by Tricia Jones
Whereas, Faye thought as she pulled herself to sitting position, she was left gasping, arrows of desire shooting haphazardly through her system.
She had to protect herself. Had to protect her position in this marriage. Let him know he couldn’t treat her as he pleased. She focused on his back, watching as he took a couple of fresh shirts from the wardrobe.
Faye willed her voice steady. “I’d like to move back to my own room.”
He said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge she had spoken. He just snapped open his suitcase, dumped the pile of used clothes on the bed and replaced them with fresh shirts.
Faye seethed. “Enrico,” she said between clenched teeth. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard, but what you ask is not possible.” He didn’t look up, but his voice was deceptively pleasant, as if coaxing an obstinate child. “You will stay here.”
Faye jumped from the bed, storming over to where he was tucking socks into the sides of his case. “I will not stay here. And don’t you dare presume you can give me orders or treat me like some…some…”
“Some what, Faye? You really must practice finishing your sentences.”
A red-hot haze shimmered around the edges of her vision as she yanked away the clothes brush he was about to pack. “You’re despicable.” She flung the brush across the room where it skidded on the polished floorboards before bouncing off the wall with a thud.
They both followed its exhilarating journey then, ashamed she had resorted to such a physical display of emotion, Faye turned red-faced to Enrico. He lifted one amused eyebrow before calmly returning to his packing.
“I won’t stay here in this room with you.” Faye tried to bank down the residual anger still simmering through her system. “I intend to move my things back.”
Abruptly he turned to face her, his expression a stony mask, only his eyes sparking with his own more restrained temper. “You will stay here. Make no mistake about that.” He made a grab for her as she prepared to spin away.
“You will stay in our room,” he tightened his grip on her arm as Faye tried to shake his hand away. “Both because I say so and because it forms part of our marriage agreement.”
“I don’t remember any such thing being discussed, let alone agreed.”
With a tug he brought her against him. “You agreed to our sleeping together. Which, if I am not mistaken, has caused you little distress so far.”
“I honor any agreements I make, whether or not I enjoy their consequences.”
He scoffed. “Save it, Faye. You enjoy the consequences of this agreement of ours well enough. That is if the encouraging moans and pleas you give me are anything to go by.” He tightened his grip when she made to pull away. “And what am I to make of the way your body writhes beneath mine, the way desire shines in your eyes when I touch you, the welcoming feel of your flesh as you tighten around me, as you take me in.”
“Stop it.” It was a breathy whisper and Faye damned herself for it.
“You want me right now, cara, even as I want you.”
She turned her head pointedly away as his mouth lowered to hers, but he gripped her chin with his free hand and yanked her face back. “Si. You want me. And tonight aboard our yacht you will demonstrate how much. I have plans for you, cara mia, and by the end of this night you will be the one demanding we share a bedroom.”
“I won’t.” She said it for form, because her body said otherwise. Her flesh had heated to near smolder as his words caressed it, her pelvis dragging and pulsing with the need to have him carry out his threats.
He smiled, showing his teeth in the manner of a stalking predator, playing with his prey. In the full knowledge that prey had no escape. Then he released her, gave her one glowering look, and strode from the room.
Faye clasped one unsteady hand to her throat, willing her body to stop this ridiculous reaction to him. He was a brute, a monster. She should be ashamed of herself for wanting a man like him.
She forced herself to move, busying herself putting a few things together for their overnight stay on the yacht. Remembering his erotic threat she almost wished she owned a pair of flannel pajamas. That would put paid to his devilish plans. But then her body was still reacting in wanton anticipation of those plans, so she packed a flimsy silk teddy, black and scant, the one she knew drove Enrico wild.
Yes, indeed. She was ashamed of herself all right, but not, it seemed, enough to deny herself the pleasure of another night in her husband’s wickedly inventive arms.
His threat was right on target it seemed, since Faye hadn’t once been inclined to mention returning to her own room after their weekend spent aboard The Melita. Its namesake was thrilled when they first glimpsed the new yacht, flinging her arms around her father’s neck and once again cooing about his being the best daddy.
Since her continual attempts to stop him spoiling their daughter fell on deaf ears, Faye had all but given up. But two weeks later she found reason to take issue with him again.
He had returned from an unscheduled and hastily arranged trip to Paris and the sight of him entering the kitchen, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and tie loosened, made her head spin with the sheer power of his masculinity. He never failed to take her breath away.
Yet, as he walked closer, Faye saw faint shadows beneath his eyes, the beginnings of stubble darkening his tight jaw. Tiny vertical lines appeared between his brows as he scanned the kitchen, looking anywhere but at her.
“You’re very late.” And seriously upset about something. She knew him well enough now to recognize the subtleties of his moods. “I can make you a sandwich if you’d like.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair. “Thank you, no. I have no appetite.” He didn’t sit, but started to pace. “Is Melita in bed?”
The question was fairly incongruous, seeing it was well after eleven o’clock. “Yes, of course.”
Distractedly, he pushed his hand in his pocket and retrieved a small square jeweler’s box that he slid onto the kitchen table. “I thought she would like this.” He started pacing again.
Faye reached tentatively for the box, mindful of his strange mood. She flicked back the lid, swallowing uncomfortably at the jeweler’s name emblazoned in gold. As she expected, inside was a piece resolutely in keeping with the prestigious name, an exquisite silver locket on a delicate chain. A tiny diamond sparkled in its centre.
Faye’s gasp had Enrico turning to face her.
“It’s too much,” she said, shaking her head as she stared at the locket. “This is far too much.” He said nothing, just narrowed his eyes as her gaze met his. “Enrico, you really must stop spoiling her like this. She’ll grow up to find no real value in anything and I don’t want her thinking she can have whatever she wants.”
His laugh was thick with derision. “No. We must not have that, must we, cara. Far be it for me, her father, to spoil her. Who knows, she may well grow up to be as I am, finding no real value in anything.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Faye closed the lid of the jewelry box and placed it on the table. “It’s just that you give her too much.”
Without a word he turned, leaving the kitchen to stride down the hall toward the library.
Faye stood there for a few moments, wondering if she should go to bed and leave him to it. He was obviously tired, irritated about something, and taking it out on her.
Too bad. He could just get over it.
She was halfway to the stairs when natural curiosity took over. His strange mood had nothing to do with her chastising him about spoiling their daughter, heavens she did that almost every day and all she got back from him was a careless shrug. While he sometimes became frustrated when business matters didn’t immediately go the way he wanted, he never let it affect him like this.
When she entered the softly lit library his back was to her as he stared out of the double doors leading to the terrace. One hand was pushed deep into his trouser pocke
t, the other held a crystal glass filled with what she supposed was whisky.
Taking the bull by the horns, Faye asked, “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
The long silence stretched and she was about to ask him again when he turned. His face was drawn, the cheekbones rigidly set, making the shadows beneath his eyes more prominent.
There was a strange quality about him, the poignancy of a man deeply wounded, unsure of how to handle things, perhaps for the first time in his life. It made her want to go to him, wrap her arms around him and ask him to share his problems with her.
Yet something kept her rooted to the spot. Perhaps it was the accusation in his eyes, or the way he ground his jaw as he pinned her with his gaze.
She wanted to step back, to spin around and go back the way she had come. Instead she faced him squarely. “Rico, is something wrong?”
“Is something wrong?” he parodied. “Well, there’s a question.”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable one, since you’ve just got back from Paris looking like you’re about to commit murder or something.”
He laughed, mockingly. “That might indeed be an option.” He moved to the drinks cabinet to refresh his drink. “I did not go to Paris.”
Her flesh chilled. “You didn’t?”
“No. I had to cancel my meeting to attend another matter.”
He still had his back to her, but Faye watched as he poured himself what amounted to a triple whisky. This did not bode well.
She turned away. “If you’re going to drink like that, I should at least get you a sandwich to mop it up.”
“Stay right where you are!”
The imperious command was accompanied by the slam of the whisky decanter being returned to the table. Crystal clinked and rattled ominously.
“I beg your pardon?” She placed her hands on her hips.
“As well you damn well should.” Crystal set to clinking again as he slammed down his refilled glass, making the amber liquid slosh up the sides.
He glared at her, a curious mixture of emotions playing across his face.
She huffed and folded her arms. “Look, if this is to do with the fact I don’t want you spoiling—”
“It is to do with the fact you have lied to me for eight years.”
“Well, yes. But then we…you…knew that, it’s why we got married.”
For long moments he watched her, like he was expecting her to add to the statement. When she didn’t he picked up his drink, took a swig, then slowly replaced the crystal tumbler. “Do you know where I have spent the day?” he asked, as he stared into the amber liquid.
“No.”
He looked up, appraising her through narrowed eyes. “London.”
The room seemed to spin a little, not helped when her stomach roiled. “London?”
“Yesterday, I received a call from a man claiming to know Matteo,” he said, as Faye’s knees went weak. “He wished to meet with me to appraise me of some information he thought I would find interesting. Information he assumed I would pay handsomely for.”
Her dry throat contracted painfully. She wanted to stop him, to try and explain. To give Teo’s side of things. But although she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“At first I imagined this man was party to your lies involving my daughter,” Enrico went on, in a cold superior tone. “I assumed he was unaware that I am now in possession of the truth, at least regarding my daughter, and expected to extort money for his revelations.”
Nausea washed indelicately through her stomach, but Faye warned herself not to break eye contact. When a predator scented blood you didn’t act passively. Her hand snaked protectively to her throat.
As she stood glued to the spot, Enrico moved toward the library doors. He closed the doors and turned the lock, increasing her sense of foreboding.
“Allow me to fix you a drink,” he said, moving back to the bar and selecting a fresh glass. “I believe you may need one before I am finished.”
She wanted to decline, but thought better of it. If he was trying to intimidate her it was working. Her face burned while a chill swept through the rest of her body.
Let’s get it all out in the open, she thought. Let there be no more secrets between us. Even as she thought it, her heart sank to her feet. How could there ever be a future for them, when she had deceived him in so many ways. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened.”
“It appears my instincts were correct,” he said, moving toward her. “This man indeed had extortion in mind.”
Faye willed her hand not to shake as she took the glass he offered. Strangely, it didn’t. An incongruous calm swept through her. If there was still a way to protect Teo in all this, she would. As much as she wanted no more secrets between her and Enrico, she would still protect Teo.
For eight years she had kept her side of their bargain, placating Teo’s secret fears that his cruel and insensitive father would discover the truth about him and use it to poison Enrico’s views. Even estranged from his brother, Teo found comfort in the knowledge that Enrico respected him as a man, as a brother. As a Lavini.
Faye sipped her whisky, letting the heat of it soothe her parched throat. “Extortionists mostly take the truth and twist it to their own ends,” she said, hoping Enrico would acknowledge as much. “It’s impossible to believe anything they say.”
A hint of a smile, mocking and contemptuous, feathered around his mouth. “But I have yet to inform you of the exact nature of his revelations. Why do you so easily dismiss them as lies before knowing what they are?”
The heat in her face intensified. “I…I meant generally, of course. No good ever comes of tattletales.”
His laugh held the same mocking derision. “No good ever comes of trusting those closest to us either, or believing them to be the people we think they are.”
He knew. He knew the truth.
And his stern, acerbic expression displayed only too clearly what he thought of it. Faye’s insides tumbled. Teo had never hurt anyone. He had tried hard to do the right thing. It hadn’t always worked, and he was at heart a lost soul. But he had tried.
“You’re right about that,” Faye snapped. “Because it seems I was certainly wrong about you. Despite your arrogant ways I always felt you were an honorable man, understanding and tolerant. More fool me.”
His eyebrows drew together in a deep frown.
“Trust has to be earned,” Faye continued, fuelled by a dangerous cocktail of anger and anxiety. “Nobody can just demand it. People, good people, do what they believe is right. What they think is best for everyone.”
“Which is why you lied to me on our wedding night,” he retaliated, with deadly calm. “Because keeping from me the fact you had been blackmailed was somehow the right thing?”
“That’s not the issue, I’m talking about—”
“Damn right it is the issue!” he roared. “When you remembered the accident I asked you to tell me everything, yet you omitted that simple fact.”
As her frazzled brain tried to focus, Faye questioned if this whole exchange was simply about her not telling him they were being blackmailed. Perhaps, on realizing Enrico already knew the truth about Melita, Teo’s ex knew he couldn’t extort any money and had left without revealing anything else. One look at Enrico would warn any would-be extortionist they would be sent packing with their tail between their legs before they even set up pitch.
A crazy sort of joy swept through her. If Enrico thought the reason they had been blackmailed concerned his being Melita’s real father, there was no need to tell him anything else.
“I didn’t tell you about the blackmail because I thought you might go after him or something,” she said with a flippancy she didn’t feel. “I knew you would be angry and would want some kind of retribution.”
He watched her steadily, during which she had to force herself to meet his gaze. Only the thought of her promise to Teo kept her from looking away.
“And if I had gone af
ter him as you feared, cara mia, what other revelations might I have been afforded?”
His pointed tone made her blood run cold. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I am merely suggesting that other skeletons might fall from your closet and demand my attention.”
Faye shook her head, not sure how much more of this she could take. Her emotions were up and down like a yoyo, while he flicked at them like a big cat toying with prey. “I’ve had just about enough of this,” she said tartly, as anger masked discomfort. She placed her glass on a nearby table. “So I’ve made mistakes, so what? I’m actually human, Enrico. Of course, you wouldn’t know that would you? You’re too busy trying to lord it over me with your arrogance, your conceit.” She took a moment to drag in a breath. “And in case you’re under any illusions let me make it clear. You don’t own me and I don’t answer to you. I might have entered into this sham of a marriage, but you’re not my keeper and most definitely not my conscience.”
“I doubt you have one,” he sneered. “And this sham of a marriage as you call it makes me your husband, and that gives me the right to insist you inform me of potential threats to your safety and to that of my daughter’s. If there is even the slightest possibility another stranger could contact me anticipating payment for some sordid disclosure—”
Sordid? Faye didn’t much care what snide remarks he directed at her, she would handle them and perhaps even deserved them, but she was damned if she would let him label Teo’s personal choices as sordid. But then he didn’t know about Teo, did he?
She shook her head again, wearily. “You really are the most insufferable bigot.”
The shocked look that flashed over his face gave her a tiny glimmer of pleasure. Serves him right, she thought, taking even more pleasure in the way his jaw tightened.
“Nothing I’ve done comes close to sordid, and the reason—”
“A wrong choice of word,” he grated, pushing long fingers through his hair. “Maledizione!”
As he started pacing, Faye took some steadying breaths. She wasn’t about to take any more of his arrogance, his righteous indignation or his high and mighty attitude. “The reason I didn’t tell you I was pregnant,” she said, lifting her chin, “was because you said our sleeping together was a mistake. I knew you didn’t want me—” She raised her hand to stop him interrupting “—and it was perfectly reasonable for me to assume you wouldn’t relish finding out I was expecting your child. So, I didn’t tell you, and I was prepared to bring up my child alone. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I would have managed. Then Teo offered me a home, for me and my daughter, and I’ll bless him for that until the day I die.”