Castellano's Mistress of Revenge

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She looked away, but he was almost certain he had seen the sheen of tears in her eyes. He took a steadying breath, trying to think, trying to clear the cloud of confusion and regret and recrimination inside his head.

  ‘Our relationship,’ he said after a moment. ‘This thing we have going on between us…’

  ‘What exactly is going on between us, Marc?’ she asked. ‘Blackmail, that’s what. This is all wrong and you know it. It’s been wrong from the start.’

  ‘I can make it right,’ he said, seriously wondering if he could. ‘We could start afresh. We can forget about the past. We can pretend we’ve just met for the first time.’

  She shook her head at him. ‘Another game, Marc?’ she said. ‘Well, let me tell you something. I am tired of rich men’s games.’

  He frowned at her. ‘This is not a game to me, Ava. I want you in my life. I thought I had made that clear.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve made it very clear. The trouble is, I don’t like the terms,’ she said, and giving him an embittered look, marched past him to leave, her slim body encased like a small Egyptian mummy in the bed sheet. It heeded her progress, which was just as well, as his mind was working so slowly she might have got away before he could put his hand out to block her.

  ‘Ava, wait,’ he said, taking her hands in his. She had such tiny hands, he felt them fluttering inside the cage of his, like small, frightened sparrows.

  He cleared his throat, trying to find the words to say what needed to be said. ‘I didn’t know all the facts before. What you’ve told me…well, it makes a world of difference. We can work it out, cara. Somehow we’ll work it out.’

  Her slim brows rose. ‘Isn’t it a bit late to right the wrongs of the past?’ She clenched her teeth and added, ‘One phone call from you and none of this would have happened. Do you realise that? One phone call. It’s been five years, Marc. Five years of my life have gone and I can’t have them back.’

  ‘I know how long it has been,’ he said heavily. God, he had felt every bitter second of them eating away at him. Why had he allowed his pride to do such damage? Why hadn’t he gone to her? To think he might have prevented the last five years of hell, not just his, but hers, with just one phone call or a text or a simple e-mail was like mental torture. Why had he let his father’s experience dominate his life to such a degree? And how could he ever turn things around? She hated him and had every right to for that and that alone. How could he expect her to ignore the past and move on? She had told him she had been friends with Cole, but what if that hadn’t always been the case? What if she had suffered at his hands—maybe not physically, but what about emotionally? Marc knew all about the way people could destroy each other with emotional abuse. He had seen it happen before his very eyes; the stripping away of self-esteem and loss of power had devastated his father and flowed on to him, leaving him with wounds that still tugged at him deep inside like scar tissue.

  ‘You’ve always been so vocal about your hatred of Douglas, but you exploited me just as he did,’ she said. ‘He used me to get what he wanted and you could have stopped it, but you didn’t.’

  Marc looked at her, for the first time in his life no words came to him. She was absolutely right: he was exactly like Cole. He had exploited her and ruined both of their lives in the process. The knowledge of it was like poison in his gut. He felt his insides churning with it. It was like spilt acid, eating its way through him, burning him with a pain like no other.

  She pulled out of his hold with a strength he had no idea she possessed. ‘I am going to have a shower,’ she said, her eyes still flashing their daggers at him. ‘I feel dirty all of a sudden.’

  Marc let her go. Her words were like a slap—they stung long after she had left the room, echoing in the silence, like ghosts from the past coming back to haunt him….

  It had taken hours for Ava to get to sleep that night. Once she had cooled down after her heated conversation with Marc, she had lain awake, vainly dreaming of him coming to her room and gathering her in his arms and pleading for her forgiveness for not begging her to come back to him after she had left that first time. If he had cared anything for her, wouldn’t he have fought just a little bit for her? But then, she had always known Marc was a proud man. He wasn’t the type to beg or plead. He hated being vulnerable and he hated being wrong. How he would deal with what she had told him was yet to be seen. But she had a feeling he would not be offering her anything permanent in the way of the future. He said he wanted her in his life, but those were the exact words he had used five years ago. They were temporary words, not forever words.

  Marc was nowhere in sight during the following day and Celeste just shrugged distractedly when Ava asked if she knew where he was. ‘I am not feeling well, madame,’ Celeste said, putting a hand to her forehead. ‘I think I am coming down with that virus you had.’

  ‘Go home and rest,’ Ava said. ‘Take the rest of the week off. I am perfectly capable of cooking a meal or two.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Celeste looked worried. ‘Signor Castellano… Last time I saw him he seems…how you say…not quite himself?’

  Ava forced a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. ‘He’ll get over it. You know what men are like—they like to brood over things for a bit.’

  ‘He’s a good man, madame,’ Celeste said. ‘You are much more suited to him than to Monsieur Cole. Signor Castellano will be a good husband and a wonderful father to your children, oui?’

  Ava felt her heart tighten like a vice. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Celeste,’ she said. ‘Marriage has always been a bit of a no-go subject with Marc.’

  Celeste pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Some men need more time to get there than others,’ she said. ‘Don’t give up on him. He has come this far to have you back in his life.’

  Ava sighed once the housekeeper had left. She resigned herself to another day of waiting and hoping for something to cling to, some sign that Marc was not going to end their relationship before it had even had a chance to start. It was the same as five years ago; the same anguished feelings of insecurity constantly plagued her. Would this be the day—or tomorrow, or the next day—she would see him for the last time? How could she live like that? She wanted so much more. She wanted forever.

  When she came downstairs later that evening, Marc was standing near the drinks-preparation area, a drink of something amber-coloured in a tumbler. His expression was as difficult as ever to read, although Ava thought he looked tired about the eyes, as if he had not slept well the night before. There were lines of strain etched at the sides of his mouth as well, making her want to reach up and stroke them away with her fingers and to press her mouth to the flat line of his to ease away its tension.

  ‘Can I get you a drink, Ava?’ he asked. ‘You look like you could do with one.’

  She self-consciously tucked a wisp of hair back behind her ear. ‘Do I?’ she asked. ‘Why do you say that?’

  He lifted one shoulder. ‘You look a little pale. Have you had anything to eat today? I’m not sure what arrangements have been made about dinner. I can’t seem to find Celeste.’

  ‘I gave her today and the next couple of days off,’ Ava said. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but she wasn’t feeling well. I think she’s caught the same stomach virus I had before. It takes ages to shake off. I still don’t feel one hundred per cent and it’s been weeks.’

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked, his eyes moving over her in concern.

  She placed her hand over the queasy puddle of her stomach. ‘I’m fine…I think…’

  He set about pouring a drink for her, his movements measured and slow, as if he was rehearsing something in his head. ‘I am sorry about last night,’ he said as he finally faced her. ‘I haven’t handled this very well, have I?’

  Ava was hard pressed to know if he was deliberately distancing himself preparatory to ending their short-lived affair. She took the glass he handed her, but she found her stomach turned at the taste of it as soon as she
put it to her lips.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Would you like some water or some ice with it? From memory I thought you used to like it straight.’

  She handed it back to him. ‘Sorry, Marc, I’m not really in the mood for a drink.’

  He put her glass to one side, meeting her gaze once more. ‘I spent today working on some business,’ he said. ‘I thought you might be interested in hearing about some decisions I’ve made.’

  Ava sat on the edge of the nearest sofa, even though with him still standing it made her feel at a disadvantage, but her legs felt unsteady and her stomach was still curdling. ‘Oh? What sort of decisions?’

  He looked down at the contents of his glass for a moment before returning his gaze to hers. ‘I have set my legal team to work on drawing up a trust fund for Cole’s children, Adam and Lucy. I have also organised some funds for his ex-wife. She won’t have to work again unless she wants to.’

  Ava stared at him, her heart beating so loudly she could hear a faint roaring like the ocean in her ears. ‘That’s…that’s very generous of you, Marc,’ she said. ‘I am sure they will appreciate the gesture.’

  He gave an indifferent lift of one shoulder as if he couldn’t care either way what they thought. ‘It seemed the right thing to do, and God knows I have not always done the right thing in the past.’

  Ava pressed her hands between her knees, wondering if he was leading up to something.

  There was a beat or two of silence before he asked, ‘What does your sister know about us?’

  She met his penetrating gaze even though it made her cheeks grow warm. ‘I told her we were back together. I didn’t want her to feel guilty about what had happened. She has enough on her plate to deal with.’

  He studied her features for a moment. ‘So you didn’t tell her about our deal?’

  Ava gave him an ironic look. ‘Our deal? Your deal, Marc, not mine. You know very well if it wasn’t for the money I wouldn’t be here for a moment longer than necessary.’

  He twirled the last of his drink, his expression wry. ‘Ah, yes,’ he drawled. ‘The money. It always comes back to the money.’

  ‘What are you getting at?’ she asked, feeling her hackles start to rise at his tone.

  ‘It’s pretty simple, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You needed money, I wanted a mistress. A fairly straightforward transaction, or so one would have thought.’

  Ava decided to be straight down the line with him. ‘If you are unhappy with the services so far then please say so. I would hate to be causing you any dissatisfaction. After all,’ she injected her tone with reproach, ‘you paid a fortune for me.’

  He put his glass to one side and came up to her, lifting her face with one fingertip beneath her chin. ‘I am very happy with the services, as you call them,’ he said, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘Very happy indeed.’

  Ava wished she had the strength or wherewithal to pull away, but with his light touch on her face, and his dark-as-night eyes locked on hers she felt ambushed by her feelings for him. This was the time to be putting some distance between them. She knew she should put her hands against his chest and push him away, but somehow she couldn’t do it. She rehearsed each of the steps in her head, she even got as far as raising her hands, but instead of pushing him away, as soon as her hands felt the hard contours of his chest, she felt as if she had come home. She felt the strong, steady beat of his heart against her palm, and the blood in her own veins began to race. Her tongue flicked out over her lips in nervous anticipation, her heart hammering inside her chest, her legs feeling as if they were not bones and ligaments and muscles and tendons, but two pipe-cleaners without their wires. She felt the rest of her body sway towards his, her mouth opening on a breathless little sigh as his warm breath caressed the surface of her lips, her heart coming to a screeching standstill when his mouth came inexorably closer, closer and closer until finally sealing hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AVA wound her arms around Marc’s neck, giving herself to his kiss with a sigh of deep, shuddering pleasure. His tongue stroked for entry and then roved the moist cave of her mouth, finding all the sensitive nerve-endings that made her cling to him all the more.

  His hands skimmed her breasts, his light touch sending off shooting sparks of awareness as her nipples sprang to attention. His kiss deepened, one of his hands going to the back of her head, cupping the nape of her neck as his lips and tongue drove her crazy with longing.

  His other hand worked on her clothes, lifting her top, unclasping her bra so he could cup her breast in the warmth of his hand. She pressed against him, her nipple rock-hard, the feel of him exploring her making her flesh pepper all over with goose pimples.

  Ava stroked her hands down his back, pulling his shirt from his trousers so she could feel the warm silk of his skin beneath her fingers. He groaned into her mouth as she moved to his buttocks, her hands cupping him tightly, holding him against the heart of her need.

  She felt the hard ridge of his erection, and quickly released the waistband of his trousers, desperate to hold him, to caress and stroke the satin and steely length of him.

  He sucked in a sharp breath as she finally freed him. She ran her fingertip over him, teasing him with circular motions until he pulled her hand away with a growl that sounded primeval and intensely male.

  He pressed her to the rug on the floor, dispensing with clothes and shoes with breathtaking haste, pausing only to retrieve a condom from his wallet in the back pocket of his discarded trousers.

  Ava shivered as he came over her, his weight pinning her, his arousal probing for entry, but gently this time, holding back until he was sure she was ready to receive him. She relaxed her pelvis, opening to him, drawing him in with a hitching sigh as he filled her, his thickness smooth and sure as it finally and fully claimed her.

  She felt every thrust against her sensitive inner muscles, each one rippling over him as he drove a little harder and faster. His mouth covered hers with a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of his lower body, sending her senses into a spinning vortex of feeling. She felt the tension build and build inside her, like climbing a high mountain in anticipation for the spectacular view at the top. Step by step she was getting there; each movement of his body in hers made the journey all the more exhilarating. She heard his deep groans, each one as it rumbled through his chest against hers making her pleasure all the more intense. She hovered at the pinnacle, her body desperately seeking that final plunge into paradise.

  Marc sensed her need and used his fingers to coax her over the edge. He loved the feel of her in full arousal, the soft silk of her, the swollen heart of her pulsing against his fingertips as she finally let go. He felt each of her spasms, heard each of her startled gasping cries as her orgasm swept her away. She shuddered and shook and thrashed beneath him until he could hold on no longer. With a grunt he surged into her, losing all thought, all he could do was feel. The sensations flowed through him, the hot wave of release that left him lying in the blissful shallows of lassitude.

  ‘Am I too heavy for you?’ he asked into the silence of the aftermath.

  ‘No,’ she said softly, her fingertips tracing a feathery pathway up and down his spine that made every hair on his head stand on end in pleasure.

  Ava sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, affording herself a small measure of dignity, considering she was in the middle of the sitting room with not a stitch on. ‘You really are dead set against having a child, aren’t you?’ The words were out of her mouth almost before she had realised she had been thinking them, let alone about to say them. It was too late to take them back.

  His eyes cut to hers, dark and inscrutable. ‘I realise this must be a sensitive issue with you given what your sister is going through, but yes, I am not interested in having a child.’

  Ava felt annoyed at his dismissal. It was so easy for men; they could put fatherhood on hold indefinitely. She on the other hand had felt her biological clock ticking like
Big Ben ever since she had turned twenty-five. Nearly three years had passed since then and she was rapidly approaching thirty. She had read the statistics: female fertility dropped alarmingly after the age of thirty-five. The thought of ending up alone and childless was unbearable to her. For as long as she could remember Serena and she had shared a deep longing for true love and a little family to call their own.

  Ava gathered her clothes and struggled back into them, suddenly desperate to get some time alone, to think about what she should do. She was back right where she had started with Marc. He was unwilling to compromise in any way. She would always be the one to make the sacrifices. She had made so many already, how could she continue to give up her hopes and dreams indefinitely?

  ‘I would like us to dine together this evening,’ Marc said. ‘Take your time getting ready. The restaurant at the casino will not mind how late we are.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Then you can watch me eat because I am.’

  ‘There is plenty of food in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘I want you to come with me, Ava. I’ve told you before, it is important that we are seen together.’

  Her top lip curled at him in contempt. ‘So dining out is nothing more than a publicity stunt?’

  ‘If you want to see it that way, but I would much rather view it as a chance to relax and get to know one another again over good food and good wine.’

  Her eyes fell away from his, her bottom lip subjected to a savaging by her teeth that he was certain would draw blood.

  He stepped towards her and brushed his thumb over her mouth. ‘You must be hungry after all,’ he said with a wry smile.

  She gave him a fierce little scowl as she moved out of his reach. ‘I don’t feel like going out. I want to go to bed.’

  He gave her a glinting smile as he reached for her again. ‘Then that is where I will take you.’

  Ava quickly stepped backwards but the sudden movement made her head spin crazily. Her stomach roiled with nausea, her whole body feeling clammy. A swirl of ghastly coloured patterns formed in front of her and she felt as if she was going to drop in a faint. She fought to hold on to consciousness, but her legs started to wobble.