“Is it such a burden, having your husband appear unexpectedly?” Jesus, he wished the driver would hurry up. Traffic was hell, but he didn’t care. There were ways to sneak around and cut time.
“I wish you would’ve told me,” she said, her voice small.
“Why? So you could tell me to stay away? I won’t have it.” He lowered his tone. “You’re my wife. Act like it for once.”
“The same could be said for you,” she retorted.
Someone called her name in the background and Vince closed his eyes, breathing deep. “Fine. Go. But give me the studio address so I can come to you. We’re talking Amber, whether you want to or not. You can’t run away from me this time.”
“Fine.” She rattled off the address quickly. “Know that I’m in the studio for the next six hours, though. You’ll have to wait. This shoot is important.”
“They’re all important.” He grabbed the notepad and pen at his side and scribbled the address down. “I need to stop by Renaldi for a few hours, so this works out perfect. I’ll see you soon.”
Amber didn’t bother saying goodbye. She simply hung up.
“Shit.” He threw the phone onto the empty seat beside him, watched as it bounced onto the floor.
From the moment he met her, he knew Amber was driven. Determined. Just as determined as he. She’d revealed much of her past when they first met. How poor her family had been growing up and how her good looks had brought income to her family that they never expected. A local photographer had discovered her at the mall, the cliché of all cliché model stories. One minute they’d been struggling to put food on the table and the next, Amber made enough money to keep her family fed and clothed.
She’d always felt that obligation, and it made her work harder. Never again would her family go hungry, she told Vince the first night they slept together, her lithe, naked body molded to his, sweat from their vigorous lovemaking still sticking to their skin. Modeling was her career, her life. She needed to make as much as possible so she would never have to worry about finances again.
It didn’t matter that he married her and told her his family’s wealth was now hers. She couldn’t give up her career. She refused to.
He tried his best to understand, but as the months went by, it grew difficult. Vince missed her. His wife belonged with him. She had nothing to worry about—there should be no fear in her heart of ever going hungry again. If he wanted to, he could write a check to her parents that would take care of them and her siblings for the rest of their lives. Hell, she could write a check like that. He knew what sort of money she made.
But she refused to. If she was too stubborn to sacrifice for him, then he would do it for her. It didn’t matter that his brothers and sister thought he was being ridiculous. It didn’t matter that his mother gave him a nearly two-hour-long speech regarding the sanctity of marriage, the roles that a man and woman must fulfill to each other. His mother was old-fashioned, she didn’t understand. No one understood.
He loved her. Vince was madly in love with his wife and would do anything he could to make her see it. Did it matter that he was the one running to her?
According to his entire family, yes. It did.
But according to him? No. He would do anything for Amber.
Anything.
Nerves ate at her gut as Amber stared at herself in the mirror, watching the hairstylist take out all the bobby pins from her hair. Her long, golden blonde hair had been styled elaborately to showcase the simplicity of the clothes. A fashion shoot for Marie Claire magazine, this one had paid well. Would help give her even more visibility.
She’d been a model for years, but finally, finally she felt as if she was at the pinnacle of her success. She’d landed a few foreign covers, but she wanted the Holy Grail of all of them. The one that was near impossible to get since the magazine still featured mostly celebrities on its cover.
Vogue.
Yes, she’d been on the British Vogue cover and most recently the Italian Vogue, but nothing beat the original. Despite her thoughts of retirement, she still wanted that cover.
Desperately.
“You were fabulous today, sweetie.” The stylist, Anton, flashed a quick smile at her as he brushed out her hair. “Like a perfect little doll.”
She smiled in return, her gaze going to Anton’s in the mirror. “Thanks.” Her lids lowered as he continued to brush, the sensation soothing. She desperately needed to be soothed. Her husband was set to show up at any minute, and she wasn’t ready.
When it came to Vince, she was never ready.
He had a presence that was overwhelming, unnerving. He entered a room and he sucked all the life out of it until he was all that she could see. All she could hear and taste and smell. That was how she felt when she first saw him. Breathless. Overwhelmed. The connection had been fierce. Intense. The sex, delicious. Mind-blowing. She’d fallen head over heels in love…
With a macho, traditional Italian man who tried his best to tolerate her career. And he’d done so for a while. Tried his best to understand since he was a career man himself. She’d told him her entire story. Her early years and the poverty they’d suffered. The fear of the electricity, the phone or the water being shut off at any given moment because her parents couldn’t pay the bill. The lack of food.
She’d gone hungry. Everyone in her family had gone hungry at one point or another. She’d worn shoes until there were holes in the soles. She’d worn jeans that hit her almost mid-calf and they hadn’t been originally designed as cropped pants.
She’d been tall and gangly through junior high until she blossomed the summer before her sophomore year in high school. That’s when it all changed for her. When she became a working model.
Vince had been sympathetic and promised her the world, which she’d never felt comfortable taking. Wealth that didn’t belong to her made her nervous. And the vast wealth that the Renaldi family had was something she never believed possible.
But look at her now, successful in her own right. Driving her husband crazy because she was addicted to her work. Scared. What if she took fewer jobs? What if she cut back to part-time? What if—worse—she flat out quit? That would make Vince happy, but not her. Her career could disappear, and that frightened her more than anything. Her marriage was already tense. She couldn’t give up everything for Vince, could she?
No.
The moment of reckoning had finally come. Amber had waited for it with a sense of dread that always lingered in the back of her mind. Her husband had arrived in New York to demand she come home with him. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to give up everything for their marriage, for their future, for him.
She wasn’t sure if she was prepared. Worse, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be. Vince deserved more.
Her husband deserved better. Better than her.
“Honey, you are jittery.” Anton shook his head when she gave a little jerk at his words. “Too much Red Bull or what?”
“Probably.” She laughed, but it sounded fake so she stopped. “A little frazzled after the shoot, I guess.”
“Why? You were beautiful, baby doll. Gorgeous. The photographer loved you and when he acts that way over one of you girls, all drooly and obsessed and stuff, they usually end up becoming his muse.” Anton leaned in close to her, his hands gripping her shoulders. “And when he finds a muse, he puts that girl straight to work. Isn’t that what you want, Sleeping Beauty? Don’t you want to wake up and find your face in every magazine?”
Excitement fizzled in her veins, shook and popped in her mind like a bottle of freshly opened champagne. She’d worked with Anton before and knew he wasn’t one for exaggeration. He told it like it was. And he was expert enough to know the behavior of the photographer she just worked with.
“Do you really think he liked me?” Amber asked, her voice hushed, her eyes wide. She looked like an ingénue, all fresh faced and innocent expression despite the ton of makeup she still had on her face. She was only twenty
-three. She’d married Vince so young, too young. But she’d been in the business forever, since she was fifteen. Had fully supported her family since she was seventeen.
The wide-eyed ingénue thing was a total act, a figment of her looks and nothing more. Inside, she felt like she’d lived a complete life already.
She was both tired and amped. Ready for more yet exhausted at all the work that lay ahead of her. More than anything, she was a complete contradiction. No wonder she confused her husband.
Amber did a damn good job of confusing herself.
“I know he loved you.” Anton gave her shoulders a quick squeeze before he moved away from her. “You’re done. Go meet that man who was yelling at you on the phone earlier.”
Turning in her chair, she gave Anton an evil scowl. “No man was yelling at me on the phone earlier.”
“Oh yes, he was. I heard him.” Anton laughed and shook his head. “It’s okay, baby. I won’t hold it against you. I bet you have fifty men yelling at you at any given time. They all want a piece of you. You could have any man in the world, couldn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t allow any other man to touch her, since she belongs to me.”
Amber went completely still at the sound of that familiar deep voice. She’d heard it in her dreams, velvety smooth and with a hint of an Italian accent. She’d heard it earlier on the phone when he’d demanded that she see him, that they talk.
“Damn.” Anton’s brows rose so high they nearly met his hairline. His gaze cut to Amber’s. “Who’s the ultra hot possessive guy?”
She parted her lips, just about to answer when Vince interrupted her.
“I’m Amber’s husband. Who the hell are you?”
Chapter Three
“That was totally uncalled for,” Amber tossed over her shoulder as she exited the building, her husband following directly behind her. She’d given him the cold shoulder from the moment he’d appeared at the studio, all determined, overbearing husband in full effect. Without a word, she’d hugged Anton goodbye, gathered her things and left, with Vince following right behind her.
His mere presence was a living, breathing thing, meant to entice her. Drive her crazy. She wanted to both push him away and pull him closer.
The man—and her feelings for him— completely confused her.
“What are you talking about? The way I talked to that man who was hanging all over you?” Vince grabbed hold of her elbow, forcing her to stop. “He had his hands on you. You’re my wife.”
She turned to face him, wishing she could take a step back when she saw the anger flashing in his dark brown eyes. But she needed to stand firm and hold her ground. “He’s the hairstylist. Of course he has to put his hands on me.”
“He was overly familiar with you.”
“Anton is a friend.” She rolled her eyes.
Vince’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like you having friends like him.”
“He has zero interest in me, trust me.” Amber laughed and Vince shook her a little, his expression going even darker. The laughter died in her throat. “He’s gay, Vince. He wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”
Her husband gentled his grip on her but didn’t let go. His expression turned contrite. “My apologies. It’s just…it’s been so long since I’ve seen you and when I finally do lay eyes on you, another man is laughing and touching my wife and I lost my head. I wasn’t paying attention to him. Only you.”
Lost his head and his temper, though she guessed she could forgive him. Especially when he looked so handsome with his apology. No one could deny that her husband was attractive. The thick dark hair that had a tendency to curl at his neck, those chocolate brown eyes, his burnished skin, harsh nose, strong jaw and sensuous lips. Lips that knew just how to kiss her, smile at her, scowl at her.
“I’m in a business where there are tons of people who touch me all the time,” she said gently, stepping closer to him. “You have to understand that.”
“Oh, I understand it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He exhaled loudly and ran his free hand over his face. His frustration rang through his every action. “We need to talk, Amber. Now.”
She glanced around. They were standing on the sidewalk, pedestrians pushing past them, the irritation clear on their faces. “We can’t talk here.”
“Of course we can’t. Come back with me to my apartment.”
Panic lit within her and she tried her best to fight it down. He’d get her into his luxurious penthouse apartment and she’d fall straight into bed with him. When it came to Vince, she had no willpower. And he knew it. “We won’t talk there and you know it.”
The wicked grin that curved his lips stole her breath. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
Slowly she shook her head, her gaze snagging on a storefront not far from where they stood. “Let’s go to the coffee shop right there.” She pointed to its location a few doors down. That would be best, having this discussion in public. That way he couldn’t charm her, kiss her, seduce her. She needed to keep her wits about her.
She was about to break it off with her husband. Falling into bed with him would send the wrong message.
“You want to discuss the state of our marriage in a Starbucks?” He sounded incredulous.
Lifting her chin, she sniffed, trying for indignant. She gently tugged her arm out of his hold and started heading for the Starbucks. “What’s wrong with that?”
He kept up with her. “You want people to hear our personal business?”
“No one will pay us any mind.” She kept walking, her gaze locked on the front entrance of the Starbucks, refusing to look at her husband. Keeping the discussion public would keep her safe. She was bound and determined to do the right thing.
Staying married to Vince was definitely not the right thing.
“I’d rather we go to my place.” He paused. “Our place.”
“I’m sure you would.” She turned on him, stopping in front of the windows of the coffee shop. “You’d love to get me into your bed. Where you can touch me and kiss me and say all the right things. Next thing I know we’re both naked and panting and you’re inside of me, telling me how much you love me and miss me.”
His gaze heated. Surely her words fueled his imagination. They’d fueled hers too. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
“You say we need to talk. Well, then we should talk. And this is the best place for that, don’t you think? In public where we have to be civil and keep our hands to ourselves? Where there are no raised voices or passionate kisses to distract us?”
“Are you implying that you’re afraid to be alone with me?”
“I’m outright stating that I don’t trust myself when I’m alone with you.”
He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You say such things and I’m confused. Since when did our marriage become such a burden to you?”
“Oh, Vince.” She shook her head, hating the cloak of sadness that settled over her, heavy and foreboding. It was time she told him the truth. He was in a complete state of denial if he couldn’t see what they shared wasn’t really working any longer. Had it ever? “It’s not a burden to me, it’s a burden to you. I’m…I’m not what you want. Not really.”
“Don’t speak for me when you don’t know what I really want.” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched as he glared at her. “I want you, Amber. You’re my wife. I love you.”
His words cracked her heart. “I love you too, but I can’t give you what you want. You know this.”
“What I want is for you to be with me. Truly. We need to have a real marriage where we see each other every single day, we talk, we laugh, we fight, we make love, we make babies…” His voice drifted, his expression swiftly turning tender. “Don’t you want children? Once upon a time, early in our relationship, you said you did.”
Panic came back, quicker this time and she swallowed hard, trying to force it down.
“I know you’re young,” he continued. “I know y
ou’re still very involved in your career, but you’ve been at it for a long time. Isn’t it time to think about something else?”
“I can’t give up my career,” she said tightly. “Not yet. It’s important to me. You know this.”
“I’m not asking you to give it up, just scale back. I vow to work less if you can do the same. Our relationship suffers at the hand of our work. I can’t stand it.”
“I can’t stand that I hurt you!” She breathed deep, trying to stop the tears that threatened to take over. “I love you, Vince. But I don’t think it’s enough to make our marriage work. We’re at different stages in our lives. We want different things.”
His expression darkened, and she took a step back, hating the unease that wrapped around her. “I’m not about to let you go because you think it’s best. Have you asked me what I want? Have you ever considered that maybe all I really want is you?”
She glared, hating how unsure his words made her feel. She preferred it when he went all macho Italian asshole on her because at least then it gave her a reason for her anger and frustration. She both adored his alpha tendencies and hated them, particularly when he used them against her. “Don’t act this way.”
“You force me to act this way with your behavior. You don’t act like a true wife.”
“Because I’m not a true wife! Not really. We married too quickly. It was all hot passion and steamy nights and long, sweet talks, but it wasn’t real. More like a fantasy.” The tears came now, slowly sliding down her cheeks. “This isn’t working. I want a divorce, Vince.”
Vince stared at his wife, all the words that struggled to come out evaporating one by one. He gaped at her like a dying fish, feeling like a complete ass. She said she loved him in one breath and wanted a divorce in the next?
“No, you don’t,” he said, his voice raspy.
She laughed, and it was like a punch to the gut. “You can’t tell me what I want or don’t want. You don’t have that right.”
Falling for Her Husband: The Renaldis, Book 3 Page 2