by Dani Collins
She set her jaw, arms crossing. “Am I being too nosy? You’re starting to sound hostile.”
“Just bored, cara.”
She set down her brush and worked her silver bangles over her hand, trying to hide how deeply his comment stung.
“Well, it’s interesting to me,” she said stiffly. “I can’t imagine what a project that book will be for your aunt, having so much family history to sift through, so many people of note. I’m envious, if you want the truth. My tree is two people and I could write a single paragraph about each of them. Excuse me for being curious about yours when it has such depth.”
She turned to set the bangles on the night stand and pulled off her earrings.
“A clean slate can be a good thing, cara. There are some family secrets better left out of the history books.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “If that’s supposed to make me less curious, you’re going in the wrong direction.”
“You told me you didn’t want me to lie to you. Do you remember that?” He came up behind her and found the zip at the back of her cocktail dress. “It was the day we became lovers, in the elevator.”
Her dress loosened and all of her tingled with memory and fresh anticipation. How did he do that? Steal the air from her body without really touching her, just opening her dress?
“I remember,” she told him, standing very still, closing her eyes because he aroused her just by standing near enough to feel his own arousal emanating off his big body.
“You said if I didn’t want to talk about something I should simply say so. I don’t want to talk about this, cara.”
“Okay,” she whispered, transfixed by the way her bra tightened, then loosened as he released the clasp.
“I want to suck your nipples, then I want your heels in my back as I lick my way down and make you scream my name.”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
* * *
Vito watched Gwyn charm the head of their legal department. She was praising the man’s country after their recent visit to Zurich, where Vito had stolen a day with her for scenic driving, a hike and a picnic, opera in the evening and a late-night dinner of fondue.
It had been a day like, well, he should just admit it—it had been like a honeymoon. She had basked under his attention and he had exalted in hers. He’d never had a woman in his life who was so compatible to him, not just in bed, but out of it. Laughing or silent, naked or clothed, he always felt comfortable around her. He was always proud to have her at his side, loved showing her off.
And was half jealous of that heavyset, middle-aged counselor now, as she poured all her charm and attention in that direction, her flushed pleasure utterly captivating.
At least he could take credit for that allure of hers. Not because he’d paid for the classic suit that was tailored to make the most of her million-dollar figure, or because the smooth chignon and subdued lip color and artistic platinum pendant and earrings were also billed to him. No, he liked to think he was responsible for giving her a place where she could blossom, not just privately in his bed, where she was developing an erotic command with regard to telling him what she liked and wanted, but in public arenas.
Gwyn wasn’t a bold person by nature and her photo exposé had left her self-confidence seriously dented. Vito had reminded her again and again that she had no reason to feel shame or think she owed anyone explanations. Under his tutelage, she’d regained her confidence and an attitude of self-possession that was even more hypnotic than her exquisite outer shell. He adored seeing her personality shine through like this.
“She’s staying after this?” Paolo asked in an undertone, tucking away his phone.
“You disapprove?” Vito challenged lightly, but with very little actual lightness.
“I don’t pass judgments on the private lives of family. You know that,” Paolo said with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “If I saw impact to the bank I would comment, but I wouldn’t have to, would I?”
No, he wouldn’t, but Vito still wound up feeling defensive. He wasn’t sure it would matter to him if this affair impacted the bank. He suspected he would carry on with Gwyn regardless.
He had intended to end things after the announcement of charges against Jensen. It would have been a tidy break without loose ends or deeply hurt feelings. Gwyn had been as prepared for it as he had. Even as she had suggested pretending a visit home to see family, he’d been thinking along the same lines.
Then she had touched him, kissed him, somehow stepped inside the shields he wore so easily against the rest of the world and imprinted herself on his very psyche. He had sought satiation that afternoon, certain that when his libido was exhausted, he’d be ready to release her.
But she’d only had to shift away from him in the bed and his entire being had been racked with agony. The single command for her to stay had slipped past his renowned self-discipline, left his lips and landed on her naked skin.
And he didn’t regret it. Even though he knew she was falling in love with him. All the signs were there. She wanted to know about his childhood, wanted him to share. Aside from dining with Paolo and Lauren, he’d drawn a fine line between her and his personal life, but her yearning to feel connected to the broader landscape of his world, to make her place within it, was obvious.
He couldn’t offer her the life she dreamed of when she held his cousin’s son and scrambled his eggs in the morning and met him at the door with a kiss when he came home, though.
And cheating her of those things made him reprehensible. If Paolo didn’t quite approve of the relationship, that was why. His cousin was an honorable man and knew that Vito was not behaving with complete honor. If she’s a victim, don’t make her more of one.
Vito was implying certain promises that he wouldn’t keep, buying time with a woman who could be spending her affection more wisely elsewhere.
But Vito wanted her. His possessive desire was a kind of ferocious pulse beat inside him, territorial and unwavering. He was glad to get this settlement out of the way, glad to put another stage of the scandal behind them. Along with whatever arrangements he made for her when they eventually parted, she would have this very generous cushion for her future, but this was no more an end point to their liaison than the press conference had been.
She was his. He was keeping her. No one would stop him. If Paolo had tried, Vito might very well have shed his cousin’s blood for the first time in twenty-odd years.
* * *
Gwyn only ever saw her stepbrother in casual clothes, usually wearing stubble and jeans. That’s why it took her a full three pulse beats to realize the man who came in behind her lawyer, the man who was clean-shaven, wore a tailored suit as razor sharp as the Donatelli men’s and said a grim, “About time,” in a voice she knew was Travis.
“Oh, my God! What are you doing here?” She was taken aback, surprised by a light rush of excitement at seeing a familiar face. She almost stepped forward to hug him, but embarrassed realization hit at the same moment, along with the only reason she could imagine he would turn up so unexpectedly. “Is Henry okay?”
“He’s fine. Worried sick about you,” he said, sending a hostile glance around the conference room. “Why haven’t you called him?”
“I...didn’t know what to say. You told him I was okay, didn’t you?”
“Are you? What is this?” He waved at the conference table where red folders had been set in front of a handful of chairs. “I told you not to sign anything without talking to me first.”
“I texted you,” she said.
“When I say talk, I mean talk, Gwyn.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vito start forward with purpose, as if he took exception to Travis’s patronizing attitude. Paolo stopped him with a hand on his chest and came forward with his own extended.
“Paolo Donatelli. And you are?”
“Travis Sanders. Gwyn’s brother.” He bit the words off.
Step, she almost clarified, but Travis
was still talking.
“I’d like a word with her if you’ll excuse us?” So dismissive to the men who owned the skyscraper.
Vito didn’t move a muscle, stating implacably, “I’ll stay.”
Travis tried to stare Vito down. All the hairs on Gwyn’s body stood up, electrified by the open animosity pinging back and forth between the men.
“Look, um—” She glanced to Paolo for help.
“Take as much time as you need,” he said, flashing a look at his cousin, but only waving the lawyers from the room and pulling the door closed behind them.
Gwyn looked to Vito, but saw immediately there was no point in asking him to leave. The hostility radiating off him was palpable.
Licking her lips, she turned back to Travis. “I’m sorry,” she said with deep sincerity. “It’s true, I was avoiding you and Henry. This whole thing has been very humiliating. I feel horrible for what Henry and you must be going through.”
Vito made a noise that she knew was an admonishment against apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault.
“Is that why you haven’t come home? Because you were embarrassed?”
She shrugged, as disconcerted by his forcefulness as by the implication that what she considered “home” was her home in his eyes, too.
“Is it?” Vito demanded from his position on the far end of the table. His hot glare was equally unnerving because he looked so stunned.
Hurt, even?
He must know she’d stayed for him. She swallowed, sending him a reassuring look before she turned back to her stepbrother.
“I stayed here for a lot of reasons, but I knew you must be furious—” she began.
“I’m furious because I’m worried, Gwyn!” he cut in. His dark face reddened with deep emotion and his hand waved in the air. “None of this is like you except the part where you refused to pick up the phone and ask me for help! Instead, you’re relying on...”
His gaze tracked Vito as he came down the side of the table to where Gwyn stood, closing in behind her in a silent message that might have been a warning to Travis to mind his tone. There was such an air of menace as he looked at the man.
“What the hell is going on here?” Travis asked, shifting his disbelieving gaze to hers. “I mean, I know what it was supposed to look like. Anyone with half a brain can see you were backing Jensen into an admission that he set up the photos, but why are you still here now that that’s accepted fact? Why didn’t you come home after he was charged?”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. Somehow she was in Vito’s grasp, her back against his front, one of his heavy hands on her hip, the other curled around her upper arm.
“Why do you care?” Vito remarked in a dangerous tone.
Travis lifted his gaze to a point past her shoulder, his eyes so cold and deadly, Gwyn tensed and held her breath.
“We’re family,” Travis said through lips that barely moved. “Maybe we’re not related by blood, but we’re family. Do you get me? She’s not without connections. So whatever the hell you think you’re doing with my sister, it ends now.”
Family?
Gwyn was dumbfounded by Travis’s reaction.
The whole moment was so supercharged with emotion, she almost couldn’t speak, thoughts scattered. But these two pitbulls were about to take each other apart, so she covered Vito’s hand on her arm and tried to ground out his aggression.
“It’s okay,” she told him, then turned to Travis. “Your worrying about me is really nice, but it’s not necessary. I’ve been in good hands this whole time.”
In her head that had seemed like a sensible thing to say, but the hands upon her tightened and Travis choked out, taking on a thunderstruck expression.
“Have you? Have you really?”
“Yes,” she insisted, shifting enough so she could see Vito’s stony expression over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see there, but not that cast of iron. For some reason it undermined her confidence in what she was saying. “Paolo and Vito have had my back this whole time.”
“That’s odd,” Travis said, tone dripping sarcasm. “Because what it looks like to me is that a man in a position of power took advantage of a woman who was already in trouble, used her to keep his bank from taking a kick to its reputation, hung on to her to influence the settlement that was being negotiated—” he nodded at the folders on the table “—and if he keeps you here, will be using you for reasons that have become far more basic.”
“Travis,” she gasped, stabbed by his cruel assessment.
“I’m sorry, did I miss a wedding announcement?” Travis asked, flicking his gaze to Vito’s. “Are your intentions honorable?”
Vito’s hands fell away from her body and stripped her of her skin at the same time. No. She wouldn’t let Travis ruin this. Why wasn’t Vito explaining this wasn’t cheap, physical gratification but something so much more?
Public humiliation was a cakewalk compared to losing the regard of people you cared about, she realized, as one man looked at her with pity and the other didn’t meet her gaze at all.
“You’ve always thought I was a gold digger, Travis. Why are you upset to find me exactly where you expected me to be?” she threw out.
“Gwyn,” Vito growled in protest while Travis’s head snapped back.
“When did I ever call you that?”
“The wedding day. You said Mom and I—”
“I barely knew you!” No apology or denial, she noted. He just railed on. “Now I do and you’re as green and idealistic as they come. He’s taking advantage of you, Gwyn.” And he looked genuinely outraged by it. If she wasn’t so furious with him for ruining a good thing, she’d be touched.
“I’m an adult,” she asserted. “Perfectly capable of deciding when and with whom I want a relationship.”
“Oh, tell yourself that, but this isn’t a ‘relationship.’ It’s an arrangement. The most rudimentary kind. He’s miles ahead of you and it’s all calculated for his best interests, not yours. You will come away with some very pretty material items that I know will mean nothing to you because you are a woman looking for love, not lucre. You’re better than this, Gwyn. Don’t let him turn you into something you’re not.”
“You don’t know anything about what we have,” she said hotly, half turning to snag Vito with her glance, urging him—insisting—he defend himself. Them.
His jaw pulsed and he stared at Travis, not with heat, not with guilt. Blank.
It hurt. His silence gutted her and his refusal to appear insulted and furious shook her to the core.
“If you have any decency at all, you’ll send her home with me,” Travis said flatly. “She’s better than this.”
No, I’m not, Gwyn wanted to say. Maybe she even said it aloud. She knew she argued, “That’s a stupid ultimatum. He doesn’t have to prove anything to you. I decide whether I stay with him or not,” she declared.
“Sign the papers when you’re satisfied, not before,” Vito said, more to Travis than to her, reaching to square one of the folders against the edge of the table, then sending a second look, this one blistering, back to Travis again. “You’re wrong about my interfering in this. It’s all been negotiated at arm’s length, but I’ll leave so I’m not a distraction while you finalize it.”
“Vito!” Panic edged into her voice as she watched him circle toward the interior door. This wasn’t really happening was it? “You’re— This isn’t—” Over. Was it? She couldn’t finish the question, afraid she already knew the answer.
He paused, but he didn’t turn around. “This was always going to happen, cara,” he said gently. “You knew that.”
She thought of the day when she’d been prepared to leave and had likened it to tearing off a bandage. But genuinely facing The End was a kind of pain she couldn’t describe, like her soul was wrenched from her body. Her heart beat outside her chest.
She did the only thing she could. She turned on Travis, the man who had marche
d in here talking like he cared about her and was destroying her life.
“Why would you do this to me? Do you resent me so much for taking some of your father’s precious attention—”
“Gwyn,” Vito said sharply, hand gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles, face grim. “This was always going to happen. Go home with your brother. Let him take care of you. I want to know you’re safe there, not being harassed by the press or anyone else.”
“Oh, do you?” she jeered. “What am I now? Not just a pawn, but a marble that gets picked up and taken home? I decide what happens to me!”
“Do whatever you want,” he commanded. “But you’re not coming home with me.”
He might as well be throwing rocks at the dog that threatened to follow him. His words landed like sharp stones in her throat and her eyes and her glass heart, chipping and cracking it, leaving it in jagged broken pieces as he disappeared through the door and closed it with finality against her.
“Gwyn, I’m sorry,” Travis said, touching her elbow.
She shook him off, distantly supposing she looked like someone had died in front of her because that’s how she felt.
She had been miserable, absolutely devastated, when her nude photos had appeared. Vito had questioned her like a criminal and she had thought her life couldn’t get any worse. Then he’d made everything better. He’d charmed and soothed and ignited her. He had made her fall in love with him. She had trusted him in ways she’d never let herself trust anyone, especially a man. She had offered her heart on a platter, let herself believe he cared for her at least a little...
But she meant nothing to him.
She hated him with everything in her. He was a bastard and she hated him.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
* * *
The door he’d used to exit the conference room led into Paolo’s office. His cousin stood up from his desk. “They’re ready for us?”
“All I could see was your father,” Vito told him numbly, trying to laugh it off, but ghosts were skimming across his skin, leaving it covered in gooseflesh. His chuckle came off his heart like a dry leaf. A kind of pain, the kind he would never let anyone, for any reason, inflict upon him, coursed like poison through his veins. “I can’t be like mine, stealing something I’ll end up destroying.”