Kidnapped

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

- TATUYANNA TORRONO >

I stare at the open champagne and wine bottles. "How did you find my wine cellar?" I squint in Marco's direction.

He's grinning from ear to ear. "The guys and I did a total sweep of the house. It was so much fun." He burst into a laugh, throwing his head back. "Rico here fell down the last four steps of the modern stairs." He pats Rico's shoulders while the rest of the guys join in roars of laughter.

"Is that true?" Ares asks Rico, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. His ears were blood-red, an embarrassment in his tone as he said. "It's this house! The interior design is fuckin' flawed."

Alessia laughs out loud, clapping her hands. "You just can't use the stairs right." Dante chips in. I hold back a laugh that threatens to bubble up my throat, the second Rico glanced at me, or more like glared at me as a warning not to laugh.

He rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his wine. "You know what? Let's toast to this." Marco stands with struggle, a goofy smile on his face. 

Rico's eyebrows lower. "To what? That I can't use the stairs? It's not my fault the stairs are too far apart in between." He defends himself. "It's okay buddy, I can't use the stairs when I'm drunk either, but that's beside the point! This beautiful woman right here," He slightly sways as he uses his glass to point at me. 

"She's given us a lovely weekend vacation house we could have a good time in. My best friends each have their. . . their elements in this house. Dante has the library. Ric-co has the art room, Marco has the kitchen, and my dear Ares. . . he has the love of his life in this very room! To love and support! Cheers to that!"

My cheeks burn, and my eyes chase Ares, as I follow everyone's lead and raise my glass to join everyone. He avoids my gaze and doesn't seem bothered at all. Hell, he's not even denying it, but he's not entertaining the accusation either. 

One thing is certain tonight. Marco's drunk. He's intoxicated and I can't trust him when he's not in his right mind. "I love you, man," He says. "I love all of you." 

"Here he goes." Ares grumbles under his breath, looking at Marco with annoyance, leaning back in his seat and his button-down exposing a little of his chest. I realize he likes this look. justifiably, he always does have the appearance of a Greek sculptor and he knows this.

He knows he's fine. Finer than fine, and I've acknowledged this a long time ago. Now that I've finally had a taste, I am literally salivating as my eyes take a slow once-over of his body. He meets my wondering gaze and raises a perfectly shaped, questioning eyebrow. 

I couldn't pull away even if I tried. My lips part, some words trying to escape. Some kind of excuse. Yet nothing comes to mind, my focus solely on his lips.

A slow smirk builds it's way onto them. Humiliatingly, the sight had an instant pool of arousal between my legs. He leans in close to my ear and whispers. "I could get used to this look in your eyes."

"What look?" I ask, gulping when I feel the familiar sensation of his hand on my thigh.

He looks around, making sure no one's listening. That wasn't a problem since everyone was engrossed in a storytime Rico was telling.

"If you continue looking at me like you're hungry, I might bend you over right here, right now. In front of all our friends." He places a chaste kiss on my ear, sending shivers down my spine. My humiliation turns into anger amalgamated with intense desire, and I keep from glaring at him.

I smile instead. "I don't know what you're talking about." I say, my gaze anywhere but in his direction.  

Suddenly Marco semi-yells. "I love all you motherfuckers. . ." His tone softens "Except you lovely ladies. I love you separately and respectfully, but it's all love in the end, right? I might just cry." His hand covers his eyes as he bows his head.