Whenever she’d studied the tabloids with stories and pictures of him, and whoever was the latest woman hanging off his arm, she’d felt a funny tugging deep in the pit of her belly. She’d never understood the feeling or what it meant. But now she did understand it.
Her heart had belonged to Christian from that first look.
She’d never imagined any of the pop stars or film stars rescuing her on a white steed. Only Christian.
He hadn’t rescued her. He hadn’t saved her. All he’d done was unlock her heart.
She’d always wondered how his women could swallow his lies, had assumed he must have lied to them to get so many of them into his bed.
He didn’t lie. He didn’t need to. Women wanted him regardless. She wanted him regardless.
She always had.
‘Alessandra?’
She darted her eyes to him.
‘Is something the matter? You’ve gone very pale.’
She shook her head with vigour, part in denial and part to clear the burn scratching the back of her retinas. ‘Will Kerstin come to Tokyo with us?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’
‘Have you slept with her yet?’ The question escaped before she could contain it.
‘Ochi! What kind of question is that?’
‘An obvious one.’
‘No, I have not slept with Kerstin, and I am insulted you would think I have.’
‘Don’t be insulted. It’s only a matter of time.’
A dangerous silence followed.
When she looked at him, Christian’s eyes had darkened and fixed on her, a pulse throbbing at the junction where his earlobe met his jaw.
Not taking his eyes from her face, he put his knife and fork together on his half-eaten meal and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, which he then screwed into a ball and released onto his plate.
‘Get your things together,’ he said, rising to his feet and throwing some euros onto the table. ‘We’re leaving. I’ll wait outside for you.’
She watched him retreat, her heart hammering so hard she could feel the beats in her mouth.
Even her legs were shaking, her whole body one mass vibration of cold fear and misery.
Their waiter appeared with her jacket. ‘Is something wrong with your meal?’ he asked anxiously.
‘No, it’s delicious. My husband’s remembered an appointment, that’s all.’
As promised, Christian stood outside on the pavement with his arms folded.
His car pulled up in front of them. Christian didn’t wait for the driver to get out, opening the back door himself and indicating for Alessandra to get in.
She waited until the car was in motion before attempting to apologise. ‘I’m sorry if I...’
‘I am not prepared to have this discussion in the back of a car,’ he said grimly.
‘But...’
‘Ochi!’ he said with such finality she clamped her lips together lest she say anything else.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ONCE INSIDE THE APARTMENT, Alessandra hurried to hang up her jacket and remove her boots. ‘I’m going to make myself a camomile tea. Do you want anything?’
‘No.’ Christian’s answer was curt. She could feel his anger rippling beneath the surface, just as it had on the drive back from the restaurant when he’d sat beside her with arms folded so tightly she could see the muscles bunched beneath his shirt.
Now his hands were rammed firmly into his pockets.
She headed straight for the kitchen area and with shaking hands filled the kettle. Camomile tea, while not the most palatable of hot drinks, was famed for its calming abilities. Maybe it would help soothe the tumult of emotions shredding her.
Dio l’aiuti, she loved him.
‘I’m struggling to understand some things,’ Christian said in a tone calm and reasonable. She could hear the undercurrent of wrath beneath it, though. ‘I took Kerstin on at your behest.’
Keeping her back to him, she took a teabag from the container. ‘You wanted her anyway.’ How could he not? Kerstin was perfect. She was everything that she, Alessandra, was not. For a start, Kerstin would never be so careless about contraception. If Christian was to have a family with the German woman it would be because they both chose it and not out of a sense of duty.
‘Not in the way you’re implying.’
‘You should.’
‘What should I want? To sleep with her?’
Did he really expect her to believe his incredulity? This from the man who hadn’t touched her, his wife, since the night they’d exchanged their vows. He hadn’t laid a single finger on her.
‘Why not? She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with her.’
‘Of course you do. She’s exactly your type, all long legs and blonde hair.’ Deliberately, she tossed her hair back and flashed a smile. Hold it together, Alessandra, please; just a few more minutes, keep it together, then this conversation will be over and you can breathe again. Her fingers dug into the palm of her hands so tightly she could feel her nails pierce the skin. ‘Honestly, Christian, I think you’re mad for not wanting to sleep with her. She’s perfect for you.’
‘I’m married to you. I chose you.’
His words cut through her, slicing through her heart and deep into her marrow.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
‘You chose me?’ she asked slowly, her ears ringing, her heart thundering so hard it reverberated through her skin.
‘You know I did. I made my vows to you.’
Alessandra twisted round so quickly Christian could have sworn she’d performed a pirouette.
The smile she’d been wearing since their return to the apartment had been nothing but a mask that now ripped away to reveal the savagery beneath the surface.
‘You chose me?’
‘Alessandra...’
‘You chose me?’ Her husky voice rose with every syllable. Before he knew what was happening, she’d grabbed her cup and thrown it at the far wall. White china exploded upon impact, large chunks flying onto the wooden floor, smaller shards landing like darts around the larger pieces.
‘What the...?’
‘You didn’t choose me. You didn’t choose to be my husband; you chose to be a father.’ Her face was dark with colour, her eyes wild, feral.
He strove for composure. ‘Parakalo. Please, agapi mou, I need you to calm down.’
‘Do not call me that. Whatever it means, you don’t mean it.’
‘It means—’
‘I don’t care what it means!’ Her voice had risen to a scream. ‘You want me to calm down? Don’t you like me throwing cups? Well, how about plates? Is that what Greek housewives do when their husbands don’t want them? Do they throw plates?’
The bowl of pasta Christian had been eating out of earlier, which had been left in the sink, went flying the same way as the cup. Without pausing for breath, she swung open the door of the cupboard that contained all the crockery.
‘Alessandra, that’s enough,’ he commanded.
‘Don’t tell me what’s enough.’
He lunged for her before she could throw the plate she’d taken hold of, grabbing her wrist with one hand and relieving her of the plate with the other. ‘I said that’s enough.’
Heart pounding, blood surging with adrenaline, he kicked the cupboard door shut, flung the plate on the work surface then pressed her against it, using his strength and height to trap her.
She pushed against him furiously, bucking. ‘Bastardo! Let me go.’
‘I will let you go when you’ve calmed down.’
‘I am calm!’ she shouted.
‘Listen to me,�
� he said, trapping her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. ‘I do not want to sleep with Kerstin. The only woman I want to sleep with is you.’
Her eyes raged with so many emotions he didn’t know where to begin counting them. ‘Bugiardo. Liar.’
‘When have I ever lied to you? Name one instance.’
‘I...’ Her voice trailed off, became smaller. ‘You don’t want me. You’ve rejected me since we married.’
‘Not want you? Can you not feel how turned on I am?’ He laughed cynically. As if she could fail to feel his erection pressed against her abdomen.
That was what happened when you were starved for the woman you wanted more than you’d thought humanly possible. One touch and the body turned to lava, no matter how inappropriate the situation or how vainly you tried to control it.
‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’
Her plump lips parted, closed then parted again. ‘Why?’
The solitary word came out as a breathless rush, but air did escape, warm, sweet air that filled his nostrils and penetrated down, burrowing through his skin, his veins, down into his arteries and pumping through him in a great rush of need.
Why? All he saw were those lips, luscious invitations to sin.
Why?
He no longer knew. All he knew for certain in that moment was that if he didn’t feel those plump lips on his again he would never know the answer to anything.
He crushed his mouth to hers.
There was no resistance.
A tiny, guttural noise came from her throat and she melted into him, weaving her arms around his neck, her nails scraping the nape of his neck, her mouth moving beneath his as she kissed him back, kissing him with a violence that made the heat deep within him enflame and his heart beat like a thousand drums had been let loose within him.
Still devouring her with his mouth, he raised her onto the work surface, her legs parting to wrap around his waist.
Her hands were everywhere, yanking at his shirt to loosen it from his trousers and burrowing up, her small fingers sweeping up his chest, marking him with her heat.
Theos, but she felt amazing.
He found the zip of her dress, was about to tug it down, when Alessandra suddenly wrenched her mouth away from his, pressed a hand to his chest and pushed.
‘No,’ she said, her tone biting. ‘Do not try and distract me by trying to have sex with me. I am not a toy to be played with and then discarded.’ She slid down onto the floor and glared at him. Her chest heaved. ‘You were going to tell me why you’ve rejected me since our wedding night.’
Christian raked a hand through his hair, trying valiantly to stem the pumping of his blood. Her taste was there on his tongue, under his nose.
Theos, he wanted to be inside her.
Taking deep breaths, he turned away to rummage through a cupboard. Weeks ago she’d brought a bottle of bourbon to keep in her apartment for him, a gesture that had touched him. A gesture he was now thankful for as a method of numbing his heightened body a fraction.
He’d been on the brink of losing his control with her. Again.
He poured himself a measure and downed it before facing her.
She leant back against the work surface, arms folded across her chest.
This was what he’d wanted just ten minutes ago. For them to talk. For her to tell him what was troubling her. Was it really the lack of sex within their marriage that had caused it? Or something deeper?
What he hadn’t expected or wanted was for her to demand the conversation start with him.
‘We married for one reason and one reason only,’ he reminded her.
‘Our baby,’ she supplied flatly.
‘Yes. For our baby. It’s the only reason we married. We did not marry for ourselves. I became concerned that your feelings for me had developed beyond mere convenience.’
Her eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You were concerned about my feelings?’
‘Alessandra...you are an incredibly sexy woman. I would have shared your bed every night since our wedding but I didn’t want you mistaking good sex for real emotions.’
‘Why would you have thought that? Because I’m a woman and incapable of separating my emotions?’
‘No.’ It was the light and hope in her eyes when she’d looked at him at their wedding. It was the desolation he’d caught glimpses of these past few weeks.
Alessandra rolled her eyes but there was a definite tremor in her voice. ‘And you wonder why I don’t want to sell my apartment? Where else am I supposed to go when our marriage falls apart?’
‘That is not going to happen. There is no reason for us to fall apart provided we stick to our original agreement.’
‘And what if our original agreement doesn’t suit me any more?’
A cold chill swept up his spine.
‘This is my home,’ she continued. ‘You talk about wanting to leave a legacy for our child? Well, this place is my legacy. It’s the only thing that’s all mine, that I can leave. I’m not prepared to give it up for a man who can’t commit to a real marriage.’
‘We have a real marriage. Real to us. We both meant our vows.’
‘No, we do not. Our marriage is no more real than a winged unicorn.’
‘Where is all this coming from?’ he demanded. The thumping in his ribs no longer had any connection to desire or lust. Fear knotted in his guts but he knew not what the fear was of. ‘You knew the score from the start—it’s what we agreed on. It’s what we both wanted.’
‘But now I want something else. I want something more.’ Alessandra had seen the way Rocco and Olivia were together. If her brother could find love and be happy...
She had found love too. The problem was she had found it with her husband.
‘More? What kind of more?’ He spoke as if it were a dirty word.
‘I want everything. I want a husband to sleep with every night, not just for sex but to curl up to. I want to wake up every morning and know that the man I love loves me in return and doesn’t regard me as a means to an end. I want it all.’
Christian looked as if he’d been sucker-punched. ‘Have you met someone else—is that what all this is about?’
‘No.’ She stared at him, willing him to understand.
She couldn’t hide any more. This was the point of no return. Time for her to lay her cards on the table and see where it took them, for good or ill. ‘There is only you.’
She watched as his powerful body froze, the only movement coming from his blue eyes which darkened and pulsed, the look in them as if he were seeing her for the very first time.
‘Please, say something,’ she beseeched.
‘For the love of God—Alessandra, that is not what our marriage is about.’
Her heart lurching so violently she feared she would be sick, she brushed past him, reached for the bottle of bourbon, poured a measure then thrust the glass into his hand.
After he’d downed it and slammed the glass on the work surface, she stood before him and gazed right into his eyes. ‘Can you ever love me?’
His face went so white it would have been comical had the situation not been so serious.
‘Neither of us believe in love. It’s what makes us so compatible.’
How she wished she could have a proper drink too. Just as well she couldn’t—the aroma of bourbon playing under her nose made her belly recoil. Or was that terror of where this conversation was going?
Retreat wasn’t an option. Not any more. Their time had come.
‘This is all your fault,’ she said starkly, holding his eyes, refusing to let their hold drop. ‘When we married, all I felt towards you was a severe degree of lust. If we’d kept it at sex, I probably would have been fine—lust is intransigent. It would have fizzled out eventual
ly.’ But as she spoke the words, she realised them to be a lie. She’d already been in love with him.
‘Instead, you withdrew physically,’ she continued. ‘But you’ve been...good to me. You look out for me but don’t try and inhibit or stifle me. You’re supportive and enthusiastic. You made me trust you.’
Something flickered in his eyes at her utterance of the word trust. She hardly believed it herself but it was the truth. Somewhere along the line she had begun to trust him. She’d fought it and fought it but it had crept up on her all the same. Just as her love for him had.
‘If I’m such a good guy then what is the problem here?’
‘This pregnancy has changed me. You’ve changed me. I deserve love and all that it can give. And so do you.’
‘Do you hear what you’re saying?’ he asked roughly, his eyes wild as he took a step back. ‘All this crap about love when we both know all it does is destroy people.’
‘No, it does not! Love only destroys if the person allows it. My father allowed it and so did your mother. We don’t have to be like them.’
‘You’re right—we don’t. And we won’t. People who take the risk are weak and foolish and I am neither of those things. I thought you were better than that too.’
‘Then I must be weak and stupid.’
‘I can’t be the man you think you want,’ he warned. ‘I have no capacity to love and, even if I did, I’ve grown up seeing how dangerous it can be and the knock-on effects it has on everyone else.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded when she suddenly turned away and headed for her bedroom.
‘To pack.’
‘For where?’
‘London.’
‘Your flight doesn’t leave until the morning.’
‘I’ll see if I can get a sooner one.’ She flung her wardrobe doors open, pulled out her small carry-on case and placed it on the bed.
He didn’t love her.
He would never love her. He wouldn’t even try.
‘Can you call me a cab, please?’
‘You’re not going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this through.’
‘We’re talking it through right now.’ She selected some clothes and placed them neatly in the case, then dug her phone from her pocket and pressed the app that would send a taxi straight to the apartment building. ‘We can stay married until the baby is born, so you can have the legal rights you want, and then we can divorce. I’m sure we can find an amicable solution to custody—’
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