“The council will replace it,” Dante assured her.
“Ah,” Mary said again. The RV had been totaled then. She wasn’t surprised. She had a vague recollection of them rolling. RVs were not good at rolling. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she asked, “And the kidnappers?”
He shook his head unhappily.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said sincerely.
Dante’s mouth tightened, but he merely said, “They will try again. Russell is sure they followed us here from the accident sight.”
“Russell and Francis,” Mary murmured slowly. He’d mentioned both names earlier as she recalled and she tilted her head and then asked, “Are they the men Lucian sent?”
“Yes.” Dante nodded and then asked, “You are all right?”
Mary blinked in surprise at the question, and then recalled that he’d entered because she’d called out in shock when she’d first seen herself. Shifting her gaze back to her reflection in the mirror, she marveled over it again. It was incredible, and made her wonder how long she had been out. How long did a turn and this kind of transformation take? Before she could ask, a knock sounded at the door of the bedroom. Mary turned to peer at him in question.
“Wait here. It is probably room service,” he said, turning away. “I was getting hungry and ordered food.”
Mary watched him go, and then turned her gaze back to herself. It was probably horrible of her to admit it, but she was quite enthralled by the wonder before her. Dante had turned her. She was at her peak condition. All of her, she thought suddenly, and losing interest in her face, reached for the hem of the overlarge T-shirt she wore and jerked it up.
Mary pulled it all the way up to her neck, leaving only her throat and shoulders covered. She then stared at what she could see of her body in the mirror. High, full, firm breasts, a much smaller stomach than she was used to seeing, but still with a soft roundness, and the tops of curvaceous hips. Wishing she had a full-length mirror, Mary continued to hold up the shirt and turned to look over her shoulder to see what her peak-condition butt looked like. She had to get up on her tiptoes to be able to see it, but once she did . . .
Damnnnn, Mary thought with wonder, she had one fine ass. It was bigger than she’d expected. Apparently, a female body in peak condition was not a body that looked like a skinny boy’s body minus the penis as all of today’s models seemed to have. Who knew?
Shaking her head, Mary turned back around to look at her front again. This time she didn’t just look though. Releasing one edge of the T-shirt, she slid that hand over her body, running it lightly over smooth, taut skin, amazed it didn’t all disappear and turn into the body she’d become used to.
“Oh, mio dolce Dio.”
Mary jerked her gaze upward at that comment and positively beamed at Dante’s reflection when she saw that he’d returned, and that he was staring at her with a combination of shock and pure unadulterated lust. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to return to find her feeling herself up, she thought with amusement and slowly let her T-shirt drop back down as she turned to face him. “Dolce means ‘sweet’ in Italian, yes?”
“Si,” he breathed, staring at her chest as if he could see through the cloth.
“So you said, ‘My sweet God’?”
“Si,” Dante repeated and started forward. Mary immediately grabbed the door and swung it shut in his face. Just before the door closed, she saw shock claim his expression as he realized what she was doing.
“You said you were hungry. Go eat,” Mary ordered as she locked the door. “I’m all greasy and want a shower.”
“But Mary,” he groaned. “Sei cosi bella mia uccellino. Permettetemi per lavare la schiena.”
Mary raised her eyebrows at the sudden spate of Italian. She didn’t understand a word of it. She’d only understood the dolce Dio thing because she’d seen La Dolce Vita several times on the Classic Movie Channel and had been curious enough to look up what it meant. As for the Dio part, well, everyone knew Dios mio meant “oh my God,” didn’t they? Although she suspected that might be Spanish, but she’d always heard that the two languages were quite similar.
She started to turn away, but curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “What did that mean?”
“‘You are so beautiful, my little bird. Let me wash your back,’” he translated. “Please, Mary.”