Too Cold To Love

by Doris O'Connor

  A commotion at the entrance to the bar made him look up. The scantily clad blonde was causing quite a stir, every male's eyes in the room drawn to the vision in clinging silver who sashayed towards him.

  He groaned at the poor devil whose job it would be to keep every male in a ten mile radius from wanting to jump the woman's bones. His own appreciative smile faded when he realized he was staring at his own wife. The floor length, strapless shimmering silk clung to Elise like a second skin, and showed her luscious curves off to perfection. Her spectacular breasts barely covered, a brooch on her hips cinched the fabric in, revealing acres of naked flesh. She twirled in front of him, and God help him, the damn thing was indecently low cut at the back, only a small strip of fabric across that creamy skin holding her assets in place.

  He swallowed convulsively, as the force of his arousal kicked him in the gut with such intensity, his dick hardened to the point of pain.

  ****

  Marco's intense gaze heated Elise's skin from across the crowded room. This had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now, she wasn't so sure.

  When she twirled in front of him his face had been priceless until his expression turned murderous. He'd marched her out of the hotel and into a waiting taxi, barking their destination at the driver with a curt, “And keep your eyes on the road!"

  "Dannazioni, Elise, if we weren't already late, I'd march you back up to our room and make you change. That isn't a dress, it's ..."

  She'd smiled at him, running one stilettoed foot up his leg. "It's what, Marco? I'm only following your instructions like a good little wife. If you don't like the dress, blame Mamma G."

  He'd sworn in Italian, and she'd smiled to herself as he visibly tried to get himself back under control. He'd shaken her foot off with yet another muttered curse whilst readjusting the bulge in his trousers. Oh yeah, two could play this game.

  Unfortunately she hadn't counted on the amount of male attraction she would receive at the party. Everyone acted surprised to see Marco married. The women mostly threw her dagger looks, and the men made fools of themselves to talk to her.

  One in particular had hounded her all evening with an unsettling persistence. Unfortunately the host seated him next to her at the elaborate sit down dinner. His hands constantly wandered over her bare back, and Elise bit back the smart retort bubbling on her tongue. Marco would not thank her for making a scene. She inched away from him as much as she could and pretended interest in the conversation around her.

  Marco sat to the far right of her, seemingly deep in conversation with the owner of the chateau the party was held at. He glanced across, when the woman sitting on her left leaned into Elise with a conspiratorial wink, her voice carrying across the table in a loud stage whisper.

  "So, I must say I never thought I would see Marco getting married again. He was so in love with Jennifer. They were childhood sweethearts, you know. So romantic. She broke poor Marco's heart, of course. We all tried to console him, but alas, he wouldn't have us, would you, dear Marco?"

  Marco's azure eyes drew together in a frown, and his smile didn't reach his eyes.

  "Don't believe a word Genevieve tells you, Elise. She has a wonderful gift for exaggeration."

  "Ah, Marco, you tease. But then you know what he's like, right? I bet before too long you two will be making bambinos like our host here."

  Genevieve smiled at her, and Elise's heart dropped as the whole table seemed to take a sudden interest in the subject of babies.

  Marco's smile froze on his face. One hand clutched the napkin in front of him in a white-knuckled grip. The careful way he moved his head in acknowledgment at the ribald humor erupting around the table, spoke volumes, to her at least.

  "If and when my wife and I decide to add to the Giovanni, we'll make sure to inform you, shall we, Genevieve?"

  He grimaced, and he drained his wine glass in one long swallow before he set it down very carefully.

  "Oh, do make sure you do, Marco." Genevieve's annoying tinkle next to her grated on Elise's last nerve. She groaned whilst trying to get away from the slimy hand wandering over her back.

  Could this evening get any worse?

  ****

  Marco was going to kill that weasel. All through dinner he'd seen the creep manhandling her, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Lucien de Beauchamp was a known sleaze-ball, as well as his host's cousin. As much as he would like to rearrange the man's face, it wouldn't be good for business. The Beauchamp vineyard were one of his best customers, the fine Italian pastries his family recipes produced much admired by the vineyard's staying guests.

  Damn it all to hell, he couldn't think straight tonight. Elise was as hot as sin itself, and he knew that every man in that goddamn room had been mentally undressing her all evening. Well, with the exception of Antoine. His stomach clenched seeing his business partner caress the visibly rounded abdomen of his heavily pregnant wife. They had been trying for some time, and he was happy for them, truly he was, but fuck it hurt. Images of Elise heavy with his child assaulted him out nowhere. Dannazioni, that was never going to happen. He'd no idea how he was going to tell her. Bile churned in his stomach at the thought of her reaction. She had a right to know. Hell, he owed her that much at least.

  She was his wife after all, for better and for worse, definitely worse in this case. Could she handle it? Or would she make him feel worthless, too?

  Jennifer's sneering face swam in front of his eyes.

  "Call yourself a man, Marco? Don't make me laugh. No one will want you, once they find out. Damaged goods that's what you are."

  Her cold laugh reverberated around the corners of his consciousness. The door to that murky past suddenly flung wide open. Fury, guilt and pain crashed down on him until he could hardly breathe. Elise's arms around his neck, her soft curves pressing against him, brought him back to the here and now as he took a deep breath of her unique sweetness, and he crushed her to his long frame. She melted into his embrace, her lush curves filling the distance, and soothing his pain.

  "Dance with me, Marco. People are staring." She whispered the words into his ear, the killer heels she wore making her almost as tall as he. He lost himself in the expressive chocolate pools of her eyes, and his feet started to move to the music. They swayed together, and the rest of the room faded away, until he was only aware of the woman in his arms and the need to brand her as his. He drew her closer into him, and she gasped when his erection brushed against her tummy. He kissed her neck, her sigh of submission replacing her earlier anxiety. Her eyes drifted close, and her head rested on his shoulder. He let his hands explore the silky soft expanse of her bare back, and dropped butterfly kisses along her jawline. She pressed closer into him, and his dark mood lifted, until a tap on his shoulder brought with it the smiling face of Lucien.

  "Allow me to cut in, Marco."

  Like hell he would.

  "I don't think so, Lucien." He mumbled the words, aware of Elise seeking refuge behind him. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and he interlinked his fingers with hers.

  "Oh come on, Marco. You can dance with me, for old time's sakes." Genevieve's smile set his teeth on edge, but he couldn't cause a scene in the middle of a crowded ball room.

  Elise must have come to the same conclusion, because she released her trembling hold on him and stepped forward.

  "Just one dance, then." She smiled up at him, and before Marco could do anything that creep, Lucien, took advantage of the opportunity; and he whirled a startled-looking Elise away.

  Several dances later he finally managed to leave the dance floor. But where the fuck was his wife?

  ****

  Elise stood rigid in the corner, her arms clamped to her sides, a smile plastered on her face. Shit, shit, shit. She knew she hadn't managed to fasten the hooks on that blasted dress properly. And Mr. Wandering Hands hadn't helped, she was sure. Where was Marco? If ever she needed him now was definitely that time. But he was dancing with the preg
nant hostess, his face unreadable as he guided her around the dance floor with infinite care. Damn, I can't move. What am I going to do? She could just imagine Marco's anger, should she end up flashing everyone. He'd made it abundantly clear that this party was important. That was the only reason she hadn't given in to every one of her female instincts screaming at her to make Mr. Lecherous Hands sing soprano for at least a day, if not a week. Hell, make that permanently.

  Oh blast. He advanced on her now, his tawny eyes raking her up and down in such a way, Elise felt violated. She had met his kind before, of course, but then she'd been in her sensible clothes, not this dress made for seduction. What had she been thinking? This wasn't her. She was a nanny for God's sake, an office temp, a fish out of water in this room reeking of old money and success. She should never have agreed to marry Marco. They moved in such different circles; it was never going to work. Any minute now she would embarrass herself and Marco, and probably cost him a good deal of money in the process.

  "Now what could possibly have caused Marco's beautiful wife such distress?"

  Lucien's heavily accented English grated like nails on the chalkboard of her mind. She tried in vain to scoot away from him as he stepped deliberately into her personal space. The move made her top slip even more, and she swore under her breath.

  "Oh I see, what happened here? Let me help you. It's the least I can do." And with a wide grin he reached around her. He drew her into him whilst holding onto her dress and steering her out of the open French doors.

  The cool night air hit Elise's naked skin. She shivered at Lucien's hands roaming freely over her back, and bile rose in her throat as he tried to slip one hand under her dress.

  "How dare you!"

  "Oh come on, you've been asking for it, cherie. Marco need never know. His last wife and I had so much fun."

  Elise almost let go of her dress at that statement.

  "So you think to just pick up with me? Are you insane? Whatever sick arrangement you had with that woman, it's not going to include me."

  Elise backed away from him slowly until she hit a solid wall of warm male muscle and Marco's familiar scent wrapped itself around her. Oh, thank God.

  Marco's low growl vibrated through her, and despite the situation they found themselves in, her breath hitched. That had to be the sexiest sound ever.

  "What the hell have you done to my wife? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't redecorate the shrubbery with the remains of your face."

  Arms of steel held her against his tense body, and he rested his head on her shoulder for one moment, before he released her. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders and unease travelled up Elise's spine when she dared look at him. The fury in the swirling storms of his eyes wrapped an ice cold fist around her heart, and she stepped away from him.

  "Marco, I..."

  "Save it, woman. We're getting out of here, just as soon as I've dealt with this scum."

  And before she could blink, Lucien's smug grin was wiped off his face with a sickening crack, when Marco's fist broke the man's nose.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Oui, merci beaucoup. C'est parfait."

  Marco looked up at Elise's whispered words. She was taking a bucket of ice off the wide eyed young woman at the door. He flexed his bruised hand experimentally and winced. That fucking hurt.

  It had been worth it, mind you, to see the weasel go down like a sack of potatoes. Marco smiled grimly, recalling how Lucien had held his bloodied nose. The fucker had screamed like a girl.

  No one touched what was his ever again. He'd literally seen red when he'd seen Elise in Beauchamp's arms heading for the garden. This was the bitch of his ex-wife all over again. If Elise thought for one minute that he would allow himself to be made a fool of again, then she had another think coming.

  When he'd seen that slime bucket advance on her, the horrified expression on her face had only served to stoke the fires burning in his gut. However, a small part of him had rejoiced at Elise's outrage and the way she'd leant into him for support. He'd wanted to kill that bastard who had her trembling like a leaf against him.

  He hadn't of course, due to Elise hanging onto him, her frightened cries echoing in his ears.

  "Marco, don't, he's not worth it. Leave him be, please. Marco. Let's just get out of here, please..."

  They'd left, after he'd managed to hook her back in her dress before the rest of the party had come into the garden, and all hell had broken loose. He would have a bucket load of explaining to do tomorrow that's for sure.

  The sudden pain in his hand made him swear and brought him back to the here and now.

  "Sorry, Marco, but this should help. You're lucky you didn't break it. What were you thinking?"

  Elise knelt in front of him. She held the ice wrapped in a towel to his bruised, nicely swelling knuckles, and the concern in her eyes made his chest feel tight. He wasn't used to being fussed over.

  "I'm sorry, Marco, this all my fault. I never should have worn this dress. I don't know what I was thinking really, it's just..."

  "What, pasticcino?"

  The hand she rested lightly on his thigh made him forget the ache in his knuckles instantly. If only she'd move that just a little higher, she'd know exactly how much he liked her in that dress.

  "Nothing wrong with your dress, or lack of it Elise. Scum like him just can't keep their hands to themselves. You look stunning."

  She shook her head. "I only wore it because you pissed me off so much, Marco. I'm not proud of myself, and I let you down. Instead of helping you, I've probably cost you a fortune, right?" She glanced up at him. His gut clenched uncomfortably when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. He didn't deserve those tears. She hadn't done anything wrong.

  "It's only money; other things are more important, Elise. Protecting what's mine is one of them. He had it coming, forget it; I deal with the fallout in the morning."

  "I guess... the things he said about Jennifer." She threw him a startled look at the expletive he couldn't help but throw into the room.

  "All true, I'm afraid. Our marriage was a walking disaster area. I was just too dumb to see it at the time."

  "You loved her that much." It wasn't a question but a quietly uttered statement, and he closed his eyes at the force of long buried emotions battered the frozen layers around his heart into smithereens.

  He shook her hand off. He couldn't just sit there, he had to move, he had to... Fuck it! He wanted to break something so badly right now, anything to not feel, to not let himself remember the love-struck fool he'd once been.

  "She really did a number on you didn't she, Marco?"

  He stopped his pacing and smiled grimly. He leant against the wall to feign a nonchalance he was far from feeling.

  "I learned my lesson well. Love is for fools; it doesn't exist."

  Her soft gasp reached him through the layers of pain and misery.

  "I don't believe that for a minute, Marco. You love your family, I know you do, and not all women are like Jennifer. Don't give up on all of us because of one sorry excuse for one."

  "And I suppose you're the one to cure me of my misconceptions, are you? I'd like to see you try."

  ****

  The coldness of that reply stung like a slap to the face. A direct contrast to the way his eyes devoured her, sending sensual awareness skittering along her exposed skin where his heated gaze burned as though he was physically touching her.

  As a result, her reply was far breathier then she would have liked.

  "If you really feel like that, then why force me into this marriage? I know, I know, you want her out of Mimi's life, but you can't tell me your hot-shot solicitor couldn't have achieved that by some other means. After all according to your logic, I'm just going to be one huge disappointment."

  Elise's heart was hammering in her chest so loudly, she was sure it could be heard down in reception when Marco's smile turned wicked. His gaze holding hers captive, he slowly advan
ced towards her until he stood so close to her, her senses were drinking in Marco the man on all levels. He smelt so good, damn it. The heat of his body warmed her exposed skin, and anticipation of his touch made her sway slightly towards him. Her pussy clenched, and a gush of liquid soaked her panties.

  "Never a disappointment, pasticcino." His low voice sent more delicious anticipation shivering down her spine, waiting for the kiss that didn't come.

  Instead, Marco stepped away from her. He shook his head, muttering to himself in Italian.

  Elise swallowed the bile of bitter disappointment down. Something about the set of those big shoulders gave her pause for thought, and acting purely on instinct she followed him across the room, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  "Talk to me, Marco, please. Let me help."

  "There is nothing to talk about, Elise. You must be exhausted. go to bed."

  Elise let go of him. Damn the stubborn man. She had to get him to open up somehow.

  "I beg to differ, Marco Giovanni. For pity's sake, talk to me. And you still owe me an explanation about the whole kids issue."

  Marco’s furious snarl resonated through her, but she refused to budge. She stared him down instead until he grimaced.

  "Fine, have it your way. What do you want to know?"

  ****

  Emotions flitted across Elise's expressive features, as he told her the details of his visit to the specialist, he'd made the week before the wedding.

  "So, you see there is more chance of winning the lottery than there is of you falling pregnant, at least not from me."

  He walked away from her, not wanting to see the condemnation or heaven forbid pity in her beautiful eyes. He'd had a bellyful of it from the eminent fertility specialist; he consulted in the vain hope that there may have been an improvement since Mimi's birth.

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Giovanni, but the latest results are not good. If anything they're worse. Not uncommon at all. You've been under a fair amount of stress, which won't have helped. I wish I could say, take a holiday, relax, and the count will improve, but that would be giving you false hope. It's highly unlikely that you will ever have another child, even with intensive medical intervention."