Who had lied to her? "Then what?"

She bit her full lower lip to still its quivering, the lip he should have between his teeth right now. His cock stirred.

She met his gaze, a crease in her brow. "Were you a gigolo?"

Aw, shit. He did not want to talk about those dark days of his youth. He had no doubt where she'd heard about Master Marco. He'd shunned the title of Master at the club and elsewhere, hoping to shed all connections to his ill-spent youth.

How to respond? "A what?"

"Melissa said you used to perform...um, special services here at the resort. She hinted they were of a sexual nature. Is that true?"

Fucking Melissa strikes again.

Marc relaxed and forced a smile to his lips. "I see my reputation lives on." He brushed the hair behind her ear. When she didn't smile back, he sighed and grew serious. She needed to know all about him and what he'd been. Truth-telling time, no matter how distasteful it might be to say the words or remember that time in his life.

"It's not as sordid as Melissa made it sound." Not that it was wholesome either. Marc took a deep breath and began, "When I was seventeen, a guest at the hotel-a wealthy woman in her forties-introduced me to BDSM. I was bored, out of control really. It wasn't about sex." Marc needed to be clear about that from the start. "There was never sex with her or any of the women who followed. No money ever exchanged hands." Did she really think him capable of that, even all those years ago?

What about...?

Focus.

His pulse raced. Marc pulled her head against his shoulder and stroked her silky hair remembering how he enjoyed brushing it out for her some evenings. Almost as effective as a spanking to relax her.

"Over the next few years, I gained a reputation among her friends-and then their friends-for a willingness to play the Dom in their fantasies. I was more their Service Top, if you will. In-the-know female guests would call me to their rooms or cabins. I wasn't attracted to the women. I would call this my Dom-in-training period." He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. He'd been so fucked up back then. The women had given him a sense of purpose, twisted though it had been.

Angelina was so quiet he had to push her away and lift her face in order to gauge her reaction. Tears shone in her eyes. Shit. Had he blown it again by not telling her about this part of his past? There were many things he was ashamed of and would rather not reveal to Angelina, but...

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "They used you, Sir."

That she addressed him as if they were being formal surprised him. Perhaps she had a need to nurture him at the moment, bringing out her submissive side. Even more surprising, though, were her words. Obviously, she'd misunderstood.

"No, it wasn't like that. They didn't use me. I probably used them more than anything."

She touched her index finger to his lips to quiet him. "You were nothing more than a plaything to relieve the lack of excitement in their lives. To fill the void left from the emptiness of their loveless marriages."

Marc tried not to think about this period in his life. The only void he'd been trying to fill was the one in his own life. She made it sound as if he was a victim. Hell, he was seventeen. Lots of his friends were doing worse things sexually than he was doing with those women at that age.

"They had no interest in helping you understand your innate need to dominate. They exploited you."

Hell, in retrospect, he wasn't sure he had dominated anyone. They had topped from the bottom, getting whatever they wanted, not necessarily what they needed.

Probably not what Marc needed, either.

"I'm not sure my need to dominate was innate. It was a diversion at the time. I was bored."

She smiled. "Oh, Sir, you very much have a natural need to dominate. Karla and I talked about it a couple of months ago. You, Adam, and Damian use the lifestyle to establish control over yourselves and your lives, especially since your last deployment."

"You girls have been talking about your Doms behind their backs?"

She glanced away. "Sometimes you leave us to ourselves too long. Subs talk." She shrugged and grinned as she looked back up at him. "It helps us improve as submissives to learn to please our Doms better, so we share information."

Marc wasn't sure if she was bullshitting him and making excuses for gossiping with her friend but one thing he knew was that he'd fought a losing battle trying to get those women at the resort to allow him to take charge of the scenes the way a more experienced Dom might have done. Still, something changed in him during his time with the cougars. Afterward, he was able to stand up to Mama and choose a degree that fit his personality better. He may have even used that newfound inner strength to make his decision to join the Navy and set a new course for his life.

"I didn't truly find Domspace until I met you, pet. I just went through the motions." For Angelina, he wanted to be the best Dom he could be. After merely playacting at the role for so long, he still wasn't sure he knew what the fuck he was doing. In truth, he'd learned more about what it meant to be a responsible Dom by watching Adam and Damian in recent years.

"I hate that they took advantage of you, Marc."

Wanting to get off this topic, he stroked her cheek. "It's the past. I must say, though, I like your possessive streak."

She quirked her brow at him in question.

"The way you stood up to Melissa...sublime. Thank you for believing in me, amore."

She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap, but didn't meet his gaze. Shit. Something else was wrong. He waited until, in a small voice, she asked, "When did you break up with Melissa?"

Marc's heart pounded again with a vengeance. Would he ever be rid of Melissa and the memories of the past? He wished he could watch that vindictive bitch's backside beat a hasty retreat for the last time. He'd never been more ashamed of anything in his life than his last two encounters with her. Marc didn't want Angelina to know about that part of his past. But he had hurt her before by lying about how they'd met, almost losing her. Their time apart had made him miserable, even though they'd only known each other a few days at the time. He wouldn't lie to her again even if he thought a lie would be better than the truth.

He swallowed hard and cupped her chin until she met his gaze. "As I said before, anything I might have had with Melissa ended abruptly that September day. Unfortunately, that day also ended my relationship with Gino." Something flashed in her eyes and then dimmed. Dio, he didn't want to share this with her. He realized how important it was to have Angelina love and accept him, but how could she love the cad he'd been?

He glanced down at the floor. "While that was the end of any emotional attachment, we had two physical encounters after that. I'm ashamed to say both included sex, not just play scenes."

When Angelina tried to get off his lap, he held her tight and forced her to meet his gaze. "Wait." Her chin quivered in his fingers, breaking his heart. "Angelina, neither time meant anything to me, but..."

His chest constricted. He fought to breathe. He needed to tell her but couldn't find the words.

Trapped.

The walls began closing in on him.

"No, Gino! Stop lying!"

Needing some breathing room, he twisted until he could seat Angelina on the mattress beside him and stood up. "I'm going downstairs for a while."

Marc walked toward the door needing to get the fuck away from her. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment, even revulsion, he was certain he would find in her eyes if he told her anything more. That time in his life wasn't open for reexamination.

"Marc!"

"Don't wait up. I may be late." He let the door slam and decided to take the stairs to expend some energy.

What was that bullshit Melissa said about him not being a D'Alessio? He'd come to Aspen this weekend to give Angelina a chance to meet his family, perhaps even to ask her to marry him. Was this his family? He was surprised how much it mattered that he be a D'Alessio in more than name. If he wasn't, where did he belong?

Marc needed to alleviate the crushing weight smothering him right now. He couldn't face Angelina knowing the truth about his sleazy past. He'd revealed enough. There had been two more times with Melissa. She didn't need the tawdry details.

Downstairs in the lounge, he walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, ordering a bottle of his favorite pinot bianco. When Karen, the bartender, poured him a taste, he took the bottle and filled the glass. He knew it would be good. He needed to get numb, fast.

"Where's Angelina?"

Marc looked up to find Damian taking a seat on the stool next to him, carrying an open bottle of Dos Equis with him.

"Upstairs." His buddy was alone, as well. Marc asked about Savi and Marisol, not that he'd expect to see the little girl here in the bar.

"I think you wore Marisol out on the slopes today." He could see the disappointment in Damian's eyes and wished he'd been able to get his friend to try skiing. With his athletic build, he'd have managed fine, but it would have been easier if he'd just get the blade prosthesis Marc had seen other amputees use on the slopes rather than try to hide the fact he was missing his foot.

Not that it was any of Marc's business. He couldn't even regain control of his own life, and he'd been much less affected by their deployment than Damian had been. For now, Marc was content for them each to drink in companionable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Karen placed several bowls of snacks in front of them, apparently figuring the two of them were about to drink their dinner. He nodded his thanks.

Damian reached for a handful of pistachios and laid them in a row in front of him. He opened one and set the shells aside. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Was he sending out some sort of "let's talk" vibe or something? "Not particularly." Change of subject needed. "Tell me more about you and Savi. Where did you meet her?"

Marc listened to Damian's story with more interest than he'd expected. Another reluctant hero. Finding an abused Angelina in the club last August under his watch as Dungeon Monitor Supervisor, Marc fully understood how Damian felt about rescuing Savi from those sadists at the hotel where he'd worked.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a kid?"

"Didn't know myself until a couple weeks ago."

Damn. That was hard. Damian would have loved being a father to Marisol. Quickly doing the math, he figured Damian had probably been deployed when she was born, or soon after. Marc remembered how close they'd come to losing Damian, more from his depression than his wounds. Then it hit him.

"Merda! She's the Savannah you were always talking about in Fallujah!" The girl had followed his friend's thoughts into the morass when he'd been recovering at Balboa, too.

Damian nodded. "Yeah, but don't call her Savannah. She'll bite your head off and spit it back at you."

"Duly noted." Marc drained his glass and poured another. He wondered what had happened to split them up-and what had brought them back together-but didn't want to pry into the man's personal life any more than Marc wanted anyone prying into his.

He didn't want to talk about Angelina, either. Or about what Melissa had said. Better to just keep drinking. Maybe he could get ripped before he went back upstairs. If he was really lucky, Angelina would be asleep, and he wouldn't have to talk about the past anymore.

Damian drained his bottle and motioned for another, telling him they'd be leaving in the morning. "Thanks for everything. Seeing Savi and Marisol laughing out there today was great."

He'd forgotten how much he'd enjoyed giving ski lessons at his family's resort. His family's.

"Glad to have you all here." Marc came to a decision. "Looks like we'll be leaving tomorrow, too." The sooner he could get away from Aspen, the better.

"I thought you were going to stick around and visit with your family some more."

"Change of plans."

Karen set another bottle in front of Damian, who said, "Angelina said she liked them."

Marc grinned. "They like her a lot, too. I tried to tell her she had nothing to worry about."

Damian mentioned that Adam and Karla were returning from their honeymoon tomorrow. Adam had been like a big brother to Marc since Fallujah. After his falling out with Gino and his brother's untimely death, a long time passed before Marc had trusted anyone enough to confide in them. Adam always gave great advice, sometimes as a big-brother figure, sometimes as master sergeant.

Shit, who was he kidding? Despite an invitation to stop by, Marc decided there was no fucking way he wanted to see Adam right now. The man would probably interrogate him until he told him what the fuck was going on. Marc needed some time on the mountain alone first. He needed breathing room.

"Tell them we'll invite them over later this week. Angelina would love to cook something up. Why don't you all come over, too?"

"I'd like that, but I'll have to check with Savi."

The two finished their drinks, lost in their own thoughts.

Should he talk with Mama and Papa about what Melissa had said? Why was he so afraid to do so? Afraid to upset them-or afraid to hear the truth? He'd tried not to make a big deal about Melissa's accusation when he was with Angelina, but something kept niggling at the edges of his mind. What if...?

No, it was ridiculous. He belonged to this family. Why else would Mama and Papa have visited him in the hospital in Germany at the height of ski season? If that didn't show he was family, nothing would.

He admitted he hadn't felt like a part of the family before that. He'd set himself apart from them in so many ways. Marc didn't have the business drive of Mama and Gino. Even Sandro and Carmella exhibited that trait. Marc hadn't figured out his calling until he'd enlisted in the Navy. But had he been the one placing distance between himself and his family, or had they?

He decided to ignore Melissa's accusations. She only wanted to cause trouble. Did she think his new girl was a gold-digger, too? This had all been about undermining Angelina's sense of security, hoping she'd leave Marc so Melissa could go after him full force. As if he'd fall for her again. However, Angelina had recognized the family name earlier at daVinci's bar.

No! She isn't Melissa!

Talk about insecurities! Shit, he knew she had no interest in his money or his family name. She'd fallen in love with him as a person before she knew where he lived or where he came from. With Angelina, he felt a sense of belonging. She loved Marc-and not because she wanted his money, his family name, or anything else. She just loved him.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He ran his hand through his hair. Why did Angelina put up with his shit?

"Merda." Marc stood up. Hell, he hadn't even seen to it that she ate dinner tonight. Some fucking Dom he was. "I need to go check on Angelina."

Goddamn Melissa to hell for intruding in his life again.

After determining that Damian wasn't interested in joining him and Angelina for dinner, he motioned to Karen and settled both checks.

Was the family that owned Bella Montagna really his by birth? Why did he have the feeling everything he'd known about himself his entire life would turn out to be a lie?

Did he really want to know the truth?

Chapter Five.

Angelina lay curled into a ball on the humongous, empty bed. The thermostat had been set low because she and Marc liked to share body heat, but without him here, she was freezing. Lying with Marc, tangled up in his arms and legs, she'd always felt so cherished, protected...loved.

Dio, she missed him. Her heart ached.

Why was he running from her? Heck, maybe she was the one who ought to be running. What wasn't he telling her about Melissa? If the woman truly meant nothing to him any longer, he wouldn't get so emotional talking about her.

Maybe she should have let Tony take her home after all. She and Marc had a lot to work out, but they weren't going to do that in a place like this. She wanted to get back to what resembled real life and get out of this messed-up fantasy.

Funny, but she'd come here fighting her own insecurities. Marc had worked hard to get her to accept herself as beautiful, at least in his eyes. Melissa's hurtful comments about her weight didn't sting nearly as much as they would have four months ago. At dinner last night, she'd forgotten all of her insecurities. Marc's family welcomed her as if she belonged in their world, and their lives; they even seated her as the guest of honor.

Now she didn't know if Marc was even going to return to their room tonight. She'd been accepted by his family only to be rejected by him. Well, rejected was too strong a word. Neglected, maybe. But this weekend, she had discovered Marc had a few insecurities of his own. In some ways, that knowledge endeared him to her even more. Marc usually had an arrogant Dom swagger, but at other times, he seemed like a lost little boy. He accepted her, along with her insecurities and imperfections. How could she expect him to have none? She wasn't looking for a perfect man, secure in himself all the time.

Still, Marc had been used by so many women in the past. No wonder he didn't trust her gender. Would he ever be able to let down his guard with anyone-with her? To think she thought she was the one with trust issues after what Allen had done. Clearly, if she was going to establish a lifelong commitment with Marc, they'd have to work on some of his issues.

"Don't wait up." His hurtful dismissal reverberated through her mind. As if she could sleep without him.