The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her.

by Connelly, Clare

  He nodded slowly. “So you want to lie to them.”

  “It’s not lying,” she said quietly. “Not exactly. We are technically still married. We’ll just leave out a few details.”

  “You’ve signed the divorce papers. How does that make us still married?”

  “Even once the papers are lodged, the divorce will take ages to come through.”

  “And you’re desperate for that, aren’t you?”

  “As are you, Niko. Don’t pretend you don’t want out of this marriage.” She tried and failed to quell her hurt anger.

  “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said thickly. “It wouldn’t do either of us any good to examine what I want right now.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you?” He slammed his scotch glass down onto the marble counter top and pulled her roughly against his chest. Her mouth parted in an ‘oh’ of surprise and he kissed her, hard, and rough, with a desire to taste and punish. “I want you,” he ground out against her teeth, scooping her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. He pushed her back against the fridge, and felt her surrender as her fingers slipped into his hair, pulling and feeling, and her tongue clashed frantically with his.

  She lifted his top over his head, only breaking the kiss for the briefest of seconds. She dug her nails into his back, feeling his taught muscles move beneath his satin smooth skin.

  “I want you too,” she whispered fiercely. “I wish I didn’t, but, Niko, God, please…”

  “At least your lies only extend to your family,” he said throatily, ripping at her jeans so that he could pull them down. With an impatient groan, he set her down and removed them completely before lifting her back up and imprisoning her between his chest and the fridge. She had the chance to end this, but there was no way in hell she could. She wanted him with a passion that would eat her alive if she didn’t indulge it. Consequences were guaranteed, but worse than the fallout of having sex with her husband would be if she didn’t.

  She pushed his jeans down and released him from his boxers, gasping as she remembered the feel of his erection in her hands. His eyes flared with desire as she ran her fingers up and down the length of him, her face flushed with animalistic desire. He didn’t want to wait a second longer. Hell, she was his wife, as she’d just pointed out.

  And he plunged into her, deep and hard and fast, groaning loudly as her sweet muscles wrapped around him and convulsed. She screamed with the built-up tension and dug her heels into his back, scratching her nails down his arms, her head tilted back with eyes firmly shut.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she shouted into the dimly lit kitchen, grinding her hips and panting as waves of desire rolled through her.

  He felt her orgasm around him and gritted his teeth. God, his control was thin where this woman was concerned. He thrust once more and felt it slip away completely, as his release shattered him completely.

  He hadn’t planned it, but it had felt necessary, and it had felt right. One time, he would have said that he loved her too much to ever have sex with her out of anger, or hate. He had loved her, and she’d thrown it back in his face. So what if he used their incandescent sexual chemistry to achieve his own ends? This was just sex, wasn’t it? And when it was this good, how could it be bad?

  Her head was resting on his shoulder as her breathing returned to normal, and he eased her to the ground now, pulling out of her and putting distance between them at the same time. He heard her groan at his removal and ignored the way he clenched in response. It was just sex.

  “At least there’ll be a silver lining to this farce,” he said, his tone more gruff than he’d intended.

  Bianca’s insides were melting with the force of satisfaction she’d just experienced so it took a minute for his words to penetrate the fog of her brain.

  “I’m sorry?” She said, watching as he returned to the bench, picked up his drink and cradled the scotch tumbler in his hands.

  “Sex, Bianca. If you expect me to play the part of your husband, I expect you to play the part of my wife.”

  She fluttered a hand to her neck and fingered the collar of her top in a nervous gesture.

  “I guess I hadn’t thought about that side of things.”

  “Then think about it now,” he bit out coldly. “I’ll go along with this charade, but I will want you back in my bed. For my exclusive use.”

  “Use!” She retorted hotly, sliding her briefs up her legs to hide how upset she was. “That makes it sound so… cheap and tawdry.”

  He shrugged. “I call it as I see it. You were quite happy to spread your legs for anyone who showed an interest when we were married. It shouldn’t be too hard to climb back into my bed now.”

  “Why are you talking like this?” She whispered, trying to match this man with the man who had made her love him. The man who had been good and kind and gentle and funny.

  “This is who I am now,” he answered swiftly. “You did this to me, Bianca. It’s only appropriate that you should be forced to live with the consequences of what you created.”

  “I told you that night, Nik, it’s not what you think.”

  He moved a dismissive hand through the air. “I do not want to hear more lies. The mountain of evidence is impossible to explain in any other way. I will not discuss it with you anymore.”

  Bianca swallowed. “I won’t do it,” she said stonily. “You can’t make me sleep with you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to make you sleep with me, cara. You weren’t here for five minutes tonight before you were coming in my arms.”

  She reached down and picked up her jeans, but her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t even attempt pulling them on.

  “You arrogant bastard,” she stammered, turning away from him, the pain inside her so raw she quivered.

  “It’s your choice, Bianca. If you want me to fool your family, you should know what you’re getting into.”

  * * *

  “Jesus, are you kidding me?”

  Niko grimaced. Marcos’s reaction had been pretty much what he’d expected.

  “She caught me by surprise. It never occurred to me that our marriage breakdown wasn’t public knowledge.”

  Marcos swore in his own tongue. “I saw what you were like, Nik. I don’t want you to go through that again. I’m sorry to say it, but you were hanging on by a thread after she left you.”

  “That won’t happen this time. We’re both on the same page.”

  “This is why I don’t get involved with women,” Marcos said cynically into the phone. “You’re a smart guy, Nik, but where Bianca is concerned, you’re an idiot.”

  “Not anymore,” Nik swore through gritted teeth. “Let’s just say that having had the wool pulled from my eyes once is a protection against future idiocy.”

  “So what? You’re really going to go through with this elaborate deception?”

  “It’s not such a deception. We are, as a point of fact, still married.”

  “In the process of a divorce after she cheated on you. For years.”

  Nik compressed his lips. He had told Marcos, and Marcos alone, the full story behind his abrupt marriage failure. He found now that he didn’t like having the salient fact forced back in his face.

  “I am well aware of that.”

  Marcos’s short laugh was silent. “Okay, okay. Touchy subject, I take the hint. Just watch yourself, Niko. She might have the body of a goddess and the face of an angel, but Bianca Casacelli’s heart is pure poison apple. Don’t bite into it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The wedding photo was back in the hallway. It was the first thing she noticed when two months later, she returned to the home they’d once shared. With a throat that was almost fully constricted with tension, she walked quietly towards it, unable to pull her eyes away from the evidence of their love.

  It wasn’t one of the professional photographs. They had been stunning, but too like a magazine photo shoot for Bianca’s liki
ng. The one and only picture they’d had printed had been taken by Sarah, during their first dance. Bianca was whispering into Niko’s ear, standing on tiptoe to be heard above the music, and his handsome face was filled with love, contentment and pride. She remembered the moment as clearly as if it were yesterday. Except it was a lifetime ago, now.

  That love was gone. Dead and buried. Unfortunately, she had to spend the next two weeks picking through the detritus of the graveyard, and the whole pretence felt like an exercise in agony, now.

  The December weather had turned arctic, and the flurry of snow that had fallen as she’d emerged from the cab was turning to water droplets on her coat. Distracted from the wedding photo, she slipped out of her jacket and scarf and draped them over the hall stand.

  She wouldn’t have been human if she weren’t curious. It had been a long time since she’d lived with Niko. What had changed in his life? Apart from the hardening of his heart to resemble stone.

  With the house to herself, she slipped upstairs, to the room that had been their bedroom. Stepping inside was like being sucked through a strange temporal vortex. With a deep breath, she moved around the edges, running her hands over the furniture she’d lovingly chosen. Her picture was on his side of the bed; he’d taken it one of the first nights they’d met, when she had thought him simply the most devastatingly charming man alive. Something to remember me by? She’d said with a goofy grin as he’d snapped the image. I won’t need to remember you, cara mia, Niko had said smoothly. Bianca hadn’t understood, but later, he’d told her that he’d simply meant he was never going to let her out of his sight.

  She ran a finger across the glass front, trying to remember what it was like to smile like that. She looked so happy. As though the whole world was an endless playing field designed for her pleasure and enjoyment. She hadn’t known then that past decisions would haunt her bright future, making that happiness simply the shadow of a dream. An unattainable hoax.

  “Welcome home.”

  She spun on her heel, feeling like a toddler caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. “I didn’t think you’d be here. You’re not supposed to be home.”

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes focused on her mouth, so that even at this distance, she felt her body’s traitorous reaction. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t welcome my wife back after such a lengthy absence?”

  “The fake kind,” she snapped hotly, aware that her nipples were straining against her cashmere top.

  “As we’ve agreed, this will very much feel like a real marriage, in the most important ways.”

  She colored at his reminder, but he was right. She had agreed to his terms. Hell, it was almost all she’d been able to think about since the last time she’d seen him. It wasn’t like sleeping with him would be a hardship. Her body had been begging her to fall back into Niko’s bed. She was privately aching to oblige it.

  He expelled a harsh sigh, mistaking her silence for regret. “Relax, cara, I’m not an animal. I have no intention of ravaging you right here and now.” But he stalked across the room like a panther, until he stood just before her. He dragged the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, mesmerized by the way her breathing immediately quickened. “This is for you.”

  She blinked, her eyes the exact color of the ocean outside his Greek villa, he thought appreciatively. Bianca looked down into his hands, at the small box he held there. And immediately she flashed back to the first time she’d seen that box, almost three years earlier.

  “You are the moon to my stars, the sun to my world. You are the air I breathe, and the fire in my soul. If you agree to marry me, I will spend the rest of my days making you the happiest woman on earth.” His proposal had sucked the air out of her lungs, and she’d known in that moment what pure delirium felt like.

  Now, as he slipped the enormous black diamond solitaire back on her ring finger, she felt the exact opposite. Despair so real it was like flames licking the sensitive soles of her feet. How could she pretend to be married to the man she had never stopped loving, when he clearly hated her?

  “It feels heavy,” she said quietly, looking at the way it caught the light with an almost blinding intensity.

  “It didn’t get in your way when we were married; I’m sure it won’t bother you now.”

  Fingers of pain tightened around her heart. Up close, she could see she’d been mistaken about Niko. A year apart had changed him. He was a more leanly muscled build, slimmer, but still powerful. His eyes had some fine creases at the corner.

  “I’ve organized dinner. Will you be ready at eight?”

  She frowned. “Dinner? What in the world for?”

  He looked at her as though she were simple. “Don’t you think it would be a wise idea to fill me in on some pertinent facts before we join your family?”

  He was right, of course. Damn him. She was so wrapped up in the sheer overpowering mental battle she was fighting between her body and mind that she hadn’t even thought about how much had happened since they’d broken up. She hadn’t even told him about her new job. With a flush, she nodded, feeling every bit as idiotic as he seemed to think she was.

  “I still can’t believe you managed to talk me into Christmas in the Scottish Highlands.”

  “It’s beautiful up there,” she contradicted quietly, imagining the snow-crested peaks and cozy fireplaces.

  “I am not one for the cold, as you know. My idea of beauty is sun-warmed sand and the sound of crashing waves. Preferably with a beautiful woman in a small bikini to add to the view.” She colored as an image of him with a glamorous woman, perhaps a supermodel or Italian film star, filled her mind with a red haze of envy.

  She angled her face away. “You can get back to that in a couple of weeks. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Niko was tempted to point out that she’d just dismissed him in his own home, but he did not. He had plenty of time to wage war with his wife; tonight, he was simply going to enjoy watching her squirm as the full force of the situation she’d put herself in became apparent.

  “Fine, cara. Until tonight.”

  Bianca couldn’t relax all afternoon, knowing that she had a night with her husband ahead. She had thought this would be easy enough to pull off. After all, they’d been happy once before. It was only dawning on her now that Niko had treated her with kid gloves throughout their marriage. She’d only seen him angry once before: the night they’d argued and he’d asked for a divorce. Now, it was becoming painfully apparent that he had a strong dark side. His cold detachment was worse than anger. She wanted to break through and make him emotional. Anything but this frozen zone.

  When she walked into their dining room a few minutes after eight, the sight of her husband took her breath away. Tall and stunningly handsome in a jet black suit with crisp white shirt flicked open at the neck, he both dwarfed her and made her feel extremely unattractive at the same time.

  She had never really thought about her looks until she’d met Niko. Growing up on the shores of Bondi, she’d had an active, outdoorsy childhood. Her figure was athletic, her skin naturally tanned, and her hair had always been fair. But she was not given to the type of vanity that might have led another woman to maximize her attractions. Her job was physically demanding, and she rarely wore make up. Her chef whites covered her clothes and so there was no need to impress anyone with her sartorial skills. And so she’d never given her looks much thought. Until Niko had crashed through her carefully erected barriers and she’d woke up one morning only to realize that her husband was the kind of man women actively coveted and targeted. That she might not have what it took to keep his interest.

  At the time, she’d quickly dismissed the little kernel of worry. After all, he loved her with a fierceness that didn’t allow room for doubt. But now, there was no love. And he was still effortlessly stunning, larger than life vibrant with the kind of looks that would be at home in a Dolce & Gabana advertising campaign. The certainty that he was irresistibly desirable to an
y woman who crossed his path hit her like a blade in the solar plexus. She’d given up her right to be jealous the night she’d walked out on him; but waves of envy were washing over her now. How many women had there been since then?

  “You’re late,” he observed without a flicker of emotion on his face as he dragged his gaze up and down her body, taking in her jeans and sweater with very little appreciation.

  “By minutes,” she snapped, already overwrought and the night was yet to begin.

  He tilted his head in assent, knowing he was creating an argument out of nothing. He’d always loved her innocent approach to life. The women he had dated before Bianca were vipers compared to his sweet girl. No thigh high splits in her dresses, and no stilettos so spiked they could pierce a man’s skin. No, she was too down to earth for that. She might be a lioness in the bedroom, but she was a kitten in real life. Or so he had stupidly believed.

  “Did I misunderstand? Are we eating out?” She asked nervously, gesturing towards his suit.

  “I thought it would keep a level of civility to our arrangement.”

  Annoyance zapped through her. “This is so like you, Nik! Why do you always expect me to be a mind-reader?”

  His frown was almost imperceptible. She had seemed like a mind-reader when they’d first met. He’d never known what it was like to be so completely in step with someone. “I thought I said…”

  “You didn’t. Do you think I would have worn this if I had known we weren’t staying here?”

  Her skin tingled as he subjected her to a slow, assessing inspection. From the jeans that hugged her like a second skin to the jumper that was soft and comfortable, and showed the hint of the valley between her breasts.

  “You look fine to me.”

  Talk about being damned with faint praise, she thought with an inward grimace.

  Niko’s gaze lingered on the golden skin just above her cleavage. “We could always remain at home, if you’d prefer?” His throaty suggestion left her in little doubt as to what their night at home would involve.