He gave her one of his annoyingly indifferent shrugs. ‘That is the way it is.’
‘Well, I hope that one day you meet someone who turns your neatly controlled world upside down,’ she said. ‘I hope you fall in love and hard, and then get unceremoniously dumped just so you know what it feels like.’
He gave her an unaffected smile. ‘Are you putting a curse on me, Emma?’ he asked.
Emma rolled her eyes at him. ‘You’re impossible. I don’t know why I even bother talking to you.’
He smiled lopsidedly as he signalled for the waiter. ‘You talk to me because deep down you like me,’ he said. ‘I am the bad boy you are desperate to reform.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘I know when I’m beaten and you are definitely in the too-hard basket,’ she said. ‘I’m starting to think you’re way beyond redemption.’
‘Yes, well, that is what my father thought,’ he said. ‘Didn’t he tell you what a wastrel I was?’
Emma frowned at his embittered tone. ‘No, he didn’t say anything of the sort. I told you, he barely mentioned you the whole time I was living with him. Besides, I didn’t want to upset him by prying.’
He smirked. ‘It would not do to upset the goose who was about to hand you the golden egg.’
She glared at him heatedly. ‘That’s just so typical of you,’ she said. ‘You have a tendency to measure everyone else by your own appalling standards. Just because you regularly use people to get what you want doesn’t mean other people will necessarily act that way.’
He held her gaze for several beats. ‘I have found most people work things to their advantage,’ he said. ‘It is hardwired into human nature.’
‘I feel sorry for you,’ Emma said. ‘You are so cynical you can’t possibly enjoy life.’
He gave her an indolent smile. ‘On the contrary, Emma I enjoy life very much,’ he said. ‘I have a good income, good food, good wine and good sex—what more could a man want?’
Emma could feel her face burning, but soldiered on regardless. ‘I hope you’re not going to conduct any of your sordid little affairs right in front of my nose,’ she said. ‘It would be totally nauseating to see a host of vacuous women simpering after you like you’re some kind of sex god.’
‘You surely do not expect me to be celibate for the duration of our marriage, do you?’ he asked with a twinkle in his dark gaze.
Emma moistened her dry lips. ‘I…no…well…I…’
‘I have not been celibate in a very long time,’ he said, still watching her with that smouldering gaze.
She shifted restively in her seat. ‘Yes, well, the rest will probably do you the world of good, I would have thought.’
‘What about you?’ he asked.
She looked at him warily. ‘W-what about me?’
‘What is your longest stint being celibate?’
She dropped her gaze from the penetrating probe of his. ‘Um…a fair while…’ she answered vaguely.
The waiter came at that moment to take their order, giving Emma a much-needed chance to regroup. She buried her head in the menu, hoping Rafaele couldn’t see how ruffled she was at his choice of conversation. She felt so unsophisticated around him, like a child playing at grown-ups. She didn’t have the aplomb to laugh off such a personal topic, nor did she have the experience.
Although she knew enough about her body and its responses to know what physical pleasure felt like, somehow she suspected the pleasure Rafaele Fiorenza would dish out would leave her solitary explorations sadly lacking. She had sensed the sensual potency of him that afternoon in the pool. His hardened body brushing against hers had ignited spot fires beneath her skin; she could feel them smouldering even now. Her wayward body was pulsing at the proximity of his long strong legs so close to hers. She had hers tucked as far back beneath her chair as they would go and yet she could still feel the magnetic pull of his body. She couldn’t get her mind away from the thought of having his legs entangled with hers the way they had been in the pool, his hair-roughened thighs rubbing against her smoother ones, the heat and power of his erection so tantalisingly close she had felt the throb of his blood pounding against her belly.
The waiter’s request for her order brought Emma out of her reverie and, after choosing the first thing she saw on the menu, she sat back and took a reviving sip of the white wine Rafaele had ordered for her.
He was still watching her in that indolent way of his, as if he was quietly assessing her character. It made her feel a little exposed, as if he could see through the layers of her skull to what she had been thinking about him just moments ago.
‘Why are you blushing?’ he asked. ‘I thought at first it was sunburn but that colour keeps coming and going in your cheeks.’
Emma sat bolt upright. ‘I’m not blushing,’ she said, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She could feel the twin fires burning on her face and wished, not for the first time, she wasn’t so out of her depth.
He gave her a knowing smile. ‘I think it is rather cute,’ he said. ‘I do not think I have made a woman blush in years.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t from lack of trying,’ she quipped wryly.
His smile widened. ‘No, that is indeed probably true.’
Emma picked up her glass and took another tentative sip, conscious of his gaze resting on her. Her pulse fluttered in response to his contemplative scrutiny, each of the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickling as if he had touched her there the way he had done earlier in the pool.
‘What do you intend to do with your share of the villa at the end of our marriage?’ he asked.
She set her glass back down and met his eyes. ‘I’m not sure…I haven’t thought that far ahead…’
‘Would you consider selling it to me?’
She nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment. ‘That seems a bit unfair, making you pay for something that really should have been yours in the first place,’ she said.
His expression was unreadable. ‘You are at perfect liberty to do what you like,’ he said. ‘We are now joint owners. But if you wish to sell at the end of the time I would like to make the first and final offer.’
‘It’s a beautiful property,’ Emma said. ‘It would make a fabulous family home. I wish I could afford to buy you out at the end of the time, but I can’t. I would never be able to afford the maintenance costs, for one thing.’
‘My half is not going to be for sale,’ he said with an implacable edge to his tone.
Emma’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. ‘It seems rather a large place for a bachelor.’
‘Perhaps, but I want to retain ownership regardless.’
‘So will you live here permanently?’ she asked.
‘For some of the year perhaps,’ he said. ‘I am thinking of appointing a manager to keep the place running while I am away.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Emma said. ‘It would be a shame for it to be empty for long periods.’
He went silent for several moments, his gaze focussed on the contents of his wineglass. ‘I have missed the place,’ he said almost wistfully. ‘I am not quite ready to let it go. There are some ghosts to lay to rest first.’
Emma was starting to see there was more to Rafaele Fiorenza than she had originally thought. It was no wonder he liked to hold the balance of control in all of his relationships. After his experiences as a child he would abhor being vulnerable in any context. He would never allow himself to love anyone in case they turned against him or deserted him.
He reminded her of a wounded wolf who would only attend to his pain in private. She felt her animosity towards him soften, the anger she had felt from the first moment of meeting him melting away to be replaced by compassion and an acute, almost painful desire to understand.
What had put those lines of strain about his mouth or those dark shadows that came and went in the black-brown depths of his gaze? What made his smile teasing and playful one minute and bitter and cynical the next? What would it take to crack open the hard
nut of his heart she wondered. What dark secrets were locked away in there?
CHAPTER SIX
AFTER the waiter had brought their meals to the table, Emma concentrated on the delicious seafood risotto set before her, in an attempt to get her emotions in check. What sort of romantic fool would she be to fancy herself in love with Rafaele? She barely knew him and, besides, anyone could see he wasn’t a for ever type of guy. She could sense the restlessness in him, the way he worked so hard and played harder, to escape whatever demons drove him.
Emma put her fork down and reached for her wineglass to find his dark, contemplative gaze resting on her. Her heart suddenly felt as if a silk ribbon were being pulled right through the middle of it, making her breath catch in her throat.
‘You mentioned the other day you have a sister,’ he said. ‘What happened to your parents?’
Emma put her glass back down with a little clatter against her dinner plate. ‘I would have thought your private investigator contact would have told you when you had him dig up the dirt on my background.’
Rafaele let out a rusty breath. ‘I am sorry, Emma, but if you had been in my position you would have done the same.’
She held his gaze for a beat or two, but dropped it to say, ‘I haven’t seen either of my parents since I was twelve years old when my sister and I were taken into foster care. Our parents were both heroin addicts. The prolonged drug use fried their brains. They died within months of each other, my father from a stab wound from a drug deal gone wrong, my mother from an overdose.’
Rafaele frowned as her quietly spoken words sank in. No wonder she had been so upset about him looking into her background. It also explained why she was so keen to have financial security to make up for what she had missed out on as a child. His own childhood had been painful enough, but to have such incompetent and potentially dangerous parents would have been soul-destroying. He could see now why she had hooked up with his father, to find an older father-figure who would indulge her every whim. Rafaele wouldn’t go as far as excusing her for prostituting herself in such a way, but at least he understood her motive for doing so.
‘I am sorry you had such a rough time of it,’ he said. ‘I have always thought it is a pity one cannot choose one’s own parents. It would certainly make life easier for many children growing up.’
Her eyes came back to his. ‘I guess so…but it’s a parent’s responsibility to be the adult in the relationship once children come along. Children don’t ask to be born. They deserve to be loved no matter what.’
‘That is one of the reasons I do not want to have children,’ he said. ‘It is too risky. How can I guarantee I will even like the child, let alone love it?’
Emma felt an inexplicable pang deep inside at his words. ‘I’m sure you would love your own flesh and blood,’ she said. ‘One of the few benefits of coming from a difficult background is recognising the pitfalls to avoid when you become a parent yourself. You wouldn’t make the same mistakes your father made, I’m sure of it.’
His smile was a little crooked. ‘No, but I would probably make new ones,’ he said. ‘Then in thirty-odd years I would have a son or daughter who hated my guts. No way am I going to put my head in that particular noose. I am staying out of the parent trap.’
‘But what if it were to happen?’ Emma asked, still frowning slightly. ‘What if one of your mistresses got pregnant by accident?’
The line of his mouth tightened a fraction. ‘Firstly I would find it a little hard to believe it was an accident,’ he said. ‘I always take precautions and so do my sexual partners. In fact I insist on it.’
‘Precautions can fail,’ she pointed out. ‘My sister Simone fell pregnant while on the pill. She was only nineteen at the time. If that happened to one of your partners would you expect her to have a termination?’
‘I realise that is a decision best left to the woman concerned,’ he said. ‘An unwanted pregnancy is devastating to many women. I would not insist on her going through with it unless she was convinced it was the only option for her.’
‘Wouldn’t you want to be involved in its upbringing?’ Emma asked.
He drew in a breath and reached for his glass once more. ‘I am not sure a child should be in regular contact with a reluctant father. Children are not stupid. They work out pretty quickly who is genuine and who is not.’
Emma frowned at him. ‘But don’t all children deserve to have contact with both of their parents if at all possible?’ she asked.
‘In an ideal world, yes,’ he said. ‘But it is hard for men these days. It seems to me we are damned if we do and damned if we do not. We are called selfish for not wanting to procreate, and then if we do agree to father a child we are the worst in the world for not contributing enough in terms of housework or child care, even though we might be working every hour God sends to keep food on the table.’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it from that angle,’ she confessed. ‘But I still want to have a family. I just have to find a man who wants the same thing.’
‘You have got plenty of time yet,’ Rafaele said. ‘Why not have a bit of fun while you still can?’
She gave him a guarded glance. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.’
He reached across the table and picked up her left hand, the pad of his thumb stroking over the backs of her fingers. ‘What about it, Emma?’ he asked. ‘Want to have some fun with me before we call it quits?’
‘I’m not sure it would be all that much fun for me,’ she said with a haughty little glare.
He brought her hand to his mouth, the slight rasp of his skin against her fingers making her stomach fold over. ‘I would make sure it was fun for you, poco moglie di miniera,’ he said, and translated in a low sexy drawl, ‘little wife of mine.’
She tried to pull out of his hold, but his fingers around hers subtly tightened. ‘You’re only doing this because you see me as a novelty. It’s because I won’t fall at your feet just like every other poor deluded woman out there, isn’t it?’
The movement of his lips as he gave her a wry smile grazed her bent knuckles, sending another ripple of awareness through her body from her breasts to her thighs. ‘I admit you are becoming a bit of a challenge to me,’ he said. ‘I have not had to work so hard at getting a woman to agree to have an affair with me before.’
Emma gave him another glare as she pulled her hand out of his, this time with success. ‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in sleeping with someone your father had slaked his lust on first? Those were your exact words, weren’t they?’
His eyes held hers fast. ‘Did you sleep with him, Emma?’
She returned his level stare. ‘No, I did not.’
Rafaele sat back in his chair and surveyed her heightened colour, wondering if she was lying to him or not. He wanted to believe her, but knowing his father as he did he couldn’t imagine him handing over half of his estate without some sort of inducement from her. His father had always been so mean with money; it didn’t seem possible he would have given something away for free.
Admittedly Emma was nothing like any of his father’s previous mistresses, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t fallen for her understated beauty and beguiling aura of innocence. Rafaele could see beyond the prim and proper façade she adopted to the passionate woman simmering beneath. She was a feisty little thing with her flashing grey-blue eyes and pouting mouth, her sensual allure so powerful he could barely keep his hands off her every time she was in the same room as him.
He wondered if she was holding him at bay deliberately. Had she done that with his father, leading him on and on until he finally agreed to give her what she wanted? If so, what was it she wanted from him? She already had half of the estate secure in her hands. Nothing he could do or say could take it away from her. But did she want more, and, if so, what?
‘If you say you did not sleep with him, then I suppose I shall have to accept that,’ he said after a pause.
‘I am not sure,’ he said, rubbing at his jaw. ‘I am still trying to figure that part out. Eighteen months ago you had not even met my father, now you own half of his estate. I am trying to join the dots but so far with little success.’
Emma reached for her glass. ‘Maybe he wanted you to learn to trust people,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he sensed I wouldn’t do the wrong thing by you.’
‘Interesting theory, Emma,’ he said with an unreadable smile. ‘But I wonder if he really knew you. You caught him at a vulnerable time. He was dying and his judgement may well have been impaired. For all I know you could have talked him into this madcap scheme.’
Emma compressed her lips. ‘Of course you would think that, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘You don’t want me to be anything but a scam artist, do you? What if you’re wrong about me, Rafaele? What then?’
He studied her for a lengthy moment. ‘If that is the case I guess I will have to get down on bended knee and beg your forgiveness,’ he said. ‘But it is hardly something you would be able to prove either way, is it?’
Emma could think of a very good way of proving it, but didn’t like to inform him of it. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her inexperience; it was more a case of not wanting him to ridicule her. Somehow that seemed particularly important. Besides, she could just imagine what he would say. She could even imagine his teasing smile.
‘I don’t have to prove anything to you,’ she said instead. ‘You can believe me or not, it makes no difference to the truth.’
‘So you don’t do recreational, just-for-the-hang-of-it sex?’
‘No.’
‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I think we could be dynamite together. Fire meets ice, that sort of thing.’
‘I think any woman with half a brain would give you a wide berth,’ she said. ‘You won’t commit, you’re incapable of falling in love and you don’t want kids. For the thinking woman you’re a very bad deal, Rafaele.’
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