirted some on, and set to work scrubbing the material together. Before this trip, she had never really considered fashion very important. Clothes had always just been a necessity, but not something that defined a person. However, her wardrobe at the moment seemed to define her perfectly: lacking, worn, and not her own. That was her and her life at the moment, lacking nearly everything she had brought with her, tired and worn out from being hunted by the pirates, and with nothing of her own . . . well, except for her bikini bottoms. The shirtdress she’d worn last night and the towel she was wearing now were borrowed. It was enough to make her rethink her position. Clothes were crazy important, and not having them was frustrating and embarrassing and basically a pain.
Really, Vasco wasn’t playing fair taking all her clothes like that. She still would have been stuck here if he’d just taken her passport and wallet with all her ID and bank cards, but at least she wouldn’t be running around in a towel and bikini bottoms that were starting to fray a bit from constant wear and tear. If the man ever did get ahold of her, she’d have an earful for him on the subject. Not to mention other things, like what he’d said that morning on the balcony.
“Playing hard to get,” Jess muttered to herself with disgust. Seriously, was that what he thought she was doing? And what was that bit about not being able to resist a life mate and her being his? Actually, that comment had been a bit frightening to her; mostly because she did seem to find it hard to resist him . . . at least when he was touching and kissing her and not talking.
On the other hand, she seemed to have a similar response to Raffaele. Well, somewhat anyway. He’d never kissed or touched her that way, but judging by her physical response when he took her arm or hand or simply probed her bruises and such, she thought she might. The dreams had been pretty hot. Unfortunately, not as hot as Vasco’s real kisses had been. Those had been mind-blowing. Literally. The moment their lips had met, Jess had been lost in a whirl of passion, oblivious to everything but her need and her desire for it to be slaked.
But, surely, she could have that with someone else, Jess thought desperately. Someone who didn’t go around biting people and sucking their blood? Someone kind and sweet, like Raffaele, would be good. But he didn’t seem to be interested in her that way. He was always a complete gentleman with her, taking her elbow to escort her around, dancing with that space between them, and never so much as trying to kiss her.
Jess rinsed out her bikini bottoms, wrung them out, and hung them over the towel rack to dry. She then walked over to the tub, turned off the taps, dropped her towel, and stepped in. A small sigh slid from her lips as she settled in the warm water. It felt like the first time her muscles had unclenched since the pirate ship the day before . . . and she needed it.
Raffaele closed his eyes, concentrating on listening, but didn’t hear a sound, not even a light splash. Opening his eyes, he peered at the bathroom door and tapped the fingers of one hand against his leg as he debated whether he should knock on the door. Jess had been in there for quite a while. She might have fallen asleep in the tub and be in danger of drowning. But he’d suggested she take a long soak, so she might just be relaxing in there. He pondered the thought for a minute, imagining it in his mind. Jess lying naked in the tub, the warm water caressing her body, lapping around her breasts . . .
Licking his lips, Raffaele peered down at the doorknob, his hand moving toward it. He should really make sure Jess was okay, he thought, and then stilled as a light splash sounded through the door. She wasn’t asleep and in danger of drowning; she was just relaxing in the warm water . . . naked and wet. His fingers continued to the metal doorknob and were just closing around it when he heard the door open in the other room and the murmur of Santo’s voice and then a laugh from Zanipolo.
Snatching his hand back, Raffaele turned and hurried into the sitting room, thinking his cousins had just saved him from making what probably would have been a big mistake.
“Oh, hey, you’re awake,” Zanipolo said with surprise when Raffaele entered the room as he was setting three large bags on the dining table by the sliding glass doors.
“Of course I am,” Raffaele said, his eyebrows rising. “Why would I not be?”
Zanipolo shrugged. “I was thinking that maybe while we were out shopping, you might want to seal the deal with Jess.”
Raffaele arched his eyebrows at his chosen terminology and shook his head. “I am leaving it until she is safely back home and I can join her there.”
“Yeah.” Zanipolo drew out the word with a frown. “But that was when she was leaving right away. Now that she’s stuck here, I’m thinking you might want to speed up your game a bit.”
Raffaele shook his head. “She’s still leaving. If we can’t get her a replacement passport and a flight out today, I’ll call Julius and see if he can send a company plane for her. They can take her home. I’ll accompany her for the flight, and control the customs and immigration people so there are no issues with her reentering the country without a passport, and then fly right back to finish out our vacation before returning to the States and starting to woo her.”
“Yeah, I thought of that and called Julius while we had breakfast,” Zanipolo informed him solemnly, and then shook his head. “The earliest they can possibly get a plane out here is the day after tomorrow and that’s only if there are no delays on the flights they have booked. It might even be the day after that.”
Raffaele frowned at this news. Notte Construction had two private planes, but they were used for both the business and to transport family members around the world as well. They were always busy, and always booked well ahead of time. The only way he could have got them to change the schedule was if it was an emergency. This wouldn’t be considered urgent. Jess was safe for now, and a two- or three-day wait for the plane was actually pretty good, but he’d been hoping to get lucky and get one out here right away. Two or three days meant forty-eight to seventy-two hours that Vasco could use to try to take Jess again. But it looked like there was nothing he could do about that.
Straightening his shoulders, he said grimly, “Then we’ll just have to hope the embassy can get her a replacement passport quickly and we can get her on a flight out of here directly afterward.”
“Do you really want to pin your hopes of a future with Jess on the possibility that the government will work quickly?” Zanipolo asked dubiously. “Governments aren’t known for doing anything quickly . . . except perhaps going after taxes.”
Raffaele scowled at the truth of those words.
“Look,” Zanipolo said, sitting down at the table and eyeing him with concern, “I know you wanted to wait until after this trip to start to woo Jess, and I applaud your self-control, but I really think you need to show her the pleasure you can experience together now, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Raffaele asked, eyes narrowing.
“In case Vasco does get her,” Zanipolo said quietly.
“He’s not going to get his hands on her,” Raffaele said with a scowl at the very thought.
“But if he does,” Zanipolo said insistently, “and if he does it before you seal the deal with her, you could very well lose her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Raffaele said with irritation. “She’s my life mate.”
“Unfortunately, she is his too,” Santo said quietly.
Raffaele rounded on him with shock and roared, “What?”
“It’s true,” Zanipolo assured him apologetically. “Vasco’s desires have been reawakened and he felt her pleasure.”
Raffaele’s head jerked back in shock and he stared at his cousin with dismay before asking in a bare whisper, “He gave her pleasure?”
“They’re possible life mates too, Raff,” Santo said solemnly, as if that said everything, and it did. The passion between Jess and Vasco would be as strong as it was between him and her.
“But she likes you,” Zanipolo said now, and Raff peered at him blankly.
“What?”
“She likes you,” Zanipolo repeated. “She doesn’t really like Vasco. The passion is there, but she doesn’t want it to be. He’s too crude for her with his talk about trout and jugs. And she’s horrified at his being a vampirate. And he has greasy hair. Those things along with the horror she was experiencing helped her fight the passion, and luck gave her the opportunity to escape before he could consummate their passion.”
“But she might not be so lucky a second time,” Santo pointed out in a rumble.
“And you know once she experiences the full life mate passion with him . . .” Zanipolo shook his head, not bothering to say more. But he didn’t have to. If Jess experienced the passion life mates enjoyed with Vasco without knowing she could also have it with him, she might very well overlook the things she didn’t like. Greasy hair could be washed. She could insist he alter his speech around her and he would. Any immortal would for a life mate. He might even give up his ship and being rogue for her, and just the promise of that combined with the life mate passion would most likely make her agree to be his mate.
Raff sank down onto the nearest chair and stared at his cousins briefly before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I figured you’d do the whole fair thing,” Zanipolo admitted quietly.
“Fair thing?” he asked with bewilderment.
“You’d feel you had to tell her about immortals, and explain everything before you tried wooing her,” he said dryly.
“Yes,” he admitted, because that was the right thing to do.
“It won’t work here, Raff. What she saw Ildaria do to Tyler . . .” He shook his head. “If I weren’t one myself and didn’t know Ildaria was breaking our laws, I’d think we were monsters too.”
Raffaele scowled, but said, “I’m sure if I explain things properly, she’ll understand and—”
“Read my mind,” Zanipolo interrupted with exasperation.
“What? Why?” Raffaele asked with surprise.
“Because explaining it will not have the same impact as seeing what Jess saw. I’m thinking of what I saw in her mind. Of exactly what she saw. Read my mind so you can see it for yourself, and then tell me again that explaining will help anything.”
Raffaele’s mouth tightened, but he slid into the other man’s mind and then stilled at the visuals coming at him.
“Dear God,” he whispered, quickly withdrawing from Zanipolo’s mind.
“Yeah.” Zani nodded. “Explaining is not going to cut it if you do not have some kind of hook in her first. You need to seduce her, show her life mate passion, show her that you are perfect for each other, and then, maybe after a couple months of ravishing her, once she is good and hooked on the sex, you can explain about what we are and whatnot. But, cugino, if you tell her you’re an immortal like Vasco right now, she will be running away screaming from you too.”
Raffaele nodded silently, seeing the wisdom behind the suggestion. After what she’d seen Ildaria do, Jess was not going to be willing to hear anything he had to say if he admitted to being an immortal too. He needed to do some serious wooing here. Not just seducing, but everything and anything he could do to make her feel safe and secure with him. She needed to trust him fully before he revealed what he was to her, or he would lose her.
For a moment, Raffaele debated what to do first. Seduce her? Or get her to the American embassy and seduce her after that? After all, surely they wouldn’t be able to get her a passport the same day? They’d have to check to be sure she was who she claimed to be. Wouldn’t they? And that would give him at least one night to seduce her. Wouldn’t it? Raffaele didn’t know. He had no idea how long it would take her to get a replacement passport or a flight out, and that was a problem. If he took her to the embassy first, he risked her leaving before he could seduce her.
“We have a kind of plan that will allow you to do both—seduce her and get her to the U.S. embassy,” Zanipolo said suddenly, obviously reading his thoughts.
Raffaele merely raised an eyebrow in question at the news, not at all surprised that the man had been reading his thoughts.
“We asked about the embassy. It’s in Arroyo Hondo, a section of Santo Domingo. That’s about a three-and-a-half-hour drive from here,” Zanipolo informed him. “But the office closes at four thirty.”
Raffaele glanced at the wall clock. It was just before nine o’clock now. That gave them seven and a half hours until it closed. Plenty of time to get her there.
“Not if we work it right,” Zanipolo assured him as if he’d spoken the thoughts aloud. “Say she’s another hour in the tub and then dressing and stuff. Then we take her to breakfast.”
“I was going to order room service,” he said with a frown.
“Even better,” Zanipolo said with a grin. “I asked about room service breakfast while we were in the restaurant and they said it usually takes a good hour for breakfast to be delivered in the morning, or even more depending on when you order it.”
“That’s one hour down,” he said quietly.
“Right, so you eat here and then we take a taxi into town to a car rental place to rent a car for the drive. Another hour if we’re lucky.”
“That still leaves five and half hours to get there before it closes,” he said with a sigh.
“We have to stop for lunch,” Zanipolo pointed out. “And probably for a bathroom break.” He shrugged. “We get there just after it closes, and then rent a suite at a nearby hotel. She’s away from here, safe from Vasco, and will be able to go to the embassy the next morning. She’ll relax, you’ll relax, and bada boom bada bing! Life mate sex, fireworks, an orchestra plays ‘Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life’ and you—”
“What?” Raffaele interrupted with disbelief.
“He watched Young Frankenstein again the night before we flew out,” Santo said dryly.
Raffaele just shook his head, not sure what the hell he was talking about.
“Never mind,” Zanipolo said with a laugh. “Point is, you’ll get to both take her where she wants to go, and seduce her.”
“Hmm,” Raffaele murmured, admitting to himself that it was a good plan.
Jess stared silently at her toes sticking out of the bubbles and tried to relax, but her mind was spinning with worries and questions. Vasco, pirates, and vampires were only a part of them and they fell in the worries department rather than the questions area. After all, she knew that Vasco was a pirate captain and a vampire. She also knew he thought she was his life mate, whatever that was, and that he was determined to get her into his bed. So . . . worry, not questions. The questions all came in with Raffaele and his cousins.
Jess let her feet sink into the warm, sudsy bathwater and leaned her head back as she considered the three cousins. They’d dragged her from the ocean, well, Raffaele had, and had brought her here to their room, and . . . basically they’d been taking care of, and saving, her again and again since. Raffaele had saved her from being taken by Cristo when the pirate had taken control of her and would have forced her on the bus, he’d carried her back down here when she had her hysterics about her passport and such missing, and he’d grabbed her legs and dragged her down to his balcony when Vasco had nearly caught her.
Thinking of that made her remember the terrible thud of the pirate captain hitting the ground four stories below the balcony and Jess found herself wondering if he was all right. Frowning, she gave her head a shake. Of course he was all right, he was a vampire. A fall couldn’t kill him. Besides, she shouldn’t even be worrying about that. She should be wondering how to escape or, alternately, kill the monster.
That thought definitely caused conflict in Jess. She couldn’t kill Vasco. To be honest, she didn’t even want to. He hadn’t hurt her. In fact, he’d given her great pleasure . . . when he wasn’t talking. And, in truth, she wasn’t really afraid of him. Ildaria? Yes, she was definitely afraid of her. And she was even afraid of Cristo. When it came to Vasco, though, she was more afraid of herself and what he made her feel . . . the temptation he presented.
“All right, you’ve lost your mind,” she told herself grimly. “He’s a threat to your very life and soul.”
Is he? part of her mind asked. Surely he wouldn’t turn her without her agreeing? Besides, everyone who went on that boat seemed to have returned perfectly fine. Well, except maybe for being a quart or so lower on blood, she supposed. Maybe she would have too . . . after experiencing the best sex of her life. And you know it would have been good. Just the foreplay was mind-blowing.
“The man is a vampire. A bloodsucking fiend,” she reminded herself firmly.
But a hell of a kisser, the little voice in her head countered, and Jess groaned and slid down in the tub, allowing the water to cover her head briefly. She sat up again a moment later, but her thoughts were no clearer on the subject. The part of her that was able to reason knew she should be afraid of the man and do everything possible to escape this power he had over her. But another part, mostly her lady parts, she suspected, wasn’t so sure.
Unable to resolve the issue, Jess pushed it away and turned her thoughts to the questions she had, which mostly had to do with Raffaele. The man had saved her three times, four if you included his picking her up and carrying her down here when she’d had her fit of hysterics on finding all of her things missing. He’d rescued her, and offered her rest and respite in his hotel room, and hadn’t asked for a thing in return.
Jess almost would have been happier had he tried to seduce her while she was distressed. At least then she’d have understood his motivations, but he’d been a complete gentleman. Why was he taking up his vacation helping her?
She understood, or thought she understood, why his cousins were helping. Santo and Zanipolo were obviously helping him, not really her, but why was Raffaele doing it? And why the hell hadn’t he kissed her yet? If he did, and it was even close to the passion Vasco had shown her, she might at least have something to help her fight the temptation the pirate presented.
And how sad was that? she thought grimly. Vasco was a soulless vampire who lured unsuspecting tourists onto his ship to feed off of, and that wasn’t enough to keep her from lusting after him. But as ashamed as she was to admit it, part of her panic when he’d caught her hand while she was trying to escape had been a result of the awareness that had shot through her the moment his skin made contact with hers.
She’d felt that same awareness, though, when Raffaele had wrapped his arms around her legs to prevent her being dragged upward by Vasco. For one moment, before he’d tugged her free, Jess had felt pulled in two directions. Not by the men, so much as her own desires. Which was why she had questions about Raffaele. Why was he helping her? Had he felt the same pull of attraction? Was he just resisting it? If so, why? Was he, maybe, married? Or did he have a serious girlfriend or fiancée?
Jess scowled. The thought of Raffaele already being taken was a depressing one, but did it really matter? she asked herself. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to have the opportunity to have a relationship. Maybe if she didn’t have to get out of there, find the embassy, and fly home to stay safe from Vasco, things would have been different. They could have had a vacation romance or something if he was single, but as things stood, staying wasn’t an option.
Still, if he could give her the same passion Vasco had inspired in her, resisting the pirate would be easier. But since the man showed no interest in that, she just had to get the heck away from the resort and to the embassy as quickly as she could.
With that thought in mind, Jess sat up and glanced over the small bottles with the hotel logo on them. Spotting the one that said shampoo, she grabbed and opened it. She’d lollygagged long enough in the bath. It was time to get moving.