Griffin closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. A “darling” by any other name, it didn’t matter a damn what she called him. He could never mean any more to her. Her worldview wouldn’t allow for it.
Too late, he realized it was much worse than he’d imagined. Lillian was going to destroy him.
Chapter 18
My Dearest Antonio, Lillian paused, pen in hand, the full implication of what she was about to do causing her to stop before she’d truly started.
Antonio Russo was a lovely man. A well-respected member of the Italian parliament, he also owned a vineyard in Montalcina, a small town south of Siena. He’d worked with Leonard many years ago in expediting the importation of Italian wines into the United States. Remarkably, he had also known Lillian’s first husband. Salvatore had supported Antonio’s inaugural bid for the Chamber of Deputies and the two had enjoyed a decades’ long acquaintance.
Shortly after learning he had stage-3 carcinoma six months ago, Antonio had contacted Lillian. In a deftly constructed letter, he’d indicated he had some understanding of her situation, alluding to her “doni speciali” and inquiring as to her status.
Leonard had been endearingly relieved. He’d bemoaned modern medicine for keeping Lillian bound to him and depriving her of a future position, stubbornly refusing to listen when she told him he shouldn’t concern himself with such things. Her husbands, with their vast combined financial insights, had advised her to a sizeable fortune. Strictly speaking, she didn’t require another arrangement; although, she’d had no idea what she would have done with herself if Leonard had passed and nothing had presented itself.
Sighing, Lillian turned back to the largely blank sheet of stationary and the unpleasant task requiring her attention.
You are an extraordinary man. I treasure our brief time together as well as your thoughtful correspondences. I have no doubt our union would have been most productive and profitable for the two of us.
Marrying Antonio would have returned her to Italy. He resided in the capitol while Parliament was in session, but summered at a sprawling villa enfolded in the rolling hills of his vineyard. As his wife, she would have been privy not only to the inner workings of state government but, also, the no less fascinating practices of grape cultivation and wine production.
Shaking her head against the mild pangs of disappointment, she bent to write what she knew she must.
After considerable deliberation, I realize I am unable to make the commitment your situation demands and most assuredly deserves. Please know this decision did not come easily.
It was, in truth, one of the hardest things she had ever done. But what choice did she have? Antonio required intensive, competent medical care to get him through his last term in office and retire with his dignity intact. For the first time in her life, Lillian did not feel the singular dedication she knew such an undertaking required.
She put down her pen and rested her forehead lightly on her fingertips.
Her preoccupation with Griffin wrought havoc with her confidence. From the start, her attempts at resistance were undermined. Spent and satiated in his arms, she’d vow it would be the last, but it took little more than his heated blue-gray gaze across the dining room table or the gentle press of his hand in the small of her back for her determination to fail. He possessed an irresistible magnetism she could no more deny than the laws of physics which kept her feet on Earth.
After three consecutive evenings spent in his bed, she had yielded in her fashion, making an after-hours appointment for the two of them with her personal physician. The next day they received matching e-mails declaring them free of disease. The gesture had been taken as a declaration of surrender. Without pretense, when they retired for the night, Griffin would guide her down the hall into his room, not even pausing at her door. She woke in the circle of his arms every morning, and he would not allow her to rise until he had made love to her again.
Made love? Ridiculous! But there were no other words for it. Although other men had looked at her with adoration, only in Griffin’s eyes did Lillian feel cherished. She had been propositioned and seduced many times, but the way he enticed her made even the thought of refusal impossible. And, ultimately, when he mastered her body, it felt as if it belonged more to him than it ever had to her.
His warning the night she had gone to him offering secrets in exchange for satisfaction had taken on an eerie prescience. Instead of being placated, the dark otherness became emboldened, lurking ceaselessly. On more than one occasion, Lillian had woken in the middle of the night, disoriented and untethered, to pull Griffin on top of her. Ever ready, willing and able, he would oblige without comment, his grounding weight a relief she would not admit, least of all to herself.
“Dios mio.”
She took up her fine writing instrument, a wedding gift from Lenny, determined to finish her undertaking. She offered to advise Antonio in securing a live-in nurse if he should so desire; asked him to keep her apprised of his condition and assured him she considered their interactions privileged, marriage certificate notwithstanding. Warmest regards, she wrote before signing her name, quite certain she never again would hear from her unfortunate countryman.
She folded the letter into perfect thirds, slipping it into the matching envelope. On the front she wrote out Antonio’s address in Rome, and then capped the pen and placed it to the side, her hand missing the comfort of its balanced weight. She blotted the edge of the flap over the tip of her outstretched tongue, sealing the neat packet by pressing along the moistened gum and then setting the letter against the base of the brass lamp at the corner of her desk to be mailed in the morning. Done at last, Lillian rested her folded hands in front of her, staring into the night beyond the French doors. The future loomed, blurred and uncertain.
Chapter 19
The biting breeze hinted at winter’s imminence. Griffin leaned forward to turn the key for the propane fire pit. A few clicks of the ignition and flames danced over gilded glass chips. He leaned back into the cushions of the wrought-iron patio chair and propped his feet on the lip of the fieldstone ring.
He mentally tipped his hat to the landscape architect who had transformed the area. He thought he remembered Lillian saying the guy was related to Morgan, her brother perhaps. At any rate, the man was obviously a genius. He’d turned a small patch of unruly, overgrown shrubbery and wild vegetation into an inviting outdoor living area.
The fire pit cozied up to a native rock waterfall which cascaded into the free form pool. Beyond the pool, and just outside the French doors leading into the house, was an expansive outdoor kitchen. The circular counter, topped with mixed-and-matched polished granite slabs, housed a wine cabinet, refrigerator, prep sink and considerable storage, not to mention a massive grill large enough to rotisserie a thirty pound Thanksgiving turkey.
He would enjoy the hell out of living here.
The call had come that afternoon. The will had cleared probate and the reading would be held in a week. Griffin had made his decision days ago. He’d already begun the process of transferring his interest in the commercial diving business to his partner. Getting out of the lease for his apartment had been a matter of making a phone call and writing a check. He would have to fly out sometime in the next month to pick up a few personal things but, for the most part, it had been strikingly easy for him to cut ties with the life he had been so averse to leaving four short weeks ago.
He’d begun to anticipate his chairmanship of Bennett Distributions, Incorporated. Griffin had considered himself a loner, well suited to the often solitary work of deep-water service. But after spending time with the competent team his father had amassed, he realized how interacting with highly disciplined, forward-thinking people energized and motivated him.
And the business provided an element Griffin hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Construction diving, by its nature, carried an ever-present element of risk which had concealed an underlying monotony. It wasn’t until he’d w
alked into BDI’s corporate offices he’d understood what had been absent from his life the last few years—exhilaration. The persistent activity and daily challenges made him anxious to go in every morning.
Almost as anxious as he was to return to the house in the evenings, back to Lillian.
Characterizing their affair as torrid was not giving it near enough credit. They were having integrity wrecking, decency ravaging, soul-shattering sex. She continued to come to him unyielding, needing to be conquered every time. It didn’t matter how completely he reduced her to her humblest essence, her resistance would be restored for their next encounter. It was as if she were goading him, daring him to break her down so completely she would never be the same.
He shifted in his seat to accommodate his growing erection, tipping his head to rest on the top of the back cushion. He was capable of it, he had no doubt. He’d already had to restrain himself. On more than one occasion he’d felt it, the elemental force she barely held in check. It pulsed within her, like a second heartbeat.
But he was afraid of what it would do to them if he made her give over to it. She would be utterly exposed and vulnerable to him. She might never forgive him. No, he couldn’t make Lillian face her deepest desire until she trusted how he felt about her. Until he made her understand he lov…
“Here you are.”
Griffin turned toward the familiar voice. Lillian stood in front of the patio doors, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
“Here I am,” he said quietly.
When she didn’t move, he straightened and rose to his feet with a soft groan of protest. Pinning her with a stare meant to tell her she would pay a hefty price for making him come to her, he stalked the length of the patio to halt inches in front of her.
“How was your day?” She tipped her head to look up at him.
The ordinary end-of-the-day query sent a pleasant tremor of contentment through him. He traced his fingertips along the impossibly soft skin beneath her upper arms and then gently cupped her elbows. Lost in the illusion of domestic tranquility, he leaned forward to brush her lips with his. She turned her head and his kiss landed in the no man’s land between her mouth and her cheek. Instantly wary, he lifted his head to look down at her.
“My day was productive. And yours?”
“Busy.” She avoided his searching gaze, focusing on a spot somewhere over his shoulder when he dipped his head in an effort to snare her attention. “I heard from the lawyers.”
“I did as well.”
“The reading is next Friday.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t read her expression, but something was obviously amiss. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I simply wanted to be certain you’d been informed.”
He nodded, unconvinced. “I have been. Ten o’clock next Friday, it will all be official.”
Her gaze snapped to his, intent and questioning.
“You’ve made a decision then.”
“I have.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Is that what this is about? I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed…” Slipping his fingers beneath the silken fall of her hair, he pressed his palm to her cheek. “I’ll be staying.”
“I’m glad.” The sadness in her small smile contradicted her words and added to Griffin’s unease. “You honor your parents.”
“I intend to try.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and turned from his touch. “I think I will go inside. The evenings are so much cooler.”
“Come here. I’ll warm you up,” he offered, reaching for her.
“No.” She looked at him with sober determination making him drop his arms to his sides.
“What the hell is it?”
“I’ve made a decision as well.” She tipped her chin in defiance. “It’s time for me to move on.”
“Move on?”
The two words held a terror for him he had never before experienced.
“Yes. The gentleman…”
“Stop,” he whispered closing his eyes.
“…the one I met with, he has been very patient and I…”
“Please, Lillian. Stop.” Disbelief, jealousy, and anger warred inside him, making his hands clench and his voice raise in raspy indignation.
“…I don’t want to make him wait any longer.”
“Stop!” He ran shaking fingers through his hair before grasping her by the upper arms. “Don’t do this.”
She tilted her head, looking at him as if unable to fathom his pained urgency.
“But it is what I do.”
And Griffin understood. He had just run out of time.
Chapter 20
Her lies tore at her in a thousand different ways. The foundation of her moral code was honesty. Yet she had determined to lie to the one person who had been more candid with her than anyone she had ever known. He’d hidden nothing from her, even when the truth revealed the selfish or arrogant or unkind aspects of his nature. He’d exposed his attraction to her from the very beginning, patiently waiting for her to be ready to admit it to herself.
But as much as she appreciated his unique qualities, she knew she wasn’t equipped to deal with Griffin. He wanted too much. She could never be enough for him.
“Explain it to me,” he ground out, his grip tightening. “Explain exactly what it is that’s so goddamn compelling you have to leave me.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“No? What do you call it then?”
“The natural and expected end to a lovely affair.” She cupped his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “I will remember you always.”
His humorless laugh sent a trill of warning down her spine.
“A fucking memory!”
He spun her away from him roughly. She stepped toward the French doors, intending to leave him with his unfortunate grief, but he caught her by the shoulders. Pulling her backward, he angled an arm between her breasts, the other wrapping her waist. He held tight, the only sound his labored breathing. Finally he dipped his head, his lips brushing her ear.
“I’m not through with you.”
Her knees went weak at the determination in his voice. She did not resist when he turned with her trapped in his embrace and urged her forward. When her legs met with an unyielding barrier, he trailed his hands down her arms and grasped her by the wrists. Holding her arms out wide, he pressed her flat onto the countertop of the fieldstone bar, his weight stretching over her.
He nipped at the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck and she squirmed against him. His erection grew insistent along her bottom. She relaxed beneath him.
“That’s right, Lillian.” He breathed into her ear. “Lust. You believe in lust, right?”
She nodded, not trusting her ability to disguise the shuddering arousal he’d too easily provoked. He lifted off her, making her murmur in protest. His gruff, “Hush,” and the firm curve of his hand over her nape silenced her.
“One last time, then? Something special to help you remember me.”
His mocking tone filled her with unease, but his cavalier touch along her inner thighs, urging her legs apart, squelched her disquiet. Once satisfied with her position, he inched her dress up over her thighs and hips, bunching it at her waist.
“I’ve got no one to blame but myself,” he muttered absently as he traced the exposed rises of her backside, making her throb with desire. “You made it clear from the beginning this was all you were willing to accept from me.”
Dipping boldly into the crevice between her cheeks, he hooked the filmy material of her thong and tore it from her body with a vigorous tug. The lips between her thighs buffeted by a gust of bracing fall air, a contracting chill rippled through her body and raised goose bumps over her bared skin. The cold of the stone over which she lay seeped through the material of her dress and gossamer bra, drawing her nipples to tight, aching points. Exposed, Lillian surrendered to the rolling tremors overwhelming her and the promise of one last time to sustain h
er in the long years ahead without him.
One last time. The words echoed in her head, bringing her eyes open wide. How could she be such a fool? He fully understood his power over her. On more than one occasion, she had been aware of him drawing her to the very edge, but he had never pushed. But she had told him she planned to leave, changing everything. He had nothing to lose. Dread replaced desire.
“Grif…”
Her appeal was cut short by two biting slaps in quick succession, one to each side of her ass. Her muscles drew taut. She bowed atop the inflexible surface beneath her but was hindered by the shackle of his hand at the base of her neck. She balled her hands into fists and, to her horror, her hips lifted in an obvious invitation for more.
“Yes, that’s what you want. Isn’t it?” He bent over her, speaking low in her ear, “I want you to remember, you’ve reduced us to this. It didn’t have to be this way.”
Before she could answer, he straightened, obliging her body’s demand and grunting with his efforts. Over and over he made contact, the clap of his palm against her skin thundering in her ears and echoing into the night. He gave her no time for recovery, relentlessly driving out thought…leaving only sensation.
Her breath came harshly through her parted lips and began to synch with each strike of his hand. The air temperature continued to drop, chilling her skin, even as blood ran hot through her veins. Stinging reverberations traveled her taut muscles, her inner walls clenching in response. And Griffin kept on, increasing the intensity until she teetered on the tips of her toes and despaired for her sanity.
An internal battle waged, anticipation and dread vying for dominance. Each strike simultaneously delivered exquisite pleasure and obliterating vulnerability, transporting her to a primitive place where reason had no power. Her very existence reduced to the bite of his hand on her flesh and the desolation of the void until she experienced the next blow. She was hostage to Griffin’s will.
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