Hadn't she?
No! No! No!
She held the contract to her chest. “Why, Marco?"
"You're the best designer around. I want the best. I wanted you."
She nodded. He thought her the best. Her spirits soared.
For a few drawn out minutes his words hung thickly between them, the air crackling with tension.
"The best,” she whispered.
"Si."
But it was the words he left unsaid which disturbed her. Wanted. He said wanted—past tense. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt a thick cord choking her throat, cutting off all air. Perhaps Marco had wanted her once, but now his words intimated that was in the past.
* * * *
He'd screwed up—again. Big time. Marco's muttered curses rent the air as he paced his home office.
It was the tears that got to him. Soft, silent tears that slid down her beautiful face.
Carly had thought she'd hidden them from him. But no—he'd seen them, and it tore at his gut—and his heart. Yes he would admit it. She'd gotten to him, and in more ways than one.
That she obviously thought him an ogre, forcing her into marriage, was of little consequence.
He could handle being hated.
But being loved would be infinitely better!
No!
Marco had tried to tell himself it was for the baby's sake, but even if he was only slightly honest with himself, that wasn't the whole truth. Not by a long shot.
But the truth scared the hell out of him, made him react. And reaction made Carly cry.
Damn it.
He wasn't an ogre, wasn't some mean-spirited bastard bludgeoning others to do his bidding.
Aren't you?
Marco tempered that question and refused to answer it, though acknowledged his actions were a prime rendition of cave man tactics.
He knew Carly must be going through hell with all the emotional and hormonal changes, realizing she was pregnant, wondering about her future.
Wasn't that where he came in?
The fact was, somewhere deep down inside him, a primal instinct to protect had reared itself, taking him totally and utterly by surprise. It shocked him. It terrified him.
Marco eyed the papers that littered his desk. Right now, work was an anathema to him, unable to concentrate because of the visions replaying in his brain.
Carly in paradise.
Carly in his arms.
Carly kissing him as his wife.
She had looked so beautiful as she walked up the aisle to him, but it hadn't been until that moment as he released a breath all pent up and expectant, that he had realized his fear. Would she turn up?
But she had, and now they were married. For better, or worse.
Chapter 12
"Tell me I don't look like a beached whale,” Carly wailed as she tried on a maternity dress two months later.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're blooming,” Daphne chirped in.
"Fat, frumpy, and..."
"No. Never say that. Enjoy your baby, even before it comes. Some people never get the chance at all."
Carly slapped her lips closed. “True. I shouldn't be so careless with my words. I'm lucky,” she admitted. And she was. She felt so very lucky. “I admit it was a shock at first, but after reality set in, I really am loving every moment."
Liar.
"Is Marco taking care of you?"
Carly's eyes lowered. She didn't want to tell the truth. “Oh he's fine.” Well, as far as she knew he was.
"You don't sound so sure.” Daphne looked directly at her and Carly felt the older woman's intuitive gaze. Her heart plummeted. So far they'd managed to fool everyone. Their marriage had been hailed the wedding of the year. What a joke!
"Having a baby is new for both of us. It takes time to get used to, I suppose...” Carly's excuse trailed off.
She spied the small pile of color samples in the bag next to her handbag and brightened. “The plans are almost ready for the hotel at the Viaduct,” she said changing the subject.
Daphne's brows rose. “You are a wonderful woman Carly Valente and clever to boot. Marco did right choosing you."
"Well my designs seem to fit the style the hotel is wishing to project."
A spirited chuckle burst from Daphne. “On no dear, I don't mean the design work, although it's true, you are a master, or should that be mistress, in that field. No, what I meant was Marco did right to fall in love with you. How could he not?"
Not!
Okay, so they'd called a truce, which she supposed was going well. Marco spent very little time in her presence and when he did, it was usually to do with work. Night after night she cried herself to sleep, the old sense of aloneness all enveloping, crushing her spirit.
She should be happy.
Nothing had changed.
* * * *
Later that day, shopping bags from some of the best stores in town littered her bed. Carly eyed them with contempt. Okay, so they were expensive, but money and fancy clothes weren't making her happy.
Retreating to the bathroom she started the bath. She wanted some decadence time, some pampering. Reaching for a bottle of pearly rose bath oil, she poured a generous amount into the bath and ensured the water was lukewarm. It may have been an old wives’ tale about bath water being too hot for pregnancy, but Carly wasn't about to take any chances.
With the fragrant aroma wafting up from the water, soothing her frazzled nerves, she eased into the bath and let out a heavy sigh as its warmth succored her tired and aching body. Her hand trailed over her stomach. It was a very definite bump now and her breasts were fuller. Eyelids drifting closed she began to relax and tried to forget everything, mindless to every sound around her. Time for now at least, meant nothing.
"What?” Her eyes shot open and her hand dropped to her stomach. There it was again. A dig in her stomach, soft and fluttery, just like a tickle. She stared down in awe at her little bulge. Again, harder. “Oh my!” she all but shouted. Her baby had moved. A broad smile lit her face and she felt the joyous tingle of tears cascade down her cheeks.
"What's going on? Are you okay?” Marco burst into the bathroom, giving Carly such a fright she slipped and slithered beneath the bubbles. A firm hand grasped her shoulder yanking her upwards and she came up spluttering, spitting out soapy water.
"What did you do that for?” she accused.
"You were drowning. Why the hell didn't you wait until I got home if you wanted to have a bath?"
"Why should I?"
"Because ... Damn it, Carly, what are you trying to do, drown the baby and yourself?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You're over-reacting. The baby kicked. That's all."
"Kicked?"
"Yes. It's what babies do. You barging in here frightened the life out of me and I slipped under the water. If you want to get rid of me that much, drowning would...” Carly stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened and focused on one spot. She couldn't drag her gaze away as a practically bare-chested Marco knelt beside the bath, his broad, muscled chest revealed by the gap in his unbuttoned shirt now covered in tiny glistening bubbles. Carly slapped a soapy hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a fit of giggles. “Oh, Marco. You look so pretty. Bubbles suit you. They soften the fierce exterior."
"I'll give you bubbles,” he threatened with mock severity but his eyes crinkled at the corners, mouth twitching with humor.
Carly licked her lips, suddenly aware of the heat burning between them. “Dare you."
"Oh, cara mia, I dare.” And he reached for the sponge and soap and began a slow and rhythmic circle across her slick and very sensitive skin. It was erotic in the extreme and her nipples peaked under the surface of the still steamy water.
"Lean forward a little,” he instructed. She did as she was told. “Very nice. A wife who is obedient."
Carly bit a retort back, not wanting to destroy the moment. Instead, she concentrated on his touch, closing her eyes as he trailed the sponge down her back. Bu
t when the tips of his fingers scraped with delicious delight over her sensitive skin, she felt as if she was burning alive, her body strumming with intensity. Every nerve cell tingled as she succumbed to his ministrations.
Then he kissed her, a slow, thoughtful kiss, tentative and teasing, sending shivers of desire racing down her spine.
Carly thought she'd died and gone to heaven and let out a joyous sigh. Her lips parted a fraction. It was the invitation Marco needed and his tongue began to trace the soft edges of her mouth, dancing with hers, hungrily seeking her response.
Time stood still, had no meaning. But when she shivered as the bath water cooled, Marco gently lifted her out, water streaming in a cascade around them, puddling on the floor. She ignored it all. She only had eyes for her husband. For Marco.
Snatching at one of the huge fluffy bath sheets from the heated towel rail he wrapped her in it, his fingers scraping across her full breasts. Nothing had prepared her for their erotic sensitivity and she gazed down in wonder. Her nipples were tinged a delicate shade of pink, hard and aching with need. He bent his lips to her breasts, suckling one pebble hard tip, a caress, velvet on silk, intoxicating as it sliced through the last vestige of calm she possessed.
Marco's arousal pressed fully against the length of her, taut beneath the constrictions of the trousers he still wore. Carly shivered.
She felt fully alive, her body on fire, pulsating and vibrant beneath his touch. She wanted him.
"Cara mia, you'll get cold."
Carly heard the passion in his voice, and smiled. It matched her own. “Cold? I'm on fire."
Cradling her in his arms, his lips sought hers once more. It was a demanding kiss, firing her yearning with a mastery she had thought she would never feel again. Holding her close, he carried her to her bed and laid her gently before him.
Suddenly, Carly felt vulnerable and unsure. Exposing her heart, her love for her husband, brought such pain she wasn't sure if she could cope with the heartache of loving him. She started to cover herself with the large towel.
"No.” Marco's fingers halted her hand, resting against her breast. “Don't cover yourself. Don't hide from me."
Her lips quivered. She wanted Marco desperately. She wanted to love him one more time.
"Is it safe for the baby?"
She nodded. She couldn't wait.
Marco began to undress—slowly—sending Carly's temperature skyrocketing, her senses in a whirl of delicious torment.
First his shirt, the flick of the buttons as he undid them a thunderous applause in the potent silence surrounding them.
Next the buckle of his trousers.
Carly's throat thickened, her lips suddenly parched. She looked away, unsure of the heat that flooded through every part of her.
"No, look at me. I need to see your eyes on me."
She turned to face him. His eyes glittered with the golden glints she remembered so well and it thrilled her to see such desire mirrored in those eyes.
Naked, he was a superb male, his blatant need for her leaving her in no doubt whatsoever. He eased his long frame onto the bed beside her and pulled her to him, cradling her in his embrace.
Carly let out a very fulfilled sigh.
"It's good?” he queried.
She simply nodded. She couldn't speak. Only feel. And it felt wonderful, glorious. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled his head down to her. “Don't talk. Love me, Marco. Love me now."
"I'm a very obedient husband,” he whispered.
"Good."
He dragged her onto him and she felt the entire length of his body hard against hers making her tingle with anticipation. Sitting astride him her fingers trailed over the wiry hair of his chest, tugging ever so gently at the fine ebony curls. His eyes shuttered and a burst of laughter bubbled up from deep within. “Nice?” she questioned.
"Nice doesn't seem adequate."
Carly's eyebrows rose at his admission. “That's good. Very good.” His large bronzed hands cupped her breasts, the broad, flat pads of his thumbs rubbing repeatedly over her swollen nipples. A shudder shot through her. She was ready to explode.
It had been too long since she'd been in his arms. Far too long.
She remembered his touch, every nuance of his body, the undulating curve of his ribs, the texture of his delicious skin and the feel of him inside her. Carly's eyes fluttered closed. Remembering. Needing. Taking. She wanted it all.
But when Marco chuckled, a deep throaty laugh, her eyes flicked open. “You shall have all you desire, my passionate beauty."
With a hand either side of her hips he lifted her a fraction before letting her slide down his swollen length. He let out a deep appreciating sigh. “Like a glove cara, you have returned home."
One part of Carly wanted this, yet her brain warned her. But she chose to ignore it, her aching need for him too intense.
"Home feels good.” Her body purred and she began to rock in rhythm with him, the soft peaks smoldering, intensifying until they melded together as one. She clung to Marco, his mouth seeking hers in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue imitating their joining. Together they rode the wave of passion and reached the crest, Marco exploding into her in one long shuddering wave while her orgasm splintered into a thousand sensations beyond thought. Only feelings.
This, Carly believed without a doubt, was where she belonged—in Marco's arms.
Chapter 13
Weeks flew by. She was ecstatic. With an attentive and oh-so-very loving Marco taking her in his arms, holding her until they fell asleep, life was good.
Carly eyed the world outside her office. The color schemes for the hotels were all in place and everything was set for the first hotel.
She let out a contented sigh and patted her stomach. “Everything's going to be okay bubs."
Marco had come with her to the scan, but both had decided not to ask the baby's sex. To those around them, the Valente marriage was the epitome of success. Only one thing was missing.
Love.
She had long ago forgiven him for his intimidation, realizing she would have married him regardless. She loved him. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.
He made love to her with an intensity that belied all reasoning, but not once had he uttered a single word about loving her. But like a beggar who craved food, she would take whatever was offered while vowing not to open her heart. She kept her own counsel—for self-preservation.
She prayed it was enough.
Her phone rang and she swiftly picked it up. “Hello."
"Meet me downstairs."
"Marco?"
"You were expecting another lover?"
Carly swallowed, and bit her tongue, least she give away her heart. There would never, ever be another lover. Only him.
"I'm downstairs waiting.” The phone line went dead.
She stared at the receiver for a fraction of a second before reacting and dropped the phone on her desk. She called to Tansy. “I'm going out,” she almost shouted.
Tansy winked at her enthusiastically. “A mid-day assignation with that hunk of yours?"
Carly colored, but her lips spread in a broad happy smile and she nodded. Grabbing her bag she raced for the door as quickly as her growing size allowed. Marco wanted her at his side. She wasn't going to waste a minute of this special time—in case it ended.
She saw him the moment she stepped outside. He leaned against one of the large blue glazed pots that housed an assortment of geraniums and trailing ivy. Marco Valente was a man everyone noticed. He drew people to him like a magnet. More than once she had witnessed women fawn over him, despite the fact that she stood at his side.
For weeks now, though, she had been receiving odd phone calls. They were incessant. She was certain it was Rosaria, but had decided to say nothing to Marco about his ex-girlfriend and her attachment to the phone.
Marco hugged her to him. “I thought a little retail therapy appropriate."
"I don't need anything."
One darkly angled brow rose as he looked at her with amusement glittering in his eyes. “Did I mention you? I think our baby could do with a few items, hmm?"
"But..."
"Humor me?” he teased.
"Never let it be said I turned down an opportunity to shop."
Marco joined in her laughter. “Typical woman. Especially when it's someone else's money."
It was as if he'd doused her in ice, freezing her blood, and heart. Her throat closed and there was a piercing stab of pain in her chest. Marco sensed the change and stopped walking. He held his hands up in surrender. “Joke!"
"Oh. Ha, ha.” She tried to find the humor, but failed. “I'm not a gold digger, Marco Valente. I earn my own money and have never had to rely on any man. I rely on myself."
Not daring to look at him in case she lost her temper, further, Carly walked ahead. Right now she didn't care whether he followed or not.
Who are you trying to kid?
Several hours later, laden with shopping bags, she turned to Marco. “Talk about shop till you drop. I'm ready to do just that.” She gave him a rueful smile.
Concern etched his face. “Fool. I forget the most important thing. Our baby needs its rest."
The most important thing?
Not her.
Sadness swaddled Carly's heart and she struggled to keep her gaze steady. Inwardly, she tried to rationalize his statement. She was being pedantic, childish, hormonal. Of course the baby was the most important thing. But just for once, she wished she could be the most important thing in his life.
* * * *
As she set the table for dinner later that evening, Carly tried to extinguish the heavy sense of foreboding that had been with her since they returned from the shopping expedition.
She flicked a quick gaze towards the room designated as a nursery. The painters had finished the artwork and it was full to the brim with every conceivable baby gadget.
"Smells good.” Marco stood at the stove and lifted the lid from cast iron casserole.
"Just like a kid, can't wait,” Carly admonished.
"Baby, I can never wait."
Carly didn't ask what for, because as usual, there seemed to be too much left unsaid and she was too scared to ask.
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