A different heat from the mortification ravaging her now bloomed as her mind suddenly pictured Stefano lying on top of her...
His eyes still holding hers as if he would devour her in one gulp, Stefano trailed his fingers down her neck and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you inside. You must rest. You’re exhausted.’
Anna blew out a long breath and nodded. For once she was completely incapable of speech.
She’d shared a bed with him.
She’d shared more than a bed with him.
Trying desperately to affect nonchalance, she had no choice but to allow him to assist her through the grand atrium of his apartment building to his private elevator. It was either that or have her unsteady legs collapse beneath her again.
She’d always been physically aware of him before but with his arm slung protectively around her shoulders that awareness flew off the scale.
The dividing line she’d erected between them and worked so hard to maintain... Noting Stefano’s easy familiarity with her; the way he was so comfortable touching her now along with the flirting she’d long been used to... Yes, that dividing line had been demolished.
She just wished her body didn’t sing its delight at his new proprietorial manner with her.
It was such a relief to be led to a sofa to collapse onto that it took her a moment, catching her breath, to take stock of Stefano’s home.
Her home.
It was like stepping into another world.
She was sitting in a living room so vast and wide she felt like a toddler who’d stumbled into a ballroom, the room complete with a gold-leafed crystal chandelier gleaming magnificently above her.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire perimeter and from one aspect gave the most amazing view of the Thames—was that Westminster Bridge she could see in the near distance?
Not a single memory was jogged by any of it. She’d lived here for almost a year but she was seeing it for the first time.
She looked around wondering where everyone was. ‘No staff?’
‘I don’t have staff. The concierge service runs my housekeeping for me and I pay them a fortune for it.’
When Stefano had first made his fortune in his home town of Lazio, he’d employed live-in staff but had soon learned to dislike having other people in his space. Housekeeper, cleaners, butler, chef, gardener...the list had been endless. Being waited on hand and foot sounded fantastic in theory but in practice it was a drag and he’d put the staff on day-only duties within weeks.
He was a fully grown man who’d been caring for himself since he was fifteen. He didn’t need someone to dress him or run his baths. He saw his peers with their homes full of enough staff to fill a cinema and thought them fools for allowing themselves to revert to infancy.
It was all the fawning he couldn’t abide. That was one of the reasons he’d been so keen to employ Anna as his PA. She’d been completely unaffected by meeting him, a reaction he hadn’t received in years. In a business setting he was used to fear being the primary reaction; in his personal life he received desire from women and enthusiasm from men, both sexes looking at him with dollar signs flashing in their eyes. Anna had looked at him with disdain.
He’d strolled into the Levon Brothers offices when they’d been in early discussion about him buying the business from them and she’d been behind the desk in the office guarding theirs. He’d handed her his coat as he walked past for her to hang for him and heard a sarcastic ‘You’re welcome,’ in his wake. He’d paused at the door he’d been about to open and looked at her, standing with his coat in her arms, challenge set in her eyes, jutting chin and pursed lips.
‘What did you say?’ he’d asked.
‘I said that you’re welcome. I meant to say it in my head just as I’m sure your thanks for me taking your coat off your hands was said in your head, but it slipped out.’
It had been a sharp salutary reminder of the importance of manners, something no one had dared to pull him up on for many years and it had taken a scrap of a woman to do just that.
He’d put a hand to his chest, made a mocking bow and said, ‘Thank you.’
She’d nodded primly and crossed the room to hang his coat on the stand. Shorter than the women who usually caught his eye, she had the most exquisite figure, perfectly proportioned. He remembered exactly what she’d been wearing that day, a billowing checked skirt that had fallen below her knees, long tan boots with spiked heels, a tight black vest and a fitted khaki-coloured jacket, all pulled together with a thick belt with studs that looked sharp enough to have someone’s eye out.
‘Do I dare ask if you make coffee?’ he’d asked, fascinated by her.
‘You can ask but beware—refusal often offends.’
Roaring with laughter, he’d gone into his meeting. Within an hour, when the beautiful, sarcastic secretary had been brought in six times to explain the report she’d compiled for him but which the idiots running the company didn’t understand, he’d known he was going to buy the company and poach her to be his PA. It turned out Anna was the real brains behind Levon Brothers. Without her by their side and covering their messes, it would never have taken off. With her by Stefano’s side, Moretti’s could only strengthen further.
It had been the best business decision he’d ever made. He’d learned to trust her judgement completely.
He’d believed her to be as straight as a line. He’d thought that with Anna what you saw was what you got, when all along she’d been nothing but a grasping gold-digger.
Now the bravado that always shone in her eyes was muted by alarm. ‘It’s just you and me here?’
‘We like our privacy,’ he said. ‘We can walk around naked without having to worry that we’ll frighten anyone.’
Her cheeks turned the most becoming crimson but she raised a tired brow and wanly retorted, ‘I can assure you I won’t be walking anywhere naked within a mile of you.’
Amused by her stubbornness even when she was so clearly ready to fall into a dead sleep, he whispered into her ear, ‘And I can assure you that when you’re feeling better you will never want to put your clothes on. Believe me, bellissima, we spend a lot of time together naked.’
‘If I don’t remember it then it didn’t happen.’
Studying the firm set of her lips, he remembered what it had been like between them when they’d first married. He’d had no idea she was a virgin until she’d blurted it out when they’d walked into the bridal suite hours after exchanging their vows. She’d stood as defiant as she did now but there had been something in her eyes he’d never seen in her before: fear. That had been a bigger shock than her declaration of virginity.
He’d made love to her so slowly and tenderly that night that when he’d felt her first climax he’d been as triumphant and elated as if he’d been the first man to conquer Mount Everest. That night had been special. Precious. And it had only been the start.
Once Anna had discovered the joy of sex she’d been a woman reborn and unleashed.
She had no memories of any of it. When he next saw her naked, for Anna it would be the first time, and he remembered how painfully shy she’d been then.
He took one of her hands and razed a kiss across the knuckles. ‘Can you walk to the bedroom or shall I carry you?’
Her eyes flashed and she managed to inflect dignity into her reply. ‘I can walk.’
She allowed him to help her to her feet and held onto his arm as he led her to the bedroom he’d slept alone in for the past month.
The last twenty-four hours had brought such a change to his fortunes that Stefano was tempted to wonder whether it was he who had suffered a bump to his head.
His wife was back under his roof and shortly to be back in his bed.
He caught her unconcealed surprise when he opened the door to reveal a room cast in soft muted colours and dominated by an enormous emperor bed.
‘We chose the decor together,’ he told her. ‘You chose the bed.’ It had been the first
thing they’d bought as a married couple. He’d known she would hate sleeping in a bed he’d shared with other women.
And now they would share it again. Anna needed to know that this was theirs, a bedroom they’d created together, a room they’d made love in hundreds of times. He needed to consolidate in her mind that they were a properly married couple and that it was natural for them to sleep together.
He couldn’t begin to dissect his own feelings about sleeping by the side of the woman who had played him for a fool so spectacularly.
‘Seriously?’ she asked in a voice that had gone husky.
‘Sì. And when you’re better I can promise you’ll enjoy it as we always used to. But all that can wait. Consultant’s orders are for you to do nothing but rest for the next few days. I promised I would take care of you and you know I am a man of my word.’
He always kept his word. To his way of thinking it was what separated humans from animals. He’d married Anna giving his word that he would be faithful. He’d given his word that if he ever felt the impulse to cheat he would tell her before acting on it and they would go their separate ways.
She’d given him her word too. She’d promised she would trust him. Her word had been a lie. Her intentions had been a lie. It had all been a lie. Their entire marriage had been built on lies and deception. No sooner had she left him than she’d hit him with her demands for a massive slice of the fortune he’d built from nothing.
Anna was a greedy liar who had made a fool of him, and for that she would pay the price.
But however greedy and conniving his wife was, right then she was too wiped out for any games.
She slumped onto the bed and sat there blinking to try and keep her eyes open. He sank to his knees and unlaced her boots before carefully removing them, then got her settled and comfortable under the bed sheets. She was asleep before the automatic curtains had finished shutting.
His guts twisted as he took in the sallowness of her complexion and the dark hollows under her eyes. He fought his primal reaction to lean over and smooth the hair from her face and place a kiss on her cheek.
He closed the door on the darkened room. There was no place in their relationship for sympathy. Anna’s amnesia and her current vulnerability did not change what she’d done to him. Nothing could change that.
Soon her concussion would pass and she would be physically fit again.
Then the games could commence in earnest.
* * *
When Anna next opened her eyes, her first conscious thought was that someone lay beside her.
Not someone. Stefano.
When had he come to bed?
She hardly remembered getting into bed herself her exhaustion had been so sudden and so complete.
Stefano had brought her to the apartment early afternoon. Judging by the absolute darkness shrouding her it now had to be the early hours of morning. She must have slept for a good twelve hours straight and she felt better for it. The nausea had gone and her head felt thick and fuzzy rather than pounding. Her throat was parched but even if she knew where the kitchen was she didn’t dare move from the bed. She hardly dared to breathe.
That was Stefano lying beside her, sharing this bed. If she moved her foot it would brush against his leg.
Did he have clothes on? Or was he lying there naked...?
The only sounds were his rhythmic breathing and the thundering of her heart.
It was the strangest feeling in the world to be in such an intimate environment with him, especially after eighteen months of doggedly keeping their relationship on a professional footing. She’d spent more time with him than anyone else when their working lives had bound them together. They’d travelled all over the world together, eaten together, had the occasional drink together, sniped at each other, laughed at each other, laughed with each other, sworn at each other, thrown things at each other...yet she had never allowed him to cross the threshold into her private life and had steadfastly refused to cross the threshold into his. They’d never been alone as they were now.
And here she was. Married to him and wholly aware that during their marriage they had done far more than merely sleep in this bed.
* * *
Stefano awoke with an almost painfully obvious erection. In their marriage’s previous life he would have pulled Anna into his arms and made love to her before either of them had opened their eyes. Today he jumped out of bed and took a shower before he could act on that urge.
While he’d told himself that it was no big deal sharing a bed with his wife again, he’d had to psych himself up to join her in it. That had been unexpected. He’d gazed at her sleeping form in the dim light and experienced the strangest combination of loathing and compassion sweep over him.
He’d never known Anna to be ill before. He’d never seen her vulnerable. He’d lain beside her unable to get out of his mind that she was there, in his bed, the place he had once believed she belonged. It had taken him an age to fall asleep.
As he lathered himself with his expensive shower gel, it occurred to him that this was the first time in a month he’d woken up feeling this kind of desire.
Celibacy was not a healthy state to live by and he could only assume it was his loathing for Anna consuming all his waking moments that had stopped him seeking another woman in the month since she’d gone. He hadn’t even thought of another woman to warm his bed; no wonder he reacted so viscerally just to have her back beside him.
But he wouldn’t act on it yet. Seduction of his wife would have to wait for now.
Anna was awake and sitting up when he returned to the bedroom with only a towel around his waist. He noted the way her eyes widened at his bare torso and smirked.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked. She looked better. Her face had regained its colour, although that could be due to embarrassment at his semi-naked form. This was the first time in her memories that she had seen him anything but fully clothed. He worked hard to keep himself in shape and she had made no secret of her appreciation of his body.
She jerked a nod and pulled the covers tighter. That she was still wearing the jersey dress she’d collapsed in two days ago only made her embarrassment more amusing.
He strode over the thick carpet to his dressing room. ‘Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?’
Anna was addicted to tea. He’d once counted her drink nine cups in one day.
‘Tea would be good, thanks,’ she muttered.
‘Painkillers? Food?’
‘Just painkillers, please.’
Deciding not to torment her further by dressing in front of her, he threw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt in his dressing room, then went to the kitchen where her teapot and teabags still lived.
He automatically reached for her favourite morning mug, a vessel so large it could reasonably be classed as a bucket, and a fresh burst of fury lashed through him.
He should have got rid of all her possessions instead of keeping them here as a constant reminder. He’d given in to his anger only the once since she’d left him, in their San Francisco apartment, and had despised himself for his momentary weakness. Since then, his fury had been internal, simmering under his skin, crawling through him, festering.
Anna’s amnesia had given him the perfect means to channel his rage into something far more satisfying than making a bonfire from her belongings.
His rage was back under his full control when he took her tea to her and placed it on her bedside table.
‘I’ve ordered a light breakfast for you,’ he said, handing her the painkillers.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You need to eat something.’
Anna took the pills from him and pulled a face, but her retort about not wanting to eat died on her lips when she noticed his bare wedding finger. She looked at her own bare hand and asked, ‘Why don’t we wear wedding rings?’
‘You didn’t want to. You said it would make you feel like a possession.’
‘You didn’t mind?’<
br />
‘It was a compromise. You agreed to take my name on condition of no rings.’
‘I would have thought it would be the other way round and that I’d refuse to take your name,’ she mused.
His smile was fleeting. ‘You wanted to be a Moretti so when we have children we can all have the same name.’
‘We want children?’ That shocked her almost as much as learning she was married to him had.
He shrugged then flashed his gorgeous smile. ‘At some point. When we’re ready. Until then we’ve been enjoying practising making them.’
Something poked in her memories, squeezing her heart and making her stomach clench so hard his unsubtle innuendo barely registered. Desperately she tried to capture the feeling but whatever it was fluttered out of reach before she could put her finger on it.
‘What is it?’ he asked, staring at her with drawn brows.
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged and shook her head. ‘Not a memory. A feeling.’
‘Good or bad?’
‘Painful.’ That was the only word she could think of to describe it. She’d always wanted children but it had been something shoved to the back of her mind, a ‘one day’ want. She’d imagined she would one day reach the stage where her biological clock started ticking furiously and then be forced to make her decision. And that would have been hard as she’d always avoided relationships. If her own mother hadn’t loved her enough to stay, how could she trust any man to?
When had she looked at Stefano and decided she could trust him?
She’d been attracted to him from the first moment she’d met him but which woman wouldn’t be? The outrageously handsome, infamous boss of Moretti’s had strolled into her office as if he already owned the building and had arrogantly placed his coat in her arms without a single word of greeting, never mind thanks. When she’d sarcastically responded with, ‘You’re welcome,’ to his retreating back, she hadn’t cared about offending him. Being a woman in a heavily male-dominated environment had caused her to grow skin as thick as leather and she’d adopted an unwillingness to tolerate sexism in any form. She’d known her worth to Levon Brothers as well as they had. She’d merely been given the title of secretary because her two bosses there had been too unimaginative to think of a more appropriate title. They’d only been a few years older than her, a couple of eggheads with more brains than an elephant and less common sense than a dormouse.
Once a Moretti Wife Page 4