CHAPTER FIVE
The gala birthday ball that had been arranged for Tony’s official eightieth birthday was in full swing when Meghan descended the stairs, a little after nine o’clock. All day she’d managed to avoid Matteo. Though it had occurred to her that perhaps he too was laying low to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation. Caterers had been setting up a marquee in the formal courtyard, and the villa was a hive of activity. It had been the easiest thing in the world to simply steer clear of everyone.
She’d put off joining the party for as long as she politely could. It had been far more pleasurable to loiter upstairs on the small balcony of the Rose Room, watching luxury cars arrive and glamorous guests pile out elegantly. Pietro had said the evening would be a black tie affair and he had not been exaggerating. Every guest had been dressed to the nines. The women looked like they’d spent the day in beauty parlours around the country, getting eyelashes glued on, hair stuck in, tans painted on.
Meghan looked down at the midnight blue gown she was wearing one last time. It was almost like a wedding gown in design, with a sweetheart neckline and bodice that clung to her waist before layers and layers of tulle fell from the hips to the floor. She had kept her own hair and makeup minimal, just a few curls and a brush of mascara.
Meghan felt like a princess, and as she floated downstairs, she could almost have forgotten about the bundle of tension that had taken up residence in her tummy since meeting Matteo.
The hallways of the villa were deserted but for the occasional member of staff efficiently going about their business.
Hey eyes scanned the crowd but instead of finding Pete, they came to rest immediately on Matteo. It wasn’t that he was so much taller than anyone else, nor that he was more spectacularly dressed. It was that she had developed an innate sixth sense for him. It was like she was a homing pigeon and he had become her beacon. She watched him for a moment, her heart racing as she took in the superb details of his tuxedo, the way he’d slicked his dark hair back from his face. He was concentrating on something his companion was saying, and yet, as if he too had sensed her presence, he flicked his eyes up and immediately they landed on her. The look set her pulse skittering uncontrollably and she steadied herself on a nearby table stacked with hors deuvre.
How was it possible for one look to convey so much? So much desire. So much need. Such raw passion and sensuality. Was this normal? She didn’t think it could be. An elegant blonde passed close by and Meghan reached out a hand and touched Sofia’s shoulder.
Sofia looked at her, unmistakably cold. “Si?”
“Sofia, have you seen Pete?”
The blonde’s eyes looked flashed with anguish. “No.”
Meghan bit down on her lip. She wondered what had gone on between the two of them to cause such bad blood. Matteo had sworn he hadn’t slept with her, and yet Pietro seemed so convinced. Was it possible Pete’s jealousy of his brother had warped his understanding of the situation?
She frowned. “If you see him, please let him know I’m looking for him.”
Sofia’s eyes flashed but she nodded, before moving off into the crowd.
Alone in a sea of extremely elegant Europeans, Meghan plucked a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped on it slowly. A band of four jazz musicians had set up on a makeshift stage by the pool and the female vocalist was singing songs reminiscent of post-war Europe. Beautiful Edith Piaf and the like, the kind of songs that promised of grand affairs and melancholy ends. The kind of music she loved, and although she felt in a personal sort of hell, she was able to let the divine sounds wash over her.
“You look almost as beautiful tonight as the first time I saw you.” Teo’s husky voice caressed her from behind. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to. Every single detail of his face was imprinted in her mind.
“Ditto.” She answered sincerely.
“Pietro is speaking privately with grandfather. He will be some time yet.”
She frowned. “Everything okay?”
“It’s business.” He shrugged. The courtyard was swarming with people, and in the privacy that only great numbers afforded, he reached down and placed his hand on her hip, right above the swell of her bottom, before the tulle of the fairytale dress kicked out.
She caught her breath and turned to face him, her face filled with guilt.
“Please,” she choked out in a whisper. “Please don’t do this to me.”
He shook his head. “We have no choice, cara mia... it’s written in the stars.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Il destino.” And though they were standing inches apart now, not touching, she felt the husky words run over her skin as though he was placing delicate kisses on her neck and décolletage. She shivered despite the warmth of the night.
Desperate to put some distance between them, she said, “Do women really fall for this act?” She tried to inject as much of a disbelieving sneer as she could into her words.
His smile showed that he saw what she was doing. “I do not try to pick up many women, Meghan. Contrary to what you may have read in the newspapers, or what my brother has no doubt ungenerously reported, I do not have much time for romance.”
“Romance? That’s not what I’d call this.” She corrected archly.
“Perhaps in another time and place, were it not for...” his words petered out.
“But because of Pietro, you will never change your opinion of me.” She summarised. “And I don’t want to be with someone who sees me as you do.”
“I told you before, I’m not offering marriage,” he said, and then shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s just that my opinion shouldn’t matter for the kind of relationship we both want from one another.”
Her eyes flashed. “Tell me, Matteo, what exactly do you think I want from you?”
He lowered his voice and quickly scanned their fellow guests. No one, it seemed was paying them much attention. “Sex. No strings attached sex. Because of your... situation... with my brother, we would have to be discrete. I could never reveal to my family that we were involved once you and he had broken up.”
Meghan Walker, Room Mate and Friend to Pietro Maratelli was extremely, highly tempted by Matteo’s barbaric offer. Oh, she could never do it. She had too much self-respect, and she knew it was a one way street to heartbreak. But she knew it was the kind of offer only a deep desire would have prompted him to make. He was right. If his family knew what he was proposing, they would excommunicate him for good.
But it wasn’t possible, and so she made herself remember that for another twelve hours, she was Pietro’s girlfriend and lover. “I’m not leaving your brother, Matteo. You can forget about it.”
“I know that you don’t feel for him how you feel for me.” His words were measured, showing none of the inner turmoil that besieged his body.
“You’re right. I think you are a snake of the highest order, whereas Pete is one of the kindest, most considerate men I have ever known.”
“But are your dreams tormented by him, the way they are of me?” He demanded huskily, and she coloured beneath his watchful gaze.
“I’m not going to discuss my relationship with Pete with you, of all people.” She snapped, drinking the rest of her champagne in one mouthful.
“You and Pete will not have a relationship for much longer, cara mia, that much is certain. All that you have to decide is how he will find out about it. Via you, or me.” His words were laced with steely intent.
She flinched, desperate to save her friend from what would be a crushing blow of betrayal. “If you love your brother, you will let sleeping dogs lie.” She warned quietly.
His eyes narrowed. “Surely you must see that’s not possible.” He took her fingers in his, confident the press of bodies surrounding them would conceal the familiar touch. “What would you do, if you were me?”
She lowered her eyes. He was right. “You don’t understand the way things are with Pete and me. It’s more compli
cated than that.” She brought her face to his, searching his eyes for understanding. “Please believe that the last thing I want to do is hurt your brother.” She squeezed his hand. “I love him. I really do. I will be sure he does not get hurt.”
His skin was ash beneath his olive tan. “And what of me?” His words were hollow.
“You?” She asked, confused.
“Am I to forget that night? Forget all about you, and the way you make me feel?”
She flushed. Hadn’t she been thinking the same thing from the moment she had left his bed? Forgetting Teo was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done. If circumstances were different, oh, how she would have loved to give in to him, to have just one more night of wild, uninhibited love making.
“You must.” She whispered. “We both must.”
“I can’t.” His words were fierce. “When you have ended things with Pete, we will talk again. I have told you, we have unfinished business.”
And despite herself, she felt a trill of pleasure and anticipation at his determination.
“Now,” he said, his rich voice filled with condemnation, “Your boyfriend is here.”
His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes, and she turned away from him, feeling her stomach roll with anxiety.
There was Pete, looking...murderous, she realised with a small frown.
“He doesn’t look happy.” She murmured, turning back to Teo.
“Mmm.” The older brother concurred. “I daresay you’re about to find out the depth of your beloved Pete’s feelings for you, Meghan. I hope you’re not too unpleasantly surprised.”
She looked at him in confusion at the cryptic remark.
Pietro joined them, grabbing two champagnes from a passing waiter. He handed one to Meghan. “Did you know about Grandfather’s crude offer, Matteo?” His voice was calm enough, but his eyes flashed with disgust.
Matteo’s smile was forced. “This is not the place, Pietro. Come to my study tomorrow if you would like to discuss it.”
“Damned right I want to discuss it, but not tomorrow. Let’s go, now.” He laced his fingers through Meghan’s. “You too, Megsy. You have to hear this to see what I’ve been trying to explain to you.”
Matteo looked surprised. “This is clearly a family matter.”
“Megs is more family to me than you are.” Pete snapped harshly. “Let’s get inside so I can have the satisfaction of telling you just what I think of you.”
Once inside the study, Meghan held Peter’s fingers in hers, watching his face carefully. He was clearly distressed. Matteo looked disconcertingly calm. “Pete,” She asked urgently, pulling on his arm. “What’s going on?”
“My grandfather has said that if I don’t move back to Italy, he’ll disinherit me.”
She stared at him, floored for her friend. “But you’re studying in England...” She responded, when her brain finally kicked into gear.
“Reading between the lines, he wants to see how serious you and I are about each other.” He said, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
She frowned a little, for they both knew it was a sham relationship. “Did he say that?” She asked quietly, aware of Matteo’s complete focus on them.
“Not in so many words.” He spun around to Matteo. “Was this your idea?”
“Yes.” He said succinctly, not a hint of remorse in his face.
“Why? Why would you want to control my life? Why can’t you just butt out?”
Meghan’s glare was reproachful. She could imagine why he was manipulating the situation like this. She knew he always achieved what he wanted. His success was renowned. He had obviously decided that he couldn’t trust her to end things with Pete, so he was trying to gain an insurance policy. To give Pete incentive to end it himself.
Matteo shook his head in the smallest of gestures, trying to communicate something to her. “Pietro, grandfather’s offer is not so melodramatic as you are making out. You move back to Italy and take up a role within the company, and everything remains the same. It is not a bad idea. You know as well as I do that your current lifestyle can’t continue.”
“What would you know?” Pietro fumed, his features set with a rage he didn’t try to conceal. “If it weren’t for you I never would have left. Do you think it was easy for me, to see you and Sofia together?”
Matteo’s smile was triumphant. “You still love her.” His eyes flew to Meghan, searched her face, and there was pity in his expression. Pity that made her feel awful, for the lie they had told him. The lie he believed.
Pete shook his head. “No. Not anymore. I love Megs,” he clarified, looking down at Meghan for strength.
“Pete,” she whispered, her eyes beseeching his. This was their opportunity to be honest. If only he would tell Matteo the truth, things would be so much simpler. For her, at least.
“Sofia is nothing to me now. Nothing.” He slashed his hand through the air to emphasise the point. “But I will never forgive you for taking her from me. She was my fiancé, Teo.”
“For the last time,” Matteo’s voice was remarkably controlled, “I did not take her from you. You stuffed it up, and you’ve only yourself to blame.”
Pete spun away, his body stiff with tension. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s ancient history.” He visibly pulled himself together. “What matters now is grandfather’s insulting suggestion that I leave my life in the UK,” at this, he gestured to Meghan, “to come back here.”
“That, of course, is your decision.”
“I will not be leaving London. And I’m insulted that you, and Tony, would think that the threat of disinheriting me would make a bit of difference.”
Something clicked in Meghan’s mind and she laughed, a short, sharp sound, a hand flying to her mouth.
Matteo looked at her cautiously. “This is because you think I’m after his money.”
Matteo, to his credit, looked discomfited by her assessment.
“Of course, it has been discussed.” He admitted, guardedly. “You would not be the first woman to latch onto a Maratelli with dollar signs in their hearts.”
Her eyes stared daggers at him, and she accused him silently for such an ungenerous thought.
Then, out of nowhere, Meghan laughed again. She doubled over, clutching her tummy, unable to stop giggling now. It wasn’t really funny, in fact, it was downright insulting. But the emotional stress of the weekend had taken its toll. She brought a hand up and grabbed at Pete’s arm, her mirth earning a small smile from her pretend boyfriend. “You must admit, that’s pretty funny.” She straightened and wiped at her eyes, where tears of amusement had accumulated.
“Hilarious.” Pete agreed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ve missed the joke.” Matteo drawled quietly.
“Meghan doesn’t need my money. She’s quite wealthy.”
Matteo didn’t react at first. Then, quietly, “Maratelli wealth is not ordinary. You know as well as I do that most could only dream of the lifestyle we could afford.”
Pete interrupted smugly, “Her family are Texas Oil barons from the States. They make our fortune look run of the mill, if not paltry. That’s one of the many reasons we make such good sense. I never thought for a moment that she had her eye on my family fortune.”
Matteo frowned. “Walker. Of course. Walker Oil and Gas.” He raised his eyebrows at her but she turned her head, unable to meet his eyes.
“Though I might end up being a kept man, thanks to you and Grandfather.” Pete said with a wink. “Come on, babes. Let’s get back to the party. I’m in the mood for a drink.”
Her smile was tense.
She followed him into the hallway and then grabbed his hand, arresting their progress. “I’ll be right out. I just need to grab something from upstairs.” She evaded. Once Pete had disappeared in the direction of the marquee, she stormed back into Matteo’s study. He was standing where she’d left him, in the middle of the room, staring into space with a brooding expression on his tan
ned face.
“How dare you,” she snapped, slamming the door shut behind her as she walked into the room. “That is lower than low, even for you.”
Slowly, he turned to face her. “I beg your pardon?” His face flashed with anger.
“What did you aim to achieve with this ultimatum?”
He sighed wearily. “Cara, you are very beautiful when you’re annoyed, but you are wasting your temper. This is not what you think.”
“Oh, really? It didn’t occur to you that if Pete moved back to Italy, it might be the end of his relationship with me? Are you really such a chauvinist that you would try to manipulate him simply to achieve your own ends?”
“Meghan, I have told you before. I always get what I want, and there is not a snowball in hell’s chance that I won’t get you, eventually. If money had been a factor, you must admit, this would have been a good way to discover your true motivations.”
“What is it about you that makes me itch to slap your cheek?” She demanded. Then, with a great effort at lowering her voice, she snapped, “Well, you’ve got your answer. I’m not after his money. Nor yours.”
“No.” He frowned. “It would appear that you’re not.”
He paced across the room, moving to look out of the window at the starlit sky. “The offer for Pete to join the company is one grandfather and I have been discussing for months. It’s what I was hoping to discuss with him that night... the night we met. I was looking for Pete, having heard from a friend he would be there. I thought I could sell him on the idea and surprise Tony with the news this weekend. Only... I never got to see him that night to make the offer.”
She coloured, remembering exactly what he’d been doing instead.
“The disinheritance was Tony’s idea. He seems to think the only reason a woman like you would be with someone like Tony is for money.”
“That doesn’t say much for what he thinks of me, then.” She muttered, clearly hurt.
“On the contrary. He thinks you are quite special. Bright, insightful, intelligent. It doesn’t make sense why you would be with Tony, frankly. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s frivolous to a fault. You are substantial.” He shrugged. “In the end, money seemed like the most likely inducement.”
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 5