The Fiorenza Forced Marriage

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Emma woke up alone the next morning, but when she turned her head she could see where Rafaele’s had been resting on the pillow beside hers. She reached out and touched the indention, her nostrils flaring to take in the fragrance of their lovemaking lingering on the sheets. She moved her body experimentally, the tiny tug of her inner muscles reminding her of the mind-blowing passion they had shared during the night. He had been so tender and considerate she had felt tears come to her eyes. Her love for him felt as if it were taking up all the available space inside her chest. She felt it pulling on her every breath with a bittersweet poignancy.

  The door of the bedroom pushed open and Rafaele came in bearing a tray with freshly brewed coffee, fruit and croissants. ‘Rise and shine,’ he said with a smile. ‘Breakfast is here.’

  Emma dragged herself upright and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. ‘What is it about morning people who think everyone should be awake and fully functioning at dawn?’ she asked with a mock scowl.

  He grinned at her as he laid the tray across her knees. ‘Do you need a wake-up kiss, Emma?’ he asked, and, leaning forward, pressed his mouth to hers, the brush stroke of his tongue setting her senses alight.

  He pulled back and looked at her for a moment. ‘Mmm, I am thinking the coffee is too hot in any case,’ he said, and lifted the tray off her knees and set it on the floor.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Emma asked as he began to haul his T-shirt over his head.

  He gave her a burning look and reached for the zipper of his jeans. ‘What do you think I am doing?’ he asked.

  ‘It looks like you’re getting undressed,’ she said, and suppressed a little shiver as he stepped out of his jeans. She could see the tenting of his underwear and her heart began to race as he came towards her.

  He pulled the sheets off her in a ruthless fashion, his dark gaze feeding off her hungrily. ‘You look more beautiful every time I see you,’ he said.

  ‘My hair’s a mess,’ Emma said breathlessly as he came down on top of her.

  ‘It looks wonderful to me,’ he said against her mouth. ‘You look like you have spent the night making wild, passionate love.’

  She squirmed with delight as his erection probed her intimately. ‘That’s because I did spend the night making wild, passionate love,’ she said with a coy little smile.

  He eased his weight off her. ‘Are you sore?’

  ‘A tiny bit,’ she said. ‘But it’s a nice sore.’

  His eyes went very dark as they held hers. ‘Maybe I should leave this until later,’ he said.

  Emma grasped at his shoulders to stop him pulling back from her. ‘No, don’t you dare,’ she said. ‘You kissed me so now you’ll have to finish what you started.’

  His eyes glinted. ‘So it’s like that, is it?’

  She stroked her fingers down to where his body pulsed. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, pushing aside his underwear.

  He sucked in a breath and pushed her back down to the mattress. ‘You’re a fast learner, la mio bella moglie,’ he growled playfully.

  ‘Yes, but then you’re a great teacher.’ Emma gasped as his mouth closed over her breast, her senses spinning as he circled her nipple with his tongue.

  He moved to her other breast with the same exquisite caresses, his hand sliding down to explore her tender folds, making her toes curl in delight.

  ‘I want you inside me,’ she said, opening her thighs even further, her hands searching for him to guide him into her slick warmth.

  She watched with bated breath as he applied a condom, his body so aroused she could see the veins rippling along the shaft.

  He came back over her, his weight supported by his elbows as he looked down at her. ‘I should have asked this earlier, but are you on the pill?’

  Emma hesitated for a nanosecond. She had begun taking a low-dose pill a few months ago to help control her cycle, but she had not always been very vigilant in taking it. She would have to see a doctor to get a new prescription, in any case.

  ‘Emma?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, promising herself she would make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. ‘I take it to keep my periods regular.’

  He searched her features for an infinitesimal moment. ‘I do not want any accidents,’ he said. ‘Condoms can sometimes break.’

  ‘There won’t be any accidents,’ she said. ‘I’m safe.’

  He held her gaze for another moment or two. ‘Just to reassure you, I had tests done recently,’ he said. ‘You will not catch anything from me.’

  Emma hated being reminded of his playboy lifestyle. She felt as if she was just a number in a long line of women who had briefly occupied his bed. She knew as soon as he was finished with her someone else would step up and take her place. It was gut-wrenching to think he might only be using her in order to secure his inheritance, but her love for him demanded she spend what little time she had with him to show him how genuine her feelings were. What else could she do? She was locked here with him for the next few months. It would be unbearable if she had to watch on the sidelines while he conducted an affair with someone else.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said a little stiffly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  He captured her chin to stop her from turning her head away. ‘Yes, there is,’ he said. ‘You are jealous.’

  She gave him a glittering glare. ‘Why should I be jealous?’ she asked. ‘You’ve been very open about the fact you’ve slept with hundreds of women.’

  He gave her a wry look. ‘Hardly hundreds.’

  ‘How many, then?’ she asked.

  He frowned at her darkly. ‘I am not going to give you a list of names and numbers, Emma. They have nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Us?’ She elevated her brows. ‘That’s hardly a word to describe you and me, is it? We’re not a couple in the real sense of the word. We’re only together because we were forced into it.’

  ‘You do not think what happened yesterday makes us a couple?’ he asked.

  ‘It was sex, Rafaele. Even strangers have sex; it doesn’t make them a couple.’

  ‘We are a couple, Emma,’ he said. ‘I want you to be my lover for as long as we are happy together.’

  Emma wished she had the strength of will to get out now before she got her heart broken, but her body was already responding to his thick, hard presence. She dug her fingers into his taut buttocks to bring him deeper, her breath coming in choppy gasps as he began an erotic rhythm. Her nerves began to hum with tension, her body feeling as if a hundred earthquakes were about to erupt inside her. The pressure built in every muscle of her body until she was teetering on the edge, finally pitching forwards into blissful oblivion.

  She felt him come close behind her, his body tense and hard before it pumped its way into paradise, his arms tight around her, his face pressed into her neck as he cut back a harsh groan of ecstasy.

  It was a few minutes before he moved or spoke. He lifted himself up on his elbows and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. ‘You are mine, Emma,’ he said. ‘Body and soul, you are mine.’

  But for how long? Emma silently wondered as she kissed him back with all the tenderness she felt for him. She only hoped it would be long enough to melt the ice around his heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  OVER the next few weeks Emma found herself relaxing more and more into the role of Rafaele’s wife. Lucia the housekeeper returned after her much-needed break, not even blinking an eye at Emma’s occupation of Rafaele’s suite of rooms. If anything she seemed rather pleased and smiled every time she encountered Emma.

  ‘It is good,’ Lucia said in her heavily accented voice. ‘Signore Fiorenza would be very pleased. It is what he wanted for his son.’

  Emma frowned as she helped the housekeeper fold some towels. ‘What do you mean, Lucia?’ she asked. ‘Are you saying Signore Fiorenza Senior talked to you about the terms of his will?’

  The housekeeper looked a lit
tle sheepish. ‘He talk a little bit one night a week or two before he passed away,’ she said. ‘He wanted Rafaele to be happy. He think he wasting his life with loose women. He told me he thought you would make Rafaele a good wife. You are kind and gentle and would love him, not for his money, but for him.’

  Emma stared at her. ‘Signore Fiorenza told you that?’

  ‘Yes, many times,’ Lucia said. ‘You are perfect for Rafaele, Signorina. You love him, sì? It has all worked out.’

  Emma chewed at her lip with her teeth. ‘Signore Fiorenza was taking a big gamble,’ she said. ‘What if I hated his son on sight and refused to marry him?’

  Lucia gave her a knowing look. ‘Even if you had hated him you would not have watched his inheritance slip away,’ she said. ‘Signore Fiorenza knew that you would do the right thing by his son. He trusted you. And now it has worked out exactly as he planned. The Villa Fiorenza will soon be filled with yours and Rafaele’s bambinos.’

  Emma didn’t have the heart to tell the housekeeper how unlikely that was. Instead she smiled and finished folding the towels, her heart aching for what could never be.

  Over dinner a few evenings later Rafaele announced he had to travel back to London on business and would be away for a few days. Emma waited with bated breath for him to ask her to accompany him, but the request was not forthcoming. She sat as he talked about other things, her heart sinking so low she began to feel ill.

  ‘You’re not eating, cara,’ he said, indicating her untouched meal. ‘Do you not like Lucia’s cooking?’

  Emma gave him a forced smile and picked up her fork. ‘Of course I do…It’s lovely…’

  ‘If you would prefer Carla to return that can be arranged,’ he said. ‘I am inclined to agree with you that this place is too much for Lucia.’

  ‘I’m not sure Lucia would like to think she has reached her use by date,’ Emma said. ‘She loves it here. In any case I don’t mind helping her with the heavier tasks.’

  He frowned at her. ‘Cara, there is no need for you to scrub the floors and do the dishes. I pay other people to do those things. You are my wife.’

  Emma gave him a weak smile. They had been married nearly seven weeks and she still didn’t know if she would wake up tomorrow to find he had found someone else. It was like living with the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. She had even stopped saying she loved him. What was the point? He never said anything in return.

  He reached for her hand and stroked his long fingers over the back of hers. ‘You look pale, tesore mio,’ he said. ‘Have I been keeping you up too late at night, hmm?’

  Emma suppressed a tiny shiver as his dark eyes speared hers meaningfully. The passion that flared so easily between them felt like another presence in the room; she could feel it circling the table, coming closer and closer until her body was quaking in reaction. Her legs felt shaky, her palms moist and her inner core melted as she thought of him pinning her with his hardness as he had done so earth-shatteringly earlier that evening. The experience of having him take her from behind had sent shock waves of delight rippling through her; the rough, almost primal coupling had sent shivers racing up and down her spine. He was a demanding and energetic lover, but a sensitive and considerate one. Just looking at him made her body tremble all over with desire, the skin on the back of her neck prickling as she thought of him driving into her warmth, taking her to the highest pinnacle of pleasure time and time again. Over the last few weeks together she had grown in sexual confidence, she knew how to pleasure him and delighted in doing so at every opportunity.

  She didn’t like thinking of him pleasuring other women in the past; instead she took what comfort she could in the fact he had been with her every night, his desire for her knowing no bounds.

  Rafaele lifted her hand to his mouth, holding her gaze as he pressed her bent fingers to his lips. ‘I would take you with me to London except I will be tied up in meetings the whole time,’ he said. ‘But I promise to take you somewhere else for a short break next month. Where would you like to go? Paris? Monaco perhaps?’

  ‘Anywhere would be lovely,’ Emma said softly. ‘I just want to be with you.’

  His fingers tightened momentarily on her hand. ‘You are very sweet, Emma,’ he said with a slight rasp in his voice. ‘You deserve someone much nicer than me.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone else but you,’ she insisted.

  He released her hand and picked up his wineglass, his expression locking her out. ‘I leave first thing in the morning,’ he said. ‘I will be back on Sunday or maybe even Monday, I am not sure.’

  ‘You have meetings on a weekend?’ Emma asked, not quite able to remove the air of suspicion in her tone.

  His eyes became hard as they held hers. ‘I hope this is not leading where I think it is leading.’

  ‘Tell me something, Rafaele,’ she said with an embittered look. ‘Do you wake up each morning and tick another day off the calendar?’

  ‘It’s not like that at all,’ he said with a frown.

  She glared at him. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I enjoy having you around, Emma. You are good company.’

  ‘Why don’t you say what you really think?’ she asked. ‘It’s not about the company and scintillating conversation I offer you, is it?’

  His mouth was pulled tight. ‘Don’t do this, Emma.’

  ‘It’s the on-tap sex, isn’t it, Rafaele?’ she continued bitterly. ‘Anywhere, any time, any position. That’s what you want from me, isn’t it? That’s all you’ll ever want from me, isn’t it?’

  ‘You are becoming hysterical,’ he said with ice-cold calm.

  ‘You called me a whore from the very first day,’ she bit out resentfully, ‘but what I didn’t realise then was how quickly you would turn me into one.’

  His brows snapped together. ‘You are nothing of the sort,’ he said. ‘I have apologised for what I thought back then.’

  ‘But you still think it, don’t you?’ she asked. ‘Deep down inside there’s still a part of you that won’t accept I was just your father’s carer. You see me as the conniving slut who stole half your inheritance, and nothing is going to change that, is it?’

  ‘I do not think anything of the sort,’ he clipped back. ‘Emma, for God’s sake, I am in absolutely no doubt I was your first lover. What sort of man do you think I am to doubt you after that?’

  ‘You don’t love me. You make love to me, but you don’t love me.’

  ‘I do not want to continue this discussion,’ he said stiffly. ‘You are not being reasonable.’

  ‘I’ll show you how reasonable I can be,’ she said with another fiery glare as she pushed back from the table. ‘I’m not going to wait around holding my breath for you to pull the rug from under my feet. I’m going to pack my bags and leave right now.’

  The nerve flickered at his mouth again as he got to his feet. ‘If you do I will make you regret it,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘The press will hound you, I can guarantee it. What the Bennett family said about you in Australia will be nothing to what I will reveal about your activities here. I have contacts. One word from me and your reputation will be unsalvageable in any country.’

  Emma stopped mid-stride, her stomach dropping in alarm. ‘You would do it, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘You heartless, selfish bastard, you would do it and think nothing of it, wouldn’t you?’

  His eyes glittered with steely purpose. ‘If you walk out on me you will regret it, I guarantee it. Don’t make me do it, Emma. I don’t want to hurt you.’

  She looked at him in disdain. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ she bit out. ‘You would take great pleasure in hurting me. I know you would.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders and brought her towards him. ‘Emma, listen to me,’ he said, his tone now gentle. ‘I do not want things to get ugly between us. We have been thrown together by the machinations of my father. That is not your fault and neither is it mine. It is fortunate we enjoy each
other’s company so that we can see this through in order to get what we both want.’

  ‘But I can’t have what I want, can I?’ she asked with tears stinging her eyes. ‘You don’t love me…you’re never going to love me…’

  He let out a heavy sigh. ‘I care for you, Emma,’ he said. ‘I know it is not quite the same as the three magic words you crave, but it is more than I have felt for any other woman I have been involved with before.’

  ‘It’s not enough,’ Emma said. ‘I thought it would be but it’s not. I want to be loved. I want to feel secure. I can’t live with this shadow of uncertainty hanging over me. I never know from one day to the next if it’s going to be my last with you. You hold all the power in our relationship, which means you have the least to lose if the relationship fails.’

  ‘I cannot give you what you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t want the same things in life.’

  ‘Only because you’re afraid of being let down like you were before,’ she said. ‘You lost your mother when you were young. That is enough to shatter anyone’s sense of security. Then you lost your brother in the most tragic of circumstances, leaving you with a father who was unable to function as a mature adult. Everyone you have ever loved has deserted you one way or the other. Can’t you see how that has impacted on how you view all of your relationships?’

  He dropped his hands from her shoulders as if she had burned him. ‘I do not need you to psychoanalyse me, Emma,’ he said tersely. ‘I am well aware of my shortcomings. Now stop this nonsense and sit back down and eat your dinner.’

  Emma resumed her seat and began to pick at her food, but her stomach churned as she forced each mouthful down. She wondered if this was what people described as lovesickness. The gnawing ache was almost unbearable; it made her feel clammy and faint. Eventually she gave up and, pushing the plate away, got to her feet. ‘Will you excuse me?’ she asked. ‘I think I’ll go to bed. I’m not feeling well.’