Passion's Mistress

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘Sarah…’ Carly warned with a low growl, and Sarah grinned unrepentantly.

  ‘James and Stefano seem to have a lot in common,’ Sarah offered innocuously, her eyes sparkling as Carly shot her a speaking glance. ‘James is nice,’ she admitted quietly. ‘I like him.’

  ‘And?’ Carly prompted.

  ‘Sometimes I think I could get used to the idea of a relationship with him, then I’m not sure I want to make that sort of change to my life.’ Her eyes sought Carly’s, and her voice softened. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Ann-Marie is improving daily.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ Sarah admonished teasingly, and Carly’s expression became faintly pensive.

  ‘I seem to swing like a pendulum between resentment and acceptance.’

  ‘You look…’ Sarah paused, her eyes narrowing with thoughtful speculation. ‘Pregnant. Are you?’

  Carly opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again as her mind rapidly calculated dates. Her eyes became an expressive host to a number of varying fleeting emotions.

  ‘You have that certain look a woman possesses in the initial few weeks,’ Sarah observed gently. ‘A subtle tiredness as the body refocuses its energy. You had the same look the day we met moving into neighbouring apartments,’ she added softly.

  ‘It could be stress from juggling twice-daily hospital visits, marriage,’ Carly offered in strangled tones as the implications of a possible pregnancy began to sink in. She couldn’t be, surely? Yet the symptoms were all there, added to facts she’d been too busy to notice.

  She lifted a shaking hand, then let it fall again, and for one heartfelt second her eyes filled with naked pain before she successfully masked their expression.

  ‘The coffee is perking,’ Sarah reminded gently, and Carly crossed to turn down the heat, then when it was ready she placed it on the tray.

  The men were deep in conversation when Carly and Sarah re-entered the lounge, and if either detected that the girls’ smiles were a little too bright they gave no sign.

  It was almost eleven when Sarah indicated the need to leave, explaining, ‘I’m due to go on duty tomorrow morning at seven.’ She rose to her feet, thanked both Stefano and Carly for a delightful evening, and at the door she gave Carly a quick hug in farewell. ‘Ring me when you can.’

  Carly turned back towards the lobby the instant the car headlights disappeared down the drive, moving into the lounge to collect coffee-cups together prior to carrying them through to the kitchen.

  ‘Leave them,’ Stefano instructed as he saw what she was doing. ‘Sylvana can take care of it in the morning.’

  ‘It will only take a minute.’ In the kitchen, she rinsed and stacked them in the dishwasher, then turned to find him leaning against the edge of the table, watching her with narrowed scrutiny.

  She stood perfectly still, despite every nerve-end screaming at fever pitch, and her chin lifted fractionally as he took the necessary steps towards her.

  ‘What now, Stefano?’ Carly queried with a touch of defiance. ‘A post-mortem on lunch?’

  One eyebrow slanted in mocking query. ‘What part of lunch would you particularly like to refer to?’

  ‘I disliked being publicly labelled as your possession,’ she insisted, stung by his cynicism.

  ‘Yet you are,’ he declared silkily. ‘My feelings where you’re concerned verge on the primitive.’

  A tiny pulse quickened at the base of her throat, then began to hammer in palpable confusion as she absorbed the essence of his words. ‘Is that meant to frighten me?’

  Tension filled the air, lending a highly volatile quality that was impossible to ignore. ‘Only if you choose to allow it,’ he mocked, and she stood perfectly still as he conducted a slow, all-encompassing appraisal, lingering on the deepness of her eyes, and her soft, trembling mouth.

  He lifted a hand to brush gentle fingers across her cheek, and she reared back as if from a lick of flame.

  ‘Don’t touch me.’

  ‘Whyever not, cara?’

  ‘Because that’s where it starts and ends,’ she asserted with a mixture of despair and wretchedness.

  ‘You find my lovemaking so distasteful?’

  His musing indulgence was the living end, and she lashed out at him with expressive anger. ‘Lust, damn you!’ she corrected heatedly, so incensed that she balled both hands into fists and punched him, uncaring that she connected with the hard, muscular wall of his chest.

  ‘Lust is a bartered commodity. What would you like me to give you?’ His voice was a low-pitched drawl that cut right through to the heart. ‘An item of jewellery, perhaps?’

  For several long seconds she just looked at him, filled with an aching pain so acute that it took all her effort to breathe evenly. What was the use, she agonised silently, of aiming for something that didn’t exist?

  ‘In return for which I reward you in bed?’ The words were out before she had time to give them much thought, and afterwards it was too late to retract them.

  His dark brooding glance narrowed fractionally, then his mouth curved in mocking amusement. ‘Ah, cara,’ he taunted softly. ‘You reward me so well.’

  The need to get away from him, even temporarily, was paramount, and she turned towards the door, only to be brought to a halt as hard hands caught hold of each shoulder and spun her round.

  Her eyes blazed with anger through a mist of tears as she tilted her head in silent apathy, hating him more at that precise moment than she thought it possible to hate anyone.

  ‘Stop making fun of me! I won’t have it, do you hear?’ Angry, frustrated tears filled her eyes as he restrained her with galling ease, and she shook her head helplessly as he drew her inextricably close.

  ‘Don’t—’ Carly begged, feeling the familiar pull of her senses. It would be so easy to succumb, simply to close her eyes and become transported by the special magic of their shared sexual alchemy.

  ‘When have I ever made fun of you?’ he teased gently, and she shivered slightly as one hand slid down over the soft roundness of her bottom, pressing her close against the unmistakable force of his arousal, while the other slid up to cup her nape.

  ‘Every time I oppose you,’ she began shakily, then, gathering the scattered threads of her courage, she continued with strengthened resolve. ‘You resolve it by sweeeping me off to bed.’ Lifting her hands, she attempted to put some distance between them, only to fail miserably.

  ‘Am I to be damned forever for finding you desirable?’

  The thread of amusement in his voice hurt unbearably. ‘I’m not a sex object you can use merely to satisfy a need for revenge.’

  His eyes searched hers, dark and unfathomable as he held her immobile.

  ‘Let me go, damn you!’

  He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, his eyes darkening until they resembled the deepest slate—hard and equally obdurate.

  ‘Does it feel like revenge every time I take you in my arms?’ he queried with dangerous silkiness.

  It was heaven and the entire universe rolled into one, ecstasy at its zenith. She looked at him for what seemed an age, unable to utter so much as a word.

  Dared she take the chance? All the pent-up anger, her so-called resentment, dissipated as if it had never existed.

  ‘No,’ Carly voiced quietly, and he shook her gently, sliding his hands from her shoulders up to cup her face.

  ‘From the moment I first met you I wanted to lock you in a gilded prison and throw away the key. Except such a primitive action wouldn’t have been condoned in this day and age.’ His eyes were level, and she was unable to drag her own away from the darkness or the pain evident. ‘You were a prime target…young, and incredibly susceptible,’ he enlightened her softly.

  ‘If I had been able to get my hands on you during those first few weeks after you left Perth I think I would have strangled you,’ he continued slowly. ‘Your mother disavowed any knowledge of your whereabouts, and I soon realised you had no intenti
on of contacting me.’ His voice hardened measurably, and assumed a degree of cynicism. ‘The letter dispatched from your solicitor merely confirmed it.’

  He was silent for so long that she wondered if he intended to continue.

  ‘A marriage has no foundation without trust, and as you professed to have lost your trust in me I let you go. Fully expecting,’ he added with a trace of mockery, ‘to be officially notified of an impending divorce.’

  He hadn’t been able to instigate such proceedings any more than she had. Her heart set up a quickened beat.

  ‘Not long after shifting base to Sydney I attended an accounting seminar with a fellow associate at which Clive Mathorpe was a guest speaker. I was impressed. Sufficiently so to utilise his services.’ He proffered a faint smile. ‘Coincidence, fate perhaps, that Carly Taylor Alessi should be a respected member of his firm. The night I met you at Clive’s home I was intrigued by your maturity and self-determination. And very much aware that the intense sexual magic we once shared was still in evidence.’ His eyes held hers, and his voice was deliberate as he continued, ‘For both of us.’

  Carly looked at him carefully, seeing his innate strength, the power in evidence, and knew that she would never willingly want to be apart from him. It was always easy, with hindsight, to rationalise—to indulge in a series of ‘what if’s, and ‘if only’s. Maturity had taught her there could only be now.

  ‘Angelica’s ammunition was pretty powerful,’ she offered quietly. ‘I found it emotionally damaging at the time.’

  There was a mesmeric silence, intensifying until she became conscious of every breath she took.

  ‘I have known Angelica from birth,’ Stefano revealed with deceptive mildness, and a muscle tensed along the edge of his jaw. ‘Our affiliation owes itself to two sets of parents who immigrated to Australia more than forty years ago. They prospered in one business venture after another, achieving phenomenal success. So much so that hope was fostered that the only Alessi son might marry an Agnelli daughter and thus form a dynasty.’ He paused fractionally, and searched her pale features, seeing the faint shadows evident beneath her eyes. ‘It was a game I chose not to play,’ he added gently.

  Carly swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. ‘The way Angelica told it,’ she informed him shakily, ‘you were unofficially betrothed when you met me. If our engagement surprised her, our wedding threw her into a rage,’ she continued, unwilling to expound too graphically on just how much she’d been hurt by a woman who refused to face reality. ‘It appeared I was merely a temporary diversion, and there was little doubt she intended to be there to pick up the pieces.’ She effected a deprecatory shrug that hid a measure of pain.

  ‘Angelica,’ Stefano declared hardly, ‘possesses a vivid imagination. After today,’ he grained out with chilling inflexibility, ‘she has no doubt whom I love, or why.’ His expression softened as he watched the expressive play of emotions chasing each other across her features. ‘You, Carly,’ he elaborated gently. ‘Always. Only you.’

  Stefano shifted his hold, catching both her hands together in one of his, feeling her body quiver slightly as he traced a gentle pattern over the slim curve of her stomach before resting possessively at her trim waist. When his gaze met hers, she nearly died at the lambent warmth revealed in those dark depths.

  ‘There is nothing else you want to tell me?’

  Carly stood hesitantly unsure, and at the last moment courage failed her. Slowly she shook her head.

  Tomorrow, she’d visit the doctor and undergo a pregnancy test. Then she’d tell him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE MORNING BEGAN the same as any other week day. Stefano rose early, swam several lengths of the pool, ate breakfast with his wife, then showered, dressed and left for the city.

  At nine Carly checked with Sylvana, then changed into a smart lemon-yellow button-through linen dress, applied make-up with care, slid her feet into elegant shoes, and went downstairs to the car.

  The pregnancy test was performed with ease, and pronounced positive. Carly drove on to the hospital in a state of suspended euphoria.

  Ann-Marie looked really well, her eyes bright and shining as Carly walked into her room, and her beautiful hair was beginning to show signs of growth. A consultation with the specialist revealed that Ann-Marie could be discharged the following day.

  Carly almost floated down the carpeted corridor, and on impulse she crossed to the pay-phone, checked the directory, slotted in coins and keyed in the appropriate series of digits, then relayed specific instructions to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  A small secretive smile tugged the edges of her mouth as she drove into the city, and twenty minutes later she stood completing formalities in Reception at one of the inner city’s most elegant hotels.

  The lift whisked her with swift precision to the eleventh floor, and inside the luxurious suite she swiftly crossed the room, lifted the handset and dialled a memorised number.

  She was mad, absolutely crazy, she derided as the line engaged after a number of electronic beeps. What if Stefano wasn’t in the office? Worse, what if he was in an important meeting, and couldn’t leave? she agonised as the number connected with his personal mobile net.

  ‘Alessi.’ His voice sounded brisk and impersonal, and her stomach flipped, then executed a number of painful somersaults.

  ‘Stefano.’

  ‘Carly. Is something wrong?’

  ‘No—’ Hell, she was faltering, stammering like a schoolgirl. Taking a deep breath, she clenched the receiver and forced herself to speak calmly. ‘I’m fine.’ Dammit, this was proving more difficult than she’d envisaged.

  ‘Ann-Marie?’

  ‘She’s coming home tomorrow.’ The joy in her voice was a palpable entity that was reciprocated in his.

  Do it, tell him, a tiny voice prompted. ‘I wanted to ring and say…’ She hesitated slightly, then uttered the words with slow emphasis. ‘I love you.’

  A few seconds of silence followed, then his voice sounded incredibly husky close to her ear. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In a hotel room, in the city.’

  His soft laughter sent spirals of sensation shooting through her body. ‘Which hotel, cara?’

  She named it. ‘It’s Sylvana’s day to vacuum,’ she explained a trifle breathlessly.

  ‘Ensuring that total privacy is out of the question,’ he drawled with a tinge of humour.

  ‘Totally,’ she agreed, and a tiny smile teased the edges of her mouth. ‘Is this a terribly inconvenient time for you?’

  ‘It wouldn’t make any difference.’

  Her heart leapt, then began thudding to a quickened beat. ‘No?’

  His husky chuckle did strange things to her equilibrium. ‘I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.’

  Carly relayed the room number, then softly replaced the receiver.

  Twenty minutes, she mused as she eased off her shoes. How could she fill them? Make a cup of coffee, perhaps, or select a chilled mineral water from the variety stocked in the bar-fridge.

  Her eyes travelled idly round the large room, noting the customary prints, the wall-lights, before settling on the bed.

  If she turned down the covers, it would look too blatant, and she didn’t quite possess the courage to remove all her clothes. What if she opened the door to find a maid or steward on the other side? she thought wildly.

  Damn. Waiting was agony, and she crossed to the sealed window and stood watching the traffic on the busy street below.

  Everyone appeared to be hurrying, and when the south-bound traffic ground to a halt a clutch of people surged across the road to the opposite side. The lights turned green, and the northbound traffic gathered momentum, moving in a seemingly endless river of vehicles until green changed to amber and then to red, when the process began all over again.

  From this height everything seemed lilliputian, and she watched the cars, searching for the sleek lines of Stefano’s top-of-the-range Mercedes,
although the likelihood of catching sight of it when she wasn’t even sure from which direction he’d be travelling seemed remote.

  It was a beautiful day, she perceived idly. There was a cloudless sky of azure-blue, the sun filtering in shafts of brilliant light between the tall city buildings.

  Time became a suspended entity, and it seemed an age before she heard the quiet double knock at the door.

  Her stomach reacted at once, leaping almost into her throat, and she smoothed suddenly damp hands down the seams of her dress as she crossed the suite to open the door.

  Stefano stood at ease, his tall frame filling the aperture, and she simply looked at him in silence. There was a vital, almost electric energy apparent, an inherent vitality that was compelling, and her pulse accelerated into a rapid beat.

  A faint smile teased his generous mouth, and his eyes were so incredibly warm that she almost melted beneath their gaze.

  ‘Do you intend to keep me standing here?’

  Pale pink tinged her cheeks as she stood to one side. Fool, she berated herself silently, feeling about as composed as a lovestruck teenager as she followed him into the centre of the room.

  When he turned she was within touching distance, yet he made no attempt to draw her into his arms.

  ‘I gather there was a degree of urgency in the need to book in to a hotel room?’

  There was no mistaking his soft teasing drawl, nor the expression evident in his eyes. It gave her the confidence to resort to humour.

  The sparkle in the depths of her eyes flared into brilliant life, and she laughed softly. ‘Tonight we’re supposed to dine out with Sarah and James to celebrate Sarah’s birthday. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t hesitate to cancel.’ A devilish gleam emerged, dancing in the light of her smile. ‘I did consider a confrontation in your office, but the thought of Renate or any one of the staff catching sight of their exalted boss deep in an erotic clinch might prove too embarrassing to be condoned.’