Satin Lies

by Tricia Jones

  “I didn’t need anyone’s support. I managed by myself.”

  “So I saw.” He cursed under his breath. “It is unthinkable for a Lavini to live in such a place.”

  The sheer arrogance in his tone snapped her restraint. “I see eight years has done nothing to rid you of that unbelievable conceit. Do you really think I would have come to you? Do you honestly think I would have lowered myself to ask you for help? Come crawling on my hands and knees just to hear you say…”

  “Hear me say what?” he prodded, when she remained silent.

  “That it was your duty and responsibility to help me.” A dull ache settled in her chest, a deep longing for something she would never have. His love.

  He would have helped her had she come to him, that was never in question. But she wanted more from him, more than he would ever be able to give her.

  The harsh reality of it tightened her throat and she swallowed.

  “You expect me to act in a different way?”

  “No.” She let out a resigned breath, stroking her hand over her hair. “Because that’s who you are, isn’t it, Enrico? Always the honorable, dutiful man. You’d always do the honorable thing, wouldn’t you? Whatever the cost to yourself.”

  His brows drew together. “I am not sure you intend that as a compliment.”

  Faye laughed softly as she got to her feet. She was bone tired and wondered how her legs were able to hold her up. “I’m not sure what I’m saying right now, or what I mean. Just ignore me.”

  She took the remains of her drink to the sink and bent to slip the empty mug into the dishwasher. As she straightened she felt him come up behind her.

  “You are exhausted,” he said. “I will show you to your room.”

  The scent of him, musky and male, trickled over her, pushing long ago memories to the surface. It was tiredness that made her feel dizzy, she reasoned. It was the aftermath of traumatic events that made her sway.

  “Easy now.” He caught her, his fingers curling around her upper arms to steady her. Gently, he turned her around. “Are you all right?”

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t chance he would see the need swirling in her eyes. It was exhaustion making her feel this way. After all this time, with everything that had happened, surely she should be over him.

  But, as her pulse raced and her skin burned, it seemed she wasn’t. Not that she would ever let him see. Ever let him know.

  Avoiding his gaze, she stared at his throat. That big, solid, muscular throat. “Yes, I’m all right. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

  When he showed no signs of releasing her, she looked up. In his eyes she saw understanding, mixed with a tenderness that made her throat constrict. “You buried your husband today,” he said. “Whatever happened between you doesn’t change that.”

  Tears threatened, and she wished he would release his hold and put a stop to this ridiculous and inappropriate need whipping through her. But even when he did, the feeling remained.

  “Now,” he sighed, stepping back. “At the risk of being reprimanded, I would venture again that you are tired and need to go to bed.”

  Recognizing the nearest he’d get to offering an olive branch, she flickered him a watery smile. “I’ll let you get away with it,” she said, turning toward the door. “Just this once.”

  Her room was next to Melita’s. Just as feminine, if more adult, in soft blue and cream. Enrico stood at the threshold, looking as if one step across it was tantamount to decadence. “You have everything you need?” He waited until she nodded. “Then get a good night’s sleep.”

  Faye listened as he went down the hallway. When she heard his door close, she hurried next door.

  Melita was in her usual deep-sleep position, arms sprawled over the pillows, one pajama-clad leg outside the duvet. She looked peaceful and content and Faye thanked God for it. She was also thankful for the relationship her daughter had known with Matteo—casual and occasional, but loving and kind. At first Teo had taken on the role of surrogate father with an ease and affability that befit his caring nature. But the deception had eaten away at him, serving to make Faye feel guiltier with each passing year. Until…

  Leaning forward, she brushed renegade strands of shoulder-length hair from her daughter’s warm forehead, hair as dark as her own was fair. Melita believed Teo was her father and the knowledge of that weighed heavy on Faye’s conscience as she watched her child sleep. Teo’s visits had become shorter and the duration between them longer, something else Faye was now grateful for. At least Melita wouldn’t have to mourn the loss of them.

  With a gentle kiss on her sleeping child’s cheek, Faye went back to her room. She looked at the cases Enrico had arranged to be packed and shipped over but, lacking the strength or inclination to sort through them, sank down onto the bed.

  She shuddered in a deep breath and let it out again. She felt drained and desperately alone.

  The sense of desolation was a mystery. She and Teo hadn’t shared anything these last few years. Not even friendship. It wasn’t something they had decided, something they had sat down and discussed. But the slow, insidious destruction of their friendship had begun, she believed, from the moment they agreed to deception. It had eaten away at them both, each in different ways, but none less potent than the other. They had come to resent each other, and each other’s secrets and lies.

  The very thing they wanted to protect had become their nemesis.

  For Teo, the protection of his secret proved worse than the outcome he feared. And for her? Retribution came when she was at her weakest. When there was nothing left but to face her demons…even as she battled to hide them.

  She only prayed that fate, and Enrico, would allow her to continue living the lie.

  Chapter Four

  “And I swam across the pool twice and Uncle Rico said he would teach me to swim underwater.” Face flushed with pleasure, Melita chattered happily as Faye poured her more orange juice. “And I can almost do a backstroke, can’t I, Uncle Rico?”

  Opposite Faye at the poolside breakfast table, Enrico nodded before taking a swig of black coffee. The child was a delight. Happy, enthusiastic and eager to learn. He’d planned an activity-packed day for her, hoping to keep her young mind off the tragedy of the past week. Aside from a couple of references to Matteo, she didn’t seem unduly affected by her loss. He found it strange she referred to her father as Teo, but these days it wasn’t unusual for children to address their parents by their given names—even if he didn’t care for it.

  His gaze slid to Faye. Whatever had gone on between her and his brother, it was obvious his loss hit her hard. Her eyes, that beautiful lavender blue, mirrored her every emotion and had always pulled at some protective part of him. It was no different now, he realized, because he wanted to shake the shadows from them. Make her understand that as long as there was breath in his body she would be taken care of. They could never become close again, not after…

  No. He would not think of that night. Not now. But he would make damn sure she and her child wanted for nothing. It was little enough, but he could do that for her. For his brother.

  What in heaven’s name was Matteo thinking allowing Faye to take his child from him? How could his brother simply discharge his responsibilities to his family? Allowing them to live in that hovel of a flat.

  Matteo had loved Faye from the moment he’d seen her, and realizing that, he himself had steered clear. Until she’d turned from gangly schoolgirl to… Well, whatever in hell she had turned into. All he knew was one summer she had swept into his orderly world and sent lust spiraling through him, pushing him down a slippery path that eventually caused him to betray the brother he’d spent most of his life protecting. The brother who’d lived in his shadow, wanting nothing but recognition and acceptance from their father. The brother who’d demanded so little from life…until he’d seen Faye.

  Enrico’s thoughts were interrupted by his housekeeper bustling across the patio, her si
ghts set on the little angel whose welfare had overnight become her most pressing concern.

  “Come, bambina.” Carla swamped Melita in a fluffy white towel. “If you are to go riding we must get you dressed.”

  Melita, who’d instantly taken to Carla, put up no argument. Her eagerness for the riding sessions Enrico had arranged with his stable staff had her tugging Carla toward the house.

  Faye pushed back her chair. “Excuse me. I have to go and help Carla.”

  “No need.” Enrico sipped his coffee. “She is capable enough.”

  Faye bristled at the mocking tone. “I’m not suggesting Carla isn’t capable, just that Melita has never ridden before and I want to make sure she knows what the ground rules are.”

  He lifted a straight eyebrow. “Ground rules? For riding?”

  “I don’t want her to get hurt. She needs to know there are certain things she mustn’t do.”

  “And my staff will ensure she knows them.” He settled back in his seat and pushed a hand through hair still damp from his swim. Faye felt her stomach curl. There had always been something incredibly exciting—dangerous—about Rico when his hair was wet and slicked to his skull like that. It made his eyes even more powerful, edgier, like honed steel. And his cheekbones…the hard line of his jaw…

  “And what about me, cara?” Those powerful eyes narrowed. “Do ground rules apply to me?”

  Faye watched a renegade droplet of water trickle from his hair, along his throat, tangling in a whisper of chest hair before disappearing beneath a black tee shirt.

  She hadn’t meant to swallow. But somehow, all she could think of was how magnificent he was, how wonderful it had felt when she was in his arms that one time. Just that one time…

  “Well?”

  She shuffled in her chair. “This is your home and we are your guests. Ground rules apply only to my daughter and myself.” The sun burned into the top of her bare arms and she ran her fingers over her warm flesh. Her insides fluttered as his gaze followed the light stroke of her hands.

  It was mortifying he unsettled her this way. On some level she still felt like the naïve girl she’d been eight years ago. Still reacted to him the way she had on that night when he’d taken her to heaven, then shattered her heart.

  If she allowed herself to react to him that same way now, she had only herself to blame. Her focus during this enforced time with him should be on ridding herself of these ridiculous and inappropriate feelings once and for all.

  Of course, he wouldn’t tolerate being shut out of her life again. Not anymore. Not with her and her daughter being his duty, his responsibility.

  How she hated those words.

  But if duty and responsibility were his only reasons for wanting her here, then two could play at that game.

  “Perhaps we ought to spend a few moments confirming what your rules are,” she said lifting her chin. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding.”

  Frowning, Enrico put down his cup. “No rules apply here. This was Matteo’s family home and as such becomes yours. The fact you saw fit not to visit since your marriage makes little difference.”

  She hadn’t remembered his gift for easy sarcasm, but could hardly blame him for it. Not only had she stayed away from the villa, but had asked Teo to instruct him to stay away from her. For the sake of her marriage.

  In truth, she’d played on his remorse, his inevitable self-reproach. But in her desperation she’d convinced herself it was for Enrico’s own good. That her deceit was justified on moral grounds. A nice fat lie tied up with a shiny bow. Satin lies her mother used to call them. Not intended to be malicious, or meant to cause harm, but untruths just the same. And wrong. Very wrong.

  Her mother would be mortified…ashamed.

  Unable to face him, Faye lowered her head.

  He stood, pushing back his chair with the scrape of steel against stone. “The doctor will soon be here. We should—”

  “Doctor?” Faye looked up. “I don’t need to see a doctor, not for a couple of weeks. The specialist said I would be fine as long as I didn’t overdo things.” In fact he’d said how lucky she was, that her physical injuries were light and with rest she should enjoy a rapid recovery. Her memory, he considered, would return when it was good and ready.

  Enrico moved behind and held the back of her chair. “Your blood pressure needs to be monitored and your injuries examined on a regular basis. There is no point protesting, cara,” he added, as she looked over her shoulder at him and started to do that. “He is already en route.”

  She stepped away from him as he went to catch her arm. “Oh, right. There are no rules I see. Just as long as I do what I’m told, is that it?”

  He caught her anyway, wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and steered her forward. “You have suffered a major trauma. Do not expect me to apologize for wanting you observed.” His low voice echoed off marble as they stepped into the villa’s air-conditioned hallway. “You would do best not to fight me on this as you will not win. Best save your energy for other battles. No doubt there will be many.”

  His patronizing tone grated over her, giving her the strength to shake away his grip. She whirled to face him but the sudden movement, fuelled by a surge of angry energy, made the hallway tilt a little. Her vision blurred and again Enrico gripped her arms.

  When her eyes refocused, she found herself looking into his steady gaze. She blinked a few times, allowing the queasiness to settle. “I think I moved too fast,” she said, aware of how close they were standing. His breath brushed her face, his chest a warm and solid sanctuary. With considerable reluctance, she tried disengaging herself by planting one hand on his chest and applying pressure. Heavens above, it was like trying to dislodge granite.

  “I’m fine now,” she lied.

  For long seconds he watched her. “And I intend to make sure you stay that way, which is why the doctor will continue to call on you until I am satisfied you are indeed recovered.”

  Faye bit down hard on her lower lip, rattled not only by the arrogance of his statement but more by the way his physical contact unnerved her. “There you go, talking to me like I’m incapable of taking care of myself.” Like she hadn’t been taking care of herself and her child since Melita was a baby. Like she hadn’t made the decision to put her toddler daughter in day care in order to take a job and earn enough money to provide them both with the basic needs of life.

  “You are recovering from a major trauma,” he said, releasing her. “What happens if you suffer some sort of relapse? What happens to your daughter?”

  The bastard knew just where to hit for maximum effect, and with a grudging acceptance Faye had to admit it made sense to get checked out. She was recovering from a major trauma, and she had to keep herself fit and healthy to continue to provide for Melita. She was well on her way to regaining full physical strength and her memory would return soon enough. God, she didn’t want to think what might have happened to her child had she suffered more serious injuries. Although that wasn’t true. She knew what would have happened. The exact same thing that was happening now. Enrico would have taken over.

  Which was the reason she was trying to act like she didn’t need a doctor. Why she wanted to pretend everything was okay. Because then she and her daughter could get home to London, she could start living her life again. Without him in it.

  Then he’d never find out…

  “I’ll see the doctor,” Faye said, lifting her chin. “But while I’m grateful for your hospitality, you will not issue me orders and you will give me the courtesy of letting me make my own decisions for my own welfare.”

  His hands slid into his pockets. “Having evidenced the outcome of some of your decisions, it seems your welfare might best be left to my control.”

  “Your control?” Heat stung her cheeks. “Just where do you get off? You really are the most arrogant…” Faye shook her head. “I’ll see the doctor, Enrico,” she said, before turning and heading for the stairs. “But afterwards
I’m packing our bags and taking my daughter back to England.”

  His voice, low and accusatory, drifted to where she was halfway up the stairs. “How will you live? My brother’s estate will be tied up in legal red tape for some time. There needs to be an investigation into the cause of the accident before the insurance company pays out and until then his assets will be frozen. I repeat, how will you live?”

  Satisfied he couldn’t see her face, Faye allowed herself a wry smile. Matteo’s estate likely consisted of a myriad of debts to some less-than-salubrious characters, and if any kind of insurance existed, it would be a complete surprise to her. Not that she’d give Enrico the satisfaction of knowing any of it. She owed Teo that. She would keep his secrets. As he’d kept hers.

  Her fingers curved around the banister. In truth, she wasn’t sure quite how she’d manage. It still hurt to lift her arms and her ribs were far too sore to heft boxes and stock shelves. But she could go back to work and maybe do admin and ring up sales.

  Prepared to tell Enrico to mind his own business, she turned to face him. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the newel post, one foot on the second tread. How she’d like to wipe that arrogant expression off his face by telling him his half-brother had long ago gone through all his assets and had been reduced to borrowing from…who knew where? But promises made between friends went deep. Enrico Lavini wasn’t the only one who knew about duty and responsibility.

  “How I live is my business.” Faye turned back to climb the remainder of the stairs. “You might feel responsible but you don’t have to. I have a good job and I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and my daughter.”

  She hadn’t heard him negotiate the stairs but he came up behind her, his fingers around her wrist halting her. “A job?”

  Faye looked over her shoulder, his position two treads down from her making them at virtual eye level. She looked to where his hand encircled her wrist, but when he didn’t remove it she met his gaze. “There’s no need to look so horrified, Enrico.” Sensing that for once, she had the upper hand, she kept her voice low and controlled. “Women do work, you know, it’s the twenty-first century.”