Her lashes fluttered down, veiling her expression, and concealing the haunting vulnerability she knew to be evident.
Without a word he slid an arm beneath her knees and carried her through to the bedroom, sweeping back the covers on the bed before slipping with her beneath the sheets.
Carly craved the sweet oblivion of sleep, but it had never seemed more distant, and she provided little resistance as Stefano curved her close in against him. She felt his lips brush the top of her head, and the gentle caress of his hand as it stroked the length of her body before coming to rest on the soft silken curls at the junction between her thighs. His fingers made a light probing foray, and she stiffened as they encountered the slight ridge caused by endless sutures.
‘You had a difficult birth with Ann-Marie?’
Carly closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged quietly, and felt silent anger emanate through his powerful body as he swore softly, viciously, in his own language. There was no point informing him that her meagre savings hadn’t allowed for the luxury of private care.
Nor, in the long silent minutes that slowly ticked by, could she assure him that the wonder of holding Ann-Marie in her arms for the first time swept aside the trauma of a painful birth.
Even now it was a vivid memory, and she stared sightlessly into the darkness as she recalled the joy and the tears associated with those initial few years as she’d struggled to support them both.
Carly became aware of the soft brush of his fingers against her skin, and felt the faint stirring deep within her as her body responded to his touch. She wanted to move away, but she was caught in a mystical mesmeric spell, and she gave a faint despairing moan as his lips sought the soft hollows at the base of her throat in an erotic savouring that sent the blood coursing through her veins like quicksilver.
Not content, he trailed a path to her breasts to begin an evocative tasting that made her arch against him, and she barely registered the faint guttural sounds that whispered into the night air as his mouth travelled lower, teasing, tantalising, until she was driven almost mad with need.
When he reached the most intimate crevice of all she cried out at the degree of pleasure he was able to arouse, until ecstasy transcended mere pleasure, and she begged, pleading with him to ease the ache deep within her. Yet he stilled her limbs, soothing her gently as he brought her to a climax so tumultuous that it was beyond any mortal description, then he took her in his arms and rolled on to his back, carrying her with him so that she straddled his hips, his mouth warm as he pulled her head down to hers in a kiss so sweetly passionate that she almost cried.
His mouth left hers and trailed to nuzzle the sweet hollows at the base of her throat, then he shifted his hands to her ribcage as he gently positioned her, his eyes dark and intently watchful of the play of emotions chasing across her expressive features as she accepted his full length.
Carly felt a heady sense of power, and her eyes widened slightly as she glimpsed the slumberous passion evident in his dark eyes, the gleam of immense satisfaction, and knew the measure of his control. Unconsciously she arched her body, stretching like a playful young kitten, and revelled at his immediate response.
‘Careful, cara,’ he bade teasingly. ‘Or you may get more than you bargained for.’
She moved against him with slow deliberation, undulating her hips in a gentle erotic movement that drew a warning growl, then his hands closed over her lower waist, and she lost control as he set the pace, taking her higher and higher until she cried out and clung on to his arms in a bid to gain some balance in an erotic ride that had no equal. At least, not in her experience.
Slowly, gradually, his movements began to ease, and then his hands slid to her hips, holding her still as he gently stroked his length, almost withdrawing before plunging with infinite slowness until she felt a wondrous suffusing of heat that swelled, triggering a miasma of sensation spiralling through her body until every nerve-end seemed to radiate with exquisite sweetness.
He shuddered, his large body racked with emotion, and she looked at him with an incredible sense of wonder as he became caught in the throes of passion: man at his most vulnerable, adrift in a swirling vortex of sexual experience.
Then his breathing began to slow, and the madly beating pulse at his throat settled into a steady beat. His features softened and his eyes became luminescent for a few heart-stopping minutes, and just for a milli-second she glimpsed the heart of his soul.
Then his hands slid up to cup her breasts, caressing with such acute sensitivity that she caught her breath, and she made no demur as he gently drew her down to him, cradling her head against a muscled shoulder. His fingers trailed over her hair, while a hand slid with tactile softness down the length of her spine. She felt his lips brush across her forehead, then settle at her temple, soothing, until the shivery warm sensation gradually diminished and she was filled with a dull, pleasurable ache.
‘I hurt you.’ The words held a degree of regretful remorse, and she stirred faintly against him.
Tomorrow there would be an unaccustomed tenderness evident, but she didn’t care, for it had nothing to do with physical pain, merely satiated pleasure in its most exhilarating extreme. She sought to reassure him, and moved her lips against his throat, then gently nipped a vulnerable hollow.
‘You still want to play?’ His voice reverberated against her mouth, and she felt rather than heard his soft husky laughter when she shook her head in silent negation.
‘Then go to sleep, cara bella,’ Stefano bade her gently.
And she did, drifting easily into dreamless oblivion, unaware that he carefully disengaged her and curled her into the curve of his body before reaching for the sheet to cover their nakedness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CARLY PUT THE final touches to her hair, then stood back and surveyed her reflection. The deep jacaranda-blue gown was classically styled, comprising a figure-hugging skirt and a camisole top with twin shoestring straps that emphasised her slim curves and pale honey-gold skin. Make-up was understated, with emphasis on her eyes, and a clear peach lipstick coloured her generous mouth. Her only jewellery was a slim gold chain at her neck and small gold hoops at her ears. With the length of her hair confined in an elaborate knot atop her head, she looked…passable, she decided. Or at least able to feel sufficiently confident among guests at a dinner to be held in one of Stefano’s business associate’s home in nearby Seaforth.
‘Stunning,’ a deep voice drawled, and she turned slowly to see Stefano standing a few feet distant, looking the epitome of sophistication in an impeccably tailored dark suit, white silk shirt and dark silk tie.
Carly proffered a slight smile and let her eyes slide to a point just beyond his left shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ Turning, she collected a black beaded evening bag, slipped in a lipstick and compact, then drew in a deep breath as she preceded him from the room to the head of the staircase.
Several minutes later she was seated in the Mercedes as it purred down the driveway towards the street.
When they reached the hospital Ann-Marie was sitting up in bed, together with the doll Stefano had given her, a favoured book, and a teddy bear slightly the worse for wear from which she refused to be parted because, she assured her mother, he was as old as she was, and watched over her as she slept.
She looked, Carly decided with maternal love, as bright as a proverbial button, although there were still slight smudges beneath the beautiful dark eyes, and her skin was transparently pale—visible effects of the aftermath of extensive surgery, the specialist had assured.
Soon she would be able to come home. By the start of the new school year in February, she would be able to resume her classes. Except for the short curly hair, no one would ever know she’d undergone extensive neuro-surgery.
Stefano was wonderful with her, gently teasing, warm, ensuring that Ann-Marie’s initial wariness was a thing of the past.
‘You look tired, Mummy. Didn’t you sleep well last
night?’
The words brought a faint smile to Carly’s lips. Out of the mouths of babes! ‘I stayed up too late,’ she relayed gently. ‘And woke early.’ Was woken up, she amended silently, and persuaded to share a spa-bath, then put back into bed and brought fresh orange juice, toast and coffee on a tray.
‘You should rest, like me,’ Ann-Marie advised with the ingenuousness of the very young, and Stefano lifted a hand to ruffle her curls.
‘I shall ensure she does.’
It was eight when they left, and Carly turned slightly towards him as he eased the car on to the main road.
‘How many people will be there tonight?’ Her features assumed a faint pensive expression. ‘Perhaps you should fill me in with a few background details of key associates.’
‘Relax, Carly. This is mainly a social occasion.’
‘Yet the men will inevitably gravitate together and discuss business,’ she said a trifle drily, and incurred a long probing look as he paused through an intersection.
‘Nervous?’
‘Should I be?’ she countered with remarkable steadiness, considering the faint fluttering of butterfly wings already apparent in her stomach.
‘I have no doubt you’ll cope admirably.’
She sat in silence during the drive, and glanced out of the window with interest as he turned the Mercedes into a suburban street bordered on each side by tall, wide-branched trees. Seconds later the car turned into a curved driveway lined with late-model cars.
The butterflies in her stomach set up an increasing beat as she slid out from the passenger seat and moved to his side, unprepared within seconds to have him thread his fingers through hers as they walked towards the main entrance. The pressure of his clasp was light, yet she had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t allow her to pull free from him.
They were almost the last to arrive, and after a series of introductions Carly accepted a glass of mineral water and attempted to relax.
It wasn’t a large group, sixteen at most, she decided as she cast a circumspect glance around the elegantly furnished lounge.
Stefano possessed a magnetic attraction that wasn’t contrived, and Carly couldn’t help but be aware of the attention he drew from most of the women present.
Seven years ago she’d lacked essential savoir-faire to cope with the socially élite among Stefano’s fellow associates. Nervous and unsure of herself, she’d chosen to cling to his side and smile, whereas now she was well able to stand on her own feet. It had to make a difference in her ability to cope with his lifestyle.
Canapés and hors-d’oeuvres were proffered at intervals over the next half-hour, and it was almost nine when Charles and Kathy-Lee Winslow arrived with Georgeanne.
‘We were held up,’ Charles declared with droll humour as he steered his wife to where Carly stood at Stefano’s side.
‘By a taxi driver who decided to take advantage of the obvious fact we weren’t residents, and drove us via a few scenic routes that lost us twenty minutes and gained him twenty extra dollars,’ Georgeanne declared in explanation.
‘Stop complaining,’ Charles chastised with a broad smile. ‘We enjoyed a pleasant ride, we’re here, and I doubt anyone has missed us.’
‘I need a drink,’ his daughter vowed, her eyes settling deliberately on Stefano. ‘Would you mind?’ The smile she bestowed was nothing short of total bewitchment. ‘I’m thirsty.’
Not just for a drink, Carly surmised wryly, for Georgeanne’s behaviour fell just short of being blatant, and she watched with faint bemusement as Stefano elicited Georgeanne’s preference.
‘Why, there’s Angelica,’ Charles’s daughter announced, and her eyes flew towards Carly with a very good imitation of expressed concern. ‘Oh, dear, how—awkward.’
This could, Carly decided, become one of those evenings where Murphy’s Law prevailed, and she wondered what on earth she could have done to upset some mythical evil spirit who clearly felt impelled to provide her with such an emotional minefield.
With detached fascination she watched Angelica locate Stefano’s tall frame at the bar, then cross leisurely to join him. She saw the beautiful brunette lift a manicured hand and touch his arm, saw him turn, and caught his smile in greeting. Angelica’s expression was revealingly warm. Loving, Carly added, feeling as if she’d just been kicked in the stomach.
A confrontation was inevitable, and when they were seated for dinner Carly cursed the unkind hand of fate as she saw Georgeanne opposite at the large dining-table, with Angelica slightly to Georgeanne’s right.
Wonderful, she groaned silently as she sipped a small quantity of white wine in the hope that it would provide a measure of necessary courage with which to get through the evening.
Their hosts provided a sumptuous meal comprising no fewer than five courses if one counted the fresh fruit and cheeseboard that followed dessert. The presentation of the food was impressive, and Carly dutifully forked morsels into her mouth without tasting a thing.
Conversation flowed, and she was aware of an increasing tension as she waited for the moment Angelica would unsheathe her claws.
‘How is your daughter?’
Again, the faint emphasis didn’t go unnoticed, and Carly turned slightly to meet the brunette’s seemingly innocent gaze as she summoned a polite smile. ‘Ann-Marie is improving steadily.’ She aimed for a subtle emphasis of her own. ‘We’re hopeful it won’t be long before she’s released from hospital.’
Angelica picked up her wine glass and fingered the long crystal stem with studied deliberation. ‘Stefano appears to delight in playing the role of devoted Papà.’
Carly effected a negligible shrug. ‘You, more than anyone, should appreciate that Italian men are renowned for their love of family.’
Carefully shaped eyebrows rose a fraction in unison with the faint moue of evinced surprise that was quickly camouflaged with a smile. ‘Proud of their sons, protective of their daughters.’
Carly couldn’t resist the dig. ‘And their wives.’
‘Well, of course.’ The voice resembled a husky purr, infinitely feline. ‘And their mistresses.’ Her eyes assumed a warm intimacy that was deliberate. ‘What female of any age could resist Stefano?’
Carly felt like screaming, but she forced her mouth to curve into a soft smile, and her beautiful eyes assumed a misty expression that was deliberately contrived as she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrugging gesture that she tempered with a light musing laugh. ‘None, I imagine.’
Stefano, damn him, was seemingly engrossed in conversation with Charles, and appeared oblivious to the content of her conversation with Angelica.
What on earth did he imagine they had to discuss, for heaven’s sake? The weather? The state of the nation?
It seemed forever before their host suggested adjourning to the lounge for coffee, and she felt strangely vulnerable as the men gravitated together on the pretext of sharing an after-dinner port while the women sought comfortable chairs at the opposite end of the large room—with the exception of Angelica, who stood at Stefano’s side, a blatant disparity among men, yet totally at ease with their conversation. It was carrying feminism and equality among the sexes a little too far, surely? Carly couldn’t help wondering if the men felt entirely comfortable. Yet she knew Angelica didn’t give a fig what her male colleagues thought. Her main motivation in joining the men was to clarify the contrast between two women—herself and Stefano’s wife.
The difference was quite marked in every way, from physical appearance to business qualifications. Seven years ago it had seemed important, the chasm too wide for Carly to imagine she would ever bridge. Except that in her own way she had, for there was now a diploma, experience and added qualifications in her field, as well as respect from her peers. There wasn’t a thing she needed to prove, and if she so chose she could join Stefano’s associates and discuss any topic relating to corporate accounting and tax legislation.
The coffee was liquid ambrosia, and Carly sipped it apprecia
tively, wondering just how long it would be before they left.
‘You must visit when Stefano brings you to the states.’
Carly smiled, then thanked Charles’s wife for the invitation. ‘It’s quite a few years since I was last there.’
‘The house is large,’ Kathy-Lee pursued. ‘We’d be delighted if you’d stay. We love having guests.’
Carly could only admire Kathy-Lee for keeping pace with Charles’s high-flying existence, and playing stepmother—a masterly feat in keeping the peace, for Charles adored his precocious daughter.
‘I’ll leave the decision to Stefano,’ she said gently, indulging in inconsequential conversation for almost thirty minutes before Kathy-Lee had her cup refilled and was drawn by their hostess to join another guest who had professed an interest in Kathy-Lee’s preoccupation with interior design.
Carly let her gaze wander round the room, settling on the broad frame of her husband as he stood idolently at ease and deep in conversation with two of his associates—one of whom was Angelica.
Carly forced herself to study them with impartial eyes—difficult when she wanted physically to tear Stefano and Angelica apart.
Angelica was a seductive temptress beneath the designer gown, leaning imperceptibly towards Stefano, her eyes, hands, body receptive to the man at her side, whereas Stefano stood totally at ease, his stance relaying relaxed confidence, an assurance that wasn’t contrived. And, try as she might, Carly could find no visible sign of any implied intimacy—on his part.
Almost as if he was aware of her scrutiny, he turned slightly and met her gaze. For a moment everything else faded into obscurity, and she watched in bemused fascination as he excused himself and crossed the room to settle his length comfortably on the padded arm of her chair.
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