Matteo reached out his thumb and stroked away the two perfect tear drops that had fallen down her cheeks. Her eyes were despairing as they looked up at him. Knowing he was about to cast himself forever as a villain in her mind, he said, “Meghan, you must have known I could never let you continue dating my brother.”
Her eyes widened in shock at his words.
“Knowing, as I do, what you are capable of,” he continued. “It would not be fair to Pete to let him think you are one way, when in fact, you are quite the opposite.”
She looked distressed.
He pressed home his advantage. “What is that idiom about being cruel to be kind? You will end things with my brother, and then we will be free to explore this connection without injuring him.”
“No.” She shook her head forcefully. “I will not end things with Pete. I will not be exploring anything with you. If you tell Pete about what happened that night it will damage your relationship with him more than it will mine,” she warned honestly. “He already thinks you exist purely to take what is his, and this will just be further proof of that. You will be hurting him for no good reason.”
“No good reason!” He scoffed. “To protect my brother from a woman like you is a very good reason.”
“You say you want to protect him from me and yet you also want to pick up where we left off? That makes no sense.” She bit out furiously.
Meghan was finding it difficult to catch her breath and she knew she needed to get away from him. The injustice of his statement lanced through her and yet she was unable to defend herself without betraying Pete, and the whole reason she had accompanied him in the first place.
“Do what you have to do, Matteo, but don’t count on there ever being a repeat of the other night. It was a big, fat mistake, and I don’t intend to make it twice.”
She stormed off down the straight row of peach trees, hyperventilating a little more with each step. She reached out to grab one of the sturdy trunks for support but it was no good. Her head felt impossibly heavy. The last thing she was aware of was the sound of footsteps and a string of Italian curses being muttered as strong hands lifted her up and held her against a broad chest.
When Meghan regained consciousness she was mortified to discover she was being held by Matteo, in the middle of the family group. People looked either concerned or upset, or in Sofia’s case, elegantly non-plussed. Meghan reached a hand out for Pete and he came to stand over her. “Sorry,” she mumbled thickly. “I should have worn the shorts.”
“Yes, your Brigitte Bardot pants would have been far more appropriate. Come on, I’ll take you to the house.”
“I’ll do it.” Matteo’s voice, unmistakable, cut across Pete’s. “I have to get something from the office anyhow.”
Pete frowned and he scanned Meghan’s face. He said something to his brother in thick Italian and Matteo responded in kind.
Nina intervened, her face looking worried at the tension emanating between her sons. “Teo, of course Pietro will take Meghan to the house and see that she is well. You know you would do likewise if it was the woman you loved.” She chided gently. “You must stop feeling that you have to be in charge of everything.”
Pietro looked to his mother in shocked surprise. She had never taken his side against Matteo before, not once. He pulled Meghan against his chest, his face straining a little with effort. She sneaked a look at Matteo from behind her enormous sunglasses and saw that he had already returned to Sofia’s side. His face was relaxed, he looked to all the world like he was having the time of his life. Not at all like a man who had just propositioned his brother’s imaginary girlfriend.
Once they were out of earshot of the group, she said, “Put me down, Pete, before you bust your back.”
He did so immediately and stretched his arms above his head. “For someone so tiny, you weight a tonne,” he complained good-naturedly.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Are you okay, Megsy? You do look pale.”
“I’m fine. I just need to put on something cool.” She looked down again at her jeans and grimaced.
He linked her arm through his, patting her fingers, and helped her make her way slowly back to the house. A few hours later, after she had showered and changed into her bathers and one of Pete’s big tee-shirts, she was feeling well enough to join Pete by the swimming pool. By then, Marco and Nina and Giovanni had also decided to go for a dip. She noted thankfully that Matteo and Sofia were not present.
“Darling, are you feeling better?” Pete asked solicitously, pulling himself out of the pool. His chest rippled with muscles that she’d never really noticed before.
“Much.” He came and took her hand in his, so that he could lead her to a sun lounger.
“Don’t overdo it. This one is shaded. The last thing you need now is more sun.” He said quietly.
She smiled up at him. “I’m fine, truly. I’m dying for a swim though.”
“You’re the Doc. Just stay in the shade as much as possible.” He advised carefully.
Meghan threw a nervous look around, but everyone was very much involved in their own business. Marco was reading a newspaper, Nina and Giovanni were having a heated debate about something in rapid fire Italian. She eased Pete’s shirt off over her head, revealing a small black bikini. Self-conscious, despite the fact that nobody was paying her a jolt of attention, she hastily made her way to the pool and slid into the mercifully cool pool, exhaling slowly as the water lapped at her neck.
As it turned out, she needn’t have been self-conscious at all. The afternoon passed with no sign of Matteo. Nor Sofia, for that matter. It caused Meghan little comfort to imagine how they might be entertaining themselves, and she was distraught to realise how disappointed she was not to see him again. He was a controlling brute. Everything Pete had described, and yet she was addicted to him. She craved his company. She searched for him wherever she went. It was unbearable.
Fortunately for her, Pete was an excellent companion. Their false relationship aside, they’d always been good friends, and they laughed by the pool until her sides felt like they’d split. It was nice just to relax around him without the stupid pressures of creating the right impression weighing her down.
“We should dress for dinner,” he said with relaxed contentment, standing beside her. He held a hand out invitingly.
“Mmummmm,” She stretched languidly on the pool lounger. “I’ll be up in a minute. You go. I just want to enjoy the last of the sunshine. It’s heaven out here after London.”
“You’re telling me!” He agreed. “I’ll see you upstairs soon.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared through the glass doors.
Meghan stretched again, like a cat, feeling almost relaxed after the last forty eight hours. She should have known it couldn’t last.
The creaking of the sun lounger beside her alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. She opened her eyes and turned her head, and her pulse started to race when she saw it was Matteo who was lounging beside her.
“This is the second time today you’ve disturbed me,” she said humourlessly, regarding him through shuttered eyes.
“I thought my brother would never leave. What is it about him that amuses you so?” He pondered aloud, his handsome face watching her attentively.
“You were watching us?” She asked, latching on to his innocent admission.
“I was trying not to, but you and your bikini proved quite...distracting. My office is just over there.” He tilted his head towards darkly tinted windows above the pool. She coloured and reached for Pete’s tee-shirt. She pulled it on over her head. The idea that she’d seen him swimming and sunning herself in her skimpy bathers and larking about with Pete made her... uncomfortable. Not for the first time, she wished she could be honest with him about her relationship with her brother. Their sexual tension was hard enough to unravel, but with the added confusion of all the subterfuge, it was damned near impossible to decide what she should say and whom she should
protect. Meghan was starting to feel like her own needs and wishes were slipping further and further down her priority list.
“Meghan,” Matteo’s voice arrested her. “Are you better?”
She looked into his eyes at the seriousness of his inquiry.
“You feinted. I’ve been,” he cast about for the word, “concerned.”
She threw him a look of disbelief, then waved her hand through the air. “My silly English skin can’t cope with the Mediterranean heat, it would seem.”
“If we were in a more private location, I would reach across and feel your silly English skin to reassure myself,” he observed thickly, and the words, though spoken quite calmly, stirred a strong physical response in Meghan.
“Stop it,” She pleaded shakily, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I have no intention of stopping anything. As far as I am concerned, you and I have unfinished business.”
“And as far as I am concerned, I don’t ever intend to see you again after this weekend.”
His laugh was quiet, gently mocking. “Liar.”
She looked at him in consternation. “How can you want me when you know what I... that I... what I did?” She floundered.
“I’m not saying I want to marry you,” He drawled sardonically. “If I were considering you for that role, you’re right, you would have failed. You aren’t that kind of woman. Obviously.” The hurt in her eyes gave him little pleasure, but he continued. “No, I only have one plan for you. And that is to return you to my bed and finish what we started.”
Again, the desperate need to tell him the truth burned through her. How she’d love to throw it in his face in that moment. But she couldn’t. Loyalty to Pete kept her quiet.
“I’m with Pete,” She intoned succinctly, using their ruse now as a shield. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re trying to seduce a woman who’s sharing your brother’s bed?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “If I felt less desire for you, I would obey my common sense and not touch you with a barge pole.” He let his eyes drift insolently down her body, from the mass of auburn curls to the shadowed cleavage, smooth thighs and slender legs. “If my brother and I have both already had the pleasure of your body, quite by coincidence, what difference does it make if it happens again?”
“You’re disgusting!” She stuttered, and felt bile rising in her throat. Pushing up hastily she looked around in a panic and ran towards the nearest garden bed. Holding her hair back, she leaned forward and vomited right into the beautiful pink geraniums.
When she straightened to stand, he was behind her, his expression inscrutable. “I’m not who you think I am, Matteo.” The words were dragged from her soul, but his face was implacable.
“I think you are someone capable of stringing a man along, letting him believe you love him, all the while sleeping your way around with God knows how many men on the side.” His judgement was clear. And could she blame him? He had every reason in the world to think ill of her.
“How can you still want me, then?” She pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.
His own voice sounded tortured. “I don’t know. God knows I wish I didn’t.”
Matteo turned and disappeared inside and Meghan felt her body start to shake with the force of her shock. Maybe she could talk to Pete and explain this mess to him. He was the last person in the world to judge her for having had one night’s very pleasurable sexual exploration. He was extremely liberal with these types of things. And Meghan had not had a clue who Teo would turn out to be, after all. It had all be a misunderstanding.
She frowned. That just wouldn’t matter to Pete, she knew. He was extremely depressed about the business with his family and how they saw him. She had come there to help him, not to complicate matters further. He already thought Matteo was some kind of all-conquering God type. If he knew that Meghan, who was practically immune to the opposite sex, had fallen victim to Matteo’s charms, he’d be devastated. Betrayed.
Matteo returned a moment later, a cold bottle of water in hand. He passed it to her wordlessly.
“Thank you.” She sipped it and then held the plastic bottle against her forehead, enjoying the sensation of the cool bottle on warm skin.
“I don’t like you.” He said, almost in bemusement. “I can’t respect a woman who behaves as you do. And yet,” he looked at her with helpless fascination, “You have a hold over me that makes me do and say things I never would have thought myself capable of.” He turned away from her, looking at but not seeing the pristine swimming pool. “Regardless of what Pietro might have told you, I have never pursued his women before. It gives me no pleasure to be doing so now. Only the knowledge I have, that you will certainly break his heart, gives me any justification for what I am doing.” He turned back to face her. “And yet, it’s not enough. I should be throwing you out of my house, not trying to get you into my bed.”
“Throw me out, then.” She said in resignation. “I’m sick of being insulted by you and your sharp tongue.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to insult you. There are far, far more pleasurable things I would like to do to you. Most of them involve my sharp tongue and your delectable body.”
“You’re impossible,” she hissed, and turning on her heel, she stalked away from him.
Once in the confines of the Rose Room, she leant against the door and sank to the ground.
“You okay, babes?” Pete asked as he emerged from the ensuite bathroom.
She jumped guiltily. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look funny. Hot and bothered.”
“No.” She shook her head, forcing a smile. “Just tired.” And knowing it was the coward’s way out: “Do you think anyone would mind if I skip dinner tonight? I’m knackered after today and need an early night.”
“Of course.” He winked at her. “I’ll wait a half hour before going down and they can all jump to their own conclusions about how we’ve spent our time!”
A watery smile was the best she could do at his suggestion. The very idea that people might think that – one person in particular- filled her with a nauseating ache in her middle.
* * *
Matteo hardly tasted the superb dinner that had been prepared that evening. The villa staff were recruited by an elite agency. The kitchen team came from all over the world, having worked in prestige locations, and the food they served was unfailingly fantastic. The scampi, sautéed in a garlic butter, he knew to be one of the chef’s specialties, but the sublime mix of flavours hardly registered. Nor did the main course of rare Beef Toscana.
His eyes were broodingly focussed on the empty seat beside Pietro throughout the meal. Pete had emerged solo for dinner, looking every bit the satisfied and loved up man, but something about it felt off.
Matteo, of all people, knew what Meghan was capable of, and yet his instincts contradicted his knowledge. He had proof that she was a two-timing, scheming shrew of a woman, apparently incapable of monogamous love. But she had such an air of sweetness and decency that her behaviour didn’t add up.
He frowned. Giving Meghan Walker the benefit of the doubt in the current situation was a perplexing reaction, but he just couldn’t buy into the idea that she was having indiscriminate sex behind Pietro’s back. Evidence entirely to the contrary.
A thought occurred to him. Was it possible that Pete knew of Meghan’s indiscretions? That he loved her so much he was prepared to turn a blind eye? Worse, was he likewise indulging in a sleeping-partner-round-robbin of sorts? Matteo had friends who indulged in such open relationships, but he wouldn’t have had Pete pegged for that. His ego was too fragile to share. And it was definitely not Meghan’s caper. She seemed pretty torn up by her indiscretion. Though maybe that was more because she’d been found out than anything more noble.
He sipped on his wine, but his attention was caught by a snatch of Pietro’s conversation with Marco. They were discussing Il Notte, a hotspot in Rome that was just new on the scene.
&nbs
p; “It only opened last month!” Marco was proclaiming in Italian. “How have you had opportunity to go there already?”
“I haven’t, but I’m dying to get there on the way home. I want to show Meghan.”
Unable to resist, Matteo chimed in, “Meghan doesn’t seem like the night clubbing type.”
Pietro nodded in amusement. “You’re right. She’s very obliging at cooking me greasy breakfasts after my big nights of over-indulgence, though.”
A muscle flexed in Matteo’s jaw at the picture of happy domesticity the words created.
“The perfect woman,” Marco observed, lifting his wine glass in a salutation.
“We think she’s lovely, too,” Nina opined from the other end of the table. “Quite beautiful, very intelligent, and she seems smitten by you. Don’t you think, Matteo?”
Matteo was almost at a loss for words. He cleared his throat and admitted, “You do seem to deserve each other.” The cryptic nature of his remark went unnoticed by everyone. Everyone except Tony, who sat astutely at the head of the table, his honey flecked eyes watching with interest the conversation between the brothers. An idea had struck him over lunch yesterday, but it had seemed too fanciful to be indulged. Now, he would almost put money on there being more between Meghan and Matteo than met the eyes.
He caught Matteo’s attention and raised his brows inquiringly. Matteo simply smiled deferentially yet dismissively at his grandfather, placed his linen napkin on the table and excused himself.
Something was bothering Matteo, all right. Antonio Maratelli had never seen his grandson so quietly frustrated. The man was always the very image of restraint and control, but now he looked like the slightest provocation might light him up in flames. And for no particular reason, he suspected a certain flame-haired beauty might be the cause.
The Italian Billionaire's Betrayal: What if you fell in love with the one person you couldn't have? A story of forbidden love and overpowering need. Page 4