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  Their need for each other was feral. Arturo fucked her into the most glorious orgasm of her life, and Hero screamed out his name, again and again, delirious with pleasure. He fucked again on the floor, then in the shower, and when he came, he pumped thick creamy cum deep inside her belly, and she arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  They didn’t speak. Their lovemaking went on into the early hours, and by the time he kissed her goodbye, her cunt was aching from the pounding of his cock, and she was exhausted but satisfied. She almost asked him to stay, but knew it would be a mistake.

  Still, when he pressed his lips to hers and whispered “Tomorrow?” she nodded, knowing she would need her fix of him again.

  It was only later, when she was alone, that they’d forgotten to use a condom.

  Arturo drove home, smiling. God, she was intoxicating, and now. he knew her name. Hero. Hero Donati. No wonder she’d been bemused when he’d named them ‘Beatrice and Benedict’ from Much Ado About Nothing. He’d been so close to the truth, only one character out. He hated leaving her at the hotel, wanted her in his bed always, but he knew he had to tread carefully. She was clearly a flight risk.

  At home, he opened his laptop and typed her name into the search engine. Nothing. He added ‘Chicago’ and pressed enter. He would have missed the entry entirely if he hadn’t scrolled down the page. A death notice.

  Thomas and Beth Lambert, beloved husband and daughter of Hero D. Lambert. Funeral to be held at St. Maria of Sacred Heart, Thursday, 5th January. No flowers please. Donations to Chicago Children’s Hospital.

  A shock ran through Arturo. She had been married? Had a child? This explained that deep sadness in her eyes. God, poor kid. They had more in common that he had thought. He wondered how her husband and child had died and searching again found the newspaper report.

  Father and Daughter Killed in Horror Smash.

  Chicago: A father and daughter were killed Christmas Eve when a snow plow crashed into their Toyota in heavy snow at Kenosha. Schoolteacher Thomas Lambert, 30, and his three-year-old daughter, Beth were fatally injured, with the child pronounced dead at the scene, and Mr. Lambert transported to the nearest emergency room where he died five days after the crash. His wife, Hero Lambert, 26, remains in a coma, with life-threatening injuries. The snow plow’s driver was found to be five times over the drink-drive limit.

  A drunk driver, one second and Hero’s life destroyed. Arturo felt sick, and a little guilty for invading her privacy. If she had wanted him to know about her…

  No. He just wouldn’t tell her what he knew, that was best for now. If his plan to seduce her worked, then he would let her learn to trust to tell him in her own time.

  He closed his eyes. The thought of Hero, lying in the wreck of a car, screaming for her lost husband, her darling daughter made his chest hurt. Fuck, stop thinking about it. It’s none of your business. But she intrigued him beyond just fucking her.

  She looks so much like Flavia… is that the reason? He shook his head, sighing, and closing the laptop. Comparing the two women would not help matters.

  He went to bed, hoping to get a couple of hours sleep before he had to go to work, but his dreams were troubled with an image of Flavia’s dead body floating away from him and his Hero, lovely Hero, being stabbed to death in front of him by Flavia’s killer.

  In a foul mood because of his dreams, rather, nightmares, Arturo went into his office, mumbling a hello to his assistant, Marcella. She followed him in, ignoring (as she always did) his bad moon.

  “Peter called. He says he’s found a few promising options for the new hotel. He wants to know if you just want to put the Patrizzi apartments straight back on the market as is, or go ahead with the refurbishments.”

  Arturo sat down heavily in his chair. “Can you call the Patrizzi manager and ask if the apartment is occupied yet?”

  Marcella tapped her pencil on her pad. “I can. Can you answer my questions now?”

  Arturo hid a grin. He loved Marcella’s snarky manner—it kept him grounded. “Tell Pete to call me, please. I want to refurb the whole place. Might as well make some profit off it.”

  “Thank you. By the way… good morning.”

  Arturo did smile then. “Good morning, Marcella.”

  “Grouch.”

  “You’re fired.”

  Marcella grinned, knowing he didn’t mean it. “Want coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, you know where the coffee pot is.”

  Arturo laughed. American-born Marcella had worked with him for years, had been his confidante, his friend, almost his sister. When he got too arrogant, she would just stare at him, do the pencil tapping thing, until he backed down. She told him to fuck off to his face when he was rude to her; she brought him hot tea and pastries when he was down. A better big sister he couldn’t imagine even if she had been actually related to him.

  “Marcie… can I ask you something?”

  Marcella, who was halfway out of the door, stopped and studied him. “Work or pleasure?”

  “Pleasure.”

  “Ooh, gossip. Ask away.” She flopped into the chair opposite him and cross her long legs.

  Arturo cleared his throat. “I met someone.”

  Marcella’s eyes opened wide. “No. Way.” She looked excited for him but Arturo held up his hands.

  “It’s complicated.”

  Marcella sighed. “When isn’t it with you? Did you fuck her yet?”

  Arturo looked sheepish. “Turo.” Marcella stretched out his name, berating him. “Woo a girl, first. I know that monster in your pants has a mind of its own, but jeez…” She laughed but then looked at him, her eyes serious. “Do you like her?”

  “I do. But I don’t even know her—rather, she doesn’t want me to know anything. I… might have gleaned some facts on my own.”

  “Stalker.”

  “Well, exactly. I don’t want to invade her privacy, or overstep her boundaries. But I did find out something pretty major about her. Should I tell her I know?”

  Marcella shook her head. “No. That would freak her out, believe me. We women live in a world where any… invasion, however well-meaning or sweet… could mean something bad. Something like violence. So, no, Arturo, don’t tell her. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”

  “Thanks, Marcie.”

  “Who is she?”

  “That,” he said, nodding, “is what I intend to find out.”

  To be continued…

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  The water’s cold…She’s red hot!

  She sits on the white, rocky shore as I stalk her from behind.

  Her aspirations are as big as the Texas sky.

  I have other plans for the Yale College girl.

  Kinky plans!

  I’ll command her body and she’ll command my heart.

  The first step in my plan, make her crave my c*ck.

  Then everything else will fall into place.

  My only fear is that one day she’ll go away.

  Leaving me alone to miss her…

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