by Penny Jordan
“It was a year after Serena left. I had struck gold with a few investment ventures and I realized the luxury real estate market was huge and I wanted a big chunk of it.
“I did extensive research and acquired stock in a small trading company. For months, I slogged round the clock, put everything I had into this one venture.
“In just a matter of minutes, the stock I purchased crashed, all the money I invested in it went down the drain. And I was back at square one.
“It was the lowest point of my life. I had lost everything after Serena left, and to be knocked back like that…it made me question everything.
“If it wasn’t for Rocco and Christian and Zayed anchoring me, if it wasn’t for the fact that my father had always taught me to stand up after one of life’s knocks, that would have been me.”
“I’m so sorry for your friend, Stefan. But that would never be you. God, I can’t even bear the thought.”
“I have to stop him, Clio.”
Nodding, she wiped her cheeks roughly. “We will, Stefan. I promise.”
Just as his arms relaxed around her, just as he found the knot in his gut loosening, she stepped away from him. “I’ll…I will leave you alone. See you later.”
“Running away again, bella?” he asked with a mocking smile. “For days now, you have avoided meeting my gaze. You touch me, you smile at me, you kiss me when we are in public and the moment it’s just us, you…can’t wait to run away. How long are we going to continue like this, Clio?”
Her steps faltered and she looked around.
“I won’t let you turn sex into a transaction, Stefan. I won’t join the leagues of women who have slid into this slot you have for them. And you and me…”
“What about you and me, cara?”
“I let one man lock me in a relationship for everything but the right reason. Wanting you, being near you, not touching you, it’s a lesson in itself,” she said, shocking him with her honesty.
Her gaze glittered with a power he hadn’t seen. The way she looked at him—all consuming and without hiding anything—knocked his breath again and in a completely different way. A wave of desire, laced with something else, buckled him.
“But I can’t give in, Stefan. I can’t just have sex with you and pretend like nothing has changed between us.”
Stefan watched in rising fascination and frustration as she walked away without looking back.
Something had changed in her, and something had changed between them.
He didn’t know what. Only that he couldn’t hide from the truth she had so neatly pointed out.
Turning away, he stared into the dark night. He would never be able to reduce Clio into another nameless woman that satisfied his body.
He hadn’t even told the other three how defeated he had felt when he had lost what he had made because of Jackson. How close he had come to giving up and going home in shame to his parents.
Clio made it so easy to depend on her, to confide in her. Even her censure somehow changed him.
He was so desperate to touch her, to brand her, to claim her as his in the most intimate way possible. He couldn’t breathe in that cage without seeing her stamp everywhere.
To tangle with his wife would mean relearning himself because Clio wouldn’t leave him untouched. And that was a risk he couldn’t take.
CHAPTER TEN
THREE WEEKS AFTER their wedding, Stefan had the usual early-morning online meeting with most of his executives around the world. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, which Clio religiously picked up, dragged him into the kitchen as it did every day.
He poured himself a cup, took a sip and watched Clio at the dining table, poring over a bunch of documents and making notes.
A frown tied her brow, her face was rapt, reminding him of the time they had crammed for an exam together years ago.
Suddenly, he felt a burst of warmth in his chest at the sight of her, an almost forgotten sensation.
It had become a ritual—one among numerous others that they had fallen into when they returned to New York between trips around the world.
Sharing a cup of coffee, looking through Jackson’s financials, discussing new initiatives for the charity, and the best of them all for him personally—rediscovering all the little offbeat eateries in different corners of New York they had all used to favor back when they had been at university.
He frowned, suddenly seeing the pattern, the determination with which Clio had dragged him against his will the first couple of times. As if she wanted to erase all the bitterness of his love affair with Serena, the bitterness he had let corrupt his memories of New York and the happy years he had spent here, the aversion he had developed to settling down in one place or making meaningful connections with anyone.
As if she wanted to remind him of his true nature, of the parts of himself he had destroyed to move on in life.
That he hadn’t recognized her intentions until now showed how deep he was into their farce of a relationship.
He was about to interrupt her when he heard the elevator doors open with a swish at the entrance to the suite, followed by familiar voices. Clio instantly went still, the knuckles of the fingers clutching the pink ballpoint pen becoming white.
Feeling an uncomfortable knot in his gut, Stefan made his way through the corridor into the lounge and stared wordlessly.
Wearing a beaming smile, his mother practically ran toward him. Threw her petite form into his arms, uncaring whether he caught her or not.
As it had been for a decade, shame sideswiped Stefan, robbing his ability to speak.
His father, tall and broad like Stefan, was more remote, watching him silently.
He hadn’t seen his father in almost a decade and his mother only a couple of years ago when she had traveled to Villa Mondelli, his friend Rocco’s house in Milan, to see Stefan.
Tears flowing over her cheeks, his mother launched into a rapid dialogue just as Clio arrived from the lounge.
His father, a traditional and usually reticent man, moved toward Clio and grasped her hand in his. Studied her with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “You’re as beautiful as you are generous, bella.”
The familiarity his father showed Clio stunned Stefan, rendering him mute.
Her face suffused with warmth, Clio was shaking her head. Her hands trembled, her gaze resolutely turned away from Stefan. “It’s nothing, Mr. Bianco. I was just doing my duty.”
Duty?
“Thank you for inviting us to your home, Clio,” his mother said in heavily accented English from the circle of his arms.
“You have to excuse us, it’s not a proper home,” replied Clio, looking anywhere but at him.
“But home is where your heart is, sì?” his mother said, fresh tears filling her eyes again.
His head swapped between Clio and his parents as if he was at a tennis match, shock literally robbing him of coherent speech.
A decade ago, he had tried to convince his parents of the same thing—that he had fallen in love with Serena and that he wanted to stay back in New York.
They had been so against it that they had threatened to cut him off and he, so naive, so desperate to be in love, had told them he was fine with that.
But Serena had wanted nothing to do with him without his parents’ fortune.
“We would have loved to come for the wedding but it was not to be,” his mother piped up again, glossing over the fact that he had not invited them.
Except for phone calls, he hadn’t been able to even meet his father in the eye.
“He’s fortunate, to have such a loving wife.” This was said to his father.
“Please, come in,” Clio finally said, her voice hoarse. “Did you have a safe flight?”
“Yes,” his mother replied. “Aboard Stefano’s luxu
ry jet means we don’t need anything.”
Shock shuddering through him, he grasped Clio’s wrist and tugged her toward him.
“I have to call the butler and have some food arranged for them,” she said, tugging her hand back.
“How long will you run, bella?” he whispered before his mother commanded his attention again.
He felt the shiver that racked through her slender frame.
The little minx had arranged everything, even commanded his pilot without his knowledge.
All Stefan wanted to do right then was to excuse himself from his parents, drag his wife inside and demand an explanation. Or maybe ravish her first and demand explanations later.
Because his desire for his alluring wife seemed to be the only constant thing in his life these days.
* * *
After a dinner of expertly prepared pasta con le sarde and impanata di pesce spada, swordfish pie, his favorite, which Clio had requested the butler learn and cook for dinner, and lots of colorful conversation—which had been mainly his mother’s curious questions about how they had fallen in love, the wedding and when they were planning bambini, and Clio’s deftly spun tales for answers—the silence in the cavernous lounge jarred on Stefan’s nerves.
Every time he had visited New York over the past decade, he had stayed in the same suite at the Chatsfield. Now it was as if a volcano had erupted all over his life and there was no way he could contain the damage being done, couldn’t turn it back into the safe, sterile place it had been just a month ago.
His father’s hand on his shoulder prodded him out of his thoughts. “You’re angry with your wife for inviting us.”
Stefan shook his head in automatic denial before he caught a flicker of understanding in his father’s eyes. His father had never lied to him, had never done anything but love Stefan.
“You know we would have welcomed you back all these years.” Not even a hint of hesitation could be heard in his father’s voice. “Why have you not returned to Palermo even once? Why have you stayed at a distance, Stefano?”
The unhidden ache in the question came at Stefan like a sharp punch, ripping through the shell he had built around himself.
Had he known, somewhere, that his father, of all the people in the world, could sense how changed he was from the inside? Had he been afraid that his father could see that there was nothing good left in his son after what Serena had done?
“Was it to punish us for threatening to cut you off all those years ago? Have you become such a cruel man, then?”
“No,” the denial waved out of him. His father would accept nothing but truth. For the first time in years, Stefan looked inward.
“What kind of a man keeps away from a mother who dreams of holding her son in her arms again?”
To hear that painful resignation in his father’s voice was Stefan’s undoing. Words rushed out of him on a wave of guilt and shame and so much more that he had locked up for so many years. “Serena…she took my very belief in myself when she left me. In just one day, I became a stranger to myself. I didn’t know myself and I could not face you as a failure. I…was not worthy of you and Mamma after choosing such a woman over you. How could I face you after I had so selfishly shattered all your dreams?”
Understanding dawned in his father’s gaze. “And all these years? After you built your empire, after you proved to yourself that you could succeed?”
Stefan shook his head, a lump in his throat. He had no answer for his father.
“Has she taken everything that was good and kind about you, too?”
She hadn’t. He’d given it all up willingly. He hadn’t wanted anything that could have made him vulnerable like that again. Along with his naïveté, he had also given up his heart.
After everything he had done to wipe her from his life, he had still let her win.
The realization clawed in his gut. He had held on to her rejection, had held on to the poison she had spewed into his life for so long.
Had let her corrupt everything that had been good and pure in his life even though he had been determined to prove her wrong.
He had denied himself and his parents the joy of seeing each other.
Clutching his father’s hands, Stefan spoke. “I have let my shame and guilt stop me from visiting you these years…I wanted to prove myself worthy of you again and in the process, I forgot what you taught me…I forgot everything that is important in life.”
Nodding, his father patted his back. “Your mother, she does not see things. But I would have been immensely sad to see my son become like this…if it were not for your Clio, Stefano. To see you with a woman like that, it makes my heart easy.”
What would his father say if he knew it was nothing but a farce? What was stopping him from making the woman he wanted with an insane hunger his own? The thought erupted on the heels of the first one.
The elevator swished open and his parents left, beaming smiles on their faces.
Instantly, Clio excused herself and Stefan let her run away for now.
The way he felt right now, it was better she stayed away until he was more in control of himself and his emotions.
All day, his parents had commented on how well Clio and he suited each other, had been ecstatic at every small exchange between them.
Hadn’t been able to keep their eyes off Clio as they went sightseeing into the city. Had demanded Clio and Stefan show them the Columbia University campus, all the spots that the media had dug up and built their love story around.
His mother had pronounced proudly that Stefan and Clio’s marriage would last longer than her own marriage of forty years, that they would continue the tradition of a long, happily married life as the Biancos always did.
His mother’s comment opened up a wound he had resolutely patched up long ago, an ache that could consume him if he let it.
Because he could never trust another woman, never reach for that happiness ever again.
And try as he did to ruthlessly remove that small part of him that wanted a fantasy to come true, Clio kept igniting it, kept pushing him toward the path where nothing but pain awaited him.
Even the happiness he had spied in his parents’ eyes demanded a high price of him.
Clio had unnecessarily brought his parents into their pretense, cruelly shown him glimpses of a future that could never be his.
And that she made him want it again was unbearable.
* * *
Closing the door behind her, Clio entered her bedroom.
Anticipated fear churned through her gut. Her fingers slipping on the keys of her laptop, she typed in her password and looked up her bank account.
Sweat running down her back, she pulled a sheaf of papers she had left on her nightstand.
Jackson’s financials…
Her gut folded in on itself as she finally pinpointed the discrepancy she had been trying to find, and the tremendous truth of her financial affairs rammed home.
Jackson had robbed her of every last penny, literally…
This was proof enough for the Securities and Exchange Commission to investigate Jackson. Proof enough to pull everything on him…
Her legs gave out under her and she sagged to the cushioned chair in front of the vanity, her breaths rushing on top of each other. Why it had finally come to her today, at this moment after weeks of trying, she had no idea.
Today when she had seen a real smile curve Stefan’s mouth, today when she had seen the flash of pure joy in his eyes…
Today when it seemed like she had made a difference in his life.
This was all Stefan needed from her, why he had agreed to her deal, why he had married her… And once he had it…
Clutching the chocolate-and-gold veneer of the table, she leaned her forehead to it, trying to lock
the tears in her throat.
The whole day had been the upward ride of a roller coaster—going higher and higher on the tale she had spun about Stefan and her, the pressure building. Until this moment when she was crashing down.
Rosa Bianco looking fondly at Stefan and her, and weaving dreams for their future life, had been the same as looking at a reality that was even better than the one she had wanted for so long, one that she was living every day, but was still out of her grasp.
Pretending to be the woman Stefan adored was like a drug she never wanted to quit, that could distort her reality and delude her. Still, she didn’t want to give him the proof yet.
“You shouldn’t have interfered, Clio.”
Stefan’s voice behind her simmered with anger and emotion.
But she had done what she had intended. She had finally gotten past that shell of his.
She had to face the music now, but for his sake, she would do the same again.
“Turn around and face me. There’s nowhere to run tonight.”
Warning vibrated in his tone, along with arrogance. And instead of scaring her, it goaded Clio. Someone had to show Stefan what he had become, had to remind him what he used to be.
Still seated, she turned around to face him.
“I didn’t interfere, Stefan. Nor do I have any intention of running away.”
“No? Because I have a feeling you’re taking our vows literally, bella. Everything that you have been doing these past two weeks, everything you think I need, you can stop it. You have no duty toward me, Clio.”
He spat the word as if it was a curse, as if he couldn’t stand the idea of her doing anything in the name of it. Her muscles quivering, Clio frowned.
It was as if there were two parts of her within—one wanted to back down, apologize before the tension in the room exploded, one wanted to challenge him about her place in his life, wanted to hurt him as he did her.
For what else was the tightness in her chest?
Uncoiling from the chair, she straightened her spine. “Maybe I have no duty toward you as a wife, Stefan. God knows nothing but that bloody contract defines that between us. But what about as a friend who wants to do something for you, who wants to see you smile again?”
