Melanie Milburne - The Italian's Mistress

by The Italian's Mistress (lit)

  As for his feelings for her—they were still a mystery. He’d mentioned that he felt a mild affection for her when he wasn’t angry with her, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess. He was unlikely to forget how she’d hurt him even though he’d promised he’d never refer to it again. It was like a nasty wound roughly covered by an inadequate bandage; eventually the infection would seep through to the surface, staining their lives once more.

  Marriage to Lucio would take both strength and courage, but her training ground as the single parent of a desperately ill child surely had honed those qualities into her personality? She could be both strong and courageous, but then she would need to be in order to keep the truth of her feelings under wraps for the sake of her pride. To tell him of how she had never stopped loving him would surely be emotional suicide.

  ‘Where is Jenny?’ Anna took a break from the subject of the weather to ask.

  Lucio took a long swallow of his brandy before replying. ‘She’s gone on a date.’

  ‘A date?’ Anna sprang to her feet in agitation. ‘What sort of date?’

  ‘The usual sort, a boy and a girl, a movie or dinner—that sort of thing.’

  ‘That sort of thing usually leads to trouble!’

  ‘Relax, Anna. Romeo is a nice young man who—’

  ‘Romeo?’ She frowned.

  ‘It’s a good Italian name.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ She let out her breath. ‘Jenny has no experience with the Romeos of this world.’

  ‘Romeo Benetto is a junior accountant in my company. He has impeccable manners and will take great care of your sister.’

  ‘He’s Italian.’

  ‘So?’ He gave her a hard look.

  ‘I don’t trust Italian men.’

  ‘What a pity, since within days you will be marrying one.

  ‘I might not go through with it.’ She lifted her chin.

  He twirled the glass in his hands in such a contemplative action a tiny frisson of trepidation scuttled up Anna’s spinal cord.

  ‘Then I shall have to think of a way to ensure you do go through with it.’

  ‘The bills are already paid for Sammy’s surgery,’ she pointed out. ‘There isn’t anything else you can hang over my head to force me.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ The cold darkness of his eyes suddenly chilled her.

  She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and stilled the restlessness of her fluttering hands by balling them into fists at her sides. ‘No,’ she said with far more confidence than she felt.

  ‘There is that trying little matter of my car.’ His tone was deceptively calm.

  ‘Y...your car?’ She swallowed again.

  ‘I’m sure you know the one?’ He gave her a little un­readable smile. ‘Not the one Guido used today to take you to pick up Sammy, but the other one.’

  She felt the moisture building in her tightly clenched hands and opened them to release it against the fabric of her pants.

  ‘Yes, cara, the one with the hammer still lying on the back seat surrounded by shattered glass. A hammer, I might mention at this point, which still has your fingerprints all over it.’

  Anna’s heart thumped at the back of her sternum until she was sure it was going to come right through. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out.

  ‘It would take just one phone call to the police to report an incident of wilful damage to property to make the task of removing Sammy from your custody as easy as...What shall we say? Child’s play?’

  ‘You bastard!’ her voice spewed out on a harsh breath.

  He gave her an imperious look. ‘You think I won’t do it?’

  She knew he would do it. She’d played right into his hands by being so impulsive and now he had her right where he wanted her—in his total control.

  ‘No wonder you were being so nice about it!’ she spat at him. ‘You were busily planning your little pay-back with your usual cunning and precision.’

  ‘Ah, but you are so delightfully cooperative,’ he drawled. ‘You have such a volatile temper... so little self-control.’

  She could barely see for the red spots of anger before her flashing blue eyes. She fought to contain it but it rose like a flood behind paper floodgates, bursting through with tearing, devastating force.

  She flung herself at him, fists flailing at his chest and anywhere she could reach him.

  He held her off with one strong outstretched arm, his expression rigidly composed, making her wild outburst seem all the more excessive.

  ‘You want to fight dirty, Anna?’ His breathing was heavy as he secured one of her escaping hands. She gritted her teeth and tried to move but she came into contact with his rock-hard arousal and sank down as far as she could on to the sofa behind them.

  He could still reach her there, the heat and probe of his body burning her into an unwilling submission. ‘Go on,’ he challenged her. ‘Fight me. I think we’ll both enjoy it.’

  ‘Go to hell!’ she said, but he thrust himself down next to her.

  She couldn’t quite stifle her gasp as his body surged against her, the barrier of her clothes hardly taking away from the pleasure of the contact. ‘I hate you!’ She struggled wildly but she knew it was herself she was fighting, not him.

  He held her gently and with ease even though his breathing was hurried and his body hard and pulsing. ‘I don’t care what you feel for me as long as your body wel­comes me the way it is welcoming me.’

  She wanted to deny it even as her pelvis rose to meet the downward thrust of his.

  He tugged at her pants and dragged them from her hips before releasing himself from his own, still with one hand holding both her hands above her head.

  ‘Tell me if you want me to stop,’ he growled as his mouth came down over hers.

  His kiss was deep and commanding and she felt herself slipping into its seductive vortex with each flick of his tongue against hers.

  Stopping wasn’t an option any more. He entered her slickly and deeply.

  She was on an upward spiral to a height he held out to her like a prize, a prize she wanted to grab with both hands and everything that was within her. Her body tingled and tensed, tightened and stretched, her mind gradually whirling away from consciousness as the tension grew to bursting point.

  His pace increased with her breathy gasps of delight as his body coaxed her closer and closer, each deep thrust sending sparks of feeling through her hectic bloodstream.

  Finally she was there with a cascading shower of frag­mented colour inside her head, her quivering body shivering out its release as his prepared itself for the final explosion of feeling.

  She felt him burst forth from the tight banks of restraint, his warmth filling her, anointing her with the milk of life, his breathing ragged as the last deep, satisfied groan left his lips.

  Anna kept very still as shame coloured her from head to foot. She clamped her eyes shut as she mentally berated herself for her weakness. No wonder he thought her a wan­ton temptress, the way she fell into his arms even as she tried to deny her attraction. No wonder he thought her the perpetrator of his brother’s downfall.

  Lucio had only to touch her and her body ignited into a raging inferno. Why wouldn’t he assume his brother had experienced the same?

  Lucio rolled away in one movement and got to his feet, rearranging his trousers without once looking her way.

  Some vestige of pride made her swing her legs over the edge of the sofa with the same casualness and reposition her own clothing, even though she felt as if the only proper place for her was under the rug beneath her feet.

  She felt his tension, however, in the way he avoided her eyes by inspecting the view from the windows, his back turned to her, his shoulders stiff, his legs slightly apart, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets.

  ‘We will be married in three days’ time,’ he announced, as if commenting on the heat haze outside the window. ‘I will accept no refusals on your part.’

&
nbsp; ‘I don’t suppose you want me to wear white or a veil?’

  He turned and gave her a raking look. ‘You can if you like but we both know what you are and no amount of white is going to be able to disguise it.’

  He turned and left the room, the lounge door swinging shut behind him, locking her inside the room with his hate­ful words still ringing in the air.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE day of the wedding saw the sky split with green-tinged flashes of lightning closely followed by bellowing thunder interspersed with torrential rain. Anna couldn’t help feeling it was some sort of omen for the future she was committing herself to.

  If the last few days had been any indication, it wasn’t going to be a match made in heaven. Lucio had kept his distance ever since the night she’d lost her temper, choosing to sleep elsewhere, and if pressed to converse with her only did so in clipped, distant tones. In the presence of Sammy and Jenny he resumed his easygoing self, which only added to Anna’s feelings of despair. She knew he was angry with her and to some degree felt it was justified, but she couldn’t help wishing things were different.

  The ceremony was brief and impersonal, nothing like the gala affair she and Jenny had planned four years ago whilst in Rome.

  She stood in front of the marriage celebrant and articu­lated her vows in a strangled voice and wondered if the crashing lightning and thunder above her head was retri­bution from some metaphysical being who was frowning on her for her past sins.

  Lucio seemed to be suffering no such misgivings as he placed the ring on her hand and gave her what only could be described as a perfunctory kiss for the benefit of the small gathering of witnesses, including a rapturous Jenny and a bug-eyed Sammy.

  The reception was hardly worthy of the name unless one counted a few glasses of French champagne and a tray of

  unrecognisable hors d’oeuvres in a plush hotel foyer with a passable pianist doing his best to play his way through what appeared to be a very limited repertoire.

  Anna was glad when the pretence was over so they could high-tail it out of there back to Lucio’s house where at least she knew where she stood.

  Sammy went to bed without his usual fuss and Jenny gave a shy smile as the doorbell rang announcing her equally shy suitor. Anna waved them off at the door and turned to make her way upstairs when Lucio’s voice stalled her.

  ‘Anna.’

  ‘Yes?’ She gave him a dismissive glance.

  His eyes met hers across the hall and she unconsciously tightened her hands by her sides.

  ‘I want to discuss something with you,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a bit late for a pre-nuptial agreement,’ she quipped.

  His mouth tightened and she felt a perverse sort of sat­isfaction at noticing his hands had also balled into fists. ‘We leave for Rome in three weeks,’ he said.

  ‘It’s a little early to pack,’ she said. ‘Was there anything else?’

  She heard his indrawn breath and mentally scratched up another point in her favour.

  ‘We can discuss this out here in the hall or in the lounge. What would you prefer?’ His tone was clipped.

  She set her chin at a defiant angle and placed her right foot on the first step of the staircase. ‘I would prefer it if you would allow me to go to bed. I don’t feel in the mood for a post-mortem on our wedding, to use the term in its loosest sense.’

  ‘Meaning?’ One dark brow raised over one equally dark eye.

  ‘It was hardly what one could call a wedding, wouldn’t you agree? A bride blackmailed to be there and a groom who had nothing but revenge on his mind.’

  ‘I can assure you, Anna, revenge was not the only thing on my mind.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ She gave him an arctic look. ‘Well I have nothing on my mind but sleep.’ She took three steps up the staircase when his deep voice stalled her.

  ‘I could change your mind.’

  She took a breath and turned back to face him with a scathing glance. ‘What with?’

  ‘You know what with.’

  The breath she sucked in hurt damnably but she hoped he didn’t see it. She looked down her nose at him and reached for the banister once more but a sudden deep pain hit her in the middle of her belly and she almost folded with the impact.

  ‘Oh ...God...’ She stumbled and grasped at the railing with useless fingers.

  ‘Anna!’ Lucio’s voice tore from his throat as he lunged up the stairs to her sagging form. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She clawed at the banister as if it were her only lifeline, her face draining of all colour. ‘I...I don’t know...’

  He hauled her to her unsteady feet and, scooping her up into his arms, carried her up the stairs to the master bed­room. Anna considered struggling on principle but the pain was intensifying and she was almost certain she could feel something sticky and wet between her legs.

  Lucio laid her on the bed and stood back to inspect her pallid features. ‘You look as white as a sheet. I’m calling a doctor.’

  She curled into a ball to try to control the pain, her breathing ragged as she fought against crying out.

  ‘What’s your doctor’s name?’ His voice held a trace of panic she’d never heard in it before.

  She told him through her clenched teeth and rolled into a tighter ball and bit down on her lip.

  She heard him swearing at the person on the other end of the line. ‘This is an emergency! My ...my wife is in pain! I don’t care how many people need an ambulance right now! I tell you, I will—’

  ‘Oh!’ Anna groaned and clutched at her womb with both hands.

  Lucio dropped the phone and flew to her side, brushing the damp hair out of her face with a hand that was visibly trembling.

  ‘Anna!’

  ‘I’m bleeding, Lucio...’ she gasped.

  ‘What?’ He frowned for a moment before comprehension dawned. His tortured gaze travelled to where she had her slim legs tightly clamped together, the seeping stain on the bed linen making his eyes widen in shock.

  ‘You are having a period?’

  Oh, I wish! she thought. She clenched her teeth and rode out another contraction of her womb as it expelled its con­tents.

  He sprang to his feet and, wrenching open the door of the en suite bathroom, scooped up a towel and came back to her and placed it gently between her legs. ‘Is it usually this bad?’ he asked, holding the towel in place.

  She shook her head and gasped as another knife of pain stabbed her viciously. ‘No...I’ve ...I’ve never had this be­fore... Oh!’

  He grabbed the phone and redialed emergency, this time making it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Within minutes the screech of a siren in the street announced the arrival of the ambulance, closely followed by a worried Rosa, summoned by an almost incoherent call from her em­ployer.

  ‘I will take care of Sammy for you,’ Rosa assured Anna as the paramedics loaded her on the stretcher. Anna grasped her hand. ‘Thank you.’

  Lucio virtually shoved his housekeeper away to take com­mand of his wife’s loading into the back of the ambulance. ‘Careful! You are bumping her!’ he growled as the stretcher clattered noisily.

  ‘We’re doing our best, mate,’ the red-haired paramedic told him with a reassuring smile. ‘She’ll be fine. Looks like a straightforward miscarriage. Her blood pressure is fine, her pain manageable. She’ll be over it before you know it.’

  Lucio froze.

  A miscarriage?

  A baby?

  Whose baby?

  His?

  He stumbled into the back of the vehicle with his thoughts going all over the place as he looked down at the ghostly features of his new wife.

  ‘Anna...’

  She reached for his hand and gave it a weak squeeze.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What are you apologising for?’ He held her hand as gently as he could, frightened he would harm her.

  ‘I should’ve told you...’

  ‘Told me what?’


  ‘I was on a low-dose pill, but I hadn’t been taking them regularly.’

  He sucked in a painful breath that scalded his lungs.

  ‘I didn’t think it would happen...’ she said in a small voice.

  He found it hard to speak. ‘Don’t worry about it...’

  She started to cry and his stomach clenched. ‘Anna ...it’s my fault.’

  ‘No...

  ‘Shh,’ He pressed his fingertip to her mouth before cap­turing an escaping tear with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t cry, cara. Please don’t cry...

  * * *

  The hospital was noisy and crowded but Lucio’s towering presence saw Anna wheeled into a cubicle almost immedi­ately. A senior consultant was summoned and within minutes had organised an operating theatre for a dilatation and curettage to be performed as soon as the anaesthetist arrived.

  ‘Since it’s an early miscarriage your wife will recover quite quickly physically,’ the doctor reassured Lucio as a junior registrar attended to Anna. ‘A few days’ rest and she’ll be fine, although keep a watch on her emotional health. Many women have difficulty dealing with the loss of a pregnancy, but with a bit of tender handling most re­cover their spirits soon enough.’

  Lucio swallowed convulsively, guilt coursing through him. He wondered what the doctor would think if he told him the way he’d been handling her so far. His feelings for her were as tender and loving as ever could be. The only trouble was that he hadn’t wanted to reveal them to her, preferring to put up a self-protective wall of bitterness in­stead.

  He had been totally gutted by her betrayal. Never had he felt so devastated as when he found the one woman he had thought he could trust with his life had seduced his brother in a weak moment, her so-out-of-character actions making it all the harder for him to deal with.

  The truth was he hadn’t dealt with it, not really. He’d promised her he would no longer refer to it but it still lay festering inside him, niggling at him relentlessly like a pus­tular sore.