Celebration: Italian Boss, Ruthless RevengeOne Magical ChristmasHired: The Italian’s Convenient Mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  Lazzaro was in no hurry to remove them, but he was kissing her stomach as thoroughly as he’d kissed her mouth, and as his tongue slid down his fingers toyed with her panties, then stopped. She almost sobbed at what was to come. The tease of his tongue through the fabric, the scratch of his jaw high between her legs, the nibble of teeth on lace had Caitlyn squirming with want in his skilful hands as his tongue worked on. But she couldn’t relax, couldn’t let go and enjoy, because if he didn’t stop soon … She could feel her breath catching in her throat, panic building inside. Because if he didn’t relent, didn’t give her just a second to gather herself …

  Her hands were pushing his shoulders, only Lazzaro wasn’t letting her go. His shoulders were immovable against the pressure of her hands. His hands were stronger as he cupped her bottom and pressed her engorged flesh harder against his mouth. His tongue was inside her panties now, his lips pressed against her, tasting her, drinking her, frenzying her—and her own imagination had been a woeful substitute for reality. The glimpses of satisfaction she had soothed herself with were nothing, nothing compared to this. On and ever on he pushed her, and her throat was constricting, stifling her pleas, a sob was catching in her throat.

  ‘Don’t …’ He whispered the command, and for a second he paused, for a second he looked up …

  Fleetingly she asked the question in her jumbled mind—don’t what?—but as he dived back down, as his mouth pushed aside her soaking knickers, as his tongue hit her delicious tender spot, she gave herself up to the pleasure of her flesh, her thighs tightening, her bottom arching to his hungry mouth. Her hands were not on his shoulders now, but knotting into his hair. Her intimate lips were kissing him back with a hungry beat that he savoured, in an orgasm that went on for ever, made her almost want to beg for it to stop, and when it was over—when all she wanted to do was curl up her legs and recover—he leant back, smiling down at her as she slowly came to.

  ‘Right …’ His voice and his breathing were completely even, his expression utterly deadpan, but there was a glint in his eyes that was almost dangerous as he took in her dishevelled state. ‘Let’s get started, then …’

  Bloody hell! It was the only thing that came to mind as his low voice directed her to the front of the queue for a rollercoaster ride. She’d just had the most amazing orgasm of her life, and Lazzaro hadn’t even taken off his top!

  God, she was gorgeous … A considerate lover, Lazzaro took pleasure in pleasuring—not out of any sense of duty, more because he loved women, loved feeling them come alive, giving in under his hands, his lips. Only with Caitlyn there was a measure of selfishness in his seemingly generous actions—the sweet scent of her skin, the taste of her on his tongue, the moans of pleasure from her throat, had Lazzaro precariously close to ruining his rather formidable reputation.

  Lowering himself on the bed beside her, his mouth on hers, feeling her tentative hands running over his chest as they kissed, exploring him, moving with feather-light strokes downwards, Lazzaro knew he wouldn’t last a second once inside her. And he so badly wanted to be inside her. His tongue was on her neck now, his lips sucking the tender flesh as his hand moved down to where his mouth had been. His palm held her warm mound as he slipped his finger into her wet, warm space. Biting into her neck, he felt her pleasure as his, felt her moisten beneath him. His erection was dragging on her thigh, nudging its way homeward, hovering there, teasing her, massaging her, tempting her, till it was Caitlyn who had no restraint.

  Caitlyn guided that first delicious stab, and then it was Lazzaro, sliding a little way in, then pulling back, staring into her eyes as he did so, monitoring her reaction, tempting her with just a little bit more till her body begged. With each motion her body accommodated this new sensation; with each measured, controlled thrust he held back just enough to make her want more—until she wanted him all: the weight of him on top of her, the feel of him deep inside her, giddying her. Every nerve in her body was fighting the pleasure—because some pleasures were just too great. The control she had lived by, had had to live by this past week, was very close to abandonment now.

  ‘Don’t.’

  He said it again as she fought with herself—said what he had before, the word short and stilted. She could see his shoulders above her, looked down to where he was sliding within, and it was the most erotic thing she had ever seen, the shadowed length of him moving inside her. Only this time he finished what he was saying as a scream curled from her.

  ‘Don’t—hold—back.’

  ‘Like you do?’ Caitlyn gasped, staring into those black pools and holding them. Because he couldn’t ask for all of her without giving all of himself too—and she could feel his restraint, even though it was bliss.

  Their eyes locked as they came together, each contraction, each pulse spasmed, and her body squeezed out a scream, her nails digging into his taut shoulders, her mouth sucking on his salty chest as she felt him bucking inside her, felt Lazzaro shuddering his release, their bodies damp, sliding against each other …

  ‘What do you do to me …?’ He was still coming, and so was she, and it almost hurt to give so much. She almost hated him for the response he so easily elicited, hated him for making her want him so, for being the one man she wasn’t able to resist.

  ‘I told you …’

  They were lying in bed. Lazzaro was playing with her hair and Caitlyn was wondering if he was about to get up and leave when his rich voice reached her.

  ‘I told you this morning it would be marvellous.’

  Was it? She wanted to check. Or are you just saying that? Oh, it had been marvellous for her, but the thought of the beauties he had bedded before was doing nothing for her confidence right now.

  She did her best to manage a sophisticated smile as she answered him. ‘You did too!’ Only she couldn’t keep up the charade for long. ‘So, what happens now?’ Frantic eyes turned to him. ‘I mean, it’s not very professional …’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says everyone.’

  ‘You only listen to me. I’m the boss; I make the rules.’ He realised his words had done nothing to soothe her. ‘We’ll just be discreet. Obviously we can’t make it public—you are my PA, and it would make things awkward on so many levels if people knew that we were …’

  He didn’t finish. She wished that he would. Were what? Caitlyn wanted to ask, only she didn’t have the courage.

  ‘Just be discreet.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Now, go to sleep …’

  He was holding her, still holding her, and she waited, turned her face away from him, waited for him to pull back the rumpled sheets and get dressed and go.

  She couldn’t bear it for a second longer. ‘Are you staying?’

  ‘Why—do you have other plans?’

  ‘It’s just that …’ She blinked up at the ceiling, her thoughts tumbling out as he smiled and watched. ‘Well, actually I’m starving. And I’ve promised myself that I’ll fall asleep every night with my headphones on … I’m doing this crash course in Italian …’

  He halted her by leaning over and picking up the phone. And though he cursed at the state of the after-hours menu, never had a club sandwich and icy champagne in bed tasted so good …

  Later, Caitlyn reflected. Who needed headphones when she had her very own personal tutor? Her very own Latin lover, whispering in her ear throughout the night and teaching her words that she was sure wouldn’t go down too well at any meeting….

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WAS very nice to wake up to.

  Not that they’d done much sleeping … Caitlyn’s inexperience was a distant memory by morning, as Lazzaro had delightedly given her a crash course in lovemaking. A very intensive course in lovemaking, in fact—and she was a very willing pupil, utterly devouring her new-found knowledge and incredibly keen to utilise it!

  But lying there, watching him sleeping—watching that normally severe face, that tense body, for once relaxed beside her—she thought that never had he looked more be
autiful. His scar just added mystery, though it confused her in some ways. He was hardly vain—Lazzaro took about two minutes to shower and get ready—but for a man who had the best of everything, surely he could have had it seen to … ? Caitlyn stared closely at the jagged edges. She could see where the sutures had been placed, and she was so tempted to reach out and touch it, to touch his pain and somehow kiss it better.

  As his phone rang, black eyes opened on blue smiling ones.

  ‘Morning …’ She reached over to kiss him, unabashed after last night’s intimacies—although if her lack of experience in lovemaking had been taken care of, she was a complete novice in other areas. She had trusted him last night and assumed she could trust him this morning—she had given him her heart and, having fallen asleep in his arms, had never considered it would be handed back in the light of morning.

  ‘Let me see who it is …’

  Caitlyn could already see—Bonita was flashing up on his caller ID. Her only solace was that he chose not to answer.

  ‘We should get going.’ He didn’t kiss her back—didn’t even try to pretend for a second. Just peeled back the sheets and climbed out of the warm bed. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.’

  ‘Lazzaro?’ She watched his shoulders stiffen at the question in her voice—and knew, because it was indisputable now, that the intimacies they had shared last night didn’t extend into the day. Learning fast, and hating the game she found herself playing, Caitlyn checked the slightly needy note in her voice. ‘I’ll be down in twenty minutes.’

  He was far bolder than she could ever be. He didn’t even attempt to pull on yesterday’s grubby clothes, just wrapped a towel round his waist and picked up his things before heading off to his own room to get showered and dressed, leaving Caitlyn blowing her fringe skywards as she lay on the bed, trying not to cry—determined not to give him the satisfaction of her tears.

  Sciocco! Sciocco!

  The word pounded in Lazzaro’s head as he showered and dressed, beating in his temples like a pulse as he headed down to breakfast.

  Fool! Fool for forgetting who she was—and he had forgotten.

  Holding her, making love to her, kissing her, tasting her, he’d lost himself, lost his mind … For a few blissful hours he had forgotten about everything—Luca, Antonia, the baby, Malvolio …

  Lazzaro’s face hardened.

  She’d lied to him—she still hadn’t told him that Roxanne was her cousin, and as for being a virgin!

  Lazzaro snapped his fingers at a waitress, jabbed at his cup for her to refill it.

  Well, she might have won this round, but the game wasn’t over—a fool he’d be no more.

  ‘Good morning!’ His deadpan face didn’t even change as she staggered into the dining room—utterly business as usual, he was looking through his schedule and tapping away on his laptop as a very untogether Caitlyn rather shakily poured coffee and picked at a croissant.

  ‘Jeremy will drive you back to Melbourne. I have a few things I want to finalise here and I will get the helicopter back—I also need to see to a few things back at the office …’

  ‘I’ve rearranged our flights.’ Somehow she managed to sound efficient. ‘Our plane to Rome now leaves at ten. So we need to be at the airport by eight. Do you want me to meet you at the office?’

  Lazzaro shook his head. ‘Buy a gift for my sister—then you’ll need the rest of the day for yourself, to pack, pay bills, whatever …’

  So he did acknowledge that she actually had a life? Small comfort, though, when she knew she was being got rid of.

  ‘Jeremy and I will pick you up around six-thirty—we can stop at the hospital on our way to the airport.’

  ‘Fine …’

  He watched her fumble with her pastry. He could see the bewilderment in her eyes and it angered him—what the hell did she expect? Breakfast in bed?

  ‘Lazzaro!’

  Antonia’s vibrant greeting caught them both unawares. Caitlyn was just about to sit herself down in the rather opulent waiting room of the private maternity hospital to catch up on some notes while Luca visited his sister before they headed to the airport. In fact, the only reason Caitlyn hadn’t stayed in the car with Lazzaro’s chauffeur was the fact that she knew Malvolio was still safely at the hotel, and there would be no chance of banging into him. But—looking radiant, pushing a crib along the carpeted corridor from the nursery towards her room—it turned out Antonia was the one who greeted them.

  ‘It is so good to see you—meet your nephew!’ ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed?’ Lazzaro frowned, barely giving the infant a glance.

  ‘I was just fetching Luca from the nursery.’ ‘Don’t the nurses do that?’ Lazzaro asked, but Antonia just laughed.

  ‘So, what do you think of your new nephew?’ If it had been anyone, anyone else, Caitlyn wouldn’t have been able to resist peeking into the crib and staring at the newborn. Only her eyes were on Lazzaro, watching every flicker of his reaction as he stared down—and she could see the grief stamped on his face even though he smiled, could see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed while staring at the baby.

  ‘He’s beautiful …’ His voice was soft, but raw, his hands bunched into fists as if he was fighting with an instinct to touch him.

  He looked so lost and wretched that Caitlyn was fighting with instincts of her own, tempted to wrap her fingers around his closed ones, to support him somehow in this difficult time—only that wasn’t in Lazzaro’s strange rule book, Caitlyn reminded herself. Discretion was the key—and communication outside the sheets taboo.

  ‘Mum says he’s the image of you and Luca when you were born.’ Antonia was looking at Lazzaro too, her kind, weary face etched with worry, and Caitlyn’s heart went out to her. She was sure this was just as impossible for her too.

  ‘Where’s Marianna?’ Lazzaro dragged his eyes away from the infant. ‘Malvolio said she was at the hospital with you.’

  ‘She is—she’s with Mum … come on.’

  ‘She’s already here?’ Lazzaro didn’t even attempt to keep the appalled note out of his voice. ‘But how?’

  ‘She flew out as soon as she found out I was in labour. If you’d answered your phone, Lazzaro, you’d have known a few hours sooner too! Marco’s with her …’

  ‘Marco?’ Lazzaro frowned.

  ‘Her boyfriend.’

  ‘Hardly a boy …’ Lazzaro sneered, but Antonia wasn’t listening.

  ‘Come and say hi—you too,’ she offered Caitlyn. ‘There’s no need to sit in the waiting room. The more the merrier.’

  Caitlyn was about to politely decline, positive her presence would be the last thing Lazzaro would want at this intimate family gathering, but just as she was about to shake her head, before the words could even form on her lips, Lazzaro gave a nod.

  ‘Come!’ he clipped, in his usual Spartan way, and then he did the strangest thing.

  His hand took her elbow and guided her alongside Antonia. And though it was Lazzaro holding her, somehow Caitlyn was sure it was otherwise—sure for a moment that she was the one holding him up—and though common sense argued loudly, told her he was merely being polite, somehow she knew better.

  Lazzaro didn’t do polite.

  Entering Antonia’s room, he headed over to his mother, kissing her and ignoring Marco, and talking in rapid Italian as Caitlyn hovered uncomfortably.

  ‘Thank you for the flowers.’ Antonia smiled at Caitlyn as she opened the gift. ‘And thank you for these …’ She grinned at Caitlyn’s slightly non-plussed look. ‘Lazzaro would never say such thoughtful things … or choose something so heavenly.’ She held up the tiny outfits Caitlyn had so carefully chosen earlier that afternoon, and the silver rattle that she had hoped was expensive enough to be suitable!

  ‘I did put a lot of thought into them!’ Lazzaro countered with a half-smile. ‘I choose my staff very carefully.’

  Although Antonia made an effort to include Caitlyn, Lazzaro’s mother ignored her, clearly more
than used to having staff around. They spoke in Italian, with Marco bouncing little Marianna on his knee as the nona scooped up a sleeping Luca, and though her last week had been spent falling asleep with Speak Italian in Seven Days playing in her ears, Caitlyn still really didn’t understand a word of the colourful language.

  No command of Italian was necessary, though, to comprehend what Lazzaro’s mother was saying when she held out the tiny infant and offered him to her son. ‘Desiderate tenere il bambino?’

  ‘Non posso.’ Lazzaro shook his head. ‘I can’t. We have to be at the airport …’

  ‘Surely you can give him a quick cuddle?’ Antonia pushed, and though she was smiling, Caitlyn could see tears brimming in her eyes as Lazzaro remained adamant.

  ‘We have to go—there is fog in Europe, and the planes are all off schedule. We really ought to make a move.’

  ‘Do you like my baby brother?’ Marianna’s eyes, as black as Lazzaro’s but a lot more trusting, caught Caitlyn’s.

  ‘He’s beautiful.’ Caitlyn smiled. ‘Like his big sister!’

  ‘He’s named after my dead uncle.’

  And no icy European winter could match the sudden drop in temperature on the hot maternity ward.

  ‘Come.’ It was Lazzaro who broke the appalling silence, but his single word unleashed the dam. His mother sped after him, talking in rapid Italian, and as the baby started crying to be fed, unsettled by her new brother, and her uncle who was leaving, so too did Marianna.

  So too did Antonia. And her throaty pleas for her brother to just give his mother what she wanted—five minutes of his time—were the ones that finally stalled Lazzaro. A terse nod and a surly shrug implied that there really wasn’t an issue, that of course he had no problem spending time with them. Then another brief nod as his mother spoke again.