Emily began to lift the lids off the platters of food and pile them neatly on the table but Sabato batted her hand away. “Sit,” he commanded, his face serious.
She settled herself on one of the chairs and crossed her legs. Sabato couldn’t help but stare at her smooth skin. Legs that had been wrapped around him for the better part of the day.
“Why do I care?” She asked, clasping her hands in her lap. “Because I work with these people. What they think matters to me.”
“And it would matter to you if they thought you were in a relationship with me?”
Something painful squeezed Emily’s stomach. “A relationship?” She shook her head. “That’s not … what they would say.”
“A sexual relationship,” he clarified, surprised at his own slip of the tongue. Sabato took great care to avoid implying in anyway a promise of commitment to a woman.
“Sex,” she nodded, licking her top lip thoughtfully. “And with you.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t want people to think I’m like that.”
“Like what, exactly?” He held his hand out for her plate and she lifted it towards him. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and nothing else. His bare chest was defined by muscles, and a coarse line of hair that ran down to his jeans. She looked away, pretending fascination at the way he was heaping various meals onto her plate.
“Like the kind of woman you’re usually with.”
His smile was sardonic. “And what kind of woman am I usually with?”
“Well, given that I didn’t know who you were until about twenty four hours ago, I don’t know for certain,” she conceded truthfully. “But having seen the guests at that party last night, I would have to say you surround yourself with very beautiful, very glamorous, very … boring people.”
His laugh filled the apartment. “Really?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I don’t mean to be rude, but the things they talk about …” She tsked disapprovingly and took her plate back from his outstretched hands.
He sat opposite her and helped himself to a portion of saffron risotto. “I don’t surround myself with people like that.”
“No?” She queried, leaning forward.
“Like you, I find events like that to be a waste of my time.”
“Then why go? Why organise it?”
“It raised a lot of money for the hospital.” His tone was sharp, more so than he had intended. He smiled to soften his bearing. “It’s a necessary evil.”
She nodded. “Of course.” But she wasn’t going to be distracted from her line of questioning. “So you usually date, what? Rhodes scholars? Mensa members?”
He reached for her hand beneath the table and lifted it to rest on the surface. “You really are a snob.”
“A snob?” She laughed and shook her head. “How can I be a snob?”
“You look down on those people just because they are wealthy. You think that means they can’t also be smart?”
“Of course not,” she denied hotly. “Look at you. You’re both of those things.”
“So it is just women who cannot be?”
“Now I’m a snob and I’m sexist?”
He grinned. “If the shoe is fitting … ”
“If the shoe fits,” she corrected without thinking. She spooned a little of her pasta into her mouth, her eyes not leaving his face. “Then prove me wrong. Tell me about the careers of the women you’ve been with.”
“Cara, I don’t want to speak to you about my past lovers. It is disrespectful to you, and also to them.”
Emily couldn’t believe it, but tears sparked to her eyes. She blinked furiously and looked down at her dinner. But damn it, exhaustion and the heightened emotions of the past day of her life were making it impossible for her eyes to dry out.
“This upsets you?” Sabato queried, more fascinated than worried. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman on the brink of tears before.
A high-pitched ringing sounded, and then a man’s singing. Saved by the bell, Emily thought, standing up and blinking away more stinging tears. “Excuse me.” She moved gracefully through the luxurious suite, scooping her bag up and pulling her phone out. The bill stared back at her. She ignored it.
“Hey honey,” she took a deep breath. Her voice sounded clogged with tears still.
“Hey Emme,” her brother didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss.
“How are you, darling?” She moved back into the lounge, and then towards one of the bedrooms. She was so intent on listening to Andrew’s descriptions of his musical camp that she didn’t notice how Sabato was staring at her.
She laughed as she sat down on the edge of a bed. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” she said truthfully, her fingers plucking at the quilt cover. “You’re not missing home?” Emily cleared her throat. “You’re not missing me?”
“Oh, a bit,” Andrew said, but he sounded happier than he had in months. Emily ignored the betraying sense of sadness. That he was spreading his wings and finding a life away from her was a good thing. It couldn’t be the two of them forever.
Sabato, in the next room, told himself he wasn’t eavesdropping. She’d chosen to slip into the bedroom closest to him. It wasn’t his fault that he could hear every word of her end of the conversation. It wasn’t her fault that the warmth in her tone was spilling a rage of jealousy through his body. Possession, unmistakable, was eating away at his gut. He’d been her first lover, but he wouldn’t be her last. They were a one-weekend stand. He would return to his villa on the outskirts of Florence in two nights, and Emily would return to her normal life. And whoever it was on the phone that made her laugh like that.
He dragged his fingers through his hair. Why did he care? What did it matter? She was a woman he’d wanted; a woman he’d now had. A woman he’d share a weekend with and then kiss goodbye.
“Sorry about that,” Emily said quietly, as she moved back in the room. She was herself again, none of those silly irrational tears pooling in her eyes.
“Someone important?” His tone sounded sympathetic, but there was an underlying edge of steel.
Emily detected it, and a small part of her that liked the idea of his feeling threatened nodded gravely. “You could say that.”
Sabato’s face was so darkened by thunderclouds that Emily burst out laughing. His head lifted to hers and she came towards him, instead of her own chair. She moved into the triangle created by his legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you jealous?” She asked seriously.
“Yes.” The answer surprised them both. Sabato put a hand beneath the shirt she wore, so that he could stroke her naked back. “For the moment, you are mine.”
Her throat felt funny. “Am I?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
His fingers were drawing imaginary circles on her skin, making thought and breathing difficult.
“Sit down and eat something, cara,” he said, his words strained.
“Is that what you want?” They’d slept together only once, but she felt emboldened to move her body closer to his. So close that she could feel his arousal against her body.
He groaned low in his throat and stood. “You know what I want,” he said thickly. “But first, you will eat dinner.”
Disappointment swelled in her chest. She was starving, but other feelings were taking precedence. “Are you sure?” She batted her eyelashes up at him, and pulled her lower lip between her teeth.
“I am sure that I am going to enjoy expanding your repertoire soon enough,” he promised, lifting her hand to his mouth and taking her thumb between his teeth. He nipped it and smiled when her eyes flew wide.
“I’m not hungry,” Emily said, her voice obviously loaded with complaint.
Sabato was aware that Emily had barely eaten all day. And while he wanted to look after her, he was, after all, only human. He held her gaze while he pulled a condom from his pocket then stepped out of his jeans and kicked them away. Her underwear was easy enough to slide from her body.
; He sat in her seat, sheathed himself, all the while keeping his eyes locked to her body. Emily’s heart was pounding in her chest, her body was shivering with desire. Sabato pulled her down, and instinctively, Emily straddled him, a leg on either side of his. Sabato gripped her hips and guided her into place, surprising her when he slid inside of her without any preparation. Seated like this, facing one another, their chests touching, everything felt different.
Sabato cupped her rear and held her tight. He reached around her and lifted her fork, loaded with rice.
“Eat,” he commanded, holding it just outside her lips.
Emily opened her mouth and took the fork, watching him as she chewed. Sabato rewarded her by moving inside of her, teasing her, rocking the waves that would eventually become a tsunami of release. His own body was bubbling with the current of need she seemed to create in him.
He loaded the fork again and again, feeding her until he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to pass out on him. When he lifted the fork again, Emily took it from him. Her eyes were glinting, and her cheeks were flushed. She upended the warm rice on his shoulder, and when he made a noise of surprise, she laughed, a husky sound in the cool air of the hotel. Before he could ask what she was doing, she lowered her mouth to the food and chased it, causing his body to break out in goose bumps. Her tongue teased his flesh, moving from his muscular chest to his shoulder, and then to his earlobe. He was at the end of what he could take, and he knew she was too. He moved faster and deeper, holding her hips to control her body.
They rode the wave as one, their bodies meshed, the mouths entangled, their souls cleaving together.
Emily collapsed against him afterwards, her body so exhausted she wasn’t sure it could support its own weight. “Can you feed me every meal like that?” She whispered against his cheek.
Sabato didn’t respond. He wasn’t capable of speech. Nor was he able to think clearly. He knew he needed to hold onto Emily. To keep her tight against his body, her arms wrapped around him, for as long as he could.
***
“And you really have to go?” She asked, draped against the bathroom door, naked except for a pair of his boxer shorts. He regarded her in the mirror, his body responding instantly to the sight of her.
“I really have to go,” he said with a tug of disappointment. “But it is only for an hour or two. Time you should use to sleep.”
She was enigmatic and beautiful, but two dark smudges under her eyes told of the night they’d spent not sleeping. The night they’d spent reaching for one another when they did finally drift off, turning their dreams into a reality.
Though she was tired, Emily knew she wouldn’t be able to rest. She stepped into the bathroom and stood beside Sabato. He’d showered away any evidence of their passion, and dressed in an expensive looking suit. “You look very … conservative,” she said finally.
His bemused eyes met hers in the reflection. “Conservative? This is something I have not been called often.”
She swallowed. “No, I’d imagine not. You’re so different to this,” she pointed to him, moving her finger up and down to indicate his attire.
“In what way?” His fingers moved expertly over the steel grey tie, arranging it into a Windsor knot around the strong column of his neck.
Emily moved to stand between him and the mirror, and lifted her fingers to the tie. She wiggled it a little, straightening it, though it had been perfect to begin with.
It was a rouse to be close to him.
An excuse to touch him.
The truth was, now that he’d dressed into his corporate clothes, he didn’t feel like her Sabato anymore. She sucked in a deep breath. “You’re so elemental. So animalistic. Kind of wild.”
He arched his brows at the description. “Am I?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “And this is so conservative.”
“So you said,” he flicked a gaze towards her. “What do you think I should wear to my meeting, cara? Those boxer shorts and nothing else?”
She smiled. “Now that would certainly get everyone’s attention.” Though Emily doubted he needed help with that. Sabato Montepulciano was the kind of man who would command the attention of any room he walked into. Effortlessly, and completely.
Sabato was late, and yet he was very, very reluctant to walk out the door. He put his hands on her bare shoulders, almost exclaiming at the feeling of her silken skin beneath him. “I will be as quick as is possible.” He was reassuring himself, as much as her.
“What is it, anyway? The meeting you’re going to, I mean.” She asked, trying to sound cool and disinterested when inside she was quivering with the hope of keeping him for a moment more.
He stepped away from her, instinctively knowing that the longer he touched her, the harder it would be to leave. “I’m buying some apartments over at Docklands.”
“What for?”
“Redevelopment,” he said simply. He was becoming more business like by the moment.
Emily nodded, but inside, her mind was littered with questions, and hope. “Redevelopment you’ll be needing to oversee?” Inwardly, she winced at the transparency of her request. She wanted so badly for him to say yes. They’d spent two nights together, and had only one more left. It was in the back of her mind, and she needed to know that it wouldn’t be the end.
Sabato’s smile was kind. It was without hope. It was gentle, but it was also dismissive. “I have a UK project manager. His name is Jonathan Scott. He’ll take over once I’ve secured the site.”
Emily’s smile felt false on her lips. He had answered her question. The real question. Would she see him again? Did he want to see her again? And the answer had been no. She wouldn’t focus on it then and there. There would be time, when the weekend was over, to deal with the reality of what she’d done. For the moment, she just wanted to exist and enjoy.
“Well, good luck,” she said, aware it was a lame conclusion to the conversation.
“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. If he did more, he suspected he’d pull her into his arms and miss the damn meeting altogether. “I’ll see you soon.”
She followed him to the front door, and watched him walk down the long corridor. Then, she shut the door to his suite and leaned against it.
For the first time in days, she was alone.
Alone with her thoughts and her memories.
She smiled as she pulled her phone from her handbag and loaded up her facebook. She scanned some friends’ recent photos of a trip to the Greek islands and sighed wistfully. Again, the holiday she’d planned for Andrew’s birthday came to mind, and she felt a small jab of self-pity. Only very small, because it did her no favours to dwell on her situation. She had Andrew, and their apartment, and besides, the art show might lead to new opportunities for her. It was, in and of itself, a great opportunity.
Exhaustion was a weight in her veins, but she didn’t want to indulge in sleep. She was too wound up. Instead, she moved through the suite, tidying as she went, making the beds up, folding towels, and restoring order. She realised, after twenty minutes of rushing around, that she was distracting herself from thinking about Sabato.
With an angry sigh, she moved back to the lounge area and lifted her phone up once more. She dialled Ewan’s number by heart.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his Irish accent thicker than normal. “It’s Cinderella.”
Her pulse doubled its speed. “What do you mean?”
“Disappearing into thin air, never to be heard from again.”
“Oh, right.” So not the rags to riches love affair part then. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. The bug that had laid everyone down cleared up quickly enough. We coped. I just didn’t know what had happened to you …”
“No.” Spontaneously, she said, “Are you at work?”
“Sure am. Am I ever anywhere else?”
“Can you take a break?”
She could practically hear his frown. “I finish up in about ten
minutes or so. Why?”
“Come up to the penthouse.”
“The penthouse? Emme, that’s where Mr Montepulciano is staying.”
She nodded. “I know.”
After the briefest pause, his voice sounded more or less normal. “Right. Sounds like you’ve got some explaining to do. I’ll see you soon.”
Emily had washed her uniform the day before. As it was the only outfit she had at her disposal, she pulled it back on and tidied her hair into a ballerina style bun. The doorbell rang only a second after she’d inserted the last pin.
She wrenched it open, a nervous smile face on her face.
Ewan stood on the other side, his confusion obvious. “What are you doing here, babes?”
“It’s a long story. Come in.”
Ewan stepped into the apartment, but felt as though he’d crossed an invisible barrier. “How the other half lives, huh?” He said conspiratorially, winking at Emily.
She smiled back, but sadness was in her heart. Sabato Montepulciano was the other half. Not even the other half. He was the other five percent. Sickeningly wealthy. And Ewan was right to segregate Emily from him. They were different, her and Ewan. They were two cogs in the machine that made the other half’s lives easier.
“So?” He prompted, staring at Emily. She seemed different. Less approachable. Then she smiled, and she was her usual self.
“So,” she nodded. “Coffee?”
“Emily!” He laughed. “What the heck is going on?”
“We met at that thing the other night. I guess you could say sparks flew …”
“Woah. Between you and Mister Moneybags?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not a big deal,” she fibbed. “I mean, he flies out tomorrow, so it’s just this weekend.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about work.”
“Hey, I get it. Sparks flew.”
She bit down on her lip. “I wouldn’t have missed work though, Ewan. He organised that without my knowledge.”
“He seems like that kind of control freak.”
The assessment, though true, rankled. “He was trying to be sweet.”
Seduced by the Italian Tycoon: From the first moment they met, she was powerless to resist him Page 6