Seasons of Sin: Misbehaving in summer and autumn... (Series of Sin)

by Clare Connelly

  “Intimately,” she promised, undertaking a detailed inspection of his toned, muscular figure.

  “Touché.”

  “I meant sex. Like this.” Her cheeks flushed. “With candle wax and champagne baths.”

  He laughed. “A champagne bath would be a fine idea.”

  “Kind of sticky, though,” she pointed out.

  “That’s what the ocean is for.”

  She shook her head. “I mean it, MK. You’re not answering my question.”

  He pushed up on one elbow. “Because I do not see why it matters.”

  “Well,” she shrugged inside the blanket. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Anything,” he promised, leaning forward.

  “You won’t laugh?” A frown lurked in the depths of her eyes. “Or judge me?” She could see that he was stifling a laugh and so she shook her head. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

  “No, no,” he reached out and put a hand on her knee. She felt electricity arc through her instantly. “Go on. I have my serious face on.”

  If Saphire hadn’t been so anxious, she would have had to stifle a giggle of her own. But she dropped her eyes to the buffet of food Thaddeus had arranged to be waiting on the boat.

  “Before you, I’d only ever been with one other guy.” She kept her eyes averted so didn’t see the darkening of his expression.

  “One other guy?” He repeated, scanning her face to see the hint of humor. He didn’t get the joke.

  “Yes. One man. Then you. And with him, it was … nothing like this. So what I’m asking, and seriously wishing I’d thought better of asking, is if this is normal?”

  Desire, longing, affection, need, adoration. It all mingled in his chest in one powerful wrench of emotion.

  The words were grated from his throat. “No, Saphire. It’s not normal.”

  She swallowed. “I had no idea my body could …”

  “I know.” He moved to crouch before her. She was afraid. It was so obvious now. The sensual awakening, while intense and wonderful, had also probably scared the hell out of her.

  “I have been with many women.” Her eyes flew to his and he shook his head, lifting her chin to bring her lips nearer to his. “But what we share goes beyond it. We keep saying it’s just sex. Great sex.” He kissed her gently. “It’s so much more than that.”

  She felt tears threatening and she blinked them back. “It can’t be.”

  He tamped down on his frustration. He had a week. A week with Saphire and all the feelings she was incapable of controlling. Beyond that, who knew? The future was never set in stone. “Who is this other man you were with?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said swiftly. Too swiftly, only Thad missed the obvious sign that he’d said something wrong.

  “Fine. Why only one man? You are twenty six and so sexy. You must have had lots of men in your life.”

  She shook her head.

  “How can that be?” He marveled, gripping her face on both sides and staring down at her.

  She let out a small sound of pleasure and pushed up to her knees, bringing her body closer to his. “I think this is my favorite moment.”

  “Of the night?”

  “Of my life,” she responded seriously, to hell with the consequences. How could she fight what they were anymore?

  She’d set out to balance the ledger-sheet of harm in her marriage, in the hope that she could return to her husband, and instead she’d fallen in love with the revenge-sex guy.

  It was stupid, and crazy and totally reckless. But how could she care?

  He stood, pulling her with him.

  “Dance with me.”

  “There’s no music,” she said on a shaking laugh.

  “Isn’t there?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Listen closely.” And he held her tight, swaying his hips slowly.

  He was right. Music was everywhere. The lapping of the water against the boat, the gentle rustle of the wind, and the steady thumping of their hearts. She pressed her head to his chest and refused to think about tomorrow.

  Only, of course, tomorrow had a way of rearing its head, regardless of how unwanted it was.

  It crested over the bow of the boat, waking them gently with its golden warmth. Saphire stirred first, lifting her arms over her eyes and blinking in the unfamiliar surrounds.

  Then, she spied the by-now extinguished candles and the empty bottle of champagne and it all came rushing back to her. A smile touched her lips as she recalled dancing until her eyes were drowsy and her legs could hardly hold her. He’d cradled her to his chest then, and laid her down on the blanket as though she were some kind of fragile porcelain figurine.

  He had stroked her hair until she’d fallen asleep, and then he’d held her to his chest, so that they slept curled together.

  It had been a night out of time; a fantasy in so many ways.

  Which made the reality of the next morning so, so much worse.

  “Hey,” his voice was thick. He blinked down at her and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Hi.” Her heart was pounding with love and anxiety, guilt and regret.

  Thad didn’t notice. “I completely forgot last night that I had arranged a surprise for you.”

  “Oh?” She swallowed. Her future was confusing the hell out of her. Jordan was her husband! She’d married him in good faith. This was an aberration and she needed to end it. Didn’t she?

  He gripped her hand and pulled her to standing. The boat was enormous, but she’d seen barely any of it. Thad pushed a pair of glass doors open; they led to a crisp white staircase. He went first, leading the way downstairs, into an open, airy hallway.

  “This feels way more like a gorgeous hotel than anything else,” she remarked, observing the wood paneling and state-of-the-art appliances.

  “That was the plan,” he smiled over his shoulder. “In here.” He pushed into a bedroom that featured a king-size bed in its center. “We could have slept down here,” she teased. Her eyes were drawn then to the bags that littered the top of the quilt.

  He looked at her expectantly.

  “What is it?” She asked, not understanding the significance.

  “When my driver picked up our dinner from Athens last night I had him collect some clothes for you. As much as I love seeing you get creative with my shirts and belts, I thought you might appreciate some actual garments.”

  His thoughtfulness made her heart flip over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” he assured her. “I want you to be comfortable. I should have arranged it sooner, only you kept me so distracted…”

  She nodded. It was too much. Everything was hurting, most of all her heart.

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him, but it was over-bright; she felt it stretch her cheeks. “Do you mind giving me a moment to try something on?”

  He didn’t sense the undertone of panic. “I’ll make coffee.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “Thank you for last night.”

  A lump welled in her throat. It was Saphire who wanted to thank him, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. So she nodded and spun away from him, hoping to keep a lid on her emotions until he left.

  When she heard the door click softly in place she sat onto the edge of the bed and buried her head into her hands.

  What a mess! She couldn’t see a way out that wouldn’t end in disaster for someone. Could she stick with her original plan? Could she stay with him until he left for Paris and then return to Jordan? Could she go back to the man she had thought she loved and tell him, ‘Ha, ha, I cheated too!’

  And whatever she did, how could she live with herself?

  She groaned and stood up. No matter how she chose to resolve this mess, there was no sense in indulging a display of emotional drama. She was better than that. “Pull yourself together,” she urged, scanning the clothes with misted eyes. She reached for the closest bag and lifted out a pair of white linen pants and a soft blue shirt. It was perfect with her eyes; comforta
ble, flattering and a great fit.

  Of course.

  He was a man with an eye for detail apparently, and undoubtedly she wasn’t the first woman he’d bought clothes for.

  “Agape mou, are you ready?”

  She checked her reflection in the mirror with a frown. She looked so much more like herself. For the past few days she’d been sort of wild and free-spirited. Now? She was looking a lot more like Mrs Saphire Arana, wife of up-and-coming lawyer Jordan Arana, future politician Jordan Arana. All she needed was a pearl necklace and a sophisticated chignon and she’d be transformed back to normal.

  It made her want to scream and rail against everything she’d become.

  She didn’t though. She ground her teeth together and moved to the door. She pulled it in and had to take a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. He’d changed too, pulling on a dark grey polo shirt and a pair of pale chinos.

  “The timing isn’t great but one of my oldest friends just called. He’s choppered to the island to check up on me.” He laughed. “Actually, I suspect he wants to meet you.”

  “Me?” Fear made her stumble a little. “What do you mean? What did you tell him about me?”

  “Only that I had the most beautiful house guest in the world and that he should stay away.”

  “And yet he’s here anyway,” she responded breathily.

  He nodded. “He was concerned that I might become morose after Aristotle’s death.”

  “You? Morose?” She couldn’t help but tease. But butterflies were filling her whole chest cavity.

  The small speedboat was already waiting at the bottom of the ladder. The dream of the sea-life was over. Life would go on.

  “Who is he? Your friend?”

  “Rocco Barone,” he said, watching as she climbed deftly down the ladder. “You will like him.”

  She smiled awkwardly. His name wasn’t familiar. What were the chances that he knew her husband? She settled herself in the boat, trying to calm her nerves.

  They walked more quickly on the return to the beach. It was not far to the mansion. As they crossed onto the tufted grass lawn that bordered the sand, they were met by a man who was, Saphire presumed, Thad’s friend.

  Rocco.

  He was just like Thad, in many ways. Tall, swarthy, with eyes that saw too much and a face chiseled from stone. His body was broad, his sculpture defined.

  Thad squeezed Saphire’s hand reassuringly, and he continued to hold it as they got nearer to Rocco. The Italian’s eyes were unapologetic as they purposefully appraised Saphire before turning back to Thaddeus.

  “I’m not invading,” Rocco said in response to his friend’s look of admonishment. “I had business in Athens, and it seemed a waste not to come to you, seeing as I was almost here anyway.”

  “Yes, a waste,” Thad said with amusement. “You are always welcome. Even after being specifically told not to come.” He performed the perfunctory introductions and Rocco held a hand out to Saphire. Instead of taking the fingers she extended, he reached for her left hand and brought it to his lips. His kiss was brief, and interestingly, stirred nothing inside of her.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Arana.”

  Something in the way he said it ignited a fire of warning in Saphire, but she told herself she was simply being paranoid. It was her own guilty conscience, and the fact she was used to hearing Arana in concert with the title ‘Mrs’.

  “Come. Join us for breakfast,” Thad said, gesturing towards the house.

  “I’d like that.” Rocco slid a glance towards Saphire that made her pulse spin, and not in a good way. His look was thickened with an emotion that didn’t fit. Something dark she couldn’t explain.

  “Excuse me,” Thad murmured as they reached the patio. “I’ll let the housekeeper know to bring food.” He disappeared through the doors, leaving Rocco and Saphire alone on the sun-lit balcony.

  “You just met him?” Rocco queried, his manner appearing civil.

  She nodded jerkily and licked her lower lip. She was nervous. So nervous!

  “How?”

  “On the flight over.” She settled herself into a chair, knowing that she had to at least appear calm, even though she was far from it. The intrusion was premature. She wasn’t ready to answer questions about her and Thad. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be. But after the night they’d spent on the boat, she knew she needed to speak to him. To tell him the truth. And to beg him to help her.

  “Interesting. What brings you to Greece?”

  She swallowed. “A few different things, actually. And you? How do you know Mr Konstanides?”

  “Mr Konstanides?” He repeated in obvious disbelief and Saphire laughed despite the tension she felt. The sound was pleasant. Rocco had arrived certain he would despise her, yet her appeal easily challenged that expectation.

  “I’m sorry. It’s an inside joke, I guess. I just sort of like the way it sounds.” She shook her head. “How do you know Thaddeus?” It was the first time she’d said his name. She liked the taste of it in her mouth.

  “Our grandfathers were friends.”

  “Ah. A dynastic relationship, then,” she said with a smile that only added to her sweetness.

  “Absolutely. That’s us. Out to rule the world one transportation company at a time.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mirth and intelligence. “How noble.”

  “What is noble, agape mou?” Thad asked, walking with his natural athleticism through the doors and taking the seat next to Saphire. He reached over and caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

  “Nothing, Mr Konstanides,” Rocco jibed his friend.

  “Ah, I see your name for me is spreading. How … wonderful,” he drawled. Then, to Rocco, “Don’t you start.”

  “You have come from the boat?”

  “We slept there,” Saphire nodded, though her cheeks had a betraying smudge of pink when she thought of how little sleeping they’d actually done.

  “A nice night for it,” Rocco murmured conversationally. “Clear and warm.”

  “It could have been pouring with rain and it still would have been perfect,” Saphire said instantly, but the sentence knocked them all off-kilter, and her the most. She had to be more careful. She was the one who’d imposed rules to keep their relationship simple and now she was breaking them in every way.

  Thad squeezed her hand and then leaned forward. “What’s happening in Athens?”

  Rocco shook his head. “That idiot accountant of mine has misplaced half a million euro.”

  Thad’s laugh was unexpected. “You were supposed to fire him.”

  “He’s the friend of a friend.” The admission was said with an accompanying roll of the eyes.

  “He’s Marissa’s friend,” Thad corrected. “And that’s the only reason you haven’t fired him. You do not suffer fools, and he is undoubtedly just that.”

  Rocco waved a hand in the air dismissively “It will turn up. He has no doubt just forgotten which account he deposited it into.”

  Platters of food began to arrive, and while they ate, Rocco and Thaddeus chatted and Saphire reclined a little, inviting the sun to warm her skin and the food fill her stomach. Thad’s voice was like liquid lava on her veins. She let it run over her, relaxing her, soothing her, until she couldn’t help but believe that somehow, everything would work out.

  Rocco, while appearing intent on a light-hearted discussion with his friend, kept a large part of his focus on the beautiful English woman. There was no doubting her appeal – Thad hadn’t exaggerated her physical charms – but she was also duplicitous. The way she pawed Thad’s hand the whole time they sat left him in little doubt she had her own agenda, and fooling his friend was at the heart of it.

  When Saphire stifled a yawn and then straightened Thad turned to her immediately. His eyes were so full of concern that something snapped inside of Rocco. The image of his friend, vulnerable and grieving the loss of Aristotle, being taken in by a woman such as this was too much to be
ar. He’d come to the island to protect Thad’s interests, and the time had come to follow through on that.

  He transferred his gaze to her pointedly, wondering if she knew the hammer was about to drop.

  “Arana is an interesting name, Saphire. Is it Italian?”

  Her eyes flew to his. She was instantly wary. “Spanish.”

  Rocco’s gaze clung to her. He enjoyed the way mottled pink marred her perfect ivory skin. “You don’t look Spanish.”

  “I’m not.” Her smile was tight. Her eyes were starting to sting; blood was gushing through her body.

  “What are you getting at, Rocco?” Thad asked with silky warning, for he knew his friend well enough to know when he was hedging around a point.

  “Would you like to tell him? Or shall I?” Rocco’s eyes didn’t leave Saphire’s face. She was as white as a sheet suddenly, and Thad felt a bolt of antipathy towards a man he had always loved as a brother.

  “Tell me what?” Thad demanded in a tone his enemies knew to fear.

  Saphire felt like the whole world had lost its gravity. She was weak and hot and cold and exhausted. “Please don’t.”

  “Someone tell me what the hell is going on,” Thaddeus exclaimed.

  Rocco knew that the words would bring his friend some pain. But temporary pain was better than letting the likes of Saphire Arana run all over a man who usually exhibited far better judgment.

  “Your lover is married. Saphire Arana is, in fact, Mrs Jordan Arana of Notting Hill, London.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I can explain,” she said, but the words were hollow even to her own ears.

  Thad turned to Rocco, trying not to focus on Saphire at all. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to speak to her until his temper returned to earth. “What are you talking about?”

  “I had her checked out,” Rocco said, as though it were of little importance.

  “You had me investigated?” Her look was one of abject horror. “What the hell?” She pushed up from the table, shaking now from rage. It was a welcome relief from embarrassment and guilt. “Who the hell are you to think you have any right to meddle in my life like that?”