‘And I paid them more.’ A bored expression on his face, he glanced at his watch. ‘Your naïvety is incredibly touching. Did you really think I’d allow my wife to return to Sicily without the appropriate protection? I’m just pleased that you came home alone and didn’t bring your boyfriend. That would have been embarrassing for all concerned.’
She curled her hands over the seat, her knuckles whitening, worry suddenly choking all her fragile confidence. He seriously thought that Carlo was her lover? Wasn’t that just typical of the way the Sicilian male mind worked? Jealousy and possessiveness blinded reason every time, and she understood that his anger stemmed not from love but from the public dent to his pride.
He thought she’d lost her virginity to another man.
For a moment she sat there mute, so unaccustomed to standing up for herself that she didn’t know where to begin. And then she remembered exactly what sort of man he was and felt courage flicker to life inside her. If she was going to fight then it had to be now.
Like a diver braced to enter deep water, she drew in a breath and plunged. ‘I’m not coming back to you, Rocco. I don’t want to be married to you. I want a divorce.’ She’d rehearsed the words so many times that they flew from her lips with remarkable ease, and immediately she felt relief.
It was done.
No more lying awake at night, planning the best way to approach him. No more plucking up courage.
‘How can you not wish to be married to me,’ he drawled softly, ‘when the very last time we met you were standing in front of a priest and saying yes to that very question?’
‘That was when I thought you were a nice person.’
Amusement flickered in his dark gaze. ‘Francesca, tesoro, I am a nice person,’ he purred softly, thick dark lashes lowering slightly to conceal his expression. ‘How could you think otherwise? I’m always kind to old ladies and children.’
‘Y-ou don’t know any old ladies or children.’
‘But if I did—’ he gave a dismissive shrug and waved a bronze hand expressively ‘—I would be kind to them.’
‘And then you’d probably rob them,’ Chessie choked, turning away from the burning dark gaze that churned her insides into a turmoil. ‘You don’t think about anyone but yourself.’
‘On the contrary, I’ve thought of little but you since you walked away from our wedding. Do I need to remind you that you couldn’t wait to marry me? You had stars in your eyes from the moment I proposed. You were madly in love with me.’
A hot flush of humiliation engulfed her body, and she opened her mouth to utter a denial but it wouldn’t come. How could she give voice to such a blatant lie? She had been in love with him. It was just that love hadn’t been part of her plan. To begin with, marriage to Rocco had just seemed like the perfect escape from her father. It had been a chance to finally gain the freedom she’d craved for so long.
And then they’d spent time together and she’d done what every other woman did when they met Rocco—fallen for his dark, dangerous charm. It was something that she’d never told him, and the fact that he’d known how she’d felt about him made her want to slide underneath the nearest rock with embarrassment.
How he must have laughed at her, she thought to herself, looking out of the window to hide her misery. Rocco was a man who had models and actresses competing for his attention. Why would a clumsy, awkward girl who’d never been allowed to travel out of her local village have had a chance of snagging his attention?
‘I thought I was in love with you, yes, that’s true. But that was before I understood the sort of man you are. I could never love someone like you.’
She blurted out the words, anguish almost choking her. She didn’t want to betray just how much she cared, but she couldn’t help it. She’d held her feelings inside for so long that her body and brain felt as though they might burst. ‘You did what it took to make me say yes, but for you it was all a business arrangement, and that isn’t the sort of marriage I want. I want the real thing!’
‘The real thing?’ The mockery in his voice revealed what he thought of her statement. ‘You’re wearing my ring on your finger. How much more real does it get?’
‘You just don’t understand, do you?’ She turned her head and forced herself to look at her husband. The husband she’d run from. ‘It isn’t about rings and vows, Rocco. That’s all meaningless. It’s about feelings. It’s about caring and love—all the things you know nothing about.’
‘And is that what Carlo offered you? Caring and love?’ The sarcasm in his tone was the final straw.
‘You are a total hypocrite! Why did I leave our wedding, Rocco? Have you even bothered asking yourself that question?’ She saw his eyes narrow slightly but was unable to stop herself. The anger rose inside her, strengthening her shaking limbs and her flagging confidence. ‘How dare you sit there and accuse me of having a lover, mocking me, when you had the gall to invite your g-girlfriend to our wedding? What sort of man does that, Rocco? What sort of man expects his girlfriend to watch him marrying another woman? What sort of man expects his new wife to entertain his mistress? Don’t you have any feelings? Don’t you have any morals—?’
She broke off, shocked by her own outburst and suddenly apprehensive. Living with her father, she’d spent her entire life biting her tongue, keeping her eyes on the floor and never answering back. Never before this moment had she spoken her mind. Instinctively she shrank back in her seat, but he made no move towards her, only continued to watch her, one dark eyebrow raised in sardonic appraisal.
‘That is the longest speech I’ve ever heard you make,’ he observed in a lazy drawl. ‘When we spent time together before the wedding you were virtually monosyllabic. Impossibly shy. I had to work overtime to get any sort of response from you. You stared at the floor, the walls, the table—anywhere but at me. It’s fascinating to note that you do, in fact, have an opinion.’
She blushed fiercely, knowing that what he said was true. Almost all their meetings had been carried out in the presence of her father, and she’d learned from bitter experience that it was safer to stay silent than risk incurring his anger. She’d learned how not to draw attention to herself.
‘Well, I’m looking at you now and I’m speaking now,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. There was no way she was going to show him how nervous she felt. ‘And my opinion of you is rock bottom, Rocco. You measure everything in terms of profit. You don’t do anything unless you gain something from it. And you don’t care about people’s feelings. I’ve had six months to think about what you did. You married me because you wanted my father’s business. That was bad enough, but I thought that you at least had some respect for me. And then you invited your mistress to our wedding!’
The pain and humiliation still throbbed inside her like a raw and vicious wound.
‘You’re being extremely juvenile. There were two hundred guests at our wedding.’
‘I don’t care about the two hundred. Just about the one. The tall blonde one who couldn’t put you down. Your girlfriend!’
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ he corrected her, with a faint frown. ‘And I don’t know what you’re worrying about. She and I weren’t together any more.’
‘So why were you kissing her on the terrace?’
He suppressed a yawn, visibly bored by the conversation. ‘I can’t honestly remember. Some women are naturally affectionate. She was probably kissing me goodbye.’
Naturally affectionate? Chessie recalled the driven passion of that kiss—recalled the envy that had almost floored her. Rocco had never kissed her like that. ‘If you weren’t together then why did you even invite her?’
His eyes grew suddenly cold. ‘Your position as my wife doesn’t give you the right to question my behaviour. Frankly, I don’t understand what you have to complain about. I married you. You were the lucky one.’
It took a few moments for his arrogant statement to penetrate her brain. ‘Lucky? Lucky?’ She stared at him in disbelief,
searching his bronzed, handsome face for some evidence of remorse or contrition. But there was nothing except confidence and authority. This was not a man given to questioning his own actions.
‘Yes, lucky,’ he drawled softly. ‘I offered you something that I have never offered another woman.’
‘And that was supposed to make me feel how, exactly?’
‘Grateful?’
‘Grateful?’ She choked on the word. ‘Grateful to be given the opportunity to share my husband with half a dozen others? Well, excuse me if I’m not displaying the correct level of gratitude!’
‘I never would have guessed you had a fraction of this much passion locked up inside you. How intriguing. It does explain a great deal.’ His gaze was thoughtful as he studied her face. ‘But you probably ought to know that jealousy is not a trait that I find appealing in a woman. And your jealousy is ridiculous, given that you are the one wearing my ring.’
‘I’m not jealous. To be jealous I would have to care, and I really don’t care about you one little bit.’ Once she had. Once she’d been ecstatic at the thought of marrying him. So excited that she hadn’t been able to wipe the smile from her face. But that had all been a childish fantasy. The reality had proved to be entirely different. ‘I wasn’t jealous. I was humiliated. Publicly. What was I supposed to do, Rocco? Was I supposed to look at all those women drooling over you and feel blessed? Is that what you’re saying? I was expected to party with your cast-offs and smile because I was the chosen one? Is that right?’
He watched her through half-shut eyes. ‘You’re hysterical.’
‘No, Rocco. I’m not hysterical. I’m thinking clearly for the first time in years.’ And she no longer cared about the consequences of speaking out. Where had silence ever got her? ‘Answer me one question. If you wanted to be with that blonde girl then why didn’t you just marry her and have done with it?’
‘Lorna is American. She wouldn’t have made a suitable wife. She has her own business and she’s very independent.’
‘What sort of an answer is that?’ Chessie gaped at him in disbelief. ‘What you mean is that she had more sense than to marry you! So instead you thought you’d choose some dumb Sicilian girl who didn’t know any better? Is that what you’re trying to say? Well, someone should have reminded you that my mother was English, so my Sicilian blood is rather diluted. You made a mistake marrying me, Rocco. A big one.’
His hard gaze didn’t flicker. ‘I never make mistakes. You, on the other hand, made an enormous one by leaving our marriage. But you’re back now, so you can start making amends. I’ve decided to overlook the fact that you’re no longer a virgin. Play your cards right and I might even forgive you.’
Forgive her? She stared at him in helpless frustration. He didn’t even believe he’d done anything wrong. Rocco Castellani was so used to treating women badly that he didn’t even realise there was any other way. He was just like her father. A wife was someone to leave at home while he went out partying with other women.
‘I’m sure you found plenty of willing females to console you.’ Chessie was mortified to discover that she had a lump in her throat. Why did she care? Why did she care that their wedding had meant so little to him? It was over. Their marriage was over, and she felt nothing for him except contempt.
His eyes were cold. ‘You agreed to the wedding. It was what you wanted.’
‘That was before I knew the truth about you.’
‘What truth is that?’
Her breath caught and for a moment she hesitated, almost too embarrassed to admit her own naïvety. But there were times for honesty, she reminded herself, and this was one of them. ‘You and my father set me up. You both treated me like some sort of commodity.’ She stumbled over the word and lifted a hand to her throat to try and slow her breathing. ‘You bartered and bargained until you both got what you wanted. You made me think that you wanted to marry me, but I was nothing more than a bargaining chip. Not once did either of you stop to think about me. You didn’t think about what I wanted. What I needed. It was all about you.’
And she’d been torn apart by their lack of care and their naked ambition.
‘Plenty of marriages are arranged in such a way, and we were not strangers. You seem to be conveniently forgetting the time we spent together. We spent many hours getting to know one another.’ He spoke the words with subtle emphasis, and she knew exactly what he was referring to.
That one occasion when curiosity had defeated modesty and common sense and she’d kissed him.
It had been an experience that had disturbed her sleep ever since. The warm, sensual pressure of his mouth against hers. The slow, lazy stroke of his strong hand over her trembling thigh. The sudden eruption of sensations in her body had been so shockingly exciting that she’d hoped that he’d strip her naked there and then and satisfy her female curiosity in full. But he hadn’t.
And now she knew why. He hadn’t found her attractive. He’d married her for other reasons entirely.
But she hadn’t been able to forget that one kiss, and even now her body flared hot at the memory and she felt her nipples harden. Without thinking, she let her eyes drop to his mouth, and she felt something warm and dangerous uncurl low inher pelvis.
Horrified by the almost painful intensity of her reaction, she lifted her eyes to his, saw the gleam of masculine understanding in his sardonic gaze and looked away quickly.
‘I didn’t get to know you at all.’ Embarrassed by the reaction of her body, she was grateful for the black coat that covered her. ‘You revealed nothing of yourself, Rocco. As far as you were concerned, those meetings of ours were no more than a job interview.’
‘Job interview?’ There was a trace of humour in his tone as he repeated her words. ‘And what was the job?’
‘Your wife. Salary: unlimited. Bonus and perks: amazing. Requirements: one meek, obedient virgin who will stay at home, do as she is told and never answer back.’ She couldn’t stop her gaze sliding to his mouth. The same mouth that had kissed her just the once. Then she remembered that it was also the same mouth that had been kissing his mistress on their wedding day. ‘A girl who is prepared to be understanding and tolerant about your numerous affairs. Well, you chose the wrong woman for the job. I resign. Next time you marry, you might want to extend the interview process, Rocco.’
‘Why would I want to marry again when I have a perfectly good wife sitting in front of me?’ His silky observation caused a flicker of shock to whip through her body and she stared at him, careful to hide her consternation.
He was joking. He had to be joking. No way would a proud, arrogant man like Rocco allow his wife to leave on their wedding day and then take her back.
He was going to release her. She knew he would.
He would make it difficult and awkward, but eventually he would release her.
She’d finally be free.
‘You’re just saying that to punish me because your ego is damaged.’
His smile indicated just how much that statement amused him. ‘My ego is completely intact. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You can’t possibly want to stay married to me. We both know that you only married me in the first place because it was part of the deal you agreed with my father.’ It felt so humiliating to admit the truth—to admit that he hadn’t found her in the slightest bit attractive. Obviously that had been the reason that he’d held back when they’d kissed. He’d been postponing the moment when he’d have to make love to her. ‘My father needed someone to run his company and you were the chosen one. And why were you chosen? Because you were the only man he’d ever met who was as ruthless as he was himself. Congratulations.’
Rocco raised an eyebrow. ‘By ruthless I assume you mean possessing the ability to make a decision unaffected by emotions—a concept that most women find impossible to grasp.’
‘Emotions are important, Rocco. You and my father each had your own agenda to follow. The only one that neither of you bothered to think ab
out was me. All you thought about was your own greed.’ And she couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with him.
‘Your father’s company was losing money, so I can hardly be accused of greed.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘Generosity, possibly.’
Shocked into silence by that unexpected statement, Chessie stared at him. ‘It was losing money?’
‘Why does that surprise you? Your father’s olive oil business was very much a local operation, and he had no idea how to expand or make himself competitive.’
‘My father’s business was successful.’ She thought of all the important people who had come to the villa; of the deference they’d shown towards her father.
‘Your father’s business was corrupt and badly run,’ Rocco interjected, his tone suddenly hard. ‘His methods were locked in the Dark Ages. But I’m slowly rectifying that.’
Chessie shook her head, trying to take in the enormity of what he was saying. ‘Are you seriously telling me that my father’s business was failing?’
‘You didn’t know?’
‘Why would I know? My father never discussed business with me,’ Chessie said stiffly. ‘I picked the olives and I did some of his secretarial work but he never shared the details with me. Had I been a boy it would have been different, but as it was—’
‘—he had a daughter.’ Rocco’s gaze rested on her face thoughtfully, as if something had just occurred to him.
‘I don’t understand.’ She stared at him blankly. ‘If my father’s company was such a disaster, why would you want it?’
‘Call it a whim.’ Rocco gave a faint smile that revealed nothing. ‘A sentimental desire to have a touch of Sicily in my portfolio of companies.’
‘You’re about as sentimental as a man-eating lion.’
His smile widened. ‘You think so? All right, in that case I admit it may have had more to do with profit than sentiment. I have a talent for spotting commercial opportunities that others have missed.’ His eyes were suddenly sharp, his tone crisp. ‘Your father was losing business because of the weaknesses in his operation, not because of the produce. The oil is top quality. I’ve eaten in the best restaurants all over the world and I’ve never tasted better. I’m going to export the oil as a premium product.’
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