Forbidden Love: Marco (Bellanti Brothers Book 6) by Stella Gray

Author:Stella Gray [Gray, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781957647111
Publisher: Paige Press, LLC
Published: 2022-08-22T18:30:00+00:00

16

KARINA

Marco is taking me to Half Moon Bay so we can be alone and celebrate my twentieth birthday.

I’ve never been so relieved to get out of town.

When he told me to pack a bag this morning, I was surprised—and a little worried. Even though he tries to hide it, I can tell that Marco isn’t bouncing back from his car wreck quite as fast as he’d hoped. An impromptu trip seemed like it might be the last thing he needs. But my fears instantly melted away when he explained that we were going away to get a little R and R, just the two of us. I couldn’t argue with that. Some time away might heal both of us. Lots of naps, no schedule, zero pressure. Who knows, maybe even a spa day.

I just wish I could get the images of his accident out of my head.

“So? Which is it going to be?” Marco asks.

“Which one is the most expensive?” I tease.

“The McLaren,” he says, leading me over to it without batting an eye. It’s a flashy thing, all swoops and candy colored orange paint. “What do you think? You sure you can handle all that horsepower?”

“I can handle you, can’t I?” I laugh. “But maybe not this one. I think I want something…prettier.”

We’re in the garage where he keeps all his cars, because, yes—for the first time ever, I am going to be driving one of his precious babies. That was my one condition for going on this trip. Not because I crave the feel of the open road the way that my husband does, but because I want him to be as comfortable as possible on the two-hour journey. Plus, it’ll be fun. Freeing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of metallic blue peeking out from under a car cover. Bingo.

“What’s this one?” I ask, heading over to it.

With a grin, Marco pulls the cover off, leaving me gasping. “Pretty enough for you?”

“Oh my God, Marco. A classic Mustang convertible? She’s gorgeous! Is it a ’65?”

“Close. Sixty-six,” he says, sounding impressed at my knowledge. “That’s the original paint, too. Tahoe turquoise.”

I run my hand lovingly along the driver’s side door. “This one. I want to take this one.”

“It’s a manual,” Marco adds. “That okay?”

“You think I can’t drive a stick?” I smirk. “Well, lucky for you, my cousin taught me when I was sixteen. I might be a little rusty, but don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

After I rib my husband for never taking his prettiest car out for a spin, I hold my hand out for the keys and get the mirrors and the driver’s seat adjusted while he puts the top down for me. Soon enough, we’re on the 80 West, and I’m relishing the feel of the wind tossing my ponytail.

Our uber-exclusive resort hotel turns out to be a picturesque, Spanish-style villa, and when we check in, I find out that Marco made the booking under a fake name so that we’d have maximum privacy—and an extra layer of security.

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