by Sara Craven
‘Not as much as I’ve missed you.’ She clung to him shamelessly, arms round his neck, legs round his waist.
Rome reached down with difficulty to retrieve a bouquet of long-stemmed crimson roses propped against the wall, and carried Cory and the flowers into the flat, kicking the door shut behind them.
He put her down on the sofa and handed her the flowers. ‘For you, mia cara.’
‘They’re wonderful.’ Cory luxuriously inhaled the rich dark scent. ‘I’d better put them in water.’
Rome took them from her hands. ‘I think they can survive for a little while without attention.’ He tossed them on to the table, then sank down beside her, pulling off his coat. ‘I, on the other hand, cannot,’ he added huskily.
Her hands were shaking as they unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it from his shoulders, then dragged her shell-pink sweater over her head and fumbled to release herself from the folds of her matching wool skirt.
Rome, too, was hastily stripping off his clothes, his eyes fixed on her as if he was afraid she might suddenly vanish.
He threw cushions down on to the floor and drew her down to him, his hands rediscovering her feverishly, his mouth drinking her—draining her—until at last he lifted her over him, his eyes smiling up into hers, to join her body to his.
She took him slowly, her breath escaping in a low, sweet moan as she felt his hardness filling her ever more deeply.
His hands reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs lightly brushing her nipples as she began to move on him, her eyes half-closed and her head thrown back, exposing the taut, delicate line of her throat.
In a silence disturbed only by their panting breath they established a rhythm—found a harmony together as their bodies rose and fell.
Rome caressed her with words as well as his hands, his eyes darkening sensually as he watched her enraptured face.
He let his hands stray down her backbone, moulding the swell of her buttocks and trailing over her flanks.
He stroked her ribcage and shaped her slim waist, his hands trailing a delicious path over the concavity of her stomach down to the silky triangle between her thighs.
A sob broke from her as his fingers began to tease her with intimate subtlety, moving softly, fluttering on her.
She felt her control slipping as, deep inside, she sensed the first stirrings of pleasure.
And heard him whisper, ‘No, mia cara—not yet.’
Again and again he brought her to the edge of extinction, then retreated.
And she rode him wildly, her body slicked with sweat, her voice a soundless scream, begging for release.
When it came, it was explosive, and she cried out harshly as her body achieved its fierce freedom. Within seconds Rome had followed her, groaning his delight as his body shook with the force of his climax.
Then they collapsed, breathless, boneless, into each other’s arms.
Eventually he said, with a ghost of laughter in his voice, ‘Perhaps you really did miss me.’
‘I kept thinking that you might never come back—that I’d never see you again.’ She couldn’t dissemble, pretend prudent indifference. ‘Not any more.’
‘I have something for you.’
‘I know.’ She stretched like a contented cat. ‘My beautiful roses.’
He reached for his coat. ‘No, more than that.’ He extracted the little square box and handed it to her.
Cory gasped out loud as she saw the deep mauve of the amethyst, surrounded by creamy pearls.
She said huskily, ‘It’s—wonderful. And it’s my birth-stone, too. How did you know?’
‘I didn’t,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘It’s a family ring, so this makes you my family for evermore.’
He took her left hand and kissed it, then slid the ring over the knuckle of her third finger. It fitted perfectly.
Her voice shook a little. ‘Does this mean we’re officially engaged?’
‘Almost.’ He kissed her gently. ‘I still have to get your grandfather’s blessing, so it might be better to wait for that. Until then you could always wear it on your other hand, in public anyway.’
‘I’d even wear it through my nose.’ Cory’s smile lit up the world. ‘Just as long as I don’t have to hide it away in its box.’
They spent the evening doing small, mundane things, content to be sharing them with each other. Cory put her roses in water and cooked some pasta, while Rome made a rich aromatic sauce out of tomatoes, bacon, herbs and garlic.
Afterwards, they went to bed, and slept wrapped in each other’s arms.
And, for once, Cory forgot to set her alarm for the morning.
When she eventually opened her eyes, she yelped with dismay.
She was going to be late for work and, granddaughter or no, Arnold was a stickler for punctuality in the mornings.
Rome’s arms scooped her back. ‘You’re running away again,’ he muttered sleepily.
‘Only to work.’
‘Call in sick.’
‘I can’t.’ She wriggled free. ‘You want Gramps to like you, don’t you?’
‘I want you to like me.’
‘I will—I do. This evening I’ll think the world of you, I swear.’ She scrambled out of bed. ‘But now I have to rush.’
Even so, she wasn’t surprised when he joined her in the shower.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’ Her breathing fragmented as he began to soap her, his hands lingering on her breasts and thighs. ‘Oh, God—I don’t—I really don’t have—time—for this…’
Rome kissed her wet shoulder. ‘Really and truly?’
‘Cross my heart.’ Her pulses were going mad, and her knees were weak, but she spoke with determination and he laughed.
‘Then I’ll be good, and make you some coffee instead.’
Cory was standing in her robe, drying her hair, when the door buzzer sounded.
‘Shall I get it?’ Rome called from the kitchen.
‘I’d better,’ she said. ‘It might be the postman, early for once.’ And, ‘All right, I’m coming,’ she called, as the buzzer made another imperative summons.
She went barefoot to the door, pulling the robe more closely round her and tightening its sash.
She’d planned to say, ‘I hope this is a seriously interesting parcel.’ But all words died on her lips when she opened the door and saw who was confronting her.
‘And about time, too,’ Sonia said tartly. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Ask me in. It’s freezing out here.’
‘Mother,’ Cory said, dry-mouthed, as she spotted a small mountain of luggage piled up in the passage. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was in New York, seeing friends,’ Sonia said lightly. ‘And I decided to extend my trip and check on my only daughter.’ She leaned forward, air-kissing Cory on both cheeks. ‘So, I caught the red-eye and here I am.’
Well, there was no denying that, Cory thought ruefully, assimilating the pale blonde hair, artfully coiffed, the immaculate maquillage, the close fitting dove-coloured trouser suit that showed off her mother’s slim, toned figure to the best advantage, and the fur jacket draped casually round her shoulders.
As usual, Sonia made her feel as if she’d been swapped at birth.
She swept past Cory into the flat, and looked around her. ‘My God, what a small apartment. How many bedrooms do you have?’
‘Just the one,’ Cory admitted.
Sonia raised her eyes to heaven. ‘In that case, painful as it will be for both of us, I’ll be staying with your grandfather. Is that coffee I smell?’
Cory felt hollow. ‘Yes.’
Sonia made for the kitchen, then stopped abruptly, with a gasp that owed more to genuine surprise than her usual talent for drama.
‘And just who are you?’ she demanded sharply.
Rome continued to pour black coffee into beakers. ‘My name’s Rome d’Angelo, signora. And I’m seeing your daughter.’
‘And she, in turn, is seeing you.’ Sonia’s voice held a
distinct edge. ‘About ninety per cent of you, or even a hundred, if that towel slips any further.’
‘I’ll make sure it doesn’t—at least in your presence.’ Unperturbed, Rome handed her a beaker.
‘Thank you.’ Sonia tasted the brew suspiciously, then nodded. ‘You make good coffee. Just one of your many talents, I’m sure,’ she added waspishly.
‘The least of them,’ Rome confirmed, unfazed. ‘And another is to spot when I’m in the way. I’m sure you both have so much to catch up on, so I’ll clear out and leave you to it.’
Cory followed him to the bedroom. ‘Will I see you tonight?’ she asked unhappily.
He hesitated. ‘You may have other obligations. I’ll call you.’ He dropped the towel to the floor and began, swiftly, to dress. ‘I take it this visit was unexpected?’
‘A bolt from the blue. My mother,’ Cory said with some bitterness, ‘is a creature of impulse.’
He slanted an amused look at her. ‘Perhaps that’s something you have in common.’
Cory gave him a troubled look. ‘You realise the cat’s well and truly out of the bag? Sonia doesn’t have a discreet bone in her body.’
‘Yes,’ Rome said with a certain grimness, ‘I realise, and I’m going to deal with it.’ He wrapped his arms round her and kissed her hard, making her senses spin.
‘Don’t let her get to you, cara,’ he whispered. ‘And I’ll see you later.’
As she picked up her ring from the night table and slid it on to her right hand, Cory could hear him bidding Sonia a courteous goodbye.
Steeling herself, she rejoined her mother in the living room.
‘My, my, aren’t you the dark horse?’ Seated on the sofa, legs crossed, Sonia gave her daughter a searching look. ‘And just when I thought you’d settled for being an old maid.’
Cory shrugged. ‘I discovered I didn’t have to settle for anything,’ she returned stiffly.
‘Hmm.’ Sonia studied her frowningly, taking account of her flushed cheeks and reddened mouth. ‘What does he call himself—Rome? What kind of name is that?’
Cory lifted her chin. ‘His.’
‘I see.’ Sonia sounded amused. ‘Well, don’t be so protective, darling. I’m sure your Rome d’Angelo can look after himself, and has been doing so for some years, if I’m any judge.’ She paused. ‘D’Angelo,’ she repeated thoughtfully. ‘You know, that rings a bell. Someone I once met in Miami…’
Cory shook her head. ‘Rome lives in Italy. He has a vineyard there.’
‘How very romantic,’ Sonia said. ‘And I know it wasn’t him that I met. I think I’d have remembered such a—spectacular young man.’ She drank some coffee. ‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At a charity ball, originally. And then we discovered we were neighbours—almost. And it went from there.’
‘You can say that again.’ Sonia’s voice was dry. ‘Well, how very convenient, and such a coincidence, too.’ She paused. ‘And what does Arnold think of him?’
Cory hesitated. ‘They haven’t met—yet.’
‘Is that your choice—or the boyfriend’s?’
‘Mine,’ Cory said shortly. ‘And isn’t it a little late for you to start being protective?’
Sonia looked at her consideringly, then shrugged. ‘Maybe you have a point.’ She looked at Cory’s hand. ‘What a beautiful ring. Where did you get it?’
‘It was a present,’ Cory said quietly. ‘From Rome.’
‘A love token,’ Sonia said brightly. ‘How very sweet.’ She became brisk again. ‘Call me a cab, will you, honey? I’m going over to Arnold’s now, before these tiny rooms give me claustrophobia.’
‘Give me five minutes to get dressed, and I’ll come with you,’ Cory offered.
Sonia shuddered. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about getting dressed in five minutes,’ she said peevishly. ‘I suggest you start paying a little more attention to your appearance—especially if you want to hang on to a piece of work like Mr d’Angelo. I never let your father see me in the mornings until I’d combed my hair and put on my mascara.’
‘I doubt if I’ll have time for such niceties,’ Cory said lightly. ‘Not on a vineyard in Tuscany.’
‘Well, you’re not there yet,’ Sonia said sharply. ‘But there’s no need for you to come to Arnold’s right away. It’s going to be quite a reunion after all this time, and we’ll have plenty to talk over. So, why don’t you take it easy?’
‘One of the preferred topics of conversation being myself, no doubt?’ Cory’s tone was cutting.
Sonia sighed. ‘Honey,’ she said, ‘I may not have made a big success of the role, but I’m still your mother, and, believe it or not, I’m concerned for you. And so is your grandfather—sure you’ll be a topic. A major one. So why don’t you let us have our discussion, and meet us for lunch at twelve-thirty? We should be all done by then.’ She glanced at her watch, and winced. ‘My God, this time difference is a killer.’
When she eventually left, in a haze of perfume, Cory sank down on the sofa, curling her legs under her in an unconsciously defensive posture.
Sonia’s arrival was a totally unforeseen complication, she thought unhappily. And one she could well have done without.
She’d always known that it wouldn’t be easy convincing Gramps that she’d finally met the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with—especially when she’d known Rome such a short time. Although he of all people should understand, she thought with a sigh. Only it didn’t always work out like that.
Still, she’d been sure that she could talk him round. But if he was aligned with her mother…
She shook her head. That was a pretty formidable combination.
Sonia had made it clear she had misgivings about Rome—echoing all Cory’s own early doubts, if she was honest.
Why, indeed, should a man like that choose a girl like her?
‘Because he loves me,’ she said aloud, lifting her head in affirmation. ‘Because we love each other.’
But some of the radiance of last night had faded, and, do what she would, she could not summon it back.
She looked down at the amethyst, glowing on her hand.
My talisman, she told herself. And raised it to her lips.
Over in Chelsea, Sonia wasted no time.
‘When I got to Cory’s apartment today there was a man there,’ she said, after the usual greetings and enquiries had been exchanged, and her luggage taken upstairs to the guest suite.
Arnold looked down his nose. ‘Suddenly turned prude, my dear? This is the twenty-first century.’
Sonia snorted. ‘No, of course I haven’t. But how much do you know about this guy?’
‘Very little,’ Arnold admitted, frowning. ‘She’s being rather secretive about him.’
‘I don’t blame her,’ Sonia returned. ‘If he belonged to me, I’d find a deserted house in a deep forest and chain him to the bed.’ She paused. ‘He calls himself Rome d’Angelo.’
Arnold thought, then shook his head. ‘I haven’t heard of him.’
‘Then I feel you should make his acquaintance without delay.’ Sonia pursed her lips. ‘She’s wearing a ring.’
‘An engagement ring?’ He was clearly startled.
‘Wrong hand, but what do I know?’ Sonia frowned. ‘It’s a lovely thing—looks antique and expensive—a big amethyst with pearls around it.’ She sighed. ‘Pearls for tears, they say, but maybe Cory’s not superstitious.’
‘An amethyst?’ Arnold’s tone sharpened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Those are the mauve stones, aren’t they? Why do you ask?’
There was an odd silence, then he said, ‘It just seems a strange choice for an engagement ring—if that’s what it is. Diamonds are more conventional.’
Sonia leaned back in her chair. ‘I don’t think,’ she said slowly, ‘that convention means a great deal to the sexy Mr d’Angelo. I feel we should start making a few discreet enquiries about him.’
Arnold was staring into the distanc
e, eyes narrowed and mouth set grimly.
Lunch in Chelsea was a strained affair. Arnold was silent and preoccupied, and Sonia laughed and talked a little too much.
It was like a dream she’d once had, Cory thought, pushing poached salmon round her plate. She’d found herself on stage with the curtain about to go up—and she was wearing the wrong costume and knew none of her lines.
When coffee was served, Sonia rose from the table, announcing she was off to get a massage and beauty treatment—‘Best way to cope with jet lag, honey’—and Cory found herself alone with her grandfather.
There was a silence between them that Cory, for the first time in her life, felt unable to break. She knew that she had to sit and wait for him to speak.
Eventually, he said, ‘This man you’re seeing—I asked yesterday if you were serious about him. You didn’t see fit to mention you were living with him. Why?’
Cory lifted her chin. ‘Because we’re not actually living together.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You just allow him to use you when the mood takes him. Is that it?’
She stared at him, shocked. ‘Gramps—don’t. You make it sound so sordid.’
‘Perhaps I find it so, Cory. Knowing that my only granddaughter is sharing her body with a man she’s apparently known for days, hours and minutes, rather than weeks, months, years.’
She said steadily, ‘It’s not really such a new thing. We fell in love, just as you did when you first saw Gran. If it had happened now, instead of years ago, you’d be doing the same thing.’
‘Don’t dare to compare the situations.’ His voice was harsh. ‘In my day you offered a woman security and respect along with passion.’
He paused. ‘What do you really know about this man? Your mother says she now remembers meeting a Steve d’Angelo in Florida some years ago. He was a gambler, a man who lived by his wits and made a living by calculating the weaknesses of others. Are they related?’
‘His stepfather.’
‘And his real father?’
Cory bit her lip. ‘He never knew him.’
‘I see,’ Arnold said coldly. He looked at her hand. ‘I understand he gave you that ring. It’s a very unusual design—very distinctive. Do you know how he came by it?’
