by Annie West
Lucy rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the ache beginning there.
‘Lucy? What is it? Are you all right?’
She looked down at the luscious fruit on her plate and her stomach roiled.
‘Of course. I’m just...stunned. It’s taking a while to process.’
Could she be pregnant? Was that what made her nauseous and maudlin instead of happy at this brilliant news? The possibility had sat at the back of her mind ever since she’d learned he hadn’t used protection that first time.
Joy and fear filled her at the idea of carrying Domenico’s child. Despite his assurances, she knew he wouldn’t be happy. Innocent she might be, but it had become clear last night, seeing the glitz of the rarefied world he moved in, that she didn’t belong. She’d had to call on every ounce of courage to face the calculating gazes of the uber-wealthy and the paparazzi.
She’d even been gauchely enthusiastic about her first opera when the rest of the audience displayed only polite appreciation. She’d been so obviously an outsider.
‘It’s okay, Lucy.’ His tone was encouraging, kind. ‘We achieved what we set out to do. It’s all over now.’
Her gaze darted to Domenico’s face. In it she read self-satisfaction that, melded onto his superbly sculpted features, gave an air of ingrained superiority.
It’s all over.
Hadn’t she told herself that what they shared would end soon? She could barely call it a relationship, despite the blinding moments of connection. It was based only on sexual pleasure and convenience. Not once had he spoken of a future beyond ‘rehabilitating’ her.
As if she was some project instead of a woman with feelings!
Feelings. Oh, she had those in spades.
She tried to dredge up gratitude. Instead a writhing knot of emotion wedged in her chest.
‘Thank you,’ she said finally. ‘Without you, this would never have happened.’
He gestured dismissively. Obviously it had been nothing mobilising vast resources to revisit every aspect of the prosecution case.
Lucy swallowed, not wanting to ask, but needing to know. ‘What now, Domenico? What will we do?’
Last night, basking in his closeness, she’d let herself dream what it would be like if he truly cared for her. If he loved her.
She snatched in her breath on a desperate gasp. Until now she hadn’t used the L word. Coward that she was, she’d avoided even thinking it. But she couldn’t pretend any longer. She wanted to be more to Domenico than a project.
She wanted to be in his life permanently. She wanted his laughter, his tenderness, his loving, the way he made her feel precious and special. She wanted to be the woman she’d become on his island, where she’d learned about compassion and trust and...love.
Her stomach dipped at the enormity of what she wanted. She’d gone from total, self-absorbed isolation to knowing she wouldn’t be whole without him.
She swallowed hard. She’d fallen in love.
‘Now?’ His brows drew together.
‘Now it’s over.’
She waited, longing for him to tell her it would never be over. That he felt this overwhelming sense of belonging with her too, despite the differences between them.
‘Nothing more is necessary. The legal experts can take it from here.’ He gave her a reassuring smile that did anything but. ‘We’ll continue the strategy of showing you out and about, accepted by the family and everyone who counts. My security staff will protect you.’
‘Of course.’ She felt like an inanimate object to be exhibited. Lucy told herself she was unreasonable. It didn’t help.
‘There’ll be a spike in interest once it’s clear you’re innocent. But in the long run I’m hopeful you can start that new life you want so much.’
His smile was benevolent, like an adult giving a child a long awaited treat.
Except she didn’t want it as she once had. Not if it meant leaving Domenico.
But it wasn’t her choice to make.
She waited for him to say more. To talk about them.
He said nothing.
She read the satisfaction in his eyes and the way he sprawled in his chair. He’d done what he’d set out to do against the odds. Wasn’t that his speciality? Succeeding where everyone failed? She’d been one more challenge to a man who revelled in beating the odds.
Lucy’s stomach clenched. She wanted to be more.
‘Where will you be, Domenico?’ She was proud of her even tone when inside she shook like a leaf in a gale.
‘Me?’ He looked surprised she’d ask. ‘I’ll stay in Rome for a while to help you through the media attention. You won’t have to cope alone.’
No, he’d made it his business to look after her. She told herself she should appreciate it more. She did appreciate it, except she felt like a problem to be managed rather than the woman in his life.
Miserably, she reminded herself she’d never really been his woman, just conveniently available.
‘And after that?’
He shrugged and reached for his coffee. ‘I’ve got business in New York I’ve delayed for a couple of weeks.’ Delayed because of her.
‘And then?’ She laced her fingers, willing him to say something, anything about them. About coming back to her or taking her with him. ‘What about after that?’ Even a promise to see her in England would be something.
Domenico frowned, clearly not used to being quizzed.
‘It depends on a number of things. Perhaps Germany for a week or two.’
‘I see.’
Finally, she did.
This was the end.
She’d known it was coming. How could she not, when despite the precious moments of communion, she didn’t fit in his world or he in hers?
He’d support her for a week or two more, squiring her and protecting her from the press. And he’d be happy, no doubt, to share his body with her, while he was in town.
After that she was on her own.
Pain stabbed, transfixing her. She breathed slowly through her mouth, willing the searing heat, like a red-hot knife in her midriff, to ease. It didn’t, but she couldn’t bear to sit here with him surveying her like his latest trophy of success—proof that Domenico Volpe could achieve anything he set his heart on.
When she’d set her heart on—
No! She’d known this couldn’t last. She’d resolved to enjoy every minute Domenico gave her and not look back. It was she who’d broken the rules by wanting more.
She prayed she still had the power to hide her feelings from him.
‘I never believed you could do it, Domenico.’ She let his name roll around her mouth, savouring it one last time. ‘Thank you.’ She met his gaze, felt that familiar sizzle of heat, then looked at her hands threading together in her lap. She’d have to do better than this if she was to leave with dignity.
‘It was my pleasure, Lucy.’ The rumble of his voice reminded her of the intimacies they’d shared, not just in bed, but when they’d laughed together, talked, and played with Chiara.
Her shiver of response was the catalyst she needed. She could stay but each day would draw her further into his thrall till she wouldn’t have the strength to go. She couldn’t wait for the day he decided it was time for her to leave.
Lucy’s chair scraped the polished floor as she stood.
‘If you’ll excuse me I’ll go and pack.’ She lifted her head and looked at a point just over his shoulder. ‘I appreciate your help, but I’d rather not stay in Rome.’
* * *
Domenico froze, his coffee halfway to his mouth.
‘Prego?’ What did she mean, she’d rather not stay?
‘It’s time I went home. I’m sure you understand.’
The cup rattled as he put it down. Understand? Like hell he did. As for going home, he knew as well as Lucy that she had no home. Her she-wolf of a stepmother had sold Lucy’s privacy for a fistful of cash.
‘No, I don’t understand! Perhaps you’d explain.’
>
How could she be so eager to leave? Indignation stirred and with it male pride. Only hours ago she’d lain in his arms, crying out his name as they found bliss together. Heat stirred, remembering.
She didn’t meet his eyes.
Fear prickled the hairs on his nape. He didn’t understand it, but he did trust his instincts. Something was wrong. Badly wrong.
‘I’m English, Domenico. I want to go to England.’
‘You haven’t mentioned returning in weeks.’
She shrugged. ‘Because it was obvious I’d be hounded by the press. You gave me a place to lie low and I appreciate it.’
Was that all he’d given her? She short-changed them both implying it was.
‘I’ve been in Italy since I left prison. I want to go home.’ Her hands twisted. ‘Do you realise that, even out of jail, I haven’t chosen where I stayed? Not even for a night?’
She complained about the way he protected her? Or did she complain about being with him? Domenico’s mind whirled. It wasn’t possible. She’d welcomed him into her bed so eagerly.
‘You’d rather I’d left you to the press?’ He spoke through gritted teeth. He told himself he didn’t want her gratitude but he sure as hell expected better than this. Anger stirred. ‘You know it was for your own good.’ Even if at first it had been for his convenience.
She nodded. ‘I appreciate all you’ve done. And the way you came to my aid that day we went ashore. But it’s time I stood on my own two feet.’
Domenico’s jaw jammed shut. He hated that note of finality in her voice. He wanted to rail at her and tell her she couldn’t leave.
But what right had he to stop her?
Only the fact that he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not while the passion they shared burned so bright.
Didn’t she feel it too?
Or had she simply taken advantage of what he offered, ready to discard him as it suited her?
Domenico’s jaw tightened.
Never had a woman dumped him. And never had one left with such little regret. He hated this dark roil of emotions. They made him feel...alarmingly out of control.
He strode around the end of the table, ready to reach out and grab her, only to stop when she faced him with that cold mask of disdain he’d thought she’d ditched for good.
‘I’m a free woman now and it’s time I acted like one.’
‘The press will be after you.’ She needed him, couldn’t she see that? Something akin to desperation racked him. ‘With the case reopened the press will be more eager.’
‘I don’t care. At least now they won’t call me a murderess. They won’t stop me getting a job.’
‘You want to work?’
Her eyes, like blue stars, met his head-on and the impact rocked him back on his heels.
‘Of course I want to work. What choice do I have?’ Her expression was dismissive.
‘You could always sell your story. They’d pay even higher money for your inside story now you’ve been in my bed.’
Even as he said it, Domenico regretted the words. She’d goaded him into a quagmire of bitter, unfamiliar emotions, announcing she was leaving. He felt betrayed and he lashed out.
Lucy looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. Her eyes were laser-sharp as they raked him, scraping his flesh raw. Had he really imagined she cared for him?
‘Perhaps I will. After all, I didn’t sign that gag contract of yours, did I?’
It was a physical blow to the gut, watching her turn back into the ice-hard woman she’d once been.
He wanted to beg her not to do it. But Volpes never begged. Besides, she was beyond listening to him.
‘Goodbye, Domenico.’ She spun on her foot and left.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AUTUMN CAME EARLY to London. Wind gusted down the city street, grabbed Lucy’s second-hand jacket and flapped it around her.
The chill didn’t bother her. She’d grown used to feeling cold, ever since that day in Rome when Domenico had washed his hands of her.
She tilted her head down and put one weary leg in front of the other. It had been a long day and she needed this short break to regroup before her busy evening shift. Jobs weren’t easy to come by, not even casual waitressing jobs, and she had rent due. She couldn’t afford to be anything but on the ball when her shift began again.
A cup of tea and twenty minutes with her shoes kicked off beneath a table would be bliss.
She was calculating if she had enough cash for food too when a dark figure loomed before her. Automatically she stepped to one side. So did he. Lucy stepped the other way to find he’d made the same manoeuvre.
That was when she took in the glossy, beautifully tooled shoes blocking her path.
Her nape prickled as she raised her gaze over an exquisitely tailored suit and cashmere overcoat. She gasped and sucked in a spicy scent she’d never forget if she lived to be a hundred.
‘Domenico!’
Gun-metal grey eyes met hers from under straight black brows. The shock of him in the flesh rocked her back on her heels. She’d imagined him often, dreamt about him every night, but had forgotten how incredibly magnetic that deep gaze was.
Hungrily she took in those high cheekbones, the strong nose and hard jaw, the sensuous mouth. So familiar, so dear. Her heart bumped then catapulted into a gallop. She buried her hands deep in her pockets lest she reach for him as she did in her dreams.
He looked utterly gorgeous, but there were lines of strain around his eyes and the groove in his cheek scored deeper than before. He’d been working too hard.
‘Lucy.’ Just two syllables and her nerves danced a shimmy of delight. No one said her name as he did. No one made it sound half so appealing.
‘What are you doing in London?’
‘I have an important meeting.’
Of course he did. Domenico’s world was full of important meetings. She’d followed his progress in the press these last couple of months, from the USA to Germany, China and back to Rome. Nothing had stopped his spectacular business success. Certainly not regret over her.
Still she couldn’t bring herself to move. She stood, drinking him in, like a shaft of Italian sunshine on this grey English day.
‘With you.’
‘Sorry?’ She’d lost the thread of the conversation.
‘It’s you I’m here to see.’
She shook her head. Of course she wanted to see him, but self-preservation cautioned it could only lead to catastrophe. She didn’t have the willpower to say goodbye again. Getting over Domenico Volpe was even harder than she’d feared.
‘It’s true.’
‘How did you find me?’
His eyebrows rose and she thought of the vast resources he’d used to find the truth about her past. He’d probably just clicked his fingers and hey presto!
‘Why track me down?’ What could he want after all this time?
Then it struck her. Domenico put family above all. He was big on duty and making things right. Why else would he come?
She made herself meet his eyes, not letting him see her disappointment. ‘You don’t have to worry. You didn’t get me pregnant.’
* * *
Domenico stared into her brilliant blue gaze and felt a knife slash of pain. The chances had been slim but still he’d hoped.
He made himself nod as if her news hadn’t all but gutted him. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
Crazy to have hoped so hard. He should have known nothing about this would be easy.
Looking into her wary face, having her so close, was more difficult than he’d imagined. She looked the same, more beautiful if possible, but the warmth was gone from her gaze and there was no sign of that rare wondrous smile he’d come to believe she saved for him. No sign of the cheeky, confident woman who’d brought him to his knees with her sexy flirting. Lucy held herself back as if expecting more pain.
Something plunged deep in his belly. Guilt sharpened its claws on his vitals.
‘S
o there’s no reason for us to meet.’ She gave him a cool smile but he saw beyond it to her bewilderment. Either her mask of unconcern wasn’t as good as it used to be or he was getting better at reading her.
Yet it was far too early to feel anything like hope.
‘But we have things to discuss.’ He reached for her elbow. ‘Come. My hotel is just around the corner. We can talk there.’
He breathed in her honey and sunshine scent and pleasure slammed into him. His fingers tightened on her arm as he drew her along.
‘I don’t want to talk in your hotel suite.’
He should have known she’d resist. When had she made things easy? Nervous tension battled pleasure at her familiar obstinacy.
‘Fine. We’ll use the public rooms.’ He managed a smile, despite the nerves tightening his belly. Surely if she didn’t trust the privacy of his suite it was because he could still tempt her? The notion charged his hopes.
He eased his grip and he tucked her arm in his. She didn’t resist and anticipation rose as he led her around a corner towards a familiar brick building decorated with flags.
‘Signor Volpe. Madame.’ The top-hatted doorman welcomed them and they stepped inside.
Instantly Domenico felt Lucy stiffen. He liked the quiet and the excellent service here but he took for granted its hushed opulence.
‘We can go to my rooms if you’d prefer.’ His lips brushed her hair as he leaned close. The scent of her drove his careful plans into a tangle of lust and nerves. He prayed she’d say yes.
‘No. This is fine.’ He felt her stand taller, taking in the elegance of the area before them. It reminded him of her spunk when faced with the glitterati at the opera in Rome. Lucy had stiffened her spine, kept her head up and won the admiration of many.
Minutes later they were seated in a secluded corner of the vast reception room. The décor was opulent—huge arched mirrors, enormous pillars with gilded capitals and the scent of hundreds of roses from the massed arrangements. Yet here at their small table, seated comfortably in the glow of a nearby lamp, they had an illusion of privacy.
