Blackmailed into the Marriage Bed

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘For God’s sake, Isaac.’ Ailsa laughed but, to her chagrin, it sounded a little fake. ‘I’m only twenty-nine. There’s still plenty of time yet to decide if I want to go down that track.’

  ‘Remember when you gave away all your childhood toys a few years back? All your dolls and stuff? I wondered why you would do that if you planned to have kids of your own some day.’

  ‘I was doing a clean-up,’ Ailsa said. ‘All that stuff was taking up too much space at Mum’s place after the divorce.’

  ‘That wasn’t the only thing,’ Isaac said. ‘You used to go all goochy-goochy-goo and embarrassing when you saw someone with a pram. Now you look the other way.’

  No wonder her brother was an ace golfer. He had eyesight like an eagle’s. ‘Not every woman is cut out to be a mother. I have my career in any case and—’

  ‘But you’d be a great mum, Ails.’ He used his pet name for her, the name he had called her when he’d been too young to pronounce her name properly—except back then he’d had an adorable lisp. ‘Sometimes I think you’ve been better at it than Mum. She’s never been all that maternal, especially with you.’

  ‘It’s not going to happen,’ Ailsa said. ‘And certainly not with Vinn.’

  ‘Oh... I didn’t realise there were problems. But you can have IVF. It’s not like Vinn couldn’t afford it.’

  ‘I do not need IVF.’ And she could almost guarantee nor did Vinn. ‘It’s a choice I’ve made and I would appreciate it if everyone would damn well accept it.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to call and say thanks for agreeing to the sponsorship. You have no idea what this means to me. I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the pro circuit without Vinn’s help. Three years all expenses paid. It’s a dream offer.’

  Ailsa wished she hadn’t sounded so...so defensive. ‘I’m sorry for biting your head off. I’m just feeling a little emotional right now. Vinn’s grandfather is still in ICU and it’s—’

  ‘Yeah, he told me about that. It’s kind of cool you’re there with him, supporting him through such a tough time.’

  I’m not here by choice. The words were on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t say them out loud. Besides, she had made a choice. She had chosen to accept Vinn’s deal and now she had to lie on the bed she had made.

  Her only consolation was Vinn had joined her in it.

  * * *

  Vinn had left Ailsa to sleep in because he didn’t trust himself not to reach for her again. And again and again and again. The need she awakened in him was ferocious. Ferocious and greedy and out of control, and the one thing he needed right now was to be in control. They could have a one-month fling. It would serve two purposes: get his grandfather through the danger period and draw a final line under Vinn’s relationship with Ailsa.

  He’d phoned the hospital first thing and the ICU specialist had informed him his grandfather was still stable. It was good news but he didn’t feel he could relax until his grandfather was off the ventilator and conscious again and truly out of danger.

  Vinn knew Ailsa had only slept with him to prove a point—to prove he couldn’t resist her. Which was pretty much true. He couldn’t. But in time he would be able to. He would make sure of it. He would have to because their relationship had a time limit on it and he was adamant about enforcing it. He would have liked three months with her because three months would have given his grandfather ample time to recuperate. But he’d agreed to the compromise because three months was a long time for her to be away from her business. In the two years since she’d left him she had built up a successful interior decorating business that had enormous potential for expansion. It was a little unsettling to think she had only achieved that success once she’d left him. He hadn’t intended to hold her back career-wise but she had seemed unhappy and unfulfilled in her previous job and he’d thought she would jump at the chance of being his wife, with all the benefits the position entailed.

  Their affair had been so intense and passionate and he hadn’t wanted to lose her...or at least not like that. He’d thought an offer of marriage would demonstrate his commitment even if he hadn’t been in love with her. He had never been in love with anyone. He wasn’t sure he had the falling in love gene. Maybe he was more like his father than he realised.

  Although, unlike his father, he devoted himself to his work, to the business he had saved and rebuilt out of the ashes his father had left. He was proud of what he had achieved. It had taken guts and sacrifice and discipline to bring it back from the brink but he had done it. He’d owed it to his grandfather to restore the family business built over generations, to undo the damage his father had inflicted. He had built up the Gagliardi name to be something to be proud of again, instead of something of which to be ashamed.

  But making love with Ailsa again reminded him of all the reasons why he’d wanted her in the first place. Would a month be enough to get her out of his system? Or would it only feed the fire still smouldering deep inside him that he had relentlessly, ruthlessly tried to smother with work?

  * * *

  Ailsa came downstairs but was a little miffed to find Vinn had left the villa without speaking to her first. There was a note left on the kitchen bench informing her he had gone to visit his grandfather. Surely he could have walked upstairs to deliver the message in person? Why hadn’t he? And why hadn’t he taken her with him to the hospital? Wouldn’t his grandfather be expecting her to be by Vinn’s side? But then she recalled Vinn telling her his grandfather was being kept on a ventilator for a few days until he recovered from the surgery. It appeased her slightly, but still it was a chilling reminder of the charade they were playing. He would only want her ‘on task’ when his grandfather was awake and conscious.

  And, of course, when Vinn had her in his bed. She was annoyed with herself for making love with him so soon. Damn it. Why hadn’t she kept her distance? It was as if he had the upper hand again. He knew how much she wanted him. He wanted her too, which was some minor consolation, but she would be a fool to think he would always want her. Once their divorce was final he would move on. He would not spend weeks, months, almost two years remembering and missing and aching for every touch, every kiss, every passionate encounter. He wouldn’t be curled up lonely in bed, wishing she were back in his arms. He would find someone else to have his babies for him and would not give her another thought, while she would be left with her memories of him and her regrets over what she wanted but couldn’t have.

  Ailsa had finished making some calls to her assistant Brooke in her studio back in London when she heard the front door of the villa open. But the footsteps sounded nothing like Vinn’s firm purposeful stride. She poked her head around the sitting room door to see the elderly housekeeper Carlotta shuffling in carrying some shopping.

  ‘So you’re back.’ The old woman’s tone could hardly be described as welcoming but Ailsa refused to be intimidated.

  ‘Can I help you with those bags?’

  Carlotta grudgingly allowed Ailsa to take the bags and carry them to the kitchen. Ailsa placed them on the bench and began unpacking them. ‘Why are you here today? Vinn told me you had this week off.’

  ‘How long are you staying?’ The housekeeper’s gaze was as sharp as her voice.

  Ailsa shifted her lips from side to side, wondering if she should try a different tack with Vinn’s housekeeper. In the past she had been quick to bite out of hurt, but she wondered now if that had been the wrong approach. ‘I’m only staying a month. I presume Vinn told you his plan to keep me here until Dom is out of danger?’

  Carlotta made a sound like a snort and glanced at the rings on Ailsa’s hand. ‘Long enough for you to get your hands on more expensive jewellery, no doubt. I’m surprised you didn’t pawn those when you had the chance.’

  Ailsa reined in her temper with an effort. ‘I didn’t take them with me. I left them in Vinn’s
bedside drawer. I left everything he gave me behind—but surely you know that?’

  Carlotta’s expression flickered with puzzlement for a moment but then her features came back to her default position of haughty disapproval. ‘Why are you back now if not for money? How much is he paying you?’

  Ailsa could feel her cheeks giving her away. ‘It’s not about the money... It’s about Dom’s health and my brother’s—’

  ‘It was always about the money,’ Carlotta said. ‘You didn’t love him. You’ve never loved Vinn. You just wanted to be married to a rich and powerful man to bolster your self-esteem.’

  Ailsa bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself flinging back a retort. But, in a way, Carlotta had hit the nail on the head with startling accuracy. She had married Vinn for the wrong reasons. She had so wanted to be normal and acceptable, and what better way to prove it than to marry a man everyone looked up to and admired for his drive and focus and wealth? It had certainly helped that she’d found him irresistibly attractive. But she had grown to love him over the short time they were married, which was why she’d been so terrified when he’d brought up the topic of having a family.

  How could she give him what he most wanted?

  ‘If you cared about him you would have come back when his father died,’ Carlotta said.

  ‘I didn’t know his father had died until he told me about it the day before yesterday.’ Had it only been two days? It shamed Ailsa to think Vinn had managed to lure her back into his bed in little more than forty-eight hours. Had she so little willpower? So little self-respect?

  Carlotta gave her a disbelieving look and then made a business of unloading the shopping out of the bags. ‘He wasn’t close to his father but it brought back a lot of memories for him about when his mother died. And where was his wife when all this was going on? Living it up in London with not even the decency to call him or send a card and flowers.’

  Ailsa decided to ignore the dig at her supposed lack of decency in order to pursue the subject of Vinn’s mother’s death and the impact it had on him. She’d tried to get him to talk about it but he’d always resisted. Should she try again? ‘I didn’t realise you were close to Vinn’s mother. What was she like?’

  Carlotta’s expression lost some of its tightness. ‘She was a wonderful person. Warm and friendly and loving and she loved Vinn so much. Motherhood suited her. Vinn was what she lived for. She should never have married Vinn’s father but he was a charming suitor and she was shy and got swept off her feet before she realised what he was truly like.’ She gave a heartfelt sigh and folded one of the shopping bags into a neat square. ‘Vinn took her death hard, but then what four-year-old wouldn’t? He used to be such a happy outgoing child but after his mother was taken from him he changed. Became more serious and hardly ever smiled. It was like he grew up overnight.’

  ‘Her death must have hit you hard too,’ Ailsa said.

  Carlotta gave a sad twist of her mouth. ‘I worked for her as a housekeeper but we became friends. When Vinn moved in with his grandparents I came too. I’ve worked on and off for the Gagliardi family for most of my life. In some ways they are my family.’

  ‘I can see now why you only wanted the best for Vinn,’ Ailsa said, toying with an imaginary crumb on the kitchen bench. ‘No wonder you didn’t accept me.’

  The elderly housekeeper looked at her for a long moment. ‘I would have accepted you if I’d thought you loved him.’

  ‘We didn’t have that type of relationship,’ Ailsa said. ‘I know it’s hard for you to understand but he didn’t love me either so—’

  ‘So you didn’t have the courage to love him regardless.’ The barb of disapproval was back in the old woman’s tone.

  Was loving Vinn a courageous or a crazy thing to do? Lusting after him was madness enough. Loving him would be emotional suicide because even if by some remote chance he grew to love her, what would he think of her once he found out she was the child of a ghastly criminal?

  * * *

  After spending the rest of the day reflecting on her conversation with Carlotta, Ailsa decided more could be served by drawing Vinn out about his childhood. She needed to try harder to understand him, to get to know the man he was behind the successful businessman. But she couldn’t do that if she was constantly falling into bed with him. Making love with him within forty-eight hours of seeing him after a twenty-two month separation was a pathetic indictment on her part. How had she succumbed so quickly? So readily? Why couldn’t she have gone ahead with the charade without sleeping with him, as he’d first proposed?

  Like that was ever going to work.

  She had to get a grip on her self-control. Sex with Vinn was delightfully distracting but she needed to get to know him better. What motivated him to work so hard? What had made him marry a woman he didn’t love when he could have had anyone? What was it about her that made him make such a commitment without love as the motivation?

  She knew the more she slept with him the harder it would be to leave when the month was up. She had to keep reminding herself she was in the process of divorcing him. This was not a fairy tale where the handsome prince came riding back into town to claim his princess bride. This was a fake reconciliation in order to reduce the stress on an elderly man during a medical crisis.

  Ailsa moved some of her clothes out of the walk-in wardrobe and into the bedroom she’d used the first night, further down the corridor from Vinn’s. She was resetting her boundaries, making sure he got the message she wasn’t the pushover he thought she was. Did he really think ten million pounds would buy her back into his bed? She’d scratched the itch and now the itch would have to go away. Or if it didn’t she would damn well ignore it because it was time she made it absolutely clear to him that he didn’t have the same hold over her as he had in the past. If they were going to sleep together then they would have to talk as well. Use not just their bodies but also their minds. To connect in the way they should have done in the first place.

  Ailsa came out of the en suite bathroom of the spare bedroom to find Vinn waiting for her.

  ‘Why have you moved your things in here?’ He waved a hand towards the pile of clothes on the bed she hadn’t yet put away.

  She tightened the towel she was wearing around her body. ‘Because I think it’s best if we keep things on a platonic basis for now.’

  ‘Platonic?’ The mockery in his tone was as jarring as the raking look he gave her towel-clad body. ‘A bit late for that, don’t you think?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have slept with you. You caught me in a weak moment. It won’t be repeated. We need to talk to each other instead of having sex. Really talk.’

  He came to stand in front of her. ‘Such a stubborn little thing.’ He stroked the upper curves of her breasts showing above the towel. ‘You want me and yet you deny yourself because you think it will give me an edge.’

  Ailsa wasn’t too happy about being so transparent. ‘The trouble with you, Vinn, is you’re not used to someone saying no to you.’

  He smiled a lazy smile and sent his finger on another slow journey, this time to her cleavage, dipping his finger into the space between her breasts. ‘You say no with your words but your body says an emphatic yes.’

  Ailsa trembled under his touch, the leisurely movement of his finger against the sensitive flesh of her breasts making her nipples tighten and ripples of pleasure flow through the rest of her body. Before she’d met Vinn, her breasts were just breasts. Things that had sprouted on her chest when she was thirteen. Things she put in her bra and checked once a month for lumps. But since his hands and mouth had explored and tasted and tantalised them, she couldn’t even look at her breasts without thinking about his dark head bent over them and his wickedly clever lips and tongue and teeth, and the sensual havoc they could do to her.

  She glanced at his tanned finger against the creamy whiteness of her cleavage, her breath
stalling in her throat and rampant need spiralling through her body. How could her body betray her like this? How could it be so needy and hungry and greedy for his touch? He slid his finger deeper into the valley of her cleavage. Well, valley was probably a bit of an exaggeration. But, even though her breasts were on the small side, that had never seemed to matter to Vinn. He made her feel as if she could have been a lingerie model. ‘Vinn... I...’

  ‘Don’t talk, cara.’ He brought his mouth to the edge of hers, playing with her lips with his in a teasing come-and-play-with-me nudge. ‘Just feel.’

  Ailsa was pretty much incapable of speech. Saying no or pretending she didn’t want him seemed pointless when her body was on fire and red-hot need was clawing at her insides with rapacious hunger. Had she ever been able to say no to Vinn? ‘I’m going to hate myself for this tomorrow,’ she said and bumped her lips against his.

  ‘It’s just sex.’ He gave her lips another nudge and then followed it up with a bone-melting sweep of his tongue.

  Ailsa glanced up into his eyes. ‘Is it just sex?’

  ‘What else could it be?’ His mouth did another teasing movement against hers, making any thought of resisting him move even further out of her reach.

  She braced herself against the surge of lust roaring through her body by placing one of her hands flat against his chest, the other somehow holding her towel in place. ‘But why now? It seems so...so out of the blue. We’ve had zero contact other than through our lawyers for almost two years.’

  His stubble grazed her cheek as he shifted position to go back to just below her ear. ‘Because I’ve missed you.’

  Ailsa shivered when his tongue found the shell of her ear. He’d missed her? Her old friend sarcasm came on duty before any romantic notions could take a foothold. She eased back a little to look at him eye to eye. ‘But you knew where I was. There was nothing to stop you coming to see me in London. You didn’t even call me or send a text. The only communication I got was through your lawyer a month later, once I’d instigated the divorce.’