Marriage Made of Secrets

by Maya Blake

  He’d wanted to take her somewhere exotic, but for a girl brought up in a dysfunctional working class home, who’d never travelled beyond the shores of England, Lake Como at the end of a hot summer had been exotic enough. And after being carried over the threshold and falling as swiftly and deeply in love with the charming elegance of the Villa di Goia as she had with its owner, she’d had no wish to be anywhere else.

  Besotted fool that she’d been.

  With an irritated shake of her head, she banished her thoughts. Through the window she caught another glimpse of the sparkling swimming pool and smiled at the thought of Annabelle’s delight when her water-loving child was reunited with her favourite pool.

  ‘If that’s a smile of victory, I’d caution against being too precipitate,’ a deep drawl sounded from behind her.

  Cesare lounged against a Louis XVI credenza that had been in his family for four generations. Above him a portrait of another di Goia, long dead but no less imposing, stared down at her with similar unnerving tawny eyes. How long had the living di Goia stood there, silently watching her take the stupid trip down memory lane?

  ‘Poor Cesare. I can see my being home fills you with all sorts of unhappy feelings. I get it. But I’m not going into hiding just to please you and I’m certainly not going to stop smiling in case it offends you.’

  His smile mocked her. ‘I have no problem with you smiling, cara, I just don’t want you deluding yourself that you’ve won an easy victory.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare. But remember your rule goes both ways. I can’t stay out of your way if you insist on straying into mine.’

  He straightened and sauntered towards her. ‘Is this where we indulge in the childish game of who was here first?’ he asked.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s not childish. I was here first. And, if you must know, I was smiling at the thought of Annabelle being safely home and being surrounded by familiar things.’ Ava caught herself, realising she didn’t owe Cesare any explanation. ‘Anyway, I’ll let you reclaim your domain—’

  ‘You weren’t just thinking about our daughter. You were reminiscing about us.’ He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, Ava felt a shiver race up her spine.

  ‘You’re wrong.’ The need for denial was visceral.

  ‘Liar. We may have been apart more than together for most of the past year, Ava, but you’re still as easy to read as an open book.’

  ‘Then it’s a book whose language you don’t quite fully understand. Because, from where I’m standing, you couldn’t have got things more wrong if you’d tried.’

  His jaw clenched, the mocking smile wiped clean. Part of Ava wanted to punch the air in triumph. The other just wanted to weep because if she’d been as open as Cesare claimed, then it meant he’d recognised her heart’s one desire—the need for the comfort of the loving family she’d never had—and he’d still denied her.

  ‘And, just so we’re clear, my memories are my own. They’re not a subject for your amusement or dissection.’

  ‘Then learn to hide them better.’

  ‘Why—do they make you uncomfortable? Would you rather I strip myself of every humanising emotion, like you?’ she challenged and immediately bit her tongue when he tensed. The light pouring through the tall shuttered windows carved his face in taut, almost statue-like relief.

  ‘You think I’m without emotion, cara?’ he queried so softly the hairs on her arms rose in desperate foreboding.

  ‘Not where I’m concerned. When it comes to me, you’re as emotional as a plank of wood.’

  His eyes narrowed. Almost in slow motion, she watched his hands leave his pockets, reach up and curl around her arms. One slid down, relieved her of her laptop and set it carelessly aside.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her question squeaked out as he captured her nape.

  He didn’t answer, at least not verbally. The slow burn in his eyes and the steady pressure of his fingers on her skin told its own story. With effortless ease, he pulled her close. Ava actually heard her thonged feet screech across the floor in protest as he dragged her into stinging contact with his body. When he had her close enough, he boldly cupped her bottom.

  ‘Cesare!’

  Electric heat, wicked and powerful, snapped through her, zapping awake her senses with a force so potent she gasped. She should’ve wanted to move away from it. Should’ve worked harder to release herself from the powerful, chaotic destruction.

  Instead, she found herself straining up to meet the havoc-causing mouth descending towards hers, pressing herself up against the heat of the rock-hard body.

  His mouth slanted over hers, barely stopping to explore before his tongue slid through the parted welcome of her lips.

  Somewhere in the outer regions of her mind, she knew she should feel shame for letting him kiss her thoroughly with so little resistance. But the pleasure racing unfettered through her was too heady, too blissful, to deny.

  But she tried anyway. ‘No...’

  ‘Yes, most definitely, yes.’ He tugged her closer.

  With a soft moan, her hands settled on his chest. His polo shirt might as well have been non-existent as her hands stole over the hard contours of his muscled flesh.

  When they slid around his neck, Cesare groaned. Heat erupted between them; the kiss grew fervent, rough. His tongue slid further inside her mouth, engaging hers in a rough play that made sweet fire rush to the apex of her thighs. Her nipples hardened into painful, rock-hard points. Boldly, she grabbed the hand at her nape and settled it over her breast.

  He accepted her gift with a deep groan. One rough thumb grazed back and forth over her nipple, eliciting deep tremors of excitement within her.

  If she’d thought distance and indifference would’ve lessened the power of Cesare’s attraction, she was sadly mistaken. If anything, the deep chasm between them had only intensified her need.

  She yearned for him with a hunger that deeply terrified her. Knowing she would joyfully have given anything she owned to feel his potent arousal deep inside her should’ve shocked her. Knowing she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees, free his erection from the confines of his jeans and take him in her mouth the way he’d once loved her to, dismayed her. Yet, even as the thought struck, her hand was moving lower, seeking the silver square of his belt buckle.

  When her hand brushed his erection, he jerked, then plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. His fingers closed around her nipples, squeezed and teased repeatedly until she wanted to die with pleasure.

  She grappled harder with the buckle. The more she tried, the more her fingers fumbled. Using both hands, she managed to pull the belt through one hoop. Just then Cesare slid one hand between her legs. She lost the use of her fingers as unrelenting pleasure ricocheted through her. Unerringly, he found her nub of need through her cotton panties. Her breathing grew ragged as she parted her legs to accommodate him.

  His buckle forgotten, she grasped his arms to steady herself and drowned in bliss. Reality fogged. Had she just thrown her head back? Was that his tongue sliding over the highly sensitised skin on her neck, drawing her closer to the edge of her endurance?

  ‘Dio, you’re so hot!’ he rasped.

  ‘Only because you set me on fire.’ Deep down, she knew that fire would be her undoing. But, for now, she remained blinded to everything but the storm raging within.

  The sensation of being lifted registered, then the cool wall touched her back. Cesare increased the pressure of his fingers as his mouth captured one aching nipple. Mercilessly he teased, then his mouth returned to hers to smother her cries as she shuddered and fell headlong into cataclysmic ecstasy.

  Slowly, sounds began to impinge as the force of her orgasm abated. Cesare’s scent mingled with the smell of arousal coating the air. Another shudder raked her frame when he withdrew his fingers. As if he knew letting
her go would cause her immediate collapse, he wedged one muscled leg firmly between her thighs.

  Against her stomach, his arousal burned hot and heavy.

  More sounds encroached. She stood, dishevelled, in the hallway of the villa, barely hidden behind a trellised arch. Any member of their household staff could walk past. But Ava didn’t care. She’d just had a sizzling reminder of the potent lovemaking she’d experienced only with Cesare. Her senses had sprung to vivid life, her body readying itself for his fullest possession.

  She looked into his face. Torrid heat blazed in eyes that held the look of barely leashed hunger. Her gaze dropped to his lips. The force of her kiss had bruised his lips and the sight of it made her melt with wanting. She reached for his button. ‘Your turn.’

  Ava was woefully unprepared for the swiftness with which he clamped strong hands over hers. ‘No.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  A SHARD OF ice splintered her post-orgasmic haze.

  ‘You want me. I know you do,’ she blurted, slightly dazed by the thought that he would deny what he felt. The evidence was unmistakable, even through the layers of their clothes.

  He stepped away from her, but not far enough, as if he wanted to be close when she collapsed. And certainly her legs were unsteady enough to make that a distinct possibility.

  ‘This wasn’t about me.’

  She looked into his eyes. Slowly his meaning sank in, obliterating her desperate, humiliating desire. ‘You bastard.’

  He took another step back. Suddenly the scent of their lovemaking—if she could call it that—nauseated her. Because it was the smell of her weakness.

  ‘You wanted to humiliate me,’ she said.

  ‘I merely wanted to prove a point. Passion is an emotion, cara, one I relish in the right circumstances. But I choose not to let it rule my life.’

  She lowered her eyes, chagrin eating like acid through her at how easily she’d fallen for his ploy. ‘You mean I let it rule mine?’ She wanted to slink away in shame, but she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

  ‘I’ve just demonstrated that this is so.’

  ‘Wow, so that display was all for me? Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself.’

  He stepped closer and slowly passed a finger over her swollen lip. ‘Sì, I am. And it’s good to know I can still reduce you to putty.’ His tone reeked smugness.

  She didn’t rise to the bait. They both knew he’d won this round. She straightened her clothes. ‘Sure, you can dominate me with the sheer force of your sexual prowess. The orgasm you gave me just now? Out of this world. I’m a red-blooded female after all. But you’ve also proved that you’re so cold-hearted you can control your life to the point where nothing touches you unless you want it to. So pardon me if I don’t wholeheartedly buy your reasons for being here.’

  He let go of her as if she’d suddenly developed a contagious disease. For a moment he looked almost...disarmed. But she didn’t feel victory, just an emptiness that grew larger with each passing second.

  ‘You’re trying to rile me.’ The face of the man who regarded her wasn’t the Cesare who’d kissed her senseless moments ago, whose heart she’d felt beating unsteadily against her own. This was Cesare back in control, the master in complete command of his world.

  ‘I’m speaking the truth. Deal with it.’

  ‘It seriously terrifies me how prone to recklessness you can be.’ With cool poise, he reached down and picked up her laptop. ‘If you want to maintain that truce, I think we need to establish some ground rules. Come.’

  Without waiting for her agreement, he strode off in the direction of his study.

  By the time she found enough strength to straighten away from the wall and follow, he’d disappeared.

  She found him seated behind his massive antique desk, his fingers steepled against his mouth. If he’d been any other man, she would’ve suspected he was hiding behind the desk to avoid her. But Cesare was no ordinary man.

  He’d just proven catastrophically and conclusively that he could turn her brainless with desire, ride through the storm of passion with her, and emerge unscathed.

  ‘If you’re going to dissect what just happened—’

  ‘What happened just now doesn’t need dissection,’ he said, cutting across her. ‘But I do want to discuss Annabelle and the impact our being together will have on her.’

  She frowned. ‘Why should it impact on her?’

  He ignored her question. ‘How did she take Rita leaving? I know they were close.’ His gaze bored into her with the force of a laser drill.

  ‘She was distressed, of course, but—’

  ‘You also said she’s a bit more sensitive than she used to be.’

  Her hackles rose. ‘And you think this is in some way my fault?’

  He exhaled. ‘I’m not laying blame, Ava. I’m just trying to find the best way to settle her without causing her any more upset.’

  ‘She’s back home where she belongs, and I’ll be with her every day. A loving family is what she needs.’

  Tawny eyes hardened a touch. ‘You’ll be working some of the time.’ His gaze strayed to her laptop, which now sat on his desk. ‘You cut back on your work when we got married. Why the sudden return to full-time work?’

  ‘Because I found out that playing the role of neglected wife isn’t all that challenging—I could do it with my eyes closed, in fact. I needed something more.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be some sort of statement?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re the genius. Work it out.’

  ‘You’re my wife, Ava, and therefore my responsibility—’

  ‘Isn’t that a mere technicality?’ She ignored his icy glare. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Cesare. We’ve been drifting apart almost from the moment Annabelle was born. Hell, we’ve barely lived together for the last year. Calling me your wife when it suits you or as a means of salving your conscience—what there is of it—is disingenuous. Your career has always been your first priority so don’t you dare question my dedication to mine. You can continue to provide for your daughter, but I can more than take care of myself financially.’

  ‘Nice speech. Although I see you didn’t hesitate to make use of my jet when you needed it. You can’t have it both ways either, cara. While we live under the same roof you’re my responsibility and we both do what’s best for Annabelle. We share all meal times with our daughter. And at all times we present a united front.’

  ‘To show her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other?’ she threw at him.

  His mocking smile displayed perfectly formed white teeth. ‘Her Mummy and Papà don’t hate each other. I think I proved that conclusively just now.’

  A residual post-orgasmic shiver raked her insides at the reminder. ‘Sexual desire without a solid foundation fizzles out eventually, Cesare.’

  One dark eyebrow tilted upward. ‘Is this another enlightened nugget you were fed in your commune or did you conduct a personal study?’

  ‘I don’t need a study to tell me that it won’t be long before Annabelle starts asking probing questions. She’s beginning to notice that her kindergarten friends have mummies and daddies who live together. Last month, before we left for Bali, she asked me why you don’t live with us. Those are the easy questions, so prepare yourself for the tough questions because they’re just around the corner.’

  With the swiftness of a flash flood, the smile disappeared and a veil descended over his bronze features. Before her eyes, he withdrew behind a veneer of cool indifference. ‘Many couples live apart. When the time is right, we will explain things to her.’

  ‘I can’t wait because I’d quite like some answers myself. For instance, why are you wearing your wedding ring again? You weren’t last month.’

  He glanced at the simple gold band on his
finger, a peculiar look crossing his features. It dissipated so quickly she almost missed it. But its haunting quality lodged a stone in her chest.

  Before she could question it, his desk phone rang. His gaze flicked over her as he reached for it. ‘I’ve arranged for dinner to be served earlier tonight, at six-thirty, for Annabelle’s sake. We’ll decide then on the best routine for all of us going forward.’

  For an insane second, she wanted to rip the phone out of his hands, chuck it through the window and demand he answer her questions. But he’d already swung his leather seat towards the window, shutting her out as if she’d ceased to exist for him.

  She grabbed her laptop and marched from the room before the temptation to smash it over his head overcame her.

  A headache niggled at her temples. Although tempted to blame it on the effects of travelling through several time zones, she knew Cesare was the reason for it.

  From the start, he’d imprinted himself so indelibly on her psyche that it had seemed as if Fate herself had willed it so. Even now, she only had to see him to feel a part of her unravelling, for her insides to weaken.

  She hated herself for those weak moments almost as much as she hated herself for what she’d let happen in the hallway. It’d only taken a handful of minutes for him to reduce her from a sane, rational woman to a heap of shuddering wantonness. And for him to gloat about it.

  She entered the salone, walked past the sumptuous green and white overstuffed chairs and whitewashed tables and chose her favourite seat—an elegantly carved chaise longue facing the breathtaking view of the lake.

  After switching on her laptop, she resolutely fished out her iPod and stuck the earphones on in the hope that the music would drown out the sinking realisation that she only had to think about Cesare for him to take a hold of her mind and, it seemed, her body.

  Clicking on the application she needed, she read over the list of locations she needed to visit and typed up a suitable schedule and the cameras she would require.