Then he cradled her in one arm and laid her over his lap. Her legs fell open and he slipped his fingers into the very apex of her thighs and kept up an insistent pressure while he lowered his head and thrust his tongue into her mouth.
And just like that she orgasmed—fully, powerfully, and with a suddenness that shook her to the very centre of her being.
She writhed and jerked and screamed. ‘Oh, Matteo...oh, my God,’ she called as the shock waves left her.
And then she was wrapped in a towel and carried through to the bedroom. Slowly he dried her, and kissed her drying skin, and then he knelt before her, proudly aroused and ready.
She sat up on her elbows, her mouth open in shocked delight.
‘Is it all coming back to you now?’ He smiled as he leaned over her, stretched his arms out, encircling her with his body.
‘That you have the woman of your dreams at your mercy?’
He chuckled. ‘You never give up!’
He nudged her legs open with his knee.
‘I never do. I’m what people call “driven”.’
‘You’re driving me insane right now, Ruby. That’s for sure.’
And he thrust himself inside her and she watched as his face registered the pleasure. And then she felt it herself, as she hugged her legs around him and let go of all her cares and worries and fears as it became only her and him and nothing else.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘THIS PLACE IS AMAZING. I’d no idea these little islands existed. How did you discover them?’ asked Ruby, sliding a forkful of delicious salad into her mouth and chewing happily.
It was dinnertime, and she was starving. They’d made love all afternoon and dozed until the sun began to dip and the light flooding into the sumptuous suite had turned from bright yellow to a gauzy orange.
His body was hers and her body was his. That was all she knew. She ached for him in a way she’d never believed was possible, but now, replete in his arms, she was aware of her mind starting to chatter its warnings. But she would not listen. She would not let those thoughts take hold.
Not yet.
She gazed across the candlelit table to where Matteo sat, lost in that world he disappeared into so often. His hair was swept back from his face and his smooth brow was gathered in a frown. The white shirt he wore was collarless, dipping low to the shadow of his chest, and loose enough to lend him the appearance of a brooding long-ago hero. She’d never seen him look more handsome.
He nodded out to the bay. ‘We did a lot of sailing when I was younger. There’s not an inch of these waters we haven’t been to at one time or another, the three of us—my mother and father and me.’
‘Is there any sport you don’t do?’ she asked.
It was a flippant comment, and she almost regretted it, but his mood was slipping into serious waters and she still didn’t want to navigate them. It was as if he was building up to say something. And she wasn’t quite ready to hear it.
Even if they both walked away from today, they would be forced back together many times in the future. What kind of relationship would they have? One with hot sex and then flights in opposite directions? Or would he cut it dead and dread the thought of seeing her again? File her under ‘No Further Action’.
Heart flipping and stomach churning, she forced a bright smile. They had to have a serious talk. She’d been pushing for it since this morning, but now that the moment was here she didn’t want to spoil things. She wanted to keep the illusion going a little longer.
‘Well? You swim...you play rugby. You box...’
He was looking steadily at her. He raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t do ballet,’ he said.
She caught the momentary flash of fun in his eyes and smiled back. ‘Our child will. Especially if he’s a boy. It’ll be the making of him.’
‘Now, that’s an interesting thought.’ He smiled. ‘And will you be one of those overbearing mothers, berating the coach, or whatever they’re called, because Matty Junior didn’t get picked for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy?’
‘You mean the ballet master,’ she corrected him. ‘And, yes, very probably. Don’t tell me you won’t be shouting at Little Miss Ruby from the touchline? What’s good for the goose...’
‘I can see we’re going to have some interesting times ahead,’ he replied, but it was quietly said, as if he was lost in other thoughts.
He touched his glass with his finger. There it was—his sign that he was ready to speak.
Well, all right. It had to come at some point.
She put down her knife and fork and waited for him to start. The restaurant was quiet, save for the sounds of the touch of silverware on china and muted conversation in the very best French. But still he remained silent, staring at the leaves on his plate.
‘Not eating anything?’ she asked, nodding to his untouched food. ‘Or drinking? Don’t you want any wine? You don’t need to hold back on my account.’
‘No. I’ve given up alcohol,’ he said, and the ghost of his smile slid and died.
‘For what? For health reasons? You’re the healthiest guy I know. Surely a little wine won’t do you any harm?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s a lot about me that you don’t know. And you probably need to know if we’re going to go into this thing together.’
Her ears pricked up at the word ‘thing’. Her heart swelled with fear and hope in equal measures. And it was then, in that moment, that she realised that more than anything else she wanted to spend more time with him. Not just parenting time, but real time. Friends time and lovers time.
But he was a man who didn’t commit. And she would never, ever beg any man for anything.
‘My father had a difficult relationship with alcohol...’
He was staring at nothing, touching his glass again. The light from the candle flickered, daubing his face with ochre shadows, hollowing and saddening his features.
‘I didn’t know how difficult it was until he died. He could go for weeks, months, without it, but when he got the taste he couldn’t stop. It was like a demon inside, him making him drink until he had drunk everything dry.’
‘Your poor mother,’ was all she could say, suddenly imagining a young Mrs Rossini, her face troubled with pain.
He nodded absently at that. ‘My mother could do nothing when he got like that—he didn’t even know who she was. But he battled it. He went to rehab clinics. Three times. He took it head-on and he sorted himself out. We’re fighters, me and him—you know?’ he said, spearing her with a sudden look in the half-light.
She didn’t know what to do with that look. She didn’t know what he was saying—was he reassuring her? Warning her?
‘But then the bank got into trouble and started losing clients. He didn’t know why at the time, and for months he held it together...’
His face changed, saddened, and he dropped his head. It was as if her heart was being squeezed. To see such a man, so virile and strong and—kind...
She reached across the table for his hand, instinctively, and he looked up with surprise.
‘But you’re not like that,’ she said, and then cautiously, ‘Are you?’
‘No, I’m not,’ he said, and he drew his hand away and sat up straight, giving her a look right in the eyes. ‘And I’m not going to risk it happening to me either. If I go down, the whole thing sinks. Banca Casa di Rossini is two hundred years old. And we’re still struggling to recover from the sabotage that happened all those years ago.’
‘I thought your bank was flourishing? You have all these things—a jet and a boat and... Are you saying you’re not...rich?’
It was the worst thing in the world to say. She sounded callous and selfish, but how could she avoid it?
He looked sharply at her. ‘I am very rich and I intend to stay that way. I have responsibilities. As well as this baby I have my
mother and my family name. The bank, the people who work for me. There’s a merger almost on the table and I won’t let anything get in the way of that.’
‘I don’t doubt you for a minute,’ she said quietly. ‘But what could go wrong? Are you saying that our baby is going to get in the way of your merger?’
‘You saw those recent pictures in the press—us together, and me with other women—pictures from the past ten years? That was set up by someone who wants to discredit me and make me look like some kind of sex addict. Now, with you pregnant, they’ll try to dig up even more dirt. And old Arturo isn’t going to get into bed with a philandering sex addict.’
She sat back, her mind racing. ‘Who’s behind this?’
He shook his head and frowned. ‘It’s a long story. A guy called Claudio Calvaneo. My father’s business partner.
His fingers clasped the glass tightly and he looked up at her, and it was such a penetrating look that she was held there, transfixed in his gaze.
‘I’m going to need your help, Ruby.’
‘To do what? This is way out of my league.’
He shook his head. ‘The merger has to be handled with kid gloves. I’ve already had a first meeting and we’re going to meet again very soon. All being well, there will be even more meetings in the coming months.’
She scanned his eyes as her brain raced to keep up with him, but his face was set in that expressionless cast of rock again.
‘Arturo’s already seen you with me—thanks to Claudio’s smear—and the minute there’s a whisper that you’re pregnant the whole thing could come down like a house of cards unless we have our story sorted.’
‘You need to spell this out for me. I’m not really following.’
‘He needs to see me as a serious guy, if he’s going to entrust his company to me—someone who’s sober and sincere about life and money. I can’t be the kind of guy who gets a woman pregnant and then doesn’t do the right thing. His bank means as much to him as Casa di Rossini does to us. More. It’s the child he never had.’
The restaurant was now completely silent. Everyone had retired to other rooms and only a lone waiter moved through the space with a tray of glasses. Matteo’s eyes tracked him as he exited, and then swung round to her, pinning her with his stare.
‘I want him to think that we are more than just a casual fling. I want him to think that we are committed to one another, building a life together.’
‘By “building a life” you mean...?’
‘Totally committed to one another and our child. Marriage.’
‘Marriage?’ she blurted, and half-laughed, caught out by shock. ‘Marriage—as in...?’
‘I know what I’m asking of you is above and beyond—we barely know one another. But you’re carrying my child. And I’m fighting for my life here—for many lives. This merger will see the bank in great financial shape—no one will need to worry about money again.’
He was up now, on his feet, leaning towards her. His shirt fell open, revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his scent hung like warm velvet on a cold night, wrapping around her, drawing her in.
‘This isn’t just for my future. It’s for our child too.’
She shook her head in disbelief. This was too much to take in.
He was so close she could see tiny amber flecks in his eyes and the sleek lines of the eyelashes that encased them. His thick brown brows were knit in anticipation.
‘I know I’m throwing this at you—asking you to take me on trust...’
‘I can’t get my head round this. You need to give me time to think.’
‘There isn’t any time. We have to do it now.’
‘But how would it work? Not that I’m saying I will, but—’
He dropped to his knee and held her hands. ‘I’ve worked it out. It’s perfect. We can be married before the end of the week. Tiny, private—we can release a picture and take a few days’ honeymoon, and then we’ll head to Arturo’s villa next weekend. You’ll absolutely charm him. All his doubts will be gone.’
‘But marriage,’ she said. ‘It’s—massive. It’s not something you can pretend, or turn off like a tap. What happens after next weekend? When I go back to London and you go back to work? There’s no way we can keep it a secret then.’
‘I’m not worried about after—that’ll sort itself out. Whatever you want to do—I’m with you. But this is the single most important event of my professional career. This way the bank will be intact—not just for me, and our baby, but for his or her children too. Casa di Rossini will go on for years. My family will be secure.’
He was going so fast, was flying with ideas. She had to stop and think and be sure. She couldn’t make the wrong choice now. It was the hugest decision of her life. Everything from here on in, every future step, hung on this moment.
‘But there are other ways to be secure—and our child might not want to be a private banker. What then?’
He looked at her as if she was completely mad, as if she’d spoken in a different language, and she saw that he had no concept of anything other than his way of life. It was ingrained so deeply within him that all other choices were completely moot. And he wanted to drag her into it too.
She thought about her own path, how deeply she had been prepared to plough her own furrow, blinkered and refusing to see any other way.
‘Matteo, maybe—just maybe—this should be left to fate to decide. You’ve been trying so hard for so long and maybe—’
‘I can’t leave this to fate. Not until I’ve tried every single thing I can do. And this—you being pregnant. I thought it was a disaster, but now I think it might just be the best thing for all of us.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that having this added responsibility has made me even more focused. I thought Dad was going to live for another thirty years or more. I knew I was probably going to take charge—it was always hanging over me—but it seemed way off in the distance. Even when he died I really struggled to accept that this was my life now. But you...the baby. I know how my world has to be. I have to make this work. Don’t you see?’
She opened her mouth but he shook his head and walked away, and there, framed in the restaurant window, he looked so terribly alone, set apart in his own tormented world.
And she had walked right into the middle of it. Could she leave him alone with this? She needed him as much as he needed her. Maybe even more. But this—this went beyond anything she had imagined.
Her head hurt as she tried to think. But her heart was sure. Even if it had been trampled in the process. Because how could she keep herself safe from falling in love with him? It was already be too late...
‘What exactly do you need me to do next weekend?’
He spun around from the window. And suddenly he looked warrior-proud, invincible.
‘Act like you love me.’
She felt a savage squeeze to her heart as his words made her gasp, and her eyes burned hot with tears. She bit her lip, forced her chin to steady. She kept her face to the floor, desperately clawing back her composure, furious at her own weakness.
He was totally oblivious. He moved closer still. Energy rolled off him in waves. She crossed her arms over her body, rubbed her fingers on her bare flesh.
‘It doesn’t have to be true, Ruby. I’m not asking for the world. But when you came to see me you wanted to force me to acknowledge the situation. You wanted me to give you cast-iron guarantees that I would play my part. Well, now I am prepared to admit that I will. I will give you way more than you wanted.’
‘I only ever wanted one thing in my life,’ she said, ‘I only ever wanted my career and you need to know that that is still what I want. You’re not seeing my needs in all this.’
He shook his head and moved right in front of her. The rest of the room—the view of the ga
rdens through the half-closed roman blinds, the masts of the yachts and their white blooming sails, the world beyond—was blocked out. It was hard to think, to remember who she was and what she was, when he was so close.
‘Ruby, you can have everything. Everything. Don’t you want to marry me?’
‘I’m not saying no, but does it have to be this way?’ she pleaded. ‘Do we have to be married to convince Arturo that you’re the right person to take this merger forward? People have children together and live apart all the time.’
‘He’s very religious—for him there’s no other way to raise a child but in wedlock, under the eyes of God.’
‘But we would be living a lie—isn’t that worse?’
‘To give our child the stability it needs is worse? We’ll sign a pre-nup. You’ll get a house and a car and an income. As soon as the merger is secure we can decide what happens next. Where you live and what you do. A nanny. My name. All of that.’
His words were cold, transactional, black and white. There was no emotion or love or kindness or care. His heart was invested in his bank, in his dead father’s memory, in a future that he didn’t even want for himself.
And now she was a part of it too.
As she stared out at the balmy summer Côte D’Azur evening a chill of loneliness spread over her as damp and dark as all those nights in that frozen Croydon flat. The spectre was still there, whispering in her ear that she might think she had it all worked out, she might be imagining some shiny new future. But money didn’t kill loneliness. Oh, no. She couldn’t buy her way out this. It was only love that could do that.
Love that she feared and craved in equal measures. Love that had been like a forbidden fruit—just out of reach. The fleeting glimpse of her mother’s smile, the squeeze of a passing hug. Those momentary touches that had spread sunlight through her and then been washed away, because there had never been enough to go round.
So she’d turned to the rapture of an audience and the warm delight of an aching body that performed perfection for them and the chance that maybe some day in that sea of faces, her father would call out her name Because that kept the sunshine there that little bit longer.
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