The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  Did he even have a clue how Simone’s behaviour was affecting her? Probably not.

  At that moment Dante covered her hand as it rested on her thigh, linked her fingers between his own and smoothed a thumb over the throbbing pulse inside her wrist.

  Taylor turned her head slowly towards him, the flecks in her eyes a vivid green as she sent him a sparkling smile.

  Then she did the unforgivable. She parted her lips a little and traced their outline with the tip of her tongue, glimpsed the sudden gleam in his dark, almost black eyes, before she turned away to continue her conversation with the conservationist.

  The moment was compounded as the evening drew to a close and the guests began to vacate the various tables, for it appeared Simone seemed intent on aiming the final dart when she moved close to Taylor.

  ‘You are a lucky girl, Taylor. Dante gave me the best sex I ever had.’

  Without blinking, Taylor let her features break into a dreamy secret smile as she met Simone’s glittering gaze. ‘He’s fantastic, isn’t he?’

  Dante turned at that moment, and his eyes narrowed fractionally as he caught Simone’s expression. ‘Anyone who chooses to upset Taylor will have me to deal with.’ His expression didn’t change, although only a fool would discount his words. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  To give Simone credit, she merely smiled and, reaching out, she placed a beautifully lacquered nail on his forearm.

  ‘Perfectly.’ She turned gracefully, then glanced over her shoulder as she moved away. ‘Ciao, darling.’

  ‘One of your conquests?’ Taylor said as they began weaving their way towards an exit.

  ‘An exceedingly brief and meaningless one.’

  ‘You’re not required to give me an explanation.’

  His eyes darkened as they seared her own. ‘You have my fidelity.’

  She swallowed the sudden lump that had risen in her throat, and his eyes flared at the movement.

  ‘Without question,’ he added quietly, and it was all she could do to incline her head in acknowledgement.

  It was late when they entered Graziella’s apartment, and Taylor slipped off her stilettos as she moved quietly towards Ben’s room, where she carefully pulled up the light blanket he’d kicked free, then, satisfied, she moved into the guest suite and began discarding her clothes.

  Dante joined her as she pulled on her sleep top, and she uttered a startled gasp as he crossed to her side, caught the hemline in each hand and pulled it free.

  His hands cupped her breasts, and they swelled in welcome, their peaks distending at his touch.

  He leant forward and grazed his lips across her cheek, then sank to savour the sensitive pulse beneath her ear.

  ‘What if I said I’m not in the mood?’ Taylor said, only to feel the breath hitch in her throat as he nipped her flesh, then soothed it with his tongue.

  ‘You want me to prove otherwise?’

  She contrived a negligent shrug, then gasped as he slid a hand between her thighs and sought the tender flesh there, to stroke and tease the acutely sensitised bud until she groaned for him to desist.

  Fire, sweet and achingly hot, seared her flesh, and he closed his mouth over hers, smothering her faint cry as he sent her high, held her there, then sent her to another level where only his possession would ease the wondrous ache radiating through her body.

  At this precise moment she didn’t care, and she slid her hands inside his jacket and pushed it over his shoulders, then when it fell to the floor her fingers sought feverishly to deal with his shirt buttons, pulling the fine cotton free of his trousers before releasing his belt, the zip fastening of his trousers.

  He took a moment to step out from them, then he placed a hand either side of her hips and lifted her high before positioning her to accept him.

  Dear heaven. The faint sigh lay trapped in her throat as she clutched hold of his shoulders and held on, exalting in the pressure of his thick shaft filling her and moving deeper with each pulsing thrust.

  She moved with him, unaware he’d edged towards the bed, until he lowered her onto the mattress and followed her down.

  There was only him, with her, as together they climbed the heights, held each other there, then fell in a glorious free-fall that left them breathing hard and slick with sensual heat.

  For a while they simply lay there, bodies entwined in the tender aftermath as fingers drifted lightly over curves and hard planes; where lips soothed with such gentleness she almost wanted to weep.

  Then Dante reached for the bedcovers and curved her close in against him.

  His breath teased tendrils of hair at her temple, and she simply closed her eyes as the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart lulled her into a dreamless sleep…from which she woke to daylight and the tantalising aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

  A shower, followed by a late breakfast and the need to pack.

  Saying goodbye to Graziella was more difficult than Taylor imagined, and it was Dante who gave his assurance they’d return soon, Ben who manfully attempted not to cry as the taxi arrived to transport them to the airport.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THERE was something magical about flying into Sydney over the harbour with its many coves and inlets, the majestic span of the bridge and the famed opera house.

  Home.

  Taylor felt the pull of familiarity as she idly watched a tugboat lead an ocean liner towards its berth, and there was a ferry beginning its city crossing from suburban Manly.

  Smaller craft lay fastened to moorings in coves dotted along the northern foreshore.

  Blue skies with the merest drift of cloud, and the sun lent a sparkle to the harbour waters.

  The Gulfstream jet veered over land, cruising at a low altitude as it drew close to the airport. Soon they’d land, disembark, clear Customs and Claude would be waiting to drive them to Dante’s mansion overlooking Watson’s Bay.

  ‘Do you think Rosie will remember me?’ Ben asked as Claude eased the Mercedes out from the air terminal.

  ‘Probably,’ Taylor allowed with a degree of caution. A month’s absence equated to a long time for a young puppy.

  It didn’t take many minutes before Rosie licked his hand and danced barking at Ben’s feet, and Ben beamed as Rosie proceeded to shadow Ben wherever he went for the rest of the day.

  Within a matter of days life had settled once again into a regular routine.

  Dante left early each morning for the city office and returned most evenings in time for dinner, with the occasional phone call citing a delay and not to wait up.

  Ben returned to kindergarten three times a week, and Taylor sought seclusion in her allotted home office…and wrote.

  On the two week days Ben was home, they spent time together at a park, attended his swimming lessons and Taylor supervised his practice swimming in the pool. Occasionally they visited a museum, watched a suitable DVD or took in a movie.

  Dante joined them at weekends, and two weeks stretched into three…carefree days enhanced by Ben’s ability to adapt to his life-changes.

  The nights were something else. Sharing intimacy with Dante became an increasingly riveting experience…tactile, unrestrained, primal in the need to sate a hunger so intense it was almost frightening.

  Mostly she managed to rationalise it was simply very good sex…and tamped down the longing for it to be more.

  Love equated to wishing for the moon, stars and the entire universe.

  Except…surely a man couldn’t make love the way Dante did, and it not mean anything? Or was she merely a fool, too swayed by her emotional reaction to think straight?

  Probably the latter, Taylor determined as she dropped Ben at kindergarten and drove down to Double Bay to meet Sheyna for coffee.

  It was a lovely day, sufficiently cool to warrant dress jeans, T-shirt, jacket and knee-length leather boots. However, the sun shone, and there was even a brisk breeze blowing in from the sea.

  Finding a parking space wasn’t difficult at this rela
tively early hour, and Taylor activated the locking mechanism on her car, then slipped the keys into her bag as she entered the coffee house.

  It was easy to see the tall brunette rise to her feet as Taylor drew close to the table Sheyna occupied.

  ‘Hey!’ They shared an enthusiastic hug, then Taylor was moved to arm’s length. ‘Looking good, girl.’ Dark eyes gleamed with wicked humour. ‘Getting good sex becomes you.’

  ‘And you know this…because?’

  Sheyna rolled her eyes. ‘Your husband has the look of a man who knows how to please a woman.’

  Taylor lifted her hands, palms facing her friend. ‘We’re not going there.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ Sheyna gave a philosophical smile. ‘Shall we order?

  ‘Now, tell me about Italy,’ Sheyna begged as soon as they were seated. ‘I bet it was fab.’

  Taylor relayed much of the splendour of Florence, and her friend offered an envious sigh.

  ‘Tell me you shopped and brought back heaps.’

  ‘A few clothes, some gifts.’ She reached into her bag and placed a slim wrapped box on the table. ‘For you.’

  ‘Really? You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Open it.’

  Sheyna took her time untying the ribbon and separating the sticky tape before removing the wrapping paper.

  ‘Ohmigod!’ The exclamation emerged as an almost reverent whisper. ‘It’s gorgeous. Perfect.’ She slid the beautiful bracelet over her wrist and admired the delicate markings. ‘Thank you.’ She rose to her feet and placed an exuberant kiss to Taylor’s cheek. ‘You’re an angel.’ She settled back into her seat and leant forward, eyes intent. ‘Now, how are you?’

  One of the benefits of long friendship obviated the need for prevarication. ‘OK. Ben is adjusting well. I’m getting there with the current book.’

  Sheyna’s smile was gentle. ‘That’s fine, Taylor, but I want to know about you. OK doesn’t really cover it.’

  ‘I miss Casey,’ Taylor said quietly. ‘So much. I instinctively reach for my mobile to text her, only to realise she’s no longer here.’ She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. ‘A few days ago I found myself taking the route leading to the street where Casey, Leon and Ben lived, and I had to pull over and take a deep breath.’ And still the flow of tears.

  ‘Delayed reaction. Knowing you, you’ve been super-careful, pretending to be bright and cheerful for Ben’s sake.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Drink your coffee,’ Sheyna bade. ‘We’re going shopping.’

  ‘There’s nothing—’

  ‘You don’t have to need anything.’

  Taylor did her best to look vexed. ‘You’re impossible.’

  Sheyna’s mouth formed an impish smile. ‘That’s why I’m your friend, darling.’ The smiled widened as she spread her hands. ‘And where better to shop than here?’

  Where boutiques sold only designer labels, and the vendeuse resembled a model out of Vogue fashion magazine.

  She thought of her shopping excursion in Florence with Graziella in tow, the countless emblazoned designer bags they took back to the apartment…not to mention the diamond-encrusted wedding band that must have cost Dante a small fortune.

  ‘I’ll look, you shop.’

  ‘Your husband heads a multi-billion corporation, and you’re thinking budget?’

  ‘A larger closet if I add any more clothes to it,’ Taylor corrected, and caught her friend’s indefatigable grin.

  ‘Lingerie. A woman can never have too much.’

  It was fun, Taylor decided on reflection, and good to relax and laugh a little. On impulse they indulged in a leisurely lunch, during which Taylor posed, ‘You need to give me an update on Rafe.’

  There was a telling silence. ‘Sheyna?’

  ‘He wants to marry me.’

  ‘And you’ve said?’

  Sheyna waited a beat, then a winsome smile curved her mouth. ‘Yes, damn the man.’

  Taylor returned the smile, then she broke into subdued laughter as she rose to her feet and gave Sheyna an affectionate hug. ‘I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘There’s more. My mother wants the works…me in a white dress, veil, a dozen bridesmaids, several hundred guests. You, my friend, will be there as matron of honour. I’ll need someone sane to help me through this,’ Sheyna finished with a shake of her head.

  ‘Done,’ Taylor said with delight. ‘When?’

  ‘Next year. Mother needs to plan!’ She executed an effective eye-roll. ‘I think we should elope. No fuss, just do it.’

  ‘You’re the only child,’ she reminded gently. ‘Your mother would never forgive you.’

  Sheyna withdrew a cheque and placed it on the table. ‘Five hundred dollars…you just need to fill in the name of the charity.’

  Taylor picked it up and tore it in two. ‘All bets are off. Just—be happy.’

  They finished their coffee, then parted with the promise to meet again soon.

  Ben ran to meet her when she collected him from kindergarten and he grinned with delight at the prospect of riding his bike at the park.

  ‘Did Claude really put my bike in the boot?’

  He climbed into his booster seat and she fastened the safety harness. ‘Would I disappoint you?’

  ‘You’re the best.’

  Taylor kissed the tip of his nose. ‘Grazie.’

  They shared a fun few hours as Ben showed his prowess on the bike, the swings, the jungle gym, and to top off the afternoon she stopped off for ice cream on the way home.

  Her mobile rang as they reached the car and she checked caller ID, saw it was Dante and picked up.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’ll be caught up with a few business associates, and late.’

  ‘So don’t wait for dinner,’ she added. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Say goodnight to Ben for me.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Ciao, cara.’

  It was almost eight when Ben settled to sleep, and Taylor took coffee into her home office, opened the laptop and worked on the current scene. This story was developing well, but, with the trip to Florence and everything that had entailed, progress was slow. For days Taylor had danced around the need to research certain police procedure, but any time soon she’d need to set up an interview with a professional and take notes. Writing suspense fiction required authenticity, and fudging it wasn’t an option.

  Soon she became immersed in the characters, heightening the tension, foreshadowing the event which would provide the hair-raising climax. Building on it, producing the words to portray the emotion, the fear, meant total immersion in the story, and she lost track of time, pausing only to read through her notes and check her facts.

  She checked her watch, saw the time and began wondering how late was late. How many restaurants and bars remained open after midnight? And were there only business associates…or did they have feminine company?

  Oh, for heaven’s sake…stop it! You’re overtired and verging toward overwrought. So go take a hot shower.

  Except she felt the need to expend some energy, and without further thought she took the stairs and crossed to the indoor pool. The door was locked, but she knew the combination, and minutes later she switched on the underground pool lighting, stripped down to bra and briefs, then dived in from the deep end.

  The water was smooth and cool…too cool at first, although after stroking two laps the water temperature no longer seemed to matter.

  Seven more laps, and she paused and reached for the pool’s tiled lip with one hand and smoothed the excess water from her hair with the other.

  It was then she saw Dante seated on one of the padded loungers. He’d discarded his jacket, his tie, and opened the top buttons of his shirt, released his cuff-links and rolled back the sleeves to mid-forearm.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  He stood and slid hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘I felt like a swim.’

&n
bsp; He watched as she smoothed a hand over her face. ‘Are you coming out?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Her eyes widened as he began unbuttoning his shirt, and she spluttered into startled speech when he reached for the belt on his trousers.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Shoes, socks, trousers, then he removed his watch and moved towards her.

  ‘Joining you.’

  Seconds later he dived cleanly into the pool and swam underwater to surface beside her.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Taylor managed, then she gave a startled yelp as he captured her head and took possession of her mouth.

  Possession was an apt description as he coaxed her response, then he plundered deep, hungry, compelling, almost branding her…then he eased back, gentling until his lips brushed her own.

  ‘You chose the venue.’ His voice emerged through a soft, musing smile, and she could only look at him through dazed eyes.

  He angled her head, then touched his lips to each eyelid in turn. ‘I can think of an infinitely more satisfying exercise.’

  ‘It’s late, and I’m tired.’

  ‘In which case, it’ll give me pleasure to do all the work.’

  The next instant he moved easily from the pool, then reached down and pulled her up beside him. There was a shower stall with soap, shampoo and towels stored within easy reach, and he led her there, opened the water dial, stripped off his briefs, then reached for the clasp of her bra, freed it, and skimmed her bikini briefs free.

  She wanted to protest when he took up the soap and began soothing it over her body, and she objected when he filched the bottle from its holder and massaged shampoo into her hair.

  When he was done, he took a towel from her hands and wound it round her hair, then he used another to dry the moisture from her body.

  ‘Your clothes,’ Taylor reminded as they emerged from the shower stall, and she waited while he collected them.

  ‘You sound like a wife.’

  There was a teasing note in his voice, and she gave a light shrug. ‘For better or worse, I seem to be yours.’

  They ascended the stairs, and on entering the master suite, he simply removed the towel from her body, discarded his own, then pulled back the bedcovers and drew her down onto the bed.