by Dora Bramden
“Do you think it’s the Paparazzi?” said Katrina.
He stood up and took a few steps toward the man who changed directions and began photographing other scenery shots. “It’s unlikely. They’d have followed the teams to Malaysia. Me still being here is an unscheduled delay.”
“Okay.” She smoothed the hair on Alex’s head. Her touch so gentle, the baby snuggled against her breast. “Listen, I know you think I made a mistake not telling you I was pregnant. I assumed that if I blurted it out, it would shock you and then you’d storm out on me. Ironically that’s exactly what you did anyway. But all I said was we could still keep our careers and get a nanny. And I was about to say, I could go back to dancing after a while, but you’d slammed the door. I wasn’t looking at you, so I didn’t even see you walk out.” Her voice had gotten softer and softer. It petered out as she finished her statement.
She didn’t sound angry like he’d expected her to be. Both of them had fiery tempers, and she could match him, a regular firecracker. But something was wrong. She would usually fire up, but now she just sounded soul-achingly sad. His heart contracted like a tidal wave retreating from shore then swelled and swamped him. He closed his eyes and leaned back, laying his head on the rug next to his son’s head and closed his eyes. Dio mio, he’d been like a careless boy who’d held a butterfly in his hand and in admiring its beauty had crushed it.
Katrina and his breath-taking boy needed him to go slow and steady. He mustn’t crush them with stubbornness, as he had been in the past. He’d been angry with her for leaving and not returning. One argument about starting a family and she ran. If she’d just said, ‘I’m pregnant.'
His gut clenched along with his jaw as his anger turned inward. “Dio knows I wish I’d never walked out that day.”
“Do you really?” Her soft, round, hazel eyes glistened. Her hand stroked Alex’s head.
“Certo.” He couldn’t bear the pain in her eyes. He looked away. He’d failed her and his son. His uncle was right. This marriage had been a bad idea. He had made another mess, but his uncle wouldn’t be cleaning this one up. He wasn’t a green eighteen-year-old now. He’d fix this his way.
“How I wish I could believe you.”
“I will show you, bella, I’ll be there for you and Alex.” His gaze rested on his son. “I have to leave for Malaysia tomorrow, but after the race, I’ll be back for a couple of weeks. So I can spend time with Alex. Will you let me do that?”
He allowed one swift searching glance to land on Katrina. Her lips were pressed together, and a worried crease separated her eyebrows. “You can’t have unsupervised visits. At least, not until he gets to know you better.”
“Of course, bella.”
“That tourist is getting on my nerves. He must have recognized one of us. He keeps taking shots of us.”
Alessandro spun around again. He stood up and held out his hands to the man in a questioning gesture. The man pretended not to see and wandered over to some flowers and took some close ups. The price of fame also took on a new dimension. His son could easily become a target. It stirred a fierceness that clenched his fingers into tight balls.
“All right. Let’s go.” He started to pack the picnic remains in the basket while Katrina strapped Alex into his stroller.
The door snicked shut as Katrina backed out of the nursery. In her hand, she carried a baby monitor. Alessandro stood close behind her, his warmth seeping through her cotton sundress. Old feelings of longing stirred deep inside. She turned, and he gave her a look filled with raw need. It undid her resolve to remain distant. His tenderness with their son today, his admission of making a mistake at leaving her kindled a small flame of hope that he was sincere about wanting them to be a family. His palm touched hers and activated a fire that burned up her arm and dried her mouth. She gasped as he tugged her hand and she flopped against him. His arms encircled her and squeezed. Her heart thumped as his lips pressed against her forehead. He let her go but her legs had lost their strength. She wobbled and steadied herself with a hand on his chest.
She tucked the monitor into her jeans pocket and leant her bottom against the wall.
His lips pressed against her cheek. Then the other. She sighed and his mouth covered hers. Angels must have granted her wish. Because she might have been in heaven as she lost herself in Alessandro. His sweet breath mingled with hers as she pushed her arms around his neck and hung on.
He stopped kissing and said, “Do you want me the way I want you?”
She was damp between her legs and needed to stay close to him. She didn’t want to let go even to walk a few steps to her room but that is where they needed to go. “My bedroom is the next door on the left,” she said.
He swung her bedroom door open, and she followed him inside. Her body warmed and readied for what was to happen. Her lips tingled, and her breasts had filled and heated. She ached for him. Only his hands on her would ease the need. The moment in the park where she’d breathed in his scent a slow burn had begun. It now threatened to consume her if she wasn’t held – wasn’t touched.
He turned to face her and heat radiated from his burnt butter irises. Her body threatened to incinerate if she didn’t do something to assuage the flames of desire that prevented her from thinking straight. This need, sparked in the park, had risen to torture as his body now grazed hers. She tore her hand from his grasp and threw both arms around his neck. As she stood on tip toes and tangled her hands in his wind-tousled hair, she pulled him down onto her sensitive, waiting lips..
His hands cupped her face angling her head and holding her in place while his tongue wound around hers and then sucked it. The achingly sweet pulling feeling went all the way to between her thighs making her muscles clench. She crushed her aching breasts to his chest and rubbed up and down against him. Pleasure darts arced through her. His hands moved down to cup her bottom.
He pressed her against his bulging manhood. His moaned breath filled her mouth. Again she struggled to find the strength to stand. It had always been like this with Alessandro. Their passion consumed them. It blotted out reason or consequences. She broke away from his mouth and filled her lungs with cold air. It didn’t help; she was lost.
He turned her around so that she faced the mirror with him standing behind her. Her face was splotchy and red. Her lips were swollen. She closed her eyes against the image of her vulnerability.
“No. I want you to look at me. I never want you to look away again.”
The rough need in his voice made her open her eyes and seek his gaze in the mirror. His eyelids were heavy as he stared back at her for a long moment before dropping them down to her blouse. His gaze, so intense it pierced her skin, made her feel things – want things. It was easier to keep a piece of herself hidden if she didn’t look. His fingers worked on the buttons and spread her shirt around her breasts. Perhaps it was only his reflection, but the fascination sparkled in his eyes as next, he unhooked the center fastening bra.
He murmured, “Bella mia,” as he opened the cups of her bra and cradled the underside of each breast. Katrina leaned her head back against his lean muscled shoulder but kept her gaze on him. Her nipples pricked deliciously as they puckered.
His thumbs wandered up over her nipples sending spikes of heated energy spiraling to her groin. Muscles, long unused, clenched and ached worse than ever with sweet longing. His thumbs strummed her peaks till she moaned and a rush of moisture warmed her womanly place. “Alessandro, what are you doing to me?”
“Mia sposa. You flew away, but now you’re back in my arms where you belong.” He kissed her neck, and his hands caressed her breasts. The pain of rejection soothed as his caresses faded the memory of raw, lonely months of separation.
He turned her to face him. “I have to have you.” He dipped his head and planted his mouth on hers which sent off skyrockets that obliterated her senses. His tongue moved into her mouth and thrust to the deepest corners. His sweetly devastating assault was to claim every inch of her an
d true to form, she wanted him to. She needed his body melded to hers in sweat and passion and total immersion. Every inch of her sang a vibrating note that unhinged and loosened and stretched and demanded.
He scooped her off her feet with an arm looped under her knees. She clung on to his neck as he carried her to the bed. She tried to think but couldn’t. Her careful plans were at this moment nothing more than tiny pieces of shredded paper littering the floor in a trail behind them. She’d lost control of herself and couldn’t make herself care. This was always what happened whenever he came near her. She could barely speak because her heart thumped so hard and she labored for breath. “Alessandro.”
“Hush, mia sposa.”
Yesterday morning she’d sat in his hotel room, full of resistance and desire warring within. As they entered her room, she wanted him and resistance had dissolved away. Today she didn’t have the will or ability to care about the consequences. Her beloved Alessandro had come for her at last. Mia sposa, he’d said – my wife.
She lay back on the bed where he’d placed her. He pushed aside her blouse as if unveiling a work of art. He braced himself with a hand either side of her shoulders then leaned down and branded each breast with his hot mouth. She wriggled as darts of erotic sensation ricocheted around her body. He moved up to her ear and kissed her beneath it, in the sensitive spot that made everything shift and tighten. He whispered, “Birth control?”
“What?” The question flicked icy droplets on her flaming desire.
He breathed in her ear as a moment’s pause flicked more chilling droplets hissing on her wanton need.
“I hoped because I don’t have anything on me.”
She wanted to roll away from him. Embarrassment burned.
He hadn’t lost control the way she had. He didn’t want children. That came before everything. Even now when he talked about them reconciling because they had a child, he didn’t want another.
“No, I don’t have any protection.”
He groaned and stood up. He placed the wings of Katrina’s blouse back over her breasts. “The last thing we need is another unplanned pregnancy.”
She struggled to swallow over a lump that rose in her throat.
She sat up and pulled the cups of her bra together. She fumbled with the clasp, her fingers stupid and clumsy. They trembled and held the clasp weakly. Finally, it slipped together, and she began on the buttons. He was right of course. For her it would be a disaster. She was just returning to her position as principal dancer. Her second chance might not be easily obtained a third time. But she hadn’t thought, she’d been lost in how he made her feel. That she didn’t have that effect on him came as a cold splash in the face.
“Of course, I don’t want to get pregnant.”
His fingers ran through his hair as he turned to her. “I’d better go, before I change my mind. I’ll be back after the weekend.”
Moments later, the front door banged shut. Alessandro had walked out on her, again. Even though he had a good reason, she still felt like they were back at square one. She felt abandoned and nursed an aching heart, while he was still acting like he always did. He blew hot as a north wind one moment and as icy as a Melbourne cool change the next.
Her swollen lips and pain filled eyes reflected back at her from the mirror. She vowed never to let him overpower her reason again. Being vulnerable to Alessandro was a threat to the hard won peace of mind she’d gained over the last two years.
Yes, he’d be back this time. But she must never forget that it wasn’t because he loved her. He’d be back because she had his son. But she would remember this. She wouldn’t lose control again when he returned. No matter what he said or what he did.
* * *
She woke at 6 a.m. Her breasts tight with wanting and the area between her legs, plump and tingly. Alessandro being here yesterday had brought back memories that made her bed today such a lonely place. The year she married Alessandro in Italy had begun like a fairy tale. She’d won a scholarship to La Scala and he’d offered her his Milano apartment as a place to stay.
Initially, dancing for La Scala, she’d been living in a dream with Alessandro. In the mornings, his heart had lain under her cheek and she woke to the sound of its constant drum. Her days began snuggled up and warmly embraced with his arms around her. It made her tired from dancing bones warm and supple like Italian sunshine. She gaily kissed passionately and made love every morning. The way he would move his hand over her bottom to wake her and arouse her body had been a special kind of delicious magic.
At night, he’d pick her up from the theater and take her out to eat, his hand rubbing her leg when it wasn’t on the gear shift. He’d kiss her at the lights until she couldn’t wait for dinner to be over and they would be back in their apartment. Getting from the door to the bedroom was usually in his arms.
Her dancing reviews were glowing, the company offered her a permanent position, but she didn’t have the paperwork done for residency. She’d have to go home first and organize it and return when the season started again. When Katrina tearfully announced that she had to leave for a while. He’d blinked silently for a second or two and then said, “You can stay here if I marry you. Do you want that?”
She’d romanticized it of course. Actually thought it was love. But it wasn’t. It was a rich aristocrat who always got whatever he wanted. That painful knowledge had dawned more slowly. Never being introduced to his mother was a big clue after a very low key wedding.
Her dressing table drawer called to her. The top left one. Something right at the back tucked away behind all the other jewelry seemed to send her a message. She left her bed and crossed the room. Little rubber bands snapped her fingers in warning, but she couldn’t resist. She slid the drawer all the way out. Bags containing necklaces, ropes of pearls and bracelets fought to distract her, but she was intent on reaching the items she hadn’t been able to look at these last two years.
Blindly she reached behind the bags and made contact with cold metal. She pulled out a small filigree silver box. Katrina held her breath as she gingerly opened it. Whenever she needed to remember what real love was she made herself look at this box.
Her heart thudded to a seeming halt when the light caught the diamonds and filled the box with glistening shards. Her breathing deepened as she slid her grandmother’s wedding and engagement rings on her finger. Granny gave her these rings as a promise that she too would find the love of her life. Alessandro had gained her love but it hadn’t been returned. Initially she’d believed he did but when he let her leave without a phone call or even a text to see if she was okay she finally stopped foolishly hoping.
A wave like pulling tide drew her back to three years ago. Her heart started to pound as she remembered the moment as if it were happening that minute, when he’d put a plain gold band on her finger. “I take you for my wife.” She’d dissolved into his sure eyes, unable to resist how much they healed the hole in her heart. “I will.”
She sat down on the end of the bed unable to support herself a moment longer and covered her face. The ring he gave her wasn’t on her finger. She’d left it behind in Milan with a piece of her heart. She folded in on herself and rocked to console the pain that spilled. He’d broken open an egg of clay around her heart and from it came burning lava that spread through her body. She ached all over. Her tears rained on her knees.
For too long she’d held them in. Now they were unstoppable like sand in an upturned hour glass. If only she could put her world the right way up again, but she had no access to the part of her that could do that. She couldn’t let herself hope for Alessandro’s love again. Hoping for love hurt too much.
Alessandro pressed Katrina’s image on his phone and tapped his fingers on his knee as he waited while her phone rang.
“Good morning.”
Alessandro relaxed his grip on his phone. She’d taken his call. Her soft voice held a thread of uncertainty like she wasn’t sure why she’d picked up. Even so, her voice mel
ted a place inside that he couldn’t pin down.
After the accident in Melbourne, it was more important than ever that he raced at the next scheduled Grand Prix. That Katrina could slip away again distracted his mind from winning the next round. For the first time, he wished he could stay put. The call of the track had gained some serious competition.
Katrina’s flightiness meant he couldn’t leave things between them as he had yesterday. He couldn’t wait and resolve things when he got back. Last time he didn’t call and reassure her, he had lost her and his unborn son. He needed to keep Katrina and their son under close watch from now on.
“Buon giorno, bella, I’m at the airport waiting to board my flight. How are my wife and son today?”
“We're all right.”
He could hear his son laughing in the background. It sounded like he was banging something metal against porcelain. “Is that Alex I can hear making so much noise?”
“Yes…”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s trying to smash his bowl to bits with the spoon. Look, it’s not a good time. I have to leave for rehearsal soon.”
Five
Regret swept through Alessandro at not being there, getting to know his son.
“Oh, okay. But be careful of your knee.”
“Was there something you wanted?”
“I want you to know that I’m serious about us working toward being a family. Spending time with him in the park yesterday made me more determined than ever to be a part of his life. Don’t you think this is good, him getting to know his father?”
“I can’t possibly make that decision now. It’s too soon, Alessandro. You have no idea about giving something time to grow. You proposed to me after only three months.”