“Meghan,” her name was a breath on his lips. “You must know the only way we can explore this is by acknowledging the limitations. For a start, no one could ever know about this. I am not the kind of man to seduce his brother’s ex-lovers. My family would be scandalised. My mother would be devastated. Pietro would be...”
“Fine.” She supplied firmly. “Eventually.”
“Eventually? Good God. Meghan, there is no eventually.” His tone was suddenly wooden, his words succinct, and Meghan felt like she was in bed with the boardroom billionaire now, rather than the fiery, passionate lover she’d just enjoyed hours pleasuring and being pleased by.
“For the sake of argument, how do you see this working then?” She asked quietly, hating that she was even considering this insulting suggestion.
“Everyone knows you are to fly out tomorrow. You will, instead, come and stay in Rome with me. One week. Then you leave, and that will be the end of it. It will be done, and dusted, as you say.”
She had to squeeze her fingers into her palms to stop the tears that she could feel welling up. “I have work.”
“You can take holiday, surely.”
It was true, she had accumulated over a month of annual leave, and her supervisor would sign off on it without problems. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. The idea was preposterous. Offensive to her on every level. And yet, he still believed she was Pete’s ex-girlfriend, and he was obviously as enslaved by their connection as she was. The difference was, Meghan saw all the sides of the equation and she knew what they felt was love, not simply lust. How could a man like Matteo ever acknowledge, even to himself, that he had fallen for a woman like what he believed Meghan to be? He would never allow it. And so he was carrying on with this ludicrous charade.
Meghan knew two things for sure.
One, she loved him with all of her heart, and didn’t want to let him go yet.
And two, when their week was up, there was no way he’d want her to go. She’d make sure of it.
“Meghan,” he pulled at her so that she rolled to face him. “Do I have to give you another demonstration of what our week will involve?”
She closed her eyes. Despite the fact that she’d already made up her mind to accept, she pretended diffidence. And Matteo did everything he could to ensure she had no choice to accept, using their bodies to drive her to unimaginable heights.
The next day, after a brief and fascinating meeting with Dottore Bonifazi in the small township, Meghan left behind the Villa. And so began her week’s quest to conquer Matteo’s heart.
CHAPTER TEN
It was strange, at first, being back in Rome. Scratch that. It was strange being back in Matteo’s apartment. Last time she had been there, she had not had a clue what he would come to mean to her, nor how enmeshed their lives would be.
“Unless you have any objections, I see no reason for you to have your own room.” He said crisply, carrying her small over-night case up the stairs to his own lavish bedroom.
She followed, and then realised that he was waiting for a response. “Fine. That will be fine.”
He placed the bag on a dressing table. “You did not stick around long enough to learn where everything is, last time you were here.” He said bleakly. “Ensuite bathroom is through there. Walk-in robe – you may hang anything you require in there. I have an office on the first floor you may use if you need to do any work.”
She nodded, her mouth suddenly thick.
He sighed impatiently. “You agree to this, cara, why do you look like a little tiny baby lamb being led to slaughter?”
She dug her toe into the carpet and looked downwards, finding it suddenly hard to meet his direct gaze.
“I’m just not sure how I should behave.” She blushed.
He frowned. “Like yourself.”
“I mean with you. You seem determined to keep me at arm’s length.”
His frown deepened. “We talked about this last night. Our relationship is defined by physical parameters. I work in the daytime, and you are free to do whatever you will during this time. Nights, we share. This is a mutual arrangement, for your benefit as much as mine. You are not my prisoner, so stop acting like it.”
She laughed quietly. “Okay, okay.”
Something about her uncertainty, her vulnerability, touched his heart, but he clamped down on the sensation swiftly. This woman was dangerous. He knew her to be one thing, and yet when he was with her, he quickly forgot that and instead saw only the desirable, good traits. And that would lead him into a world of hurt. He was not a mug like his brother. He would not let this woman take him for a ride.
“One more thing, Meghan.”
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.
“This is an exclusive arrangement. Curtail your impulses to leap into strangers’ beds this week, if you please.”
She spun away from him, so that he wouldn’t see how much his callous statement had injured her. “I told you. I have slept with three people in my life.”
“And I told you, I don’t believe you.” He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “I can also tell you that I don’t frankly care if you’ve slept with the whole of England.” He lied, his voice more harsh than he intended. “This week, you are mine.”
“I’m not property.” She snapped, wriggling free of his grip and stalking towards the ensuite. “However, seeing as I have no intention of sleeping with anyone other than you, I am happy to agree to your insulting condition.” She saw her words hit their mark, his face showing surprise. “Excuse me while I shower this conversation away.” She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door, taking great pleasure in noisily pushing the lock in place.
Meghan stood under the hot jet of water for what felt like hours. She stood and let the needles pummel her back, her front, her scalp. She breathed in the steam, and soaped her skin until it lathered. Finally, when she thought she was going to waterlog her organs, she stepped out and wrapped an enormous bath towel around herself. It was a dusky apricot colour and plush, like everything in Matteo’s Rome townhouse.
When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, Matteo was gone. As she’d expected. Isn’t that why she’d taken such a long shower? So that she could avoid seeing him again and having another hurtful confrontation?
She towel dried her hair brusquely, and finished it with a dryer, then dressed in the only casual outfit she’d brought with her- a pair of denim shorts and a loose fitting tee shirt.
Explore Rome, he’d said. Well, she’d never been before and there were no shortage of sights she wanted to see. When she walked downstairs, the same housekeeper who had come to her rescue that morning with the door appeared, a beaming smile in place. Here was someone who clearly didn’t know about her relationship with Pete and was simply pleased to see the same woman back in Teo’s life. She returned the smile, a little guiltily.
“Signore Maratelli say you to take the driver.” She said, her English heavily accented, and gestures accompanying each word to make her meaning clear.
“Thank you,” Meghan nodded her understanding. And then, “Il vaticano?”
“Si, Si.” The woman picked up a phone in the hallway and spoke a few words in Italian and then hung up. “Two minutes.” She smiled again and turned away, her squat figure beetling efficiently down the corridor.
Meghan stood staring at the paintings across from her, two Renaissance works, she would guess, both spectacular. Matteo certainly had an eye for artwork. The driver appeared and to Meghan’s relief, he spoke perfect English, and introduced himself as Paolo. She was able to ask him all about the Vatican and he kindly called ahead to arrange a VIP entrance ticket for her. Apparently, being the mistress of Matteo Maratelli had some perks, she acknowledged with a grimace.
“You’re not coming in?” She asked when he bid her farewell.
He laughed. “No, Meghan. You just call when you want me and I will be here.”
She nodded, nervous suddenly, wishing she’d paid be
tter attention in her high school language classes.
“You’ll be fine.” He reassured her. “Everyone here will speak English.”
She nodded. Of course he was right. She didn’t know what had come over her. This situation with Matteo had given her a sudden case of uncertainty, and it was not like her lack confidence. Reminding herself of that fact forcefully, she pushed through the gates and proceeded to spend a very pleasurable afternoon in the hallowed municipality.
When she met Paolo just after five o’clock, she was thrilled. Though she didn’t know it, she looked like a giddy school girl, with pink cheeks and shining eyes, and excited gestures as she described all of the artwork she’d seen. “Oh, Paolo, I want to come back again tomorrow. I only got to see a tenth of the place, and I want to explore it all.”
Her enthusiasm was charming, and he thought how lovely it was to see his boss with a woman so lovely as this Meghan. Matteo Maratelli needed a woman to soften him. He was too hard-nosed, too business orientated. This foreigner would be good for him.
“Oh, darn it.” Meghan exclaimed, pulling her head up from the guide book she’d been reading. “I meant to buy some more clothes today.” She looked down at her outfit with a grimace.
“No problem,” Paolo said, quickly pulling the car out of their lane and turning down a small side street. “My sister has a boutique. It’s not far.”
He pressed some numbers in his phone and switched to Italian. “She’s going to keep it open for you.”
“Thank you, Paolo,” She breathed with relief. A whole week with Matteo and only two outfits was not ideal. If she was going to make him realise how he felt about her in that timeframe, then she would need some help.
Paolo’s sister Stella was tall and slim like him, but where he was dark and swarthy in complexion, she was more like Sofia, with white blonde hair and flawless skin. She had that sort of relaxed sensuality that many Italian women possessed, full of fulminating stares and pouting lips, and fluid hand movements. Meghan felt a kick of jealousy as she thought of the sophisticated women Matteo had no doubt shared his bed with in the past, but she pushed those thoughts away firmly. She was expecting him to admit that he loved her even with the false impressions she had given him, she could hardly hold a grudge because he’d had a love life before her.
Mindful of the fact that she was holding Stella up, she chose armfuls of clothes almost at random, piling them onto the counter. She would dip into her trust fund for the third time in her life, but it would be worth it. She handed over her rarely used Black American Express, feeling a little guilty when a surprised Stella tallied up the items. The sum could have bought a small flat in the west end, she thought with a self-condemnatory sigh, but at least Matteo wouldn’t judge her for poor sartorial choices.
It was just after seven o’clock when Paolo pulled the car into the courtyard of the townhouse.
“I will help you with your shopping, Signorina,” he said politely, lifting the bags out of the boot.
“Thank you.” She grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to buy so much...”
“Eh,” he lifted his shoulders. “I know, women and fashion. It’s like a fever.”
She nodded, though truthfully, she’d never felt like that before. At university, she’d lived in jeans and sweatshirts, and now, as a paediatrician, suits were more her thing. Her social life was such a right off that she had no cause to dress up. Until now.
She thought with pleasure of the stunning outfits she’d purchased, particularly the lingerie, and she suddenly couldn’t wait to see her ... lover? What did one call one’s male mistress, she pondered thoughtfully. It wasn’t fair that she had a title that, frankly, did not have particularly pleasant connotations, and yet he was not burdened with the same treatment.
Paolo shouldered open the front door and stood wide to allow Meghan entrance. “I’ll take these upstairs.” He said, holding the bags aloft.
“Thank you, Paolo. For the clothes, and everything. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” She gave him a bright smile and turned to go in search of Matteo, or the little housekeeper she liked.
She found neither and so, with a small frown of disappointment, treaded up to their bedroom. The bags had been stowed just inside the door, and she collapsed onto the bed, lying on her tummy and staring a little helplessly at the proof of her reckless expenditure.
When Matteo got home an hour later, after a hellish day in the office, he was filled with impatience. Despite being in the midst of a corporate takeover that should have been the recipient of his undivided attention, he had been distracted in every meeting. A pocket-sized red head with full cherry-red lips and eyes the colour of the ocean had danced seductively through his mind, making him long to be at home, holding her in his arms.
And the realisation that his need for her was so overpowering was somewhat depressing. He knew there was no future with this woman, and yet he had never experienced such a compelling attraction. He compressed his lips. All the more reason to make sure he got her out of his system this week. Starting with right now.
He ripped his tie off, and slid his jacket down, discarding both carelessly over the railing of the stairs. He flicked open his shirt buttons as he climbed the steps, and kicked his shoes off at the door to his bedroom.
When he stepped inside, he froze. There she was. The temptress who had taken over his mental capacity, fast asleep in the middle of his bed. He walked quietly towards her and grinned despite himself when he saw that a tourist pamphlet for the Vatican was scrunched between her two fingers.
He drew his gaze from the pamphlet, along her arm, to the slender curve of his neck, and felt a kick of something in his abdomen. Desire, yes, want and need, certainly. But there was always something else with her. Something indefinable that coursed through him.
Resignedly, he pulled his shirt off and threw it over a chair, then crossed the room and disappeared into the en suite.
She was still asleep when he emerged, wearing only boxer shorts, a short time later. He sighed. The temptation to wake her was strong, but he couldn’t do it. She looked so peaceful in sleep, and knowing she would never be aware of his foolish, tender gesture, he leant forward and placed a kiss against her temple.
It was only light, but it caused her to stir. She stretched with a low moan, bringing her arms up over her head and pushing her toes outwards so that her legs formed a desirable star-jump.
“Teo,” she mumbled, reaching her hand out sleepily and finding his firm thigh. “Join me.”
A tug of conscience pulled at him, but only for an instant. They both wanted this. He just couldn’t make the mistake of sentimentalising what boiled down to lust. No more stupid kisses on sleeping foreheads. To reiterate to both of them the purely-physical relationship they shared, he avoided the temptation to kiss her invitingly parted lips, and instead, unbuttoned her shorts and slid them down off her legs. Her eyes, still a little clouded by her recent sleep, watched him as his hands disposed first of the denim and then her underpants.
He brought his lips to the apex of red curls and tasted her with his tongue, pleasure soaring as she writhed beneath his ministrations. She was already moist, hungry for him, as he was her. She still wore a tee shirt and he ran his hands up under it, pleasure suffusing his body to notice again the absence of a bra.
Meghan was making small, keening cries, but before she could find release, he pulled his shorts down and entered her, watching with wonder as her eyes flew open, wide as saucers. Her self-control was completely obliterated by the sudden fulfilment and she gasped as he moved inside of her. She came quickly, her insides exploding with rapturous delight. He spilled his seed inside her, unable to contain himself. The whole day had been foreplay, a build up of desire, and now that he finally felt her muscles squeezed around his length, he was a prisoner to her, completely captivated by the pleasure only she could deliver.
He collapsed on top of her, his breathing ragged.
She stretched again beneath him, p
ulling her arms above her head and making a desirable little groan.
He ran his hands through her hair, looking down into her eyes, and he felt something strange twist inside of him again.
It had to be guilt. Guilt for taking this woman from his brother. For betraying his own flesh and blood because he was powerless to resist the call of desire. It sobered him and he pulled away from her and out of the bed.
He pressed a hand against his forehead, aware that she was watching him curiously.
“You’ve been shopping.” He remarked, nodding his head towards her collection of bags from the upmarket boutique.
She bit down on her lower lip. “I think I might have been a touch excessive, but I only brought two outfits.”
“You could have saved yourself the trouble and expense. You will not have much need for clothes this week.”
Her cheeks filled with a pretty pink. “I know, I know. You don’t need to keep reminding me that this is just about sex for you.”
It was a silly slip of the tongue but Matteo picked up on it. His eyebrows furrowed. “For you, too, no?”
She sighed. “You have a nasty habit of not believing a word I say, so why bother trying to convince you otherwise.”
Not wanting to argue with her again, he took the easy way out. “I believe you are incredibly sexy. Infinitely desirable.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know you believe that.”
“Why don’t you show me what you bought?”
“A fashion parade?” She screwed up her face.
“Hmmm.” He agreed throatily, coming back to sit on the bed, in all his naked glory, legs crossed at the ankles.
She studied him intently and then wriggled off the bed, unknowingly provocative as she pulled her top off and placed it gently on the foot of the bed.
She pulled on a silk dress first, a vibrant red colour, that hugged her petite curves and fell to just above the knees. Matteo’s approval was evident, in more places than one. Meghan felt her skin warm as his gaze drifted over her body, savouring the way she looked.
“Allow me.” He said, huskily, standing to remove the dress reverently, his hands brushing against her skin as they did so. He swallowed, his adams apple moving visibly as he struggled to tamp down on his desire. “Next.” He commanded thickly.
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 10