Chapter Thirteen: Who's the Boss?
"Yeah, it's me." Hulking, sweaty, Marco Maselli shot a sleepy-eyed glance towards the rumpled bed, where his slumbering victim lay face down, unaware of his hushed voice. "No problem, boss. She missed it all right. Yeah. Still out like a light. Okay, I will. No problem. Catch you later."
"Marco?" A groggy Mary lifted her tousled head from the pillow, a stray lock of shining golden hair tumbling across her face. For a moment her droopy green eyes rested dreamily on the muscular, half-naked man standing by the window. Then she took in the reddish glow of the sinking sun, and the long, slanting shadows falling across the sweaty sheets. "Oh, my goodness. What time is it?"
"Dinner time, doll face. I figure we can go out for steaks. You like your steaks well done?" The tough ex-con dropped the slim silver cell phone back in the pockets of his swim shorts, not caring whether the slender young woman sprawled on the bed caught sight of his casual gesture of concealment.
"Go out for steaks? It can't be time for dinner! I slept for a while, but . . . but the board meeting was for 10AM. I told you how important it was . . . Why didn't you wake me?" Fully awake now, Mary sprang out of bed, her long legs carrying her to the pool of blood-red sunlight by the window. She didn't even bother with a robe to cover herself.
"You were tired. When I uncuffed you after the pirate game, you said you wanted to sleep. You slept all right." Marco drew down the shades of his small apartment, just in case his nosy neighbors saw the golden-haired goddess who was standing naked before him, trembling with fury and disbelief.
"You bastard!" Mary slapped his face, a good hard ringing slap that seemed to echo in the stuffy air of the bedroom. "You scheming, lying treacherous bastard! Did you plan this? How much did Elizabeth pay you to betray me?" She pulled back her hand for another blow, but Marco caught it at once.
"Knock it off," he growled, his dark face just inches from hers. "You think those board members don't know Elizabeth wants to take your place? You think she wasn't counting on ambushing you today?"
"Let go of me!" Mary's hiss of fury didn't quite hide the confusion in her sea-green eyes. Had Marco been protecting her or betraying her? She remembered the way he'd cuffed her to the bed, and the memory fired her blood to boiling. Her anger surged as she tried to twist her wrist from Marco's grasp, but the sexy, big-muscled Italian was far too strong.
"What are you going to do, doll face? Call the board members? Apologize? Who the hell do they think you are, ordering you around like a secretary? Who's really in charge of Tudor Industries, you or Elizabeth? Who's the boss?"
"I am!" Mary gave a mighty yank, only Marco released her hand a little too quickly, so that she staggered backwards with a sharp cry and then went tumbling back onto the bed. "I just don't understand how I could have slept so long," she mumbled. Without meaning to, Mary began rubbing her sore wrist, the thin red marks left by the cuffs bringing back more memories of her own unladylike behavior. She kept seeing Marco as the pirate captain, taming her with brutal kisses. Handcuffing her to the bed and making her obey his orders.
"Elizabeth thinks she can throw a scare into you," Marco said softly. "She thinks that every time she audits the books, you'll rush in scared, begging for more time. Today you stood up for yourself. You threw a scare into her. Hell, we threw a scare into her. And I know how to keep her scared."
"You do?" Mary looked up, her huge, innocent green eyes full of anguished mixed emotions. "I want to trust you, Marco. I want to trust you so much! But how can I be sure . . ."
"Get dressed," Marco commanded, as though he were still the pirate captain in the game they had been playing. "Over dinner tonight I'll introduce you to a guy who was a cop back when Elizabeth's father ran this town. A guy who knows how old man O'Hara broke all the rules. A guy who can prove Elizabeth has gone on bending the rules and getting away with murder, right up till the day you took over."
"Marco! Do you really know someone who can help prove that Elizabeth is guilty? Do you trust him? Do you really think he'll talk? There are so many questions I'd like to ask him!"
"Slow down, beautiful." Marco caught Mary in his arms as she jumped up from the bed. This time she didn't make even the slightest effort to break his very firm hold over her. "Before we meet McCluskey for dinner, you have to answer one of my questions."
"What question is that, Marco?" Mary frowned, trembling inside at the idea that Marco was going to ask her something so naughty that it would lead to more games on the bed.
"Do you like your steaks rare or well done?"