‘There’s nothing about it in our agreement. I don’t have to be faithful, since you certainly haven’t been. I could even have a child without you.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Consider this nothing more than a courtesy call.’
My fists clenched. ‘I will not be made a cuckold so you can have an illegitimate child.’ I spoke savagely, memories pounding through me in a relentless tide of rejection.
You’re nothing but a bastard. You were born one, you will remain one, and you will die one.
I certainly wouldn’t countenance another one being brought into the world, for that was what it would be if Daisy had a child that was not my own.
‘I hardly think that’s what we’re talking about here.’
Daisy’s chin was still lifted, but her lips trembled. She wasn’t as confident as she pretended. The thought brought satisfaction, as well as a surprising shaft of disappointment. Some contrary part of me had enjoyed her boldness.
‘And you can’t exactly call yourself cuckolded considering we’ve never…?’ Her voice wavered and she looked away.
‘We’ve never…?’ I prompted silkily.
My blood was flowing hotly through my veins and that slinky tube of a dress was begging to be peeled off her curvaceous body. What I’d insisted I would never do suddenly seemed like a very good idea. The right idea, all things considered. I could prove a point, and do it quite pleasurably.
‘You know what I mean,’ Daisy said, her voice little more than a whisper.
‘What I know,’ I replied as I closed the distance between us so that I could feel the heat rolling off her body and she could feel it off mine, ‘is that a few minutes ago you told me you wanted a baby.’
Her lips parted and her eyes widened in realisation. ‘Not yours.’
‘And yet I’m your husband,’ I remarked. ‘Wanting my baby is the most sensible idea, really.’
‘N…no,’ she stammered. ‘It isn’t.’
Her skin was pale golden and freckled and she smelled of vanilla and almonds. Delicious. I lifted my hand and traced the pure line of her collarbone with the tip of my finger.
She shuddered under my touch and took a step back. ‘You’re taking this all wrong.’
‘I really don’t think I am.’
‘What happened to marriage in name only?’
Yes, what had happened to it? It was starting not to seem like such a good idea. Distantly I remembered the original purposes for my marriage—to spite my grandfather and keep living my life the way I wanted to. And yet somewhere, tangled up in all that, had been the desire to do some good to someone and even be honourable about it—although whether I’d achieved those aims was debatable.
Yet all of it—all my resolutions and all my revenge—went up in smoke as I looked at Daisy standing in front of me, a flame of beauty, firing my own desire. In this moment all I wanted was her.
‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘we should renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.’
Matteo’s eyes turned the colour of smoke as he took another deliberate step towards me, his intent clear in every taut line of his body. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, to think. I’d never expected this—the heat in his eyes, the sure touch of his hand. The mere caress of his fingertips on my collarbone had sent arrows of exquisite sensation shafting through me. If he touched me again…
Why did that feel like a promise?
‘Matteo, you’ve made it very clear that you want a marriage in name only.’
My voice and legs both shook as I managed a step backwards, away from this sudden new temptation. I’d always known Matteo was handsome, appealing, sexual. But I’d thought I was strong enough, smart enough, to stay immune. Clearly I wasn’t.
‘Don’t mess that up just because your pride is dented by my asking for an annulment,’ I said, trying to sound reasonable instead of terrified…and tempted. So, so tempted.
‘This isn’t about pride, Daisy. It’s about desire.’
His voice was as smooth as silk, so assured as it flowed over me. He took a step closer, close enough that I could breathe the woodsy scent of him again, and it made me dizzy.
‘I meant—’ I began, my voice wobbling, but I was silenced by the touch of his hands spanning my waist.
‘And this is what I meant.’
His palms were warm and strong through the thin material of my dress, pulling me towards him. I gasped out loud as he captured my mouth in a kiss that demanded—and I gave.
I’d been kissed only once before in my life, by a man I’d found odious. As Matteo’s lips came down on mine I instinctively braced myself for a similar experience—bad breath, slimy tongue, pawing hands.
It took only a millisecond for me to realise how ridiculous that notion was, how little I had to fear, and yet at the same time how much. Matteo’s kiss was as different from the first one I’d had as the ocean to a mud puddle.
His mouth possessed mine as he explored it with sensual thoroughness, obliterating thought and weakening my knees, his tongue and lips moving in a dance as old as the ages and yet feeling startlingly new. How could a kiss do so much? It was practically a weapon.
But he didn’t stop with a kiss. His hands moved from my waist to my breast, his palm cupping it with that same deft and shocking assuredness, his thumb running over the peak. I mewled. I actually mewled. I felt as if I didn’t know myself any more—this creature who melted like candle wax, who clamoured for more. Because I wanted more from him—more than a kiss, a caress. In that moment I wanted it all.
Without even realising what I was doing, I clenched my hands on the lapels of his tuxedo and opened my mouth under his, inviting him in. I stood on my tiptoes and swayed as he anchored his hands on my hips and tugged me towards him.
My hips collided with that particularly impressive and overwhelming part of his anatomy, and it was enough to send a blast of icy realisation through me.
I stumbled back.
What was I doing? What was he doing?
‘Don’t!’ I managed to gasp, even though everything in me was reeling, my senses exploding like fireworks as if my whole body had come alive under his hands, my skin still prickling with need.
‘Are you sure you mean that?’
Besides a slight flush on his blade-like cheekbones, Matteo looked remarkably unaffected. He sank his hands into his pockets, his gaze terribly cool. The realisation that his kiss had affected me far more than it had him was utterly humiliating, and sudden unfortunate tears stung my eyes.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I think I could convince you otherwise.’
Already the flush had left his face and he stood there, the archetype of assured arrogance, his shoulders thrust back, his jaw set, his eyes glittering—while I was still raggedly panting, my heart rate skittering all over the place.
‘Only to prove a point,’ I choked out as I willed my flush to fade and my heart to slow. ‘You’ve told me enough times already.’
‘What?’
He raised his eyebrows, sounding distinctly nonplussed by my statement. Did he not remember? Had he not realised how insultingly clear he’d been about making sure this was a marriage in name only? Didn’t he recall the scathing look he’d given me, the reassurance that he would have no need to take advantage?
Which, of course, had been what I wanted too. Still wanted. It was just that his contrary kiss had rocked me for a second. I was already recovering—or so I told myself.
I lifted my chin, heedless of the tears that I knew still sparkled in my eyes. ‘Come on, Matteo. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t find me…desirable.’ Stupidly, it hurt to say the words out loud.
Matteo gave me a smugly amused look, his lips curving, a surprising dimple appearing in one cheek. I realised I’d never actually seen him smile before—not properly.
‘I think I just pro
ved to you otherwise.’
‘You were proving something,’ I agreed, unable to keep hurt from lacing every word. ‘But I think it had more to do with power than need.’
The dark slashes of his eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘You didn’t want me going ahead with an annulment…doing something that isn’t sanctioned and signed off by you. I get it.’
I shook my head, suddenly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, with the aftershocks of his touch still zinging through me. It had taken all my emotional reserves to survive this encounter, after three years of peace and quiet and solitude.
What had I been thinking, coming here with my request? Knowing Matteo Dias would refuse it? Because I realised that while I still longed for a child, a family, the need as deep and fervent as ever, I didn’t have the strength to fight my husband for my freedom. Not when he held all the cards and had all the power.
‘You think that’s why I kissed you?’ Matteo demanded, sounding irritated by the idea.
I raised my shoulders in a weary shrug. ‘Are you saying differently—that you were suddenly overcome by passion for me and couldn’t control yourself?’ I let out a humourless laugh. ‘As if.’
Matteo’s frown deepened and he didn’t reply. His narrowed gaze was assessing and, I feared, would dismiss me in the space of a few seconds.
‘No, of course not,’ he said finally. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
His words should have vindicated me, but they only deflated me further. Of course that hadn’t been the case. He’d just been using me to prove a point—and suddenly I couldn’t bear it. I thought of the loathsome Chris Dawson again, the look of revulsion on his face as I stumbled away.
Do you honestly think you’re worth that much, sweetheart? You’re deluded.
I thought I’d wised up since then, but I could see now that I was still under the most unbearable delusion—thinking that someone like Matteo Dias would agree to my plan and bend to my will, even desire me as a woman, rather than make me a point to be proved.
In that moment I couldn’t fathom why I had come here at all. Had it simply been a perfect storm of memory and loss? The anniversary of my parents’ death, the marriage of my closest friend back on Amanos, the feeling that, as happy and busy as I was, I was still alone?
I was always alone, and I would always be alone as long as I was married to this man.
‘Never mind, Matteo.’ I choked the words out, wanting only to escape his ruthless, arrogant sneer and get to the solitude and safety of my hotel room. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay married to you. For another year, at least.’
I whirled around far too fast in my slinky dress and towering heels. I started to stumble and I gasped, flinging my hands out to break my inevitable fall, but then Matteo steadied me, his hands warm and firm on my shoulders.
‘Daisy…’ he said in a low voice.
He sounded…what? Sad? Apologetic? Or just exasperated at the fact that he’d had to deal with me at all and that I wasn’t doing as he bade?
‘I’ll leave for Amanos in the morning,’ I said, and, wrenching myself out of his arms, I hurried blindly from the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?
Daisy had left—that was what. And I had kissed her. A shockingly pleasurable kiss that had left me aching in a way I hadn’t in a long time. In fact, in living memory.
I released a shuddering breath as I raked a hand through my hair, my heart thudding a little too hard for my liking. And yet I also felt invigorated, fully alive, as if that kiss had shocked something dormant inside me and sprung it into life.
I was pulsing with both memory and desire even as I was trying to make sense of Daisy’s words, her hurt. She thought I didn’t desire her, when surely even the most innocent woman would have realised that I obviously did. And yet I had been as surprised by my desire as Daisy had—if not more so. I’d never expected to want the woman, and certainly not in the way that I had—with explosive and alarming force, as if a tsunami had crashed over the both of us, pulling us under.
I might have started to kiss her to prove a point, but it had become something else entirely. Something outrageous and overwhelming—even now I was half tempted to chase after her and prove to her just how much I desired her and how much she desired me. I’d felt it in the way her mouth had opened under mine, her hands pulling at my shoulders, drawing me to her.
The memory alone was enough to send heat searing through my body, and I took a step forward before I stilled.
No. I did not chase after women. And certainly not the likes of Daisy, wife or not. I should be relieved that she clearly regretted her ridiculous impulse to ask for an annulment. She’d leave for Amanos in the morning, and if I had my preference I’d never see her again—which was how I’d always wanted it.
So why did the prospect unsettle me? It almost made me feel guilty—as if I’d treated Daisy badly, when I knew I had not. I had given her a fortune, a home to live in, and required nothing from her save that she stay put. If she was no longer satisfied with the arrangement we’d agreed on, that was her fault—not mine.
And yet…I couldn’t get the image of her out of my mind. The ridiculous red dress that had highlighted her figure in such a breathtaking display, her cloud of light brown hair and the fractured hurt in her topaz eyes. And the reality was pressing in on me that I would need an heir. A proper wife. And the one I currently had might actually fit the bill. After all, Daisy had been happy enough with our convenient marriage. Why shouldn’t she be satisfied with what I had to offer her now—the ability to have a child, a family of her own? She could even stay on Amanos, as was her preference. And my own life wouldn’t have to change—at least not much.
Could it be that simple? Was it what I really wanted?
Mulling it over, I headed back to the party.
‘Matteo, you’ve been gone for ages.’
A skinny arm wound through my own as my companion for the evening pouted prettily up at me, no doubt thinking she looked seductive rather than petulant. I stared down at her, trying to remember her name.
‘Matteo?’
‘I had some business to take care of.’
I reached for a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray and drained it in one long swallow. Daisy’s image was still flashing behind my eyes. Those hurt eyes. Why did they unsettle me so much? I’d managed to completely forget Daisy for three years. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind now?
‘Business?’
The woman whose name I couldn’t remember deepened her pout, making her look like a sulky child. Did she honestly think that was alluring, or that I would care? I gazed down at her expertly made-up face and registered the calculation in her eyes.
As if on cue, she nestled closer to me.
‘This party’s rather dull, isn’t it? How about we go upstairs?’
She gave me a knowingly seductive look that normally would have had me smiling just as knowingly back, but for some reason it made my stomach clench and my body recoil. I didn’t want this woman. I wanted another one—with topaz eyes and a ridiculous red dress.
‘Matteo…?’
On any other evening I would have taken up this woman’s offer—and gladly. I’d arranged my marriage to satisfy my grandfather’s vindictive demand and also to grant me the minimum of inconvenience—and for the last three years I had been inconvenienced very little indeed. Yet now I thought of the paltry pleasures available to me and realised how little they appealed.
It was a strange thought, but I realised it was not a new one. Those pleasures had been palling for some time, and it had simply taken one shocking encounter with my wayward wife to make me realise it.
‘I’m busy tonight,’ I told the woman—Veronique, I’d remembered—and watched, unmoved, as her mouth d
ropped open in surprise and then her eyes narrowed.
‘It’s not that frumpy tramp, is it?’ she asked.
A sudden red-hot rage blazed through me. ‘You will not talk about her like that,’ I snapped.
Veronique’s expression managed to turn both smug and desolate. ‘It is her, then?’
I turned away without replying. Yes, it was her—frustratingly so—but I was not about to explain anything to the woman I’d just dismissed and forgotten. I strode through the ballroom, intent on assuaging this sudden, unsettling restlessness that surged through me.
I had any number of ways to do so, I told myself as I surveyed the ballroom, with its bevy of beautiful women, nearly any of whom would be happy to accompany me just about anywhere. A few caught my eye and smiled hopefully, but I looked away from them all, uninterested.
And that was the heart of the problem, I realised. I was restless in a way I hadn’t been before, and the pleasures that I had always enjoyed now seemed pointless and empty. It was as if I’d plumbed my soul and found unexpected depths. I wanted more than a one-night stand or a meaningless affair—more than yet another round of parties and social occasions to fill my evenings.
This had been building for a while, but now the ache was impossible to ignore. I was thirty-six years old and I felt jaded by life’s pleasures, too weary to want them any longer. But did I really want a wife? A real one?
‘You’re looking rather lonely, Matteo.’
I turned to see Lara, a woman I knew only as an acquaintance, sidling up to me. I smiled thinly at her and she cocked her head.
‘Perhaps you want company?’
She was beautiful, with long, tumbling black hair and vivid blue eyes, her mouth pursed in a provocative pout, her generous figure encased in ice-blue silk. An international lawyer, I remembered, based in London.
Already I could imagine how the evening would unfold—a bit of flirting, a few nuanced innuendoes, the building of expectation and then upstairs to bed. It had been a pleasurable dance for so long, but now it just felt like so many tired steps.
The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride Of Convenience: The Sicilian's Surprise Love-Child / Claiming My Bride of Convenience (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 19
