The Mistress: The MistressWanted: Mistress and Mother

by Maya Banks

  And Dante was the same, she knew it, as he tore at the delicate panties, ripped them open and plunged deep inside, her orgasm there to greet him, her intimate vise twitching around him as he entered, thrusting inside her. And yet he made her wait for his, their heated bodies moving together, long, delicious strokes as his moist skin slid over hers, her orgasm fading then rising again as he worked deliciously on, her fingers clutching his taut buttocks, her neck rigid as his tongue, his mouth devoured it, tasting her, relishing her, arousing her all over again. She could feel the tension in him building, his movements faster now, delicious involuntary thrusts as his body dictated the rhythm for both of them, no turning back as he drove them both forward.

  He spilled inside her as she came again, crying out his name as he took her higher than she had ever been then held her as she came back down. But if making love with Dante had been exquisite, nothing could rival the feeling of him holding her in his arms, his body spooning into her warm back, the bliss of being held by him, his tender, warm hand on her stomach, his breathing evening out, experiencing the beauty of a bed shared tonight.

  And the promise tomorrow could bring.

  Chapter 10

  “Dante!”

  She barely said it, more breathed the word, her eyes snapping open as the bedroom door opened. A tiny rigid figure was silhouetted in the doorway, staring at the vast bed, and all Matilda knew was that Alex mustn’t see her. She wriggled slightly in his arms, pulling her legs down straight, trying to remain inconspicuous yet somehow awaken him. Gently she prodded him, slipping beneath the covers as he came to, feeling like an intruder hiding, chewing on her bottom lip and cringing inside as Dante took in the scene.

  “Alex, darling.” She could feel him pull back the covers, groping on the floor for his boxers then stepping out of the bed and crossing the room. “Did something wake you?”

  And because it was Alex, there was no answer to his question. Instead, Matilda listened to his comforting words as he scooped the little girl up and carried her back towards her bedroom. She waited till the coast was clear before wrapping the sheet around her and heading for the en suite, pulling on Dante’s bathrobe and, despite the oppressive heat of the night, heading back to the bed to sit and shiver on the edge till Dante returned.

  “Is she OK?” Worried eyes jerked to his. “I don’t think she saw me. It’s so dark in here I’m sure that she couldn’t have. I just heard the door open...”

  “She’s fine,” Dante instantly reassured her. “I gave her a drink of water and she settled back down. I don’t know what’s wrong with her tonight...” Sitting down on the bed, he wrapped an arm around her, but she could sense his distraction, knew that he was worried about what Alex might have seen.

  “I heard the door open and saw her. I honestly don’t think that she saw me. The only reason I could make her out was because the hall light was on. As soon as I heard something, I slipped under the covers.”

  “She didn’t seem worried,” Dante agreed. “I think she was just thirsty...” His voice trailed off and Matilda watched as he raked his fingers through his hair, seeing him now not as a lover but as the father he was...

  Would always be.

  “I’ll go back to my room.”

  “No.” He shook his head, one hand reaching out and attempting to grab her wrist. But Matilda captured it, holding his strong hand in her gentler one. And as much as she didn’t want to go, as much as she knew Dante wanted her to stay, she knew it was right to leave.

  “Dante, it’s fine. Alex might come back and neither of us is going to relax now. I’ll go and sleep in my room. It’s better that way. We’ve got away with it once...”

  “You understand?”

  “Completely,” Matilda said softly, her free hand capturing his cheek, feeling the scratch of his stubble beneath her fingers. Although she longed to sleep with him, to wake up with him, she knew some things were more important, knew that she had to act unselfishly now. “You need to be here for Alex,” she whispered, kissing his taut cheek, feeling the tension in his body as she held him for a precious second, knowing he was torn between want and duty, knowing that she could make things easier for him by going.

  And it wasn’t a small comfort as she slipped into her king-sized single bed, still wrapped in his robe, still warm from his touch, his intimate spill still moist between her legs. It was the most grown-up decision she’d ever made.

  It was love.

  * * *

  “Dante!”

  Brutally awoken by the piercing shout, Matilda sat up in bed, her mind whirling as chaos broke out. She tried to piece together the events of the night before and failed as the urgent events of today thundered in.

  “Where is she?”

  Wrapping the tie of Dante’s bathrobe around her, Matilda climbed out of bed, her heart hammering at the urgency in Katrina’s voice, waiting, waiting for Dante to reply. For him to tell her that Alex was in bed with him. Her stomach turned as she opened her bedroom door and saw Dante’s pale, anguished face as he ran the length of the hallway, desperation in his voice as he called his daughter’s name, terrified, frenzied eyes meeting hers as he explained the appalling situation.

  “Alex isn’t in her bed. We can’t find her.”

  Dashing down the hallway, she careered into Dante, his face a mixture of fixed determination and wretched pain.

  “The pool!” They both said it at the same time. His worst nightmare eventuating, she followed him, bare feet barely touching the surface, jumping, running, taking the stairs two, three at a time as her mind reasoned. The pool was fenced and gated, Matilda attempted to reason as she ran; Dante was always so careful with his daughter’s security there was no way Alex could have got in. As she dashed across the lawn, Dante was miles ahead, naked apart from his boxers, his whole body taut with dread. Finally she reached him, shared in that anguished look at the cool glittering blue surface. But there was little solace to be taken. The glimmering bay twinkled in the sunrise, a vast ocean just metres away and a tiny, fragile child missing.

  “Call the police.” Dante’s voice was calm but his lips were tight, a muscle hammering in his cheek as his idyllic, bayside view turned again to torture. “Tell them to alert the coastguard.”

  * * *

  “She was fine last night!” Katrina’s brittle voice grated on Matilda’s already shot nerves. The police had long since arrived, their radios crackling in the background as officers started the appalling process—interviewing the adults, searching the house and gardens. A frantic race against time ensued. She could hear the whir of helicopter rotors as they swooped along the coastline. As she stared at Dante, who had returned at the police’s bidding from a frantic race to the beach to look for his daughter, sand on his damp legs, his proud face utterly shattered, her first instinct was to reach out and hold him, to comfort him, but aware of Katrina and how it would look, she held back. “I looked in on her as I went to bed...”

  “What time was that?” An incredibly young officer asked as another sat writing notes.

  “Eleven, twelve perhaps,” Katrina responded. “Dante had already gone up.”

  “So you were the last person to see her?”

  “No,” Dante broke in. “I was the last person to see her.” Matilda held her breath as he carried on talking, wondering if he would reveal what had happened and with a sinking heart knowing that he had to. “She was distressed when I went up, but she went back to sleep. Katrina would have s
een her a few moment after that, but a couple of hours later she came into my room.”

  “She’d climbed out of her cot?”

  “She’s started to do that,” Dante said, raking his fingers through his hair, his whole body in abject pain. She ached to comfort him yet sat completely still as he spoke on. “She seemed thirsty so I gave her a drink and cuddled her for a moment.”

  “Was she upset?”

  “No.” Dante shook his head, his face contorting with agonized concentration as he recalled every detail of the last time he had seen his daughter. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?” the policeman pushed, and Matilda could have slapped him for his insensitivity. But Dante was calmer, explaining Alex’s problem in a measured voice, but his voice was loaded with pain.

  “My daughter has problems—behavioural problems.” Katrina opened her mouth to argue, but Dante stood firm, shaking his head at Katrina, clearly indicating that now wasn’t the time for futile denial. “She doesn’t react in the usual way—you never really know what she’s thinking. Look, you have to tell your colleagues that they could be just a metre away from her, could be calling her name, and she won’t answer them, she won’t call out...” His voice broke for a second and Matilda watched as he attempted to recover, his eyes closing for an agonising second as he forced himself to continue. “You have to tell them that.”

  The officer nodded to his partner, who left the room to impart the news before he continued with the interview. “You gave her a drink—then what?”

  “I opened the window a fraction more—there are locks on it, so she could never have opened it wide enough to get out. Her room was...” His English momentarily failed him. Dante balled his fists in frustration as he tried to give the police officer each and every piece of information he could. “Confined,” he attempted. “With the storm coming and everything...” As if in answer, a crack of thunder sounded and Matilda watched the fear dart in his eyes. The rain started to pelt on the window, each drop ramming home the fact that his baby was out there with the elements

  “Anything else?” the officer checked. “Is there anything else that happened last night that was out of the ordinary? Any strange sounds, phone calls—anything, no matter how irrelevant it might seem, that might have upset your daughter?”

  Dante’s eyes met Matilda’s.

  “No.” He shook his head, dragged his eyes away but his expression haunted her. The guilt in his eyes as he bypassed the truth made her know without hesitation what was coming next, that the only person Dante wanted to protect here, and rightly so, was his daughter.

  “Officer, may I speak to you outside?”

  “About what?” Katrina demanded as the two of them walked out of the room. “What aren’t you telling us, Dante? What happened last night that you can’t say in front of me?”

  Embarrassed, terrified, Matilda stood there as Katrina answered her own question.

  “You tart,” Katrina snarled, and Matilda winced at the venom behind it. “That’s Dante’s gown that you’re wearing.” Katrina eyed Matilda with utter contempt but didn’t leave it there. Her lips were white and rigid with hatred. “You were in bed with Dante, weren’t you? That’s why the poor little mite ran off into the night!”

  “I truly don’t think that she saw me,” Matilda said. “We were both asleep and she just pushed open the door...”

  “And saw a woman who wasn’t her mother in her father’s bed! Do you realise what you have done, Matilda?” Disgust and fury were etched on Katrina’s features and for an appalling moment Matilda thought that Katrina might even hit her. “Do you have any idea the damage that you’ve done to my grandchild?”

  “Leave it, Katrina.” Dante’s voice was weary as he came back into the room, but it had a warning note to it that Katrina failed to heed.

  “I most certainly will not leave it.” Furious eyes swivelled between Dante and Matilda, her face contorted with disgust. “Did Alex see you?” Her eyes were bulging in her head. “That little girl walked in and found the pair of you—”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Matilda said, but Katrina shot her down in a second.

  “Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut the hell up. You have no say here! None at all.”

  “Katrina.” Dante crossed the room, his face grey. “This isn’t helping...”

  “Of course it isn’t helping. How, Dante, did you think sleeping with her was going to help your daughter? How did you think shaming my daughter’s memory like that was going to help Alex? But, then, I suppose you didn’t even stop to think. I warned you, Dante, warned you to be careful, to keep things well away from Alex, and then some little—”

  “I said leave it!” Still he didn’t shout, but there was such icy power behind his words that even in full, rage-fuelled flood Katrina’s voice trailed off. It was Matilda who stepped in. Running a dry tongue over her lips, she again attempted to calm things down.

  “All we can do for now is give the police all the information we have and then look for Alex. Arguing isn’t going to help.”

  “She’s right,” Dante said, addressing Katrina, which momentarily Matilda found strange. But she didn’t hold the thought. Her mind was already racing ahead, trying to work out how they could find Alex, where the little girl might be. But as Dante continued talking, Matilda knew that the agony that had pierced her consciousness since awakening had only just begun, because nothing Katrina had said in rage could have hurt her more than the expression on Dante’s face as he turned and finally faced her, his expression cold and closed, his eyes not even meeting hers.

  “I think you should leave, Matilda...”

  “Leave?” She shook her head, her voice incredulous, horrified by what he was saying. “Don’t shut me out now, Dante. Last night you said—”

  “Last night you were his whore,” Katrina shouted. “Last night he said what he had to, to get you to share his bed. Dante loved my daughter.” She was screeching now, almost deranged. “Jasmine’s barely cold in her grave. Did you really think you could fill her space? Did you really think he meant what he said, that he’d besmirch her memory with you?”

  “No one’s trying to besmirch Jasmine’s memory,” Dante said, his face as white as marble as he turned to Katrina.

  “No one could!” Katrina yelled. “Because if you truly loved my daughter then last night can be nothing more than a fling and I know that you loved her. I know that!”

  “I did.” Dante halted her tirade. “I do,” he insisted, his hands spreading in the air in a helpless gesture, utter panic on his face as reality started to sink in. “But right now all I can think of is Alex. All I know is that my baby is out there...”

  “Let me help with the search,” Matilda pleaded, but Dante’s back was to her, demanding action from the officer that stood there, picking up the phone and punching in numbers. “Dante, please...”

  “You want to help?” His face was unrecognisable as he finally faced her. “If you really want to help, Matilda, you will do as I ask and just go home. It will be better.”

  “Better for who?” Matilda whispered through chattering teeth, knowing the answer even before it came.

  “Better for everyone.”

  * * *

  It took about ten minutes to pack, ten minutes to throw her things into her suitcase and drag it down the stairs, ten minutes to remove herself from Dante’s life. The scream inside was a mere breath away, her teeth grinding together with the agony of
keeping it all in. She wanted to slap him, to yell at him, confront him, couldn’t believe that he’d done it to her again, that she’d been stupid enough to let him fool her, to be beguiled by him over again, but somehow she choked it down, the horror of a child missing overriding everything. She placed her own pain, her utter humiliation on total hold. Wincing against the sting of the rain on her bare arms, she threw her case into the boot, imagining its impact on a little girl dressed in nothing but pyjamas.

  “We need a contact number, miss.” The young officer tapped on the steamed-up car window as Matilda started the engine. She scribbled her number on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Can I help—with the search I mean?

  “Hold on a second, love.” The policeman halted her as his radio crackled into life and Matilda waited, her heart in her mouth at the urgent note in the officer’s voice, flashes of conversation reaching her ears.

  “They’ve found her?” Matilda begged.

  “I need to tell the child’s father first.” He was making to go but Matilda shot out of the car and ran alongside him as he headed for the house.

  “How is she?” Matilda demanded. “Is she okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” the officer reluctantly answered. “They found her wandering in some dunes. She seems OK but she’s not talking. They’re taking her to the local hospital...”

  “She rarely speaks.” Matilda could feel relief literally flooding her at the seemingly good news. “Oh, I have to tell Dante...”