Meghan strode intently across the room and brought her hand up, unable to resist the urge that had been plaguing her for days. Her slap made a satisfying sound as her hand connected with his skin. He barely flinched.
“You bastard.” She raged. “Before we came here, Pete told me that you all thought he was a waste of time and space, and I disagreed. I told him there was no way his family could think so little of him. I can’t tell you how sad I am to realise that he wasn’t exaggerating.”
He watched her impassively, as her chest rose and fell with each furious breath, her eyes sparkled with rage, and her pale skin was flushed with the force of her emotions.
“Don’t kiss me.” She said, clearly understanding the transformation in his eyes.
“As you wish.” His smile was mocking. “I find it ironic that you can rail at me about doing the right thing by Pietro, when you are actively betraying him every opportunity you get. My God, Meghan, he was in the club that night we met. What if he’d seen us talking? Did it even occur to you what he might think?”
It hadn’t, of course, because at the time, she’d had no reason to suspect it would have bothered Pietro in the slightest.
“As for how our family views him, I presume he hasn’t told you what happened between him and Sofia?”
Her eyes clouded. “No. And I don’t want you to tell me now. That’s Pete’s private business and I respect it.”
“An odd attitude for a woman in love to take. I’d have expected you to be a little jealous. Curious, too.”
She turned away from him. “I respect his boundaries, he respects mine. We aren’t one of those couples that has to know everything about one another.”
“This is a reasonably major part of his history, though.”
She held a hand up. “Stop it. I don’t want to know.”
“Fine.” He conceded. “Until you do, though, do not judge us for our impatience with Pietro, nor for our desire for him to grow up and start taking responsibility for his life.”
“You see one side of him, and perhaps you do have a reason for that. But I see another.” She shook her head. “I know he is irresponsible. Immature at times. But his heart is good. He is a good, good man, Matteo.”
“Oh, is he?” Matteo drawled, coming to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffened immediately at the feeling of his palms against her bare skin.
“You know he is.” She whispered, turning to face him.
“Perhaps. Time will tell. If you care for him, you will urge him to return home. Do not stand in his way. I suspect he is not in love with you any more than you are with him.”
Meghan had never been a good liar. She was surprised that she had been able to go along with this charade for as long as she had. Nonetheless, she valiantly tried. “I do love Pete!”
“You may love him, but you are not in love with him. And, having seen him with Sofia, I think his heart is still very much in her hands. It is in everyone’s best interests for you to leave him.”
“I think you are manipulating me.” She accused. As they spoke, his hands were slowly tracing the length of her slender arms, up and down, and her skin was covered in fine goosebumps.
“Forse. Perhaps.” He brought his hands to wrap around her waste and pulled her against his firm body. “Meghan, you are the last person in the world that I want to have these feelings for. I have tried to resist them. To rationalise them. I’ve told myself that it’s just physical. And yet... I can’t get you out of my head. Plesae,” his voice was husky. “Please put me out of my misery and agree to be mine.”
Her heart was racing, her breathing was laboured, and her stomach rolled at pleasure with his words. But outwardly, she tried to appear calm. “I am leaving tomorrow.” She said the words more as a reminder to herself than him. “You will quickly forget about me, as I will forget about you.”
“I don’t believe so.” He contradicted, and he kissed her, as he had promised himself he would not do again until she had left Pietro for good.
“This...is...just...lust...” she breathed between kisses.
He nodded, then reached down and scooped her up off her feet, bringing her to lie on his desk. She lifted off her back as something sharp dug into her and he swept his arm across the timber, effectively clearing it of any detritus.
“You drive me wild,” his voice held a soft accusation.
“So you’ve said.” She threw back at him, clawing at his shirt and bringing him down on top of her.
His kiss was filled with all the need that had dominated him since their first meeting. His hands pulled at her dress, finding the hemline and pushing the ocean of fabric up so that he could grab her bare thighs, feel their smooth warmth.
How Meghan wanted to shout out the truth! The passion they felt was perfectly normal; there was no need to carry such a burden of guilt. She shuddered as his fingers pummelled her thighs then sought her buttocks, flexing against the roundness there.
“I can’t fight this anymore,” his voice was hoarse, tortured.
Meghan bit down on her lower lip.
“I can’t fight this. I don’t want to fight it. I simply want you, Meghan. Tell me... tell me you’ll leave him.”
She had to tell Pete. Then she had to come clean with Matteo. She couldn’t pretend any longer that she didn’t want to enjoy every single bit of Teo that he was willing to offer.
Frantically, she nodded. “I will. I’ll speak to him.”
His breathing was ragged, his face filled with lust.
“Do it soon.” He groaned. “I can’t wait much longer for you.”
“I can’t do it tonight.” She pointed out, chewing on her lower lip. Her hand strayed to his exposed chest and in wonderment, she ran her fingers across the ridges of abdominal muscles carved beneath his flesh. She saw him flinch at the contact and a thrill of feminine power filled her senses.
“I will come to London. As soon as you tell me it is done... I will be there.”
When she was silent, he kissed her again, and against her lips, whispered, “Promise...”
“I promise.” She answered huskily.
Meghan squeezed closed her eyes. Why did she have the feeling she’d just taken a step off the edge of a cliff, into a terrifying abyss?
CHAPTER SIX
For the rest of the evening, Meghan stuck to Pete like glue. She felt a sinking sensation of guilt every time she looked at her friend. He had asked her here to help him be seen in a new light by his family, and instead, she’d made matters worse. Tony clearly thought she was a gold digger, and Matteo must hold her in the lowest regard imaginable. Oh, lust was one thing, but how could someone like Matteo ever respect a woman who had done the things he thought she had done?
Worse, when she was finally free to tell him the truth about her relationship with Pete, what would he think of her then? While he might understand her reasons for going along with the charade, she’d knowingly put him through hell, by letting him continue to think she was in a relationship with Pietro.
Try as she might, Meghan couldn’t see a way out of the whole ugly mess that spared everyone’s feelings.
Twenty four hours later, back in her own apartment in London, she was still puzzling over the right words to use to explain things to Pete.
He’d been in a terrible mood since they’d flown out of Rome. She served herself a bowl of cous cous and curry and sat down on the sofa, watching him from beneath shuttered eyelids. He was spread out on the ground, lying on his back, a glass of wine beside him. His eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling.
“Are you having dinner?” She asked.
He shook his head from side to side.
Meghan sighed. “Pete, what’s got into you? You’ve barely spoken two words to me since we left Italy.”
He wordlessly turned to face her, his face blank. Finally, he said, quietly, “Do you think Matteo meant what he said?”
“About what?” She asked, putting her untouched meal on the
coffee table.
“About Sofia,” He breathed in frustration. As if it was the only thing she, too, should have been thinking about.
“That she still loves you?”
“Yes.”
Meghan shrugged. “What happened between the two of you? It’s not like you to part on bad terms with anyone.”
His eyes were clouded by pained memories.
“Sofia never wanted children. It was something we both felt strongly about.”
Meghan frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
“I don’t shout it from the rooftops. I just found it hard to see myself as the fatherly type. Besides, we were young. Too young to really know what we wanted or how we felt about anything.”
“What happened?”
“She got pregnant.” His words were hollow. His tone, desolate. Meghan didn’t say anything, just continued to listen. She was a doctor, and she knew when someone had a need to unburden themselves. To confess. Pete cleared his throat. “She lost the baby. Or she aborted it. I never knew. At the time, I believed she’d had the abortion, without speaking to me.”
Meghan felt tears spring to her eyes. “Pete, that’s terrible.”
He nodded. “Only now... I’m not so sure that she didn’t miscarry.” He grimaced. “If that’s the case, I badly misjudged her and I doubt she’ll ever forgive me.”
“Why did you think she’d had a procedure?”
“We’d argued. She said that she never wanted the baby. That she didn’t want to be a mother. The next day, there was no longer a baby.”
“Well, that’s pretty damning. I can see why you’d think what you did.” Meghan’s voice was sympathetic.
“And then bloody Matteo, as usual, couldn’t keep his nose out of it. He offered Sofia a job and she fell in love with him. Her knight in shining armour.”
“Pete,” Meghan exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not so sure that there is anything going on between them.”
He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know him like I do, cara. He is obsessed with winning, and winning at all costs. If he wants something or someone, he will say or do whatever it takes. He never met a woman he couldn’t seduce. He’s not capable of spending time with any woman without wanting to bed her.”
Meghan took great care to control her reaction, but inside, her heart felt like it had started to thud audibly.
“In fact, you are probably the only woman he’s ever met that he couldn’t charm.”
Oh, she knew she should tell him the truth, but the words died on her lips. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of her lust for Matteo. Nor did she doubt his lust for her. What she doubted was his integrity. He had picked her up in that nightclub as though it was nothing to him. So suave, so confident. It was the easiest thing in the world to imagine that he pursued women for sport.
And once planted, the seed of an idea took root in her mind, and as days merged into weeks, Meghan convinced herself that Matteo had already moved on. It was harder for her to do likewise.
Every night, her dreams revolved around Matteo. His lips on her skin, his honey eyes staring into hers, his hands thrilling her body. Every night was the same. Full of tossing, turning, tormented aching for the fulfilment only he could deliver. Days were harder, if that was possible. Pretending to Pete that everything was as normal was almost impossible.
At least she had her work in a top London clinic to keep her busy.
Everywhere she went though, Meghan thought she saw Teo. Ridiculous, as he was uniquely spectacular. All other men were inferior, in her opinion. Any dark head in the crowd though morphed into him. A faraway business man, dressed in a suit, speaking on a mobile phone. Or a shopper in the food court of Selfridges, dressed casually.
Four weeks to the day after returning from Italy, Meghan’s spirits had plummeted to new depths. Four weeks, and Matteo had not contacted her. Was there any greater proof that he’d forgotten her? That their chemistry and connection had been nothing more to him than a temporary diversion? Worse, habit.
“Come out dancing with me, Megsy!” Pete begged, pouring a couple of glasses of Chianti for them.
She’d shaken her head, careful to smile, careful to look normal, all the while feeling empty and hollow inside.
“I’m exhausted, Pete. That was a long day, even for me.”
“What was it?” He asked, sipping on his wine. “I was asleep when you left.”
She hung her jacket on the hallstand. “Fourteen hours. I covered for a friend.”
He let out a low whistle. “I’ll let you off this time, but you have got to get out there, Megs. You’re never going to meet a guy stuck here or at work.”
She smiled brightly, and the effort hurt her cheeks. “Next time.” She promised.
Pete disappeared into their bathroom to start getting ready for the night. When she heard the shower start running, she collapsed into the sofa and dipped her head into her hands. What a mess. How she wished she’d never met Matteo. She had been happy before.
Her work was the most thrilling aspect of her life. And it was thrilling. Her patients were invariably adorable, and she worked tirelessly to help where she could. Her social life, or lack thereof, had never even occurred to her.
Now, it was like a switch had been flicked, and she was sex mad. Only there was just one person who could cause her heart to race and her pulse to leap. And he was someone she needed to avoid like the plague.
A solid knock rasped on the door to the apartment and she groaned, exhausted. It was the first opportunity she’d had to sit down in a very long day, and the last thing she wanted to do was make polite chit-chat with one of Pete’s glamorous party going friends. She simply wanted to huddle into a small ball and sleep.
With the sound of the shower running persistently, and the knock at the door coming again, she dragged herself to a standing position.
“Okay, Okay,” she called. “I’m coming.”
She pulled her hair into a messy pony tail and looked down at her outfit. One of her young patients had spilled juice down her front in the middle of the shift and she’d not had a chance to change. The orange stain against the pale blue blouse was obvious, but what did that matter? With a grimace, she wrenched open the door, and froze when she saw Matteo, unmistakable this time, standing in the hallway.
“Teo,” She exclaimed breathily, her hands suddenly not quite steady.
He stared back at her, and the words he’d prepared to speak flew out of his head. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, running his hands hungrily through her hair, down her back, remembering every line of her body.
Meghan turned her face up to his questioningly, and he shook his head then kissed her. Her nerve endings shivered and convulsed at the sensations he aroused and she groaned.
“What are you doing here?” She asked. “How did you know where I live?”
His response was typically guarded. “I have my ways.”
She looked over her shoulder and then back to Matteo, and she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.
“You didn’t call.” He said reproachfully, running a finger down her cheek.
She had promised him, that last night, that she would call him when her fictional engagement to Pietro was at an end. Only Pete’s comments about Matteo’s womanising and her own uncertainties had plagued her and she had shied away from ever ringing him. She’d been tempted. More than tempted. Her fingers had itched to dial his number so many times per day that it had driven her crazy. But what would she say? What could she say that would explain this?
She frowned a little.
He looked past her into the lounge room and his eyes registered the two wine glasses on the counter. “Do you have company?” He asked, a brow raised in enquiry.
A blush stole across her cheeks.
She opened her mouth but was forestalled by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open. Meghan’s expression was both guilty, and, she hoped apologetic. She turned and saw what Matteo did:
Pete, emerging from the bathroom with a tiny towel wrapped around his waist, showing an enormous expanse of skin, looking every bit at home in her home. Which was appropriate given they were flatmates. But Matteo wasn’t to know that.
She turned back to the man who had stolen her heart and soul and saw the intimacy they’d shared being erased. His face was like a statue, only his eyes communicated the depth of shock he felt at discovering Pete with Meghan. Still.
“Matteo!” Pete’s own surprise was evident. “What are you doing here?”
Matteo stepped into the apartment and looked around, seeing for the first time all the signs of his brother stamped everywhere. Posters, books, socks balled up in the corner.
“You live here.” He drawled incredulously.
Pete frowned. “Of course I live here.” He shot a worried look at Megs. He was worried about himself. About their lie being exposed. She was so frustrated she could have cried out. What a mug she was to let Pete’s needs override hers. And yet, here she was, about to go along with the whole darned charade, again. “Isn’t that why you’ve come? To see me?”
Matteo flicked a blank expression to Meghan. “Of course. I would have no other reason to waste my time here.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. A nervous hand flew to her neck and she fingered the antique locket she always wore there.
“Come on in. Join us for a wine.” Pete extended magnanimously, with all the appearance of ownership of the flat.
Matteo, curious in spite of himself, accepted the invitation. He sat down on the comfortable sofa and looked around the lounge room.
Whilst Meghan was desperate to freshen up her appearance, she didn’t want to leave these two alone. More than that, she didn’t want to leave Matteo. She was like a starving woman brought to a buffet. For a month she had been tortured with memories of him, memories that only served to arouse her desire, not satisfy it. And now the object of her lust was only feet away.
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 6