by Penny Jordan
Yet the facts that Clio had uncovered about Jackson, that he finally had a chance to bring him to justice for all the wrongs he had done to so many people, freed something inside him.
He couldn’t find it in him to be angry with Clio anymore for interfering. Instead, he felt grateful.
With her actions, she had only shown him how much power he had given Serena’s rejection over his very life. And yet here she was, struggling to find herself again after Jackson had stolen so much from her.
In the face of her strength, Stefan felt some of his own bitterness melt. He lifted her and carried her back to her bedroom, drenched in the realization that a small part of him could trust a woman again.
However their marriage had started, it seemed he had a wife who bore his name with care and honor and duty.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TWO WEEKS LATER, Stefan and Clio arrived in Gazbiyaa, Zayed’s desert kingdom, the evening before Zayed’s wedding was to take place. The desert palace glittered in the setting sun, breathtakingly beautiful, a haven of luxury amidst the stark landscape of the desert.
Stefan and she had been shown to a suite in the wing of the palace that was away from the festivities of the wedding and provided privacy, just as Rocco and Olivia, and Christian and Alessandra had been.
With Stefan catching up with Rocco and Christian, and feeling a bit fragile to face the other women yet, Clio toured the Gazbiyan palace with a bevy of maids—at least the portions that she was allowed to without infringing on the customs of a kingdom that clung to its traditional roots. A kingdom that Zayed was determined to pull away from the brink of war with its neighboring nation.
Everywhere she looked, there were festivities going on with a pulse of joy beneath them.
The next evening, reunited with Rocco’s wife, Olivia—they had bonded over her and Stefan’s kissing scandal at Christian’s wedding—and Alessandra, who was beginning to show a growing baby bump, she visited Nadia, Zayed’s intended.
Even as Stefan and she were taking part in Zayed’s extravagant wedding, back home in New York, Jackson was under investigation by the SEC. The guilt she had initially felt had eased as more and more of Jackson’s illegal business practices began to come into light.
Driven by greed, he had fleeced so many people.
Under Stefan’s expert guidance on all things related to the charity and its finances, she had hit the ground running in terms of her work. When he looked at her now, there was nothing but admiration and respect in his gaze.
She had achieved everything she had set out to do when she had stumbled into his suite at the Chatsfield with her life in tatters.
As much as she had feared ruining their fragile relationship, making love with Stefan was the most natural path they could have taken.
More than a week went by where they lost themselves in learning, exploring each other, where Stefan, as if determined to be the only man in her thoughts, seduced her so thoroughly that Clio felt like a new woman in her own skin, free to embrace her wants and desires.
And the more she let herself go with Stefan, the tighter he bound her to him with his own desires. Sometimes he would wake her up with kisses, make love to her so slowly, with such thorough care that she thought her heart would burst out from his tenderness.
Other times, his desire was touched by a desperate passion that shredded his control, that had once had him taking her against the wall in the lounge, seconds after he had returned from burying Marco.
I needed you so desperately, bella, that a week has never felt more like a lifetime.
At those times, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to breathe if he stopped.
The different depths to his desire left Clio addicted and just as desperate as him. And terrified that he was slowly, but irrevocably stealing a part of her soul.
Because as demanding and giving as he was when it came to sex, he didn’t say a word to her out of that context. She had begged to go accompany him to Marco’s funeral, wanted to share the ache of that moment with him. But he had stubbornly denied her.
It was as if he could communicate with her only through sex.
Now, as she dressed for Zayed’s wedding, Clio trembled when the gold silk caftan slid over her skin with a whispered caress, imagining Stefan taking it off her. She remembered the heat of his erotic promises, the addictive strokes of his tongue at her core, the sinuously abrasive texture of his skin, the whipcord strength of his thighs…
It was as if he was spreading through her every cell, every thought until he was a permanent part of her.
Grabbing her hairbrush, Clio ran it through her hair and met her reflection.
He deftly alleviated her concerns and yet didn’t give anything of himself that he didn’t want to.
The default pattern of their relationship.
As they stood witness to Zayed’s own wedding, amidst the noise, extravagant pomp and celebration, amidst the acres of garden and incredible feasts unlike anything she had ever seen, Clio finally pinpointed the root of the growing panic within her.
It was the uncertainty of what tomorrow with Stefan would bring.
And yet, she didn’t dare ask him where they were headed or what he wanted. Couldn’t bear to hear him say they were done with each other. Not yet.
As usual, every small thing she required, from the elaborate, long-sleeved designer dress to the jewelry that would go with it; from the gold-colored sandals to her bangles; everything had been arranged as it suited to Mrs. Bianco’s status.
He would give her everything but would he give her even a little piece of his heart? How long was she willing to let this uncertainty hang over her?
And how had she, again, found herself in that very spot where her happiness, her entire sense of self hung precariously on the whims of a man, and one who had ruthlessly warned her that he had nothing to give her?
* * *
Stefan pocketed the sheaf of papers that he had collected from the printer in Zayed’s office and stepped out into the enormous gardens in front of the majestic Gazbiyan palace.
The most extraordinary stunts were being performed in honor of Zayed’s wedding and yet the flutter of excitement in his gut felt stranger than anything he had seen.
For the first time in years, he felt as if he could have a different kind of life, felt as if Clio could fill the void he had been determined to ignore.
Burying Marco who had had such a long and wonderful future ahead had made him think hard about his own life.
He could never love Clio, never be the man who believed in it. But he wanted a future with her. And just the prospect of taking his wife home and making love to her in their bed…it was the best thing he had looked forward to in a long time.
Spotting her, Stefan laced his fingers through hers.
“Boys’ club dispatched for the night?” she said with a smile.
He nodded, without bothering to clarify that he hadn’t been with Rocco or Christian. Or that he had been cooped up all day in the office that Zayed had lent him, on a phone call with his lawyer. Or that he hadn’t slept a wink in over a week deciding what to do.
Pulling her close to his side, he let his hand wander over her hip just as the sky burst into a million colors.
A chorus of laughter and shouts erupted from the crowd.
“You were hard to find after the wedding ceremony, bella,” he whispered at her ear. “Almost as if you were avoiding me.”
Slowly, the tension in her lithe frame dissolved. Reaching a hand up, she pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. The intimate gesture pierced through Stefan, finding a vulnerable spot.
Her mouth tightened and then relaxed. Slowly, she pulled herself back and looked around. “I just wanted some time to think.”
Stefan hooked their arms and tugged her away from t
he festivities.
When she didn’t budge, he turned around.
There was a wariness in her eyes that he didn’t like. Knew it was there because of him, because he had kept her at a distance the past couple of weeks.
“I want to stay back for a little while more.”
Fighting the first urge to let her be, because there was something in her tone, in the look in her eyes that prickled his skin, he clasped her face. “I told a guard I was looking for a woman with hair the color of fire, and eyes like emeralds and skin like the softest rose. Told him that she was the most poised, the most breathtaking woman dressed in a gold dress that floated with every step she took and that she looked like a queen.”
Shaking her head, Clio laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Bianco.” She was laughing and yet it had a forced quality to it. “And it’s Nadia that’s the Sheikha among us. I’m the pauper, remember.”
“The guard reminded me of that, the part about Nadia at least. But said he could also understand why I would come to that erroneous conclusion. And then pointed me toward you.”
As they reached one of the tents that were erected away from the celebration, she dug her heels in.
“Come on, bella. I want to show you something.” He sounded eager, like a schoolboy, yet he couldn’t control it.
It had been so long since he had looked forward to anything so much, so long since he had wanted something in life beyond another business deal.
“I have already seen it, Bianco. And as much as I agree that it’s spectacular, I don’t think a tent amidst a crowd of festive and raucous Gazbiyans is the place or the time to get it on.”
Laughter poured out of him, shaking his chest, loosening every muscle. When she argued further, he lifted her and brought her into the tent.
When Stefan finally put her down, Clio looked around the soaring, tented structure with her eyes wide.
The interior walls were decorated with lush Persian rugs and priceless silks. Low-slung divans with a number of pillows in vibrant colors with golden tassels sat on three sides. On the fourth was a four-poster bed with a sheer veil resting around it.
* * *
An image of Stefan and her on the bed instantly flashed in front of her eyes, an insistent pull of desire between her legs. And yet something in her also recoiled at it.
She had laughed about it outside, but inside she was trembling with anger and a powerlessness that she loathed.
Only realizing how silent he was being, she turned around and found Stefan’s gaze on her. The molten desire instantly heated her skin.
When he pulled her into his arms, excitement flared, her body automatically craving more. When he buried his mouth in the crook at her neck, at the spot that drove her crazy, snuggled into her behind so tightly that his arousal pressed into her, branding her, she pushed back into his touch, needing more.
Yet, another warring emotion emerged, polluting the want. God, she had tried so hard to not ask anything of him. To hold herself aloof, to not define their relationship in any way.
Self-disgust roiled through her and she pushed away from his touch.
His head recoiled, hurt flashing in his gaze. “Clio, is something wrong?”
“No. Yes. I hate what you’re doing to me. I hate what I’m letting you do. I hate that I can’t say no when you touch me.”
His mouth tight, he rolled his shoulders. “You’re doing just fine now, bella.”
“I can’t become that shadow of myself again, Stefan. You either want this thing between us, or you don’t.”
“That’s all I have been thinking about these past weeks, Clio.”
A sheaf of papers materialized in his hand, and Clio’s heart sank to her gut.
It was a contract, she knew without looking at it. Another piece of paper that would define her exit from his life.
And just the thought of walking out of his life, the thought of not sharing that suite with him, the thought of not laughing with him and not loving him again sent her into a spiral of pain so acute that she shivered all over.
Oh, God, how she had fallen in love? Where was this unbearable avalanche of emotion coming from?
How was it even possible that she still possessed this much capacity to feel? What did it say about her that after everything she had been through with Jackson, she had so easily surrendered her heart to a man even more ruthless?
How was she to survive now?
She sank to one of the divans, her legs refusing to hold her up, a hollow emerging in her chest.
When Stefan joined her on the divan, she flinched. “Just spell it out for me, Stefan,” she managed somehow.
“Look at me, bella.”
“No.” She clutched her eyes closed, desperate to keep herself together. From the beginning, he had seen her at her lowest, her weakest. Now, she couldn’t bear to betray herself, couldn’t bear to have him look at her with pity.
Couldn’t bear for him to know how irrevocably lost her heart was.
When his fingers landed on her chin, she swatted him away. “Tell me where you want me to sign, Stefan.”
But he didn’t let her leave. Locking her arms, he knelt on the rug before her. “Look at me, Clio. It’s not what you think.”
Shock pinging across every inch of her, Clio looked down at him. His face was so gorgeous that it hurt to look at him. His gaze touched her with such naked, honest desire that her heart ached.
It hurt to look at him, to touch him, to feel his heart and to know that he would never be hers.
“What do you mean?”
“I want us to start fresh, bella. I want to try this marriage for real.”
Her heart thudded so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t have a heart attack. Throat aching, she forced the words to form. “What’s the catch? What are those documents?” she said, so terrified of the answer, and yet so hopeful that he would say there wasn’t one.
That all he needed was her acceptance.
That all they needed was time with each other.
Her hope would cripple her if not kill her.
And Stefan crushed it under his Italian loafer when he said, “You get five hundred million dollars when you sign it.”
“Five hundred million dollars? I don’t understand.”
“No matter what happens in the future, I want you to have security. I want you to—”
“So you don’t expect us to last, then?”
“Nothing in life has guarantees, bella.”
Nausea bubbling up her throat, Clio searched his face, wondering if he was joking. Praying that it was a nightmare she would wake up from. Hoping it was one of her migraines playing a trick on her.
Because this couldn’t be happening, could it? Another man wasn’t measuring her worth, equating her love with money, was he?
“I don’t get it, Stefan. You’re paying me so that you can buy the trust you apparently can’t show in me? Like all the celebrity couples who first draw prenups to protect their assets from each other?”
“You do not have any assets.”
“Exactly. So are you protecting yourself?”
He cursed so long and loud that Clio had goose bumps on her skin. “You’re completely misunderstanding this. I tore up the old contract. I hate how Jackson cheated you. I want you to never have to worry about…”
“Really? After a decade of knowing me, you think all I want is a free ride through life?”
“No. This is something I want you to have, something for my own peace of mind.”
Clio shook her head, understanding dawning. She shot up from the divan, furious energy burning through her, looking for an outlet, even as a deluge of pain broke her within.
It was so easy to think it was her fault, so easy to think he was doing thi
s because she didn’t have any money, to think it was because he lacked trust in her motives, in her.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t about her at all.
Stefan knew her better than any other person in the entire world. But the freeing thought only gave way to another gut-wrenching truth.
“Five hundred million dollars—is that my price tag, Bianco?” she said gasping for breath. “Because I’m sure if you have a chat with your buddy Jackson, he will tell you that I should come in a lot cheaper.”
The most unholy fury dawned in his gaze. He grabbed her arms in a viselike grip, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Don’t you dare talk as if Jackson and I are the same kind of man, bella. Don’t you dare cheapen yourself.”
“So the man does bleed,” Clio threw at him, agonizing fury coming to her rescue.
“Stop twisting my words.”
She grabbed the contract and threw it on the ground, tears falling over her cheeks. “God, you still don’t get it, do you, Stefan?
“This is the price for everything we share, Stefan. This is the price for our happiness, our life together that you’re talking about. You’re buying me, my affection, tainting every word I would say to you, attaching a price tag to even the sex we have.”
“Enough, Clio! You’re reading this all wrong.”
Shaking her head, she ran a hand over her cheeks. “The sad part is you don’t even realize it. You’re giving me money because that way anything I offer you, you already have a reason for it. Because you don’t have to accept anything I give you.”
“No, bella.” His olive green gaze turned hard, untouched. “You told me you didn’t want anything from me. And I told you I don’t want anything from you.”
“All I wanted was one sentence that you wanted this to be real between us, that you wanted to at least try. That you want to see where we could go from here.”
“It is what I want, too.”
“With a caveat, yes. The awful thing is I’m so anxious in here—” she rubbed her chest, as if she could relieve the tightness there “—so tempted to just sign the damn papers, to accept the little crumbs you will throw me. So in…so in love with you that I’m prepared to just take whatever little you give me. How pathetic is that?”