“Fine. I’ll have HR organize it.”
Giac stood with a nod. Lincoln’s cooperation had never been in doubt. Nonetheless it was a relief to have one less stumbling block in his way.
* * *
Annie replaced the receiver slowly, a small, quizzical frown on her face.
She had not been working on the Paris project at all.
She’d have to spend the next twenty four hours reading up on the requirements to be fit to go on the trip. Still. She smiled. Paris would be amazing.
Annie Carlton always arrived prepared. She took her job extremely seriously, and so she sacrificed sleep in the interest of being as prepared as possible for the negotiations ahead.
But when she arrived at City airport, tired and excited by the opportunity to work on something new, she realized she had missed one vital piece of information.
She’d failed to check the trip manifest. Had failed to realize that she’d be traveling with the gossipy Donna Mills, the man who ran Amicus, Lincoln Barrett, and the man she’d been dreaming about for over three years. The sinfully sexy, completely heart breaking Giacomo Medici.
Giac’s eyes locked with hers as she walked slowly through the airport. The sun was only just coming up; the sky tinged with pinks and yellows. Inside, it was a haze of shiny linoleum and fluorescent lights. Despite the earliness of the hour, crowds were milling, assembled at various queue points throughout the terminal.
And in the midst of it all, Giac. A shiver ran down her spine, and her insides clenched with red hot desire. Everyone else failed to exist, except him, and her, and the powerful sensations throbbing between them.
She was going to Paris with the man she loved, and it scared the heck out of her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You’re very adept at your work,” Giac said smoothly, as they rode the elevator at the end of a long day’s negotiations.
Annie’s heart hadn’t stopped racing. The ten or so coffees she’d drunk to get through the meetings hadn’t helped. Now, at the end of it, adrenalin alone was keeping her on her feet.
“Thank you,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. They were alone. For the first time in a week, it was just the two of them, and she didn’t know what to say. She hardly knew how to feel.
“No, thank you. Without your charm and skill, I’m sure this negotiation could have dragged on many weeks longer.”
She arched a brow, but still didn’t look at him. “That’s patently untrue. I did nothing except cement the last few details. It’s the team back at the office who worked everything out.”
“So modest,” he muttered, his voice not quite disguising his frustration.
She didn’t respond. She needed to be in the safety of her own hotel room. She needed a bath, a cup of tea, and bed. She had no ability to parry verbal spars with Giac at that point in time.
“You used to be better at taking compliments.”
She bit back on the urge to tell him she used to be a fool. “I know I’m good at what I do.”
“Not so modest, then,” he drawled, his deep voice tinged with amusement.
“I don’t like the idea that women – or anyone, I guess – should feel that they can’t be proud of their achievements. I’m not good at what I do by accident. I work my arse off so that I can be good at my job.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need you to compliment me, that’s all,” she huffed, looking away from him hurriedly.
The lift pinged to a stop. With a sense of gratitude, Annie maneuvered her suitcase out of the lift. She turned around to say good night to Giac, and bumped straight into him. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your room.”
As simple as that. Her eyes locked with his, and she felt her lungs burn with breathlessness. It was a slippery slope they were on. One wrong move and she knew where they’d end up.
Her cheeks flushed pink with anticipation, and the adrenalin that had sustained her all day took another dip.
It would be so simple. Just a quick nod of her head. An encouraging smile. And then what? The best sex of her life until he moved on, again?
“I can walk there just fine on my own. Thanks, all the same.”
His expressive features were darkly annoyed. “Annie,” he said, reaching out on the pretense of tucking an ebony swathe of hair behind her ear. “Let’s have a drink together. For old time’s sake.”
She bit down on her lip. “I’m not so sure old times are worth drinking to.”
Giac felt an increasing desire to pull her into his arms and kiss some sense into her. “Why can’t you let this go? Why can’t we start from scratch?”
“You must be kidding me?” She whispered, her eyes scanning his face, looking for a trace of a joke. “There is no starting from scratch in life, Giac. You know that.”
“I am getting divorced. That is starting from scratch.”
Annie had heard the expression ‘seeing red’ many times. Now, she lived it. “Fine,” she muttered, storming ahead of him down the carpeted corridor, counting the numbers until she reached her own. She inserted the card in the gold door locking mechanism and stepped inside. It was a beautiful room. As she quickly surveyed the setup, she took in the king size bed, the cream sofa, the view of the Eiffel Tower just visible through the gauze curtains.
Giac clicked the door closed, and Annie whipped around.
“Being divorced by your wife doesn’t make a fresh start for us,” she picked up the thread of their conversation as if they hadn’t left off.
“Why not?” He demanded, his relaxed pose belied by a tensely watchful expression.
Her laugh was scoffing. “Because I don’t want you anymore,” she lied, angling her body away from him, so that he wouldn’t see the way her pulse was hammering beneath the thin skin of her neck; the way her nipples were hardened beneath the dress she’d worn that day.
“I didn’t think you capable of dishonesty with me.” He was right behind her. His hands on her hips, turning her to face him. She didn’t resist. The fight inside of her was hard enough to wage. Let alone battling with him, too.
“It’s true,” she stammered, her green eyes looking anywhere but at him.
“You want me as much now as you did then.”
“No.” The denial died on her lips, as he crushed his mouth to hers. She groaned. Her need was inexplicable. It was fierce and hard, and impossible to deny.
“You want me.”
His body was warm against hers; his hands so strong and so supportive against her body. She felt a sob in her throat. “Yes.” She pulled at his belt buckle, and out of nowhere, she knew that a part of her would die if they didn’t make love. Immediately. She couldn’t deny her body the pleasure any longer. She dropped the belt onto the ground and flicked the button of his pants open. One quick movement of the zipper and she freed him over the top of his underwear. “God,” she groaned, holding his arousal in her hands, remembering the sensation, needing to feel it again.
Giac’s eyes glittered as he looked down at her. He was insane with need, but he was still lucid enough to know what they were about to do. “Annie, are you sure?”
“Yes,” she thrust her hips forward, silently inviting him to take her, to pleasure her, to claim her anew. She’d waited and wanted for too long.
He barely had the presence of mind to place protection on himself, but he did. Their complete dependence was too enormous to accept delay. He pulled her underwear down her legs and entered her in one swift movement, crying out as her muscles clenched around him.
He felt a dam in his chest burst, as they moved as one. Not prone to emotionalism, Giac felt a lump in his throat.
“Annie,” he moaned against her hair, holding her to him as he thrust into her again. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, staring into her green eyes, her passion ravaged face. He held her hands above her head, kissing her sensitive inner wrists.
When she reached her climax, he held her close, and whispered
in her ear. He spoke in his native Italian, because everything else seemed to have fallen from his brain. He kept her safe in the circle of his arms, as the corners of her world fell apart completely. And then, he unleashed his control and tumbled after her, releasing himself silently.
His heart was hammering against his chest. He waited for the breathing to slow, for the moment to pass, and then he rolled off her, pulling her with him, so that her head was cradled against his chest.
The first fingers of remorse were swift to punctuate her sexual haze. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Giac, and wishing their story could be fixed. That she could love someone else, with this same desperate passion.
But she couldn’t.
She loved Giac, and only Giac.
And now they’d slept together.
She cursed angrily. It was just a whisper but it was full of venom.
“Shhhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair.
She shook her head, pushing up from his chest. When she looked down, she realized she was still wearing her clothes. They hadn’t even had enough patience to undress. She winced. The evidence of her sexual cravenness was all around her. The belt that had been discarded on the floor, her underwear crumpled against the wall. She shook her head, and lifted fingers to her shaking lips.
It shouldn’t have happened.
Her green eyes pricked with tears. “I hate you.”
Giac stood up. “No, you don’t. You love me.”
Her eyes were wide, her shock obvious. “That’s a very arrogant assumption.” Though accurate, she admitted to herself. She decided it would be more embarrassing to bend down and replace her underwear, so she stalked past them into the small kitchenette. She flicked the kettle and stared at the impressive view while the water boiled. Giac was only seconds behind her.
“Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I used to love you.”
“I know.” He remembered how she’d looked at him back then. Like a kid in a candy store. Her face had shown exactly what he felt. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for you to forget what happened. I just want another chance.”
“I’d be an idiot to trust you again,” she murmured, fishing a tea bag out of the caddy and placing it into her mug. She sloshed some boiled water in on top, and watched, transfixed, as the golden color bled through the water.
“I loved you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“That’s even more reason not to trust you,” she pointed out, finally looking into his eyes. “You loved me, or say you did. But you had no problems ripping my heart out and tearing it to shreds.”
He narrowed his gaze. “It was an impossible situation.”
“Life is full of impossible situations. But you threw me under a bus at the first sign of trouble.”
It was an expression he was not familiar with, though he could guess its meaning easily enough. Giac swore, loud and harshly, into the dimly lit kitchen. “I should never have got involved with you. It was weak and unforgivable. I was engaged, Annie! For God’s sake, Carrie and I had been together since we were kids. Our wedding was weeks away. Then I met you, and everything I thought I wanted was blown to pieces.”
Annie kept her breathing level with effort. “I think you should go now.”
“Damn it, Annie, did you hear what I just said? That wasn’t easy for me.”
“Don’t.” She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare tell me our situation wasn’t easy for you. You got to carry on with the life you’d planned for yourself. What did I get? Memories. And even those were destroyed by what you did.” She shook her head. “Instead of being able to remember an amazing, albeit short, relationship with a man I loved, I had to suffer the ignominy of knowing that I was just a fling to you. That I would, forever, be ‘the other woman’, in your relationship.”
He was silent a long time, as emotions chased themselves over his face. “And yet you’ve just made love to me, while your boyfriend sits faithfully at home back in London.”
She lifted the tea to her lips, then put it down without drinking from the cup. “Thomas and I broke up.”
Giac didn’t respond at first. Then, quietly, he demanded, “When?”
“A few nights ago.”
He turned away from her, and stood, staring at the bed, his hands firmly planted on his hips. “When were you going to tell me?”
She frowned. “Why would I tell you? It had nothing to do with you.”
“You’re killing me, cara. Why can’t you admit that there’s still something between us? That you broke up with him for me?”
“Because I don’t want there to be!” She retorted fiercely. “You are the last person on earth I want to have in my life. I will never forgive you for what you did. Even if, somehow, I managed to get over the past, and we were in a relationship together, I’d always worry that you were going behind my back. Relationships that start out of infidelity never work out.”
“Is that a fact?” He responded, exasperation making his voice more accented than usual.
“I know myself.” She said on a heavy exhalation of breath. “I wouldn’t be able to forget what you’re capable of.” Her expression was bleak. “You ruined it. Don’t you see?”
He shook his head. “I want you.”
“I know. But what we had isn’t something you can just recapture. You’re different, and I’m different.” She walked away from the kitchen, tea forgotten. “I suggest you find some other ingénue to impress. The girl I used to be is long gone. And I have you to thank for that.”
One of Giac’s strengths was his tenacity. Many times, he’d had reasons to walk away from a development. But, if he believed it was worth it, he always refused to let go.
And Annie was worth it.
“Give me twenty four hours of your life, bella. Let me show you how wrong you are about me.”
Annie knew he wouldn’t be able to change her mind. He’d been so attentive. So perfect. So absolutely gorgeous, three years ago. And all the while, a woman in America had been pining away for him. He’d made it so easy for Annie to fall in love with him, when he already had a woman’s heart firmly in his grip.
But what if he’d changed too? What if she was wrong? What if letting go of what they had was the biggest mistake of her life? She’d go to her grave wondering, unless she gave him a chance.
“Fine.” Her expression was laced with doubt. “One day. And at the end of it, you leave me alone for good, if that’s what I want.”
His smile was enigmatic. And, as she stared into his dark eyes, she had the sensation that she was being pulled down, into a deep, dark well. Ridiculously, though, she was smiling back at him.
* * *
“You picked a lousy twenty four hours,” Annie said, as she yawned for the tenth time in an hour.
He laughed. “I didn’t realize I’d be taking a zombie to dinner,” he agreed. “Though the most beautiful zombie I’ve ever seen.” The light cast by the Eiffel tower bathed her face in gold. It had been, by anyone’s standards, a perfect evening.
They’d managed to avoid any conversations that led back to his marriage, by silent and mutual agreement.
“Do you come to Paris often?” She asked, as their coffees were placed on the table.
“Several times a year,” he said, lifting the short black to his lips and drinking it in one motion.
“I’ve never been,” she said on a sigh.
He frowned. “But you grew up in London.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I was always focused on my work. School work. University work. Now work work.”
“It’s a train ride away,” he disputed, with a shake of his head.
She shrugged. “I just never made time for it.” And because they were pretending that this was a simple equation – a date between two people with an overwhelming attraction and no messy history to speak of– she elaborated. “I felt an enormous pressure to do well. I still do,
I suppose. Stu, my older brother, was smart, athletic, and artistic.” She pulled a face. “I was smart. It was my thing. The only thing I really could lay claim to.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, his dark eyes hooded as he watched her.
“When I was eight, I was skipped a year level. That was it.” Her smile was goofy. “I loved how it felt. The praise. The attention. But at the same time, I became terrified of losing all that. Of waking up one day to realize that I’m not that clever after all.”
He nodded, but that at least explained one question he’d held for years. Annie had been too young, when they’d been together. Too young for someone to have graduated with honors from Oxford, and to have landed a plum job at the blue-chip Amicus. That extra year, and her obsession with succeeding, explained a lot.
“Which is why I stayed up all night preparing for this rather routine trip,” she said, with a shrug of her slender shoulders.
“It showed,” his voice was thick with admiration.
“You mean I look tired,” she teased, sipping her coffee, thinking that it really was the drink of the Gods.
It wasn’t what he’d meant, and they both knew it.
“Why do you come to Paris so often?” She asked, changing the subject.
He leaned back in his chair, staring across the Seine at the monument that was famous the world over. “The first business I ever acquired was in Paris.”
“How old were you?”
He arched his brows. “Twenty one.”
“Twenty one!” She exhaled with a shake of her head. “And I thought I was an over achiever.” She leaned forward, unconsciously forming a mirror of his reclined position. “Have you been back to London? Since… since…”
He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t.” His expression was serious, his eyes glowing with some unknown emotion.
She frowned. “Amicus Incorporated isn’t the only interest you have in the UK, though. I’m surprised, frankly.”
“Are you really?” He leaned forward, catching her hands in his. He flipped his grip, so that her palm faced upwards. He traced an invisible pattern on the soft flesh there.
Her stomach was turning over in response to the strangely erotic way he was teasing her skin.
The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her. Page 7
