“You’re angry with me,” she said softly.
“Damned straight.”
“I am too.” She swallowed, forcing him to meet her eyes. “But you don’t hate me.”
His face was ash beneath his skin. “I don’t know what I feel for you,” he said finally. “But it’s nothing I’m proud of.”
The cryptic comment was swallowed by something else as he lifted her easily, and placed her on the bed, her arms behind her back uncomfortable and impossible to move.
“You want me to forgive you?” He grunted, bringing his mouth to hers and kissing the words into her.
She nodded. “I need you to forgive me.”
“And if I can’t?”
She had no answer. No words. She couldn’t contemplate that world.
His mouth on her feminine heart was as unexpected as it was welcome. With her hands bound behind her back she was powerless to do anything but feel. He pushed her legs wide apart, gripping her thighs and holding her still, so she could only writhe as the pleasure of his ministrations spread through her like a coil.
“Marco…”
“I need you to need me,” he said, flicking his tongue. “I need you to need me like you do air and water. It’s all I know.”
Oh, she needed him. She needed him so much more than either of those two commodities. They were luxuries compared to what her body craved from him. “Because you need me?”
He didn’t answer. He stood, staring down at the wanton picture she made, and he felt a brick of relief land in his gut. This is what they were now.
Sex.
Wild, savage, meaningless sex. He undressed slowly, his eyes pinning her to the bed as he stripped his clothes piece by piece. He wanted her with a desperation that was burning through him.
But Grace wriggled into a sitting position and completely rocked him off his foundation by taking his length in her mouth. Without warning. Without preamble. Her lips glided down his length, her tongue rolling across his sensitive tip, making his body jerk with a desperate sense of fulfillment.
Marco swore sharply and stepped back, taking a moment to let his breathing slow before pulling her to standing. He lifted her then, landing her down on his arousal and pushing backwards. With her hands behind her back, he had all the power and all the control. He pressed her against a wall for support and then he owned her.
His body was hard; his need harder. He thrust into her and she cried out as his possession snaked around them both, tying them together for the darkest of reasons. Grace was wrong; this wasn’t love.
It was obsession.
And that was so much more dangerous.
Eight
“HOW WAS TUSCANY?” Emma bounced Ben on her hip, her eyes smiling.
Grace found it easy to return the smile. Emma was normal. Emma was sanity. Emma was her old life, her old assurances, from when things made sense.
“Grace? Tuscany? Everything okay?”
They’d been back two days. Two nights. Two nights in which Marco had come to bed. Teased her, pleasured her, aroused her until she was at breaking point. Two nights in which he’d proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, his body’s mastery over hers.
Just remembering the way he’d undressed her the night before was making her abdomen clench and her insides swell with warm heat.
“Good,” she managed to croak out, hoping her smile was more convincing.
“I can’t wait to go there,” Emma murmured, flicking the coffee machine to life and reaching for a pod. “Coffee?”
God, a thousand coffees wouldn’t be enough to erase her exhaustion. But strangely, when Marco touched her, she forgot that she’d barely slept in days; she was completely energized.
“I’m okay, thanks.” Then, belatedly remembering that Emma had been travelling too, Grace asked, “How was your weekend?”
“Amazing. Italy is so beautiful. I can’t believe this place.”
Grace could vaguely recall feeling a similar way when she’d first travelled here. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. If Emma thought the somber response was strange, she didn’t have a chance to query it. The doorbell rang and Grace, relieved to have an escape route, spun on her heel.
“I’ll get it,” she called over her shoulder, moving out of the kitchen towards the front door.
It was after six – Marco would be home soon. The thought was enough to make her pulse hammer. They were managing to maintain an air of civility now – no longer avoiding one another like the plague. They talked, but it was only skin deep.
The undercurrent of tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife.
At least, until they were in bed together. Then there was nothing but need. A sharp physical requirement that wouldn’t ease.
She wrenched the door inwards, a smile on her face. At first, she didn’t recognize the man on the other side. After all, they’d only met once. But then, after a few seconds of blank staring, a cautious smile spread. “Will?” Claudia’s husband. Coldness spread through her.
“Grace.” He stepped in, and paused, awkwardly going for a kiss on her cheek when she stepped back to allow him to pass. And though it was an uncomfortable moment, Grace laughed at the awkwardness, and the humour was a sort of ice-breaker.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, holding the door wide as he moved deeper into the house then pushing it shut.
“No. It’s a spur of the moment visit. I forgot…” His expression was clumsy. “I forgot about you, actually.”
The British man had a sort of Hugh-Grantish diffidence to him, and his mop of dark brown hair added to that impression. Grace found herself warming to him despite the fact his wife would certainly serve her an arsenic biscuit if she was given half the chance.
“I’ve only been here a few weeks,” she pointed out.
Will laughed. “Claudia’s away,” he said, as though that explained everything. “And I always have dinner with Marco when she travels.”
Grace’s heart thumped. This little insight into normality was dangerously humanizing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Marco as a kindly family man.
“But I don’t want to bother you…”
“Oh! Not at all,” Grace shook her head. “Of course you should join us.” The idea was instantly palatable. Dinners with Marco were a tense affair which involved silent eating, ruminating, and finally, the heavenly conclusion. Had they really fed each other olives and tomatoes, their first night together, and talked until they were hoarse? It seemed like something that must have happened to two different people.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose…”
“Trust me, you’re not.” She moved back towards the kitchen, and he followed. “This is Emma, our nanny,” she explained. “She’s been with us since Ben was born.”
“Hi,” Emma waved, then pulled her coffee cup out of the machine, Ben still propped on one hip. But, when his little eyes landed on Will, he made a noise of excitement and held a hand up, as if to high five.
“Hey, buddy. You remember, huh?” Will skirted the island bench and dutifully returned the gesture of greeting. Grace laughed at the toddler’s obvious delight.
“What a clever boy,” Emma grinned. “I’m going to give little master here some dinner.”
She placed Ben onto the floor and, at the promise of food, he thumped through the kitchen towards the dining room. Emma followed behind, a tray in her hands which was weighed down with Pasta, a sippy cup of milk and her coffee.
“Wine?” Will offered, and Grace noted how much more at home he was in Marco’s kitchen than she. He belonged; she didn’t. It was that simple. She nodded, pleased to defer to him.
He pulled two glasses from above the fridge – she hadn’t even known there were glasses up there, and then rescued a bottle from a vintech bar beneath the island bench. “This is one of my favourite bottles. It’s produced in the North of Italy – cold climate grapes. It’s very dry. Try it.” He poured two generous measures and slid one across to her.
; Grace allowed the fragrance to hit her nose first and then she swished it in the glass before lifting it to her lips and tasting it.
He was right – it was so dry it was almost acidic – yet there was an aftertaste of fruitiness that was deliciously moreish.
“Well?” He prompted, as she analysed the flavours.
“I like it.”
“Good.” A nod of approval. “Shall we sit on the deck?”
Grace usually joined Ben for dinner, but the thought of grown up company with someone other than Marco was impossible to resist. “Sure.”
She followed him onto the balcony that overlooked Rome. In the dusk light, the glow from the city looked almost like something from a fairy tale. She sighed as she sat down, glass of wine cradled in her hands. She brought her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.
“How long have you and Claudia been married?” She asked, as Marco settled into the seat beside her.
His eyes ran left to right over the view of the city. “Six years.”
“Oh! So long. I hadn’t realized.”
“We dated four years before that,” he said with a lopsided smile. “But I would have married her a week after we met.”
“Really?” She smiled at that. “Love at first sight?”
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, then sipped his wine.
“That’s so romantic.”
“What about you and your husband?” He swore then, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve put my foot in it. This is awkward as hell, isn’t it?”
Grace laughed; what else could she do? “Yeah, that’s one word for it.”
“I don’t want to ignore the fact you were married,” he said. “But we don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay,” Grace smiled. “I don’t mind. The thing is, Steve was my best friend.” The truth of their marriage, the secret she’d promised she’d keep, sat in her mouth like a stone she couldn’t expel. “I think, when I first met him, I was overwhelmed by him. And I’d never had that. I’d never had anyone look at me like I was their whole world. I loved the way he made me feel.” Her smile was self-condemnatory.
“You broke up with him before you came over here?”
“He proposed and it didn’t feel right.” She bit down on her lip.
“I see.”
Grace shook her head and then turned to face Will. He was looking at her speculatively. “I highly doubt that.” Her smile was kind. “It’s very complicated.”
“Life is,” Will shrugged. “I’m glad you and Marco have worked things out finally.”
“Finally?” She prompted, and Will shifted, instantly shutting himself off.
“Well, just because of Ben,” he explained.
“Right.” She nodded, ignoring the hope that had started to swell in her chest.
“He’s a cute kid.”
“Thank you.”
Silence gathered around them, but it was companionable, somehow. “You’re a lawyer?” He said after a moment, breaking it with the casual question.
“Yeah. Corporate.” She frowned. “I was, anyway.”
“No plans to go back to it.”
“Actually, I miss it,” she said honestly. And she realized then that she did. Completely. She loved Ben, she adored being his mother, but she’d spent so much of her life working towards the goal of her career; she didn’t want to hang it by the door like a hat she no longer needed. “I gave up my job when Steve … when he… when I lost him,” she rushed. “He left the company to me – God knows why, I’m terrible at what he did – but I didn’t have any choice but to take it over.”
Guilt darkened her cheeks. She hadn’t even asked Marco how things were running at Aztec. She’d been so wrapped up in her own issues and problems that she’d totally neglected what Steve had asked of her.
“Did you like it?”
“No.” She took another sip of wine, enjoying the way it tasted as it spread through her body. “I hated it.”
“Then you’re better off here,” he pointed out.
“Perhaps.”
“Why don’t you get your old job back?”
“In Chicago?”
“No, here. You used to work for Marco, right?”
“Oh.” She nodded slowly, the idea one that hadn’t even occurred to her. “Yes. I interned at Dettori.”
“So?” Will shrugged, as though it were that simple. “It’s a huge company. Aren’t there hundreds of people in the legal team?”
“Almost a thousand,” she agreed. “You’re right. There’d have to be something I could do. I mean, I know their systems. I speak Italian. And I’m good at that.” Her smile changed her face completely, and for a moment she looked like herself again. Grace, as she’d once been. “Thank you, Will. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself.”
“Well, I am a genius,” he grinned.
“Obviously.” She crossed one leg over the other, her eyes marveling at Rome’s change from daytime to nighttime, the air of mystery that cloaked it as dusk whispered her secrets across the ancient cupolas. “So you and Marco have dinner when Claudia’s travelling?”
“Yeah. She’s in Milan at least twice a month. I can’t cook to save my life.”
“And Marco can?” Grace teased.
“No. But he orders a mean take out,” Will responded in kind.
“We have some fish and rocket. I can make us…”
“No, no. I won’t hear of it. I didn’t come here to put anyone out. Besides, Claudia has me on some paleo health kick. These are the only nights when I get a good curry.”
Grace smothered her smile. “Fine. Curry it is.”
“I hope you weren’t bothered by her the other night, at Rosa’s.” He paused, studying Grace’s face, and she presumed her acknowledgement was visible, because Will continued with a heavy sigh. “She’s very protective of Marco.”
“I gathered,” Grace murmured, her spine bristling at the invocation of a relationship to which she must always be an outsider.
“You know, their dad died when she was only thirteen. Marco’s been like a father to Claudia. She doesn’t want to see him get hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Grace said seriously, her eyes lifting to Will’s, begging him to believe her.
“You already have.” The words were delivered gently, in the spirit of helping her understand. “She saw what happened after you left and now you’re back and there’s Ben. It’s natural that she’s being guarded with you. But she’ll thaw. She’s the most beautiful, kind-hearted woman I’ve ever known. I think you and she will get along. One day.”
But Marco’s words weren’t making any sense to Grace. They were incongruous with what she knew to be the truth. “I don’t understand. Marco didn’t … what do you mean? What was he like when I left?”
Will shook his head, as if realizing he’d said too much. “You can imagine,” he said mysteriously. But Grace didn’t want to imagine. None of this made any sense. Marco had said he’d loved her. So why had he let her go? Why hadn’t he gone after her? If he’d told her how he felt, she’d have stayed. Instead, he’d asked her to be his mistress. He’d promised to give her a lifestyle she’d never want to leave. And the whole proposition had been filled with danger for Grace, because there’d been only one thing she’d ever wanted in life. Love
Proper love.
Steve had offered love. He’d offered acceptance and security, affection and friendship. But also, his undying love.
She’d married Steve.
She swept her eyes shut now as her own foolish weaknesses and fears reared their heads, and she blamed them wholeheartedly for the pain she’d gone through.
Marry me and I will give you everything you’ve ever wanted. The words Steve had offered had been so true. He’d understood her. She hadn’t needed heart-burning love and passion. She’d needed white-bread security. Safety.
“I was with him when he found out you’d got married.” The words were so quiet, they were like
soft rain on grass. She wasn’t even sure he’d said them at first, her own thoughts were so loud.
“Mmm?” She prompted.
“He was … I’ve never seen him like that. He couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it.”
“God!” She stood up angrily, shaking her head. “This isn’t helpful.”
“I’m sorry,” Will murmured. “It’s just, you have to see it from our perspective. We were here when his world fell apart. We don’t want him to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“I don’t think you wanted to hurt him then either.”
“Are we even talking about the same Marco? His heart is like stone! I don’t think he’s capable of feeling pain, let alone love. Whatever he felt when I married Steve was far more likely to be pique or whatever.”
“Trust me,” Will murmured quietly. “He was devastated.”
“Yeah, because I’m probably the first woman who ever said ‘no’ to him.” She tilted her chin defiantly, refusing to believe that he’d been wanting her when she’d been wanting him. It was all too much of a waste. It was easier to believe that they’d have made it work if it had meant to be.
“It was more than that.” He sighed. “You need to speak to him.”
“I’ve tried.” She spun around, clasping the railing with one hand and sipping her wine. “He isn’t big on communication.” Except in bed. There, he was a master of explaining how he felt, and if his body language was anything to go on, he was both angry and hungry for her. Neither of these things made her feel that he loved her. “I’ve tried,” she said again, thinking back to their conversation in Tuscany.
She propped her elbows on the railing, drinking in the city. But it was so hard to gain any pleasure from it when her heart was breaking. “He’s not the only one who was hurt, you know.”
Will was quiet, and Grace turned to him just as Emma emerged.
“This little guy needs some rest.” She spoke in the happy, sing-song voice she employed for Ben’s benefit. “Say goodnight, mommy.”
Billionaire Baby Daddies: A five-book anthology Page 43
