by Annie West
For the longest time they clung together, hearts pounding in sync, gasps mingling and bodies so entwined it seemed they were one entity.
Lucy never wanted it to end. She never wanted to let him go.
She squeezed her eyes shut, imprinting the moment on her memory, knowing this couldn’t last.
Finally, mumbling about being too heavy, Domenico rolled away. Instantly cold invaded her body. Even when he hauled her close, his arm around her and her head pressed to his thundering heart, she couldn’t recapture that moment of perfect communion.
Lucy reminded herself that sexual pleasure was fleeting. The sense of let-down was natural.
But it was more than that.
She listened to Domenico’s breathing slow, felt his heart beneath her cheek return to its normal beat. But even when her pulse slowed too, she felt anything but normal.
That was what petrified her.
She’d lost part of herself to Domenico Volpe. A part she could never get back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I STILL THINK this is a huge mistake.’ Lucy stood in the vast dressing room of Domenico’s master suite in the Roman palazzo, staring at the plastic-draped clothes lining one wall.
Exquisite designer clothes. All for her.
She clasped her hands as nerves snaked through her. This wasn’t just a mistake, it was looming catastrophe.
‘How could you even think this would help?’
‘Because attack is the best form of defence, didn’t you know?’ Domenico’s voice came from the adjoining bathroom. She gritted her teeth at his casual tone.
Didn’t he know how much she risked, being seen in public with him?
Of course he did. When this backfired it would smear his name as much as hers. The thought made bile churn and she pressed her hand to her stomach.
She had to find calm.
Calm! The last three weeks had been anything but calm.
Lucy fought down the pleasure that always hovered at the memory of Domenico’s loving. Anyone would think they’d be sated now, worn out by the amount of time they’d spent naked together.
Instead she felt energised. When she was with him she almost believed she could take on the world. Especially as she’d decided to make the most of each precious moment.
This interlude couldn’t last. When he’d done his best to clear her name they’d go their separate ways. If she’d learnt anything in scouring the press reports it was that he moved in a world far beyond hers. One that collided with hers only due to the circumstances of Sandro’s death.
Domenico favoured elegant brunettes who fitted that world as she never could. Socialites and celebrities who took luxury as their due.
Lucy had no illusions. She was a novelty, a wrong to be righted. Domenico felt only lust, guilt and a determination to do right. Tellingly, he never spoke of a future for them beyond that.
When he failed, as inevitably he would, he’d turn to some gorgeous woman from his own rarefied world and Lucy would go far away to start again. All she’d have was memories.
Pain seared, banishing her nerves.
Who knew how long she had with Domenico? Tonight could be the beginning of the end.
Lucy tried to tell herself it had been worth it, these weeks of indulgent delight. She’d made her choice and settled for fleeting joy. She was strong and aware of the consequences. She simply chose to enjoy pleasure while it lasted, rather than wallow in self-pity.
Time for that later.
There could be no future for them, even if she did...care for Domenico.
Lucy grimaced at the way she avoided even thinking the alternative word.
What choice did she have? Domenico might be a wonderful lover, passionate and heart-stoppingly demanding. He might be single-minded in pursuing proof of her innocence, but that was guilt at work and his obsessive drive to make things right.
He might be tender with her but only in the way a man treated his current temporary lover. He never spoke of them, or of the future, only of clearing her name. He felt guilty because he hadn’t trusted her all those years ago.
Domenico was a decent man, a good man, despite his arrogant certainty that the world would bow to his will, but there was no chance he could ever love her.
‘Still not dressed?’
Lucy whipped around to find him leaning against the doorjamb, resplendent in a dinner jacket, his fresh-shaved jaw pure temptation to a woman who couldn’t get enough of him.
She curled her fingers into fists and looked away, ignoring the inevitable jangle of awareness that cascaded through her.
‘I still think this is nonsensical. What will it achieve, being seen in Rome with me? Nothing but more scandal.’
‘What it will achieve—’ he crossed to stand beside her ‘—is to prove I’m proud to be with you. That the past is the past. That’s a first step.’ He dragged a finger across the sensitive skin beneath her ear and she shivered.
‘But it will do no good, don’t you see?’ She looked up at him. ‘There’ll be a rash of stories about me moving from one brother to the other.’ She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the bitterness on her tongue.
‘Ah, but there’ll be far more revealed, just you wait and see. Soon things will seem a lot brighter.’ He looked suspiciously pleased with himself.
‘What do you know? Is there something?’ She couldn’t help the surge of hope that dawned.
‘Soon, tesoro. I promise you, soon this will all be over.’
Logic told her there could be no proof unless Bruno confessed. But Bruno Scarlatti had been happy to let her bear his punishment. That wouldn’t change.
Besides, Domenico was right. If by some miracle he did prove her innocence all this would be over. Not just the public burden of guilt, but their time together.
He stroked her again, lingering where the neckline of her T-shirt dipped. His eyes turned smoky dark and Lucy’s pulse accelerated. One fleeting touch and she wanted so much more!
It was the knowledge of her neediness that gave her strength to step back.
‘You don’t trust me with your news?’
The sexy smile curving his mouth died. ‘It’s not that. I need to have it confirmed. It should be soon.’ He paused, raking her face as if searching for something. ‘But there is some definite news. As soon as you’re ready we’ll go downstairs and you’ll hear all about it.’
‘Why don’t you tell me now? It’s my name you’re trying to clear, damn it!’ She jammed her hands on her hips. She wasn’t used to standing back and relying on others. It made her uneasy.
Domenico leaned in, the glint in his eyes pure devilment.
‘Because I know, cara, that if I don’t give you a reason to get changed and come downstairs, we’ll have another argument about you accepting my charity.’ He waved a hand towards the wardrobe stuffed full of expensive clothes. ‘But now you know the only way to discover what I’ve found out is to do what I want...’
His smile was all arrogant male satisfaction. Exasperation filled her.
Lucy pressed her hand to his dinner jacket, feeling the steady beat of his heart. She let her fingers slide down the lapel, her fingers brushing his shirt. His muscles contracted beneath her touch.
She let a knowing smile play on her lips. The sort of smile she’d learned from him. It hid her skittering fear. Fear that she wanted too much from him.
‘I wouldn’t say it’s the only way I could find out.’ Her voice dropped to a husky note as she rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to a point at the corner of his jaw.
He couldn’t hide the way his muscles clenched tight, or the slight hitch to his breathing.
‘Witch!’ He stepped back, putting space between them.
‘Coward,’ she purred, pleased more than she should be. Sexually, there was no denying her power over him.
‘A wise man knows when to retreat. I’ll wait downstairs.’ He made for the door then turned, his mouth curling in a piratical smile that turned her knee
s to jelly. ‘But there’ll be a reckoning later, cara. You can be sure of that.’
* * *
Domenico looked up at the sound of heels tapping on the travertine floor. He moved to the door of the drawing room, only to stumble to a halt.
Shock slammed into him. Shock and what felt remarkably like awe.
He knew every inch of Lucy’s delectable body, each dip and curve and enticing hollow. Her face was the last thing he saw at night and the first thing he saw in the morning.
And yet she had the power to stun him.
Per la madonna!
A fine sweat broke out on his brow and heat misted his vision.
He thought he’d known, but he’d had no idea!
A vision stalked towards him in killer heels that made her hips sway in an undulating rhythm that took his pulse and tossed it into overdrive. A full-length gown in glittering gold clung like sin. It scooped low from tiny jewelled shoulder straps to skim the upper swell of her high breasts. The skirt accentuated the long, delicious curve of hip and thigh, hugging close before swirling out around her ankles.
Domenico hitched a finger inside his collar to loosen its suddenly constricting pressure.
‘Lucy.’ The word was a croak of shock. ‘You look...’ words failed him ‘...beautiful.’
More than beautiful. She was luminous. Her eyes were bigger than ever, her lips a glistening, tinted promise of pleasure to come.
He wanted to haul her back to bed.
What was he thinking, planning to show her off to the hungry wolves of Roman society? What madness possessed him?
‘I told you it was too much.’ She gestured to the dress as she stopped before him and he read the doubt in her eyes.
How could she doubt for a moment how fabulous she looked?
But he’d learned the woman behind the bravado was full of surprises. His chest tightened at the lack of confidence her words revealed. Only now was he beginning to understand how imprisonment had scarred her.
His belly hollowed with guilt.
How could he ever make it up to her?
Domenico reached out and took her cold hand, raising it to his lips as he held her gaze. He turned her hand and pressed a kiss to the soft underside of her wrist, then another, and was rewarded by her shiver of pleasure. Colour tinged her cheeks and her eyes turned slumberous.
‘You look perfect,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘The most beautiful woman in Rome.’
And even now she might be carrying his child.
He’d relegated the idea to the back of his mind, but seeing her so beautiful yet vulnerable loosened the guard he placed on his thoughts.
A surge of protectiveness filled him.
He forced himself to step back.
Looking into her stunned face, Domenico had an unsettling feeling he’d strayed out of his depth. He’d never experienced anything like it.
He thought he’d known what he was getting into but at each turn Lucy confounded him. Uneasily he banished the suspicion that he, not she, was the one who needed help.
‘Come, there’s someone here to see you.’ He hooked her hand through his and covered her fingers. ‘And remember, I’m with you.’
* * *
His hand closed around hers in a gesture of reassurance.
She couldn’t drag her gaze from his. For the first time ever she felt truly beautiful, because of the admiration in his eyes.
Domenico ushered her into the spacious sitting room. Walking in breakneck heels was much easier with his support. She could get used to—
Lucy stumbled mid-step, her hand clawing his arm. Her spine set as she fought a primitive instinct to flee.
How could he have done this to her?
‘You remember my sister-in-law, Pia.’ His voice was smooth, his manner urbane, as if he hadn’t just introduced the woman who’d once screamed abuse at her for killing her husband.
Lucy swayed. Her knees weakened and she feared she’d crumple till Domenico wrapped an arm around her.
His hold was all that kept her upright.
Pia was pale and perfect, from her expertly cut dark hair to her exquisite designer shoes. Huge dark eyes surveyed her as if trying to read her soul. Slowly she crossed the room.
Lucy tried to drag in air. She couldn’t breathe. Maybe the oxygen had been sucked from the room by the intensity of Pia’s stare.
The other woman raised her hand and Lucy flinched.
It took a lifetime to recognise the gesture. A handshake? From Pia Volpe?
Hysterical laughter rose and Lucy bit her lip to stop it bursting out. She shook her head in disbelief.
‘You won’t shake my hand?’ The other woman’s face was tight as she shot a look at Domenico. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’
‘Don’t be hasty, Pia. Lucy’s surprised. She didn’t know you were here.’
Because if she’d known she’d never have agreed to come!
Lucy couldn’t look away from the face of the woman before her. ‘What’s going on?’ Her words were a rough whisper but at least her larynx worked.
‘Come and sit down.’ He urged them towards a group of leather sofas. ‘There’s no need for formality.’
Again that inappropriate gurgle of laughter threatened. He thought they could be casual? She and the woman who blamed her for her husband’s death?
Yet she found her legs moving stiffly. A moment later she plopped onto a sofa as her knees gave way. Domenico held her, his body crammed close. If she had the energy she’d elbow him away, but she was hollow with shock.
Pia subsided gracefully into an armchair. She didn’t look happy.
‘Pia, perhaps you’d explain why you’re here?’ Domenico’s voice was smooth but held a note of steel. Lucy watched Pia shift and realised it hadn’t been her idea to come here.
What was going on?
‘I came to...’ The brunette darted a look at Domenico then turned to Lucy. Her fingers went to her throat in a nervous gesture. ‘To apologise.’
Lucy’s breath stopped but her heart pounded on. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Pia crossed her legs then uncrossed them, clearly ill at ease.
‘I don’t understand,’ Lucy croaked.
‘Domenico told me what he’d found out.’
Lucy jerked in shock, her head swinging round to Domenico. He couldn’t have told her, could he? Fire scorched her face at the idea of him informing Pia she’d been a virgin.
As if reading her thoughts he shook his head. ‘Not that,’ he whispered. His hand closed on hers but she shook it off.
‘He explained there was new evidence,’ the other woman went on, ‘about Bruno being the guilty one.’
Lucy darted a look at Domenico but his face was inscrutable.
‘I never liked him, you know,’ Pia said. ‘He was always a bit too smooth. But I never thought...’ She shook her head. ‘You must believe me, Signorina Knight. I didn’t know he lied. All I knew was Sandro was in your room, with you cradling his head, and he was dead.’ She sobbed and lifted a handkerchief to her eyes.
‘It’s all right, Pia. Lucy understands you didn’t know the truth.’ Domenico’s hand touched Lucy’s again and this time she was too distracted to move it.
‘Of course,’ she said, trying to digest this news.
What new evidence?
‘You understand?’ Pia looked up through tear-glazed eyes.
Lucy nodded. ‘I didn’t know what Bruno was really like either. If I had I’d never have let him into my room.’ She shuddered, thinking how gullible she’d been.
Domenico squeezed her shoulders and she had no desire to shake him off.
Pia’s hand went again to her throat. ‘It was a shock when Domenico told me the truth.’ Her mouth curled in a trembling smile as she looked at her brother-in-law. ‘You gave Sandro back to me with your news. You have no idea what that means after all this time.’
‘It took me too long.’ Domenico’s voice was grim. ‘I should have thoug
ht of it years before.’
Lucy looked from one to the other, curiosity mounting. ‘Thought of what?’
The other woman turned to her. ‘My jewellery, of course.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Domenico, you didn’t tell her?’
‘No one has told me anything.’ Frustration rose. Everyone knew more than her!
‘I thought Lucy would appreciate hearing it from you,’ he said.
Lucy bit down a demand for someone, anyone, to tell her what was going on.
‘Domenico found the artisan who made my jewellery.’ Pia extended her arm. On her wrist was a bracelet of enamelled flowers, exquisitely executed and interspersed with lustrous pearls.
Lucy leaned forward, identifying primroses and forget-me-nots in a design she’d never expected to see again. Her stomach clamped down as icy fingers danced on her spine. Nausea rose and she breathed hard through her mouth, forcing it down.
Abruptly she sat back, shutting her eyes in an effort to regain control.
When she opened them she saw Pia’s hand caressing the matching necklace at her throat. Lucy had been so preoccupied she hadn’t recognised it.
‘That was the necklace they found in my room.’ Lucy’s voice was hoarse. Stupid to be so affected but it brought back that night in too-vivid detail. More, it evoked memories of how it had been used against her in the trial. ‘I didn’t know there was a bracelet too.’
‘Nor did I,’ Pia said, smiling as she looked at her brother-in-law.
Lucy turned in his hold. Domenico’s eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that banished the cold prickling her backbone. ‘You knew there was a bracelet?’ Why was that important? She still didn’t see.
‘No, I just tried to track down the maker. I was desperate for any leads that might give me a better picture of what happened back then.’ His hand tightened on hers.
Her heart dipped. He’d tracked the maker down because he’d sought the impossible—something to prove she wasn’t a killer.
‘The police were only interested in the fact you had the necklace, not where it was made.’
‘Because everyone assumed he’d bought it for me.’ Lucy shivered, remembering how the prosecution had made so much about the match between the enamelled flowers and the colour of her eyes. Plus the fact that, beautiful as the piece was, it was nothing like the glittering emeralds and rubies Sandro had previously given his wife. The implication was that he’d got something expensive for his new lover, but nothing to rival the grandeur of the jewels he’d bought his wife.
