His Private Mistress

by Shaw Chantelle

  ‘I need you.’ The admission was wrenched from him. He was a strong man, proud and fearless—he had never needed anyone in his life until now—and Eden gave a low murmur, understanding his distress, as she wrapped her arms around him.

  An hour later they returned to the Villa Mimosa to be greeted by Sophia’s tear-stained face. Aware that Rafe had had enough, Eden took charge and steered Sophia to the kitchen with the request that she prepare something to tempt her master’s appetite.

  ‘I thought you’d agreed to a shower and a couple of hours’ sleep?’ she demanded as she caught Rafe heading for his study, where the phone rang constantly.

  ‘There are people I need to speak to before the Monaco Grand Prix,’ he argued.

  ‘Petra has been your personal assistant for years, so she’s perfectly capable of dealing with your calls, and you’ve been the head of the Santini group in all but name for months, ever since your father’s first stroke. What’s so important that you need to deal with it today?’

  ‘Why do you care?’ he asked huskily as he followed her up the stairs, and she stopped outside the master suite she no longer shared with him, staring at him with gentle compassion.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered truthfully, remembering the hurt he’d inflicted.

  ‘All I know is that I do.’

  ‘I’ll only go to bed if you come with me.’

  The request shook her, the temptation to communicate in the most basic, honest way tugging at her emotions, but she couldn’t keep giving. He would drain her dry. ‘You need to sleep,’ she reminded him lightly, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. ‘I’ll come up and see you later.’

  He slept for an hour and joined her for dinner, although he barely did justice to the meal Sophia had prepared before he returned to the hospital.

  The next day followed a similar pattern until Eden received a phone call, Rafe’s voice laced with pain as he explained that Fabrizzio had suffered another attack and was hanging on to life by the most tenuous of threads.

  Eventually Eden went to bed. She had heard nothing more and dreaded the sound of the phone ringing, but sleep was vital if she was to be of any help to Rafe. She woke several hours later and fumbled for her watch to discover that it was three in the morning. Moonlight filtered through the shutters, slanting pale beams across the bed, and in its silver gleam she saw Rafe sitting, shoulders hunched, at the end of the mattress. The expression on his face, his silent agony, caused her heart to clench and her one thought was to comfort him as she moved to kneel behind him, sliding her arms around his neck.

  ‘Is there any news on Fabrizzio’s condition?’ she asked fearfully, and he nodded.

  ‘A slight improvement. He’s from tough Sicilian stock and he won’t give up his grip on life without a fight.’ There was admiration in his voice, an affection he had never tried to hide, and she hoped with all her heart that, for his sake, Fabrizzio would make a full recovery.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said simply, and he turned his head, his mouth searching for hers with an almost fevered desperation.

  ‘I want to make love to you, cara mia. You have no idea how much I need the soft sweetness of your body right now.’ His words were slurred with a mixture of exhaustion and pent-up emotions that were clamouring to be released, and she understood his need to find solace in the one place that provided sanctuary for both of them.

  Perhaps it was a natural reaction, a reaffirmation of life, and she couldn’t deny him when her own body was instantly on fire for him. He needed her and that was all that mattered.

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her; long, slow kisses that drugged her senses and made her feel boneless and weak with longing.

  ‘I hurt you in Indianapolis,’ he muttered thickly against her throat. ‘I was rough, brutal, and I am ashamed.’ He lifted his head and she was shaken by the depth of emotion in his eyes, the self-loathing, and sought to reassure him.

  ‘You didn’t; I wanted you every bit as much as you wanted me. I think I rather proved that,’ she added, her cheeks growing pink at the memory of her wild response to him.

  ‘I’ll be gentle this time,’ he insisted as he scooped her up into his arms and strode into his bedroom. ‘I have done things, said things to deliberately hurt you, yet you’ve shown me nothing but kindness while I pray for my father. Your compassion humbles me, cara. We need to talk.’

  Eden reached up and laid her finger across his lips. ‘Not now, Rafe; you once said that we communicate better without words and it’s time to let our bodies speak.’

  He shrugged out of his robe and untied the ribbons that fastened her silk negligee so that her breasts spilled into his hands while his lips found hers in a kiss that was full of tenderness, contrition and a plea for forgiveness.

  Passion overwhelmed her, stark and intense, desperate for fulfilment, and she gasped as he moved lower to suckle her nipple with gentle insistence until it was a hard, throbbing peak. When he transferred his attention to the other she arched and dug her nails into his shoulders as heat pooled between her thighs.

  She wanted him now, her hunger white-hot, and she lifted her hips in mute supplication, needing to feel him inside her.

  ‘I won’t rush it this time,’ Rafe promised deeply. ‘I will make sure you are ready for me.’

  ‘I am,’ she muttered. She was in agony with wanting him but he was determined to make amends for the last time, when he had taken her with such selfish disregard for her pleasure. Eden deliberately opened her legs and tilted her hips, her heart thudding as she felt the rigid hardness of his arousal against her thigh, but instead of entering her he caught her two hands in one of his and lifted her arms above her head.

  ‘Patience,’ he growled as he laved one throbbing peak and then the other with his tongue while his hand slipped between her legs and parted her, gently, delicately, before pushing inside. His fingers explored her in an erotic dance and Eden whimpered and tried to control the ripples of pleasure that were building inexorably. She wanted to drag him up her body so that he had no choice but to enter her, but her hands were still pinioned behind her head and she twisted restlessly, almost sobbing his name as her climax neared its crescendo.

  On the edge of ecstasy, he slipped his fingers out, the weight of his chest a welcome burden as he drove into her, slow, deep, filling her until she thought she would explode, and every thrust sent her higher and higher until restraint was smashed beneath the force of her contractions. Still he continued with his steady rhythm, although she was aware of the hoarseness of his breathing, his pace increasing, faster, deeper until he cried out her name and she clung to him while his body shuddered with the force of his release.

  The aftermath was so sweet, she had never felt closer to him and knew she would never love anyone as much as she loved him. But did she have the courage to reveal how she felt, to tell him she had never stopped loving him throughout all the years apart, and was it really what he wanted to hear? She lay still, stroking his hair, and her heart missed a beat as she felt wetness against her neck, felt his shoulders heave as he finally gave in to the fear he felt for his father’s life.

  Over the next few days Fabrizzio stunned his doctors and family alike with the speed of his recovery. He still had a long way to go, but with his life no longer in imminent danger Rafe lost his look of haunted anxiety.

  After the passionate night they had spent together, Eden had hoped their relationship would survive the traumas of the past few weeks, but Rafe seemed curiously reluctant to be alone with her. It was as if he regretted his display of emotion that night and hoped she hadn’t read too much into it. He made no attempt to make love to her again or persuade her to move back into his bedroom, and her last vestige of pride meant that she refused to suggest it.

  Pride made a lonely bedfellow, she conceded miserably after spending another night missing him so badly that she ached, not just for the pleasure he could give, but also for the feeling of oneness with the man who had captured her h
eart. He was polite and friendly but curiously distant, and in the run up to the Monaco Grand Prix she was forced to accept that they could never go back.

  Too much damage had been inflicted on a relationship that had been on shaky ground to start with.

  On the day before they flew to the principality he received a visitor, a man she assumed to be a business associate, although Rafe never introduced her to him.

  After that his attitude towards her changed even more. He was excruciatingly polite and solicitous during the flight but the barrier he had erected between them seemed impossible to penetrate and she knew with a heavy heart that when the race was over it would be time to return to England to pick up the pieces of her life.

  They arrived in Monaco to face a barrage of Press photographers as the world speculated on whether Fabrizzio Santini’s close shave with death would affect his son’s performance on the track. They needn’t have worried, Eden thought bleakly as Rafe took the lead early on in the race and drove with a mixture of skill and sheer disregard for his safety. She only relaxed when he shot past the chequered flag, feeling as physically drained by nervous tension as if she had competed herself.

  This was his life, she acknowledged as she watched him stand triumphant on the podium, spraying the crowd with champagne and grinning at the girls who flocked round him. He was a millionaire playboy with the world at his feet and, although she loved him more than life, she couldn’t spend any more time chasing him round the world as his very public mistress, waiting for him to tire of her.

  When they arrived back in Milan he escorted her over to the limousine but didn’t slide in next to her.

  ‘I’m going straight to the hospital,’ he told her. ‘Apparently Fabrizzio is sitting up in bed, demanding to take back control of the company.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked, and he shook his head.

  ‘Not this time; I want to see him alone. There are a few things we need to discuss,’ he added, his expression suddenly grim. He didn’t enlighten her further, but why would he? She wasn’t part of his family, and now that Fabrizzio was recovering there was no need for her to hang around. His coolness towards her made that clear.

  The villa was in darkness when Rafe’s powerful sports car swung through the gates and roared up the driveway. No doubt Sophia would have retired to bed long ago, he thought grimly, a glance at his watch revealing that hours had passed since he had visited his father at the hospital.

  What about Eden—would she have waited up for him? he wondered as he raced up the stairs. He should have phoned her but he’d been in shock, genuinely devastated by the conversation with Fabrizzio, and the only way he knew how to exorcise his demons was with speed. He must have covered hundreds of miles just racing up and down the motorways. Driving was second nature to him, the thing he did best, and while his attention was focused on the road he couldn’t think about Eden and the way he had wronged her.

  He didn’t like guilt. It didn’t sit comfortably on his shoulders, he conceded darkly as he pushed open the door of the guest bedroom that Eden had moved into.

  The bed was empty, stripped of its sheets, and a bolt of fear, greater even than when he’d heard of his father’s heart attack, swept through him as he flung open the wardrobes and discovered they were bare. He had been preparing for the fact that she might decide to leave after he had spoken to her, after he’d revealed that he now knew the truth, but he hadn’t expected to come home and find her gone.

  Numbly he stumbled into the hall, his heart quickening as he saw the stream of light from beneath his bedroom door and he threw it open with such force that it creaked on its hinges. For a brief, joyous moment he thought she had moved back into the room they had once shared, but the suitcase lying open on the bed dashed his hopes.

  ‘I wondered when you would turn up, or if you’d even bother,’ she said coolly, carefully avoiding his gaze, but when he looked closely he noted the streaks of tears on her face and his heart turned over.

  ‘Where did you think I’d gone, cara?’ he asked gently, and she shrugged.

  ‘I’m sure you have dozens of names in your phone book, you’d never be stuck for female company, Rafe.’

  ‘The only company I want is yours,’ he said forcefully.

  ‘Oh, please! Let’s not pretend that I’m anything other than a temporary diversion. I’m your mistress, nothing more, as you so clearly pointed out.’

  ‘The night we arrived back from Indianapolis I was angry,’ he began, but she shook her head wildly, and for the first time he noticed the perilous control she had over her emotions. She was practically breaking up before his eyes and he only had himself to blame.

  ‘You were angry before, during and after Indianapolis,’ she accused him furiously. ‘I’m tired of always trying to pre-empt your moods, and nothing excuses your treatment of me. You blow hot and cold so fast I never know where I am with you,’ she continued as weeks of hurt and frustration finally spilled over. ‘While your father was ill I thought you actually needed me, but you don’t need anyone, do you, Rafe? I provided a useful shoulder to cry on but since

  Fabrizzio has shown signs of recovery I’m no longer required. Your attitude towards me this last week is proof of that.’

  It was proof that he had been left reeling from the information the private investigator had unearthed. He’d learned the day before they flew to Monaco that he had misjudged Eden so badly, he didn’t stand a chance of winning her forgiveness. Not only that, but since he had demanded the truth from his father he now knew that he had misjudged her twice, the first time four years ago. The guilt he felt had been hard to handle; he didn’t know how to approach her or where to start in begging for another chance, and his remorse had made him seem distant and aloof. Four years ago he had refused to listen to her, and he could hardly blame her for wanting to extract a bitter retribution.

  ‘If you want proof of the way I feel about you, this is it,’ he said calmly as he walked towards her, and she gasped as he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a devastating assault that left her trembling. ‘This is all the proof we need,’ he insisted when she stopped fighting and sagged weakly against his chest, but the tears in her eyes warned him the battle was far from won.

  ‘The great sex was never in dispute,’ she said quietly. ‘But I want more than that, I deserve more. I don’t want to be afraid to open a newspaper because there might be another picture or damning article about me. You didn’t even defend my name, Rafe, you didn’t care who was responsible for setting a photographer to spy on us in Venice. As your mistress I’m public property and I’ve decided to quit.’

  ‘I know who set the paparazzi on us,’ he told her urgently when she picked up her suitcase and headed for the door. ‘And I have taken steps to ensure nothing like that will happen again. I would willingly protect you with my life, cara mia, and you will never suffer hurt like that again, I promise you.’

  Eden studied him for several minutes, as if the blinkers had been removed and she was looking at him for the first time, and from her expression he guessed she didn’t like what she saw. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she replied with simple finality, ‘and I want to go home.’

  The sun was low in the late-September sky. It bathed the mellow stones of the Dower House in a golden glow and danced among the leaves that were beginning to turn russet in colour. She would miss the garden most, Eden thought as she wandered across the lawn and stepped through the French doors, before locking them for the last time. Nev would keep an eye on the house until the new owners moved in; he’d let slip that the sale had already gone through and, although he had assured her there was no rush for her to move out, it was time to go.

  She watched the taxi turn into the drive with a sinking heart. Funny how she’d never really believed this day would come. She had clung to the pathetic daydream that Rafe would materialise and declare his undying love for her, but the reality was that he had spent the last month jetting around the globe
in his bid for a sixth World Championship title. His decisive victory in Japan had sealed his place as one of the most successful Formula 1 drivers of all time and his picture had been on the front page of every newspaper, the obligatory blonde beauty at his side.

  ‘Ready to go, love?’ the taxi driver called cheerfully. ‘I’ll put your suitcase in the boot.’

  ‘I’ll just check I’ve locked the windows,’ she murmured, furious with herself for giving in to the urge for one last look round. This had never been her home and it was ridiculous to feel so sentimental about it. It was a family house, a house that should be filled with children, but they wouldn’t be hers and it was time to stop wishing for the moon.

  She frowned when she came back downstairs to hear voices from the drive. Surely Nev would have told her if the new owners were arriving today? The bright red sports car caught her attention first—it was hard to miss—and her disbelieving gaze turned to find Rafe and the taxi driver practically coming to blows over her suitcase.

  ‘Do you want me to stow it in the boot, or don’t you?’ the driver demanded belligerently.

  ‘Yes!’ Eden shouted as she stepped outside.

  ‘No! Not yet,’ Rafe qualified, and the driver let go of the handle in disgust.

  ‘Well, when you’ve decided, perhaps you’ll let me know,’ he snorted as he climbed into the car and turned the radio on. ‘I’ll just sit here and listen to the cricket while you make up your minds.’

  ‘I’ve got a train to catch,’ Eden warned, striving to sound cool and hide the fact that she was actually trembling. ‘What do you want, Rafe?’

  ‘Five minutes of your time,’ he asked, with such serious intent in his eyes that she knew arguing with him would be pointless. ‘I thought you loved this house,’ he murmured as she led the way into the sitting room. ‘I thought it was the reason you came back to me. That’s what you told my father,’ he reminded her, and she paled.

  ‘You know why I said those things,’ she whispered.

  ‘To convince Fabrizzio that our relationship was a casual affair that meant nothing to either of us, rather than a prelude to marriage?’