‘It has all worked out rather brilliantly for you, has it not, Emma?’ he asked. ‘All your hard work has paid off. Either way you win.’
She looked at him hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure what you mean…’
He smiled a cynical smile. ‘You have a roof over your head for the duration of our marriage and a guaranteed income at the end of it, a windfall most people would not dream of seeing in a lifetime.’
‘I keep telling you I was never interested in your father’s money,’ she said. ‘As far as I can make out he apparently wanted you to spend some time at The Villa Fiorenza and the only way he thought he could bring it about was to tie you here with me.’
Rafaele snapped his brows together. ‘This villa has been in the Fiorenza family for several generations. I spent some of the happiest years of my life in this place before my mother and brother died. I will be damned if I will let one of my father’s whores take even a single pebble from the driveway without my permission.’
‘I’m not planning on making things unpleasant or difficult for you,’ she said. ‘You can live your life and I’ll live mine. We don’t even have to communicate with each other if we don’t want to.’
‘Your very presence here makes things difficult,’ Rafaele muttered as he set his glass down with a loud thwack. ‘But perhaps that is what you and my father planned.’
She frowned at him. ‘I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, but I can assure you I am finding this as difficult if not more so than you. The sooner we end this farce, the better, as far as I am concerned.’ With one last searing glance, she stalked out, leaving him with just his empty glass for company.
CHAPTER FIVE
AFTER their exchange Emma did her best to avoid Rafaele, although at one point she watched him from her upstairs window as he swam lap after lap in the pool, his strong, leanly muscled body carving through the water with effortless ease. She felt a little guilty drinking in the sight of him, but she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away. His body was so wonderfully built; lean but powerful, muscular without being over-bulky. His olive skin was a deep even brown as if he had recently spent some time somewhere tropical. His black hair was like wet silk as he vaulted out of the water, the water droplets on his body glistening in the afternoon sun. As he reached for his towel he looked up and locked gazes with her, the lazy smile he sent her seeming to suggest he had known all along she was up there staring down at him.
Emma turned from the window with her heart doing little back flips in her chest, her face hot and her pulse racing out of control. She was deeply ashamed of her reaction to him. She felt like a gauche schoolgirl instead of a grown woman. He had only to look at her and she felt her colour begin to rise both inside and out. That dark smouldering gaze of his set her senses alight every time it rested on her and it seemed there was nothing she could do to stop it. It galled her to think he of all people had such an effect on her. He was an unprincipled playboy, a man who used women as playthings, discarding them when they no longer appealed to him. She knew if she was fool enough to succumb to his potent charm he would break her heart and think nothing of it. After all it would be the perfect revenge to get back at her for what he was convinced she had done to profit from his father’s will.
The new housekeeper came to work at the villa each morning, along with the team of gardeners, which left Emma with even less to do to occupy her time. She caught up on some reading and went for long walks about the town, visiting some of the places she had read about in her travel guide. The tourist season was in full swing by now and she mingled with the crowds, stopping for coffee at one of the many cafes until the heat of the day brought her back to the villa.
After a few days, once the staff had left for the day Emma made the most of the warm weather by dipping in and out of the pool. The water was cool against her heated skin and she closed her eyes and floated on her back, enjoying the sounds of the garden, the birds twittering in the shrubs and trees, the gentle lap of water and the soothing tinkle of the wind chimes hanging in the arbour.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Rafaele’s deep voice sounded from the deck of the pool.
Emma jerked upright, water shooting up her nose as she tried to find her feet. ‘You scared me!’ she said, blinking the water out of her eyes. ‘I thought you’d gone out.’
‘I did, but I have been back about an hour,’ he said. ‘I thought I might find you out here. How is the water?’
‘It’s…lovely,’ she said, trying not to stare at his leanly muscled body. He was dressed in black bathers, the close-fitting Lycra outlining his masculine form so lovingly she felt her breath hitch in her throat.
He dived in and swam several lengths, the effortless motion of his arms and legs making Emma’s earlier efforts seem rather pathetic by comparison.
‘Want a race to the other end?’ he asked as he came up close by.
‘I’m not quite in your league,’ she said with a self-conscious grimace.
‘Come on, Emma, be a devil,’ he said. ‘I will give you a head start.’
Emma took a deep breath and threw herself into it, her arms going like windmills and her feet and ankles flapping with all their might. She thought she was in with a chance until she felt one of his hands grasp her by one of her ankles and pull her backwards through the water. She came up spluttering, and as she twisted round to face him her hands somehow landed on his chest, her legs tangling with his under the water. ‘You cheated!’ she spluttered.
He smiled at her. ‘One thing you should know about me, Emma, is I do not always play by the rules.’
She gave him a reproachful look. ‘In my book you’re not a winner unless you’ve won fair and square.’
His hands settled on her hips, his lower body brushing against hers as he kept them both afloat. ‘Ah, yes, but then I make it a point of always winning,’ he said, looking down at her mouth.
Emma could hardly breathe. His mouth was so close she could see the pepper of stubble on his jaw, his warm breath like a caress as he came even closer. ‘D-don’t…’ she said in a hoarse whisper.
He lifted one brow. ‘You do not want me to kiss you?’
She looked into his dark, smouldering gaze. ‘I think it’s best if you don’t…’
‘Why is that?’ he asked, still holding her against him.
‘Um…I think it’s not wise to complicate things…’
One of his hands moved from the curve of her hip to settle at the back of her neck beneath the wet curtain of her hair. ‘How will it complicate things if I kiss you?’ he asked.
Emma took a tight little swallow. She knew exactly what one kiss would do. As it was she had been trying to stamp out the memory of the wedding kiss without success. ‘I don’t want to…to develop feelings for you, Rafaele,’ she said.
His eyes searched hers for a long moment. ‘You think that is likely to happen?’
‘I’m not a casual hook-up type of person,’ she said. ‘After this…arrangement is over I want to get married and have a family. I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t want to leave it too late to settle down. I want stability and commitment. You’re not the person to give me those things.’
A hard light came into his eyes. ‘Nor was my father, but that did not stop you from talking him into giving you a fortune.’
Emma pulled out of his hold. ‘You’re starting to sound like a broken record, Rafaele. I’m not even going to waste my breath denying it again.’
‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
She frowned at him. ‘What?’
‘Let’s go out for a meal,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it the old-fashioned way. Guy meets girl, that sort of thing. Let’s forget about my father and take it one step at a time.’
‘Rafaele…this is crazy,’ she said.
‘What is so crazy about two people going out to dinner and strengthening their acquaintance?’ he asked. ‘After all, we have got to live together for months on end—wouldn’t it be better if at the end of it we were friends
instead of enemies?’
‘I can’t imagine us ever being friends.’
‘Only because we got off to a bad start,’ he said. ‘I am not always such a brute you know. I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.’
Yes, well, that’s what I’m worried about, Emma thought. She was having enough trouble keeping her head as it was. God only knew what would happen to her heart if he laid on the Fiorenza charm at full strength. She had seen a glimpse of it already, that lazy smile and those dark, smouldering eyes had set her heart racing a few times too many. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll have dinner with you, but only because it’s the housekeeper’s afternoon off.’
He grinned at her, a boyish grin that sent her stomach into another dip-and-dive routine. ‘You really know how to annihilate a man’s ego, don’t you?’ he said.
Emma felt an answering smile tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m sure yours should be listed as one of the great wonders of the world,’ she said. ‘In fact I bet it can be seen from outer space.’
‘I can see I am going to have to work extra hard to improve your opinion of me,’ he said. ‘But who knows what a bit of wining and dining will do? I am going to have a bit more of a swim before I get out and have a shower. Is eight-thirty OK with you?’
‘Sure,’ Emma said, moving to the side of the pool, her stomach already fluttering with excitement. ‘I’ll be ready.’
When Emma came downstairs close to eight-thirty Rafaele was waiting for her in the salon. He had been reading through one of the weekend papers and rose to his feet as she came in, his gaze running over her appreciatively. ‘You look stunning, Emma,’ he said, ‘absolutely stunning.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said shyly.
‘I thought we could eat at a restaurant at Villa Olmo,’ he said as he led the way out to his car. ‘Have you had a chance to visit it yet?’
‘No, but I’ve walked past it a couple of times,’ she said. ‘It’s very grand, isn’t it?’
‘It’s the most famous residence of Como,’ he informed her. ‘The villa owes its name to an elm tree that in ancient times grew inside the park. The architect was Simone Cantoni and now the town of Como owns it and uses it for various exhibits. The restaurant is situated to the right of the villa.’
‘I’ve made a bit of a start on my sightseeing,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve been to Duomo, the cathedral, and to the Volta temple and on the Funicular so far.’
He glanced at her. ‘Did you walk up to the lighthouse?’
‘Yes, it was an amazing view from up there,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to leave.’
‘The funicular has been running from the end of the eighteen hundreds,’ he said. ‘From the top you can make out the castrum, the rectangle that made up the old establishment of the Roman town. You can even see the first basin of the lake and the villas and plains that lead to Milan.’
Emma looked at him. ‘Did you miss all this while you were living abroad?’
He took a moment to answer. ‘Yes, I did miss it,’ he said. ‘There was many a time I wanted to come back, but it was impossible.’
‘Do you really think your father would have turned you away from the door?’ she asked.
His hands tightened on the wheel, the only sign Emma could see of his tension. ‘When I left fifteen years ago he made it quite clear I would not be welcome to return. I did not bother testing him to see if he meant it or not.’
Emma made an exasperated sound. ‘But don’t you see how you were being as stubborn as him? I am sure he would have welcomed you with open arms if you had come back.’
He gave her a flinty look. ‘Still trying to defend him, Emma?’ he asked.
She compressed her lips for a moment. ‘I’m not doing any such thing; I just think two wrongs never make a right.’
His expression was mocking as he came around to open her door. ‘He did a good job on you, didn’t he?’ he said. ‘But then he bought your allegiance.’
Emma stepped out of the car, flinging him a glare over one shoulder. ‘Could we talk about something else for a change?’ she asked. ‘I thought you said this evening’s outing was going to be about building our acquaintance, not talking ad infinitum about your late father.’
He shut the car door and took her elbow in the cup of his palm. ‘You are right,’ he said, and led her towards the restaurant entrance. ‘I am not being a very good date so far, am I?’
Emma cast him a glance. ‘No, but believe it or not I’ve had much worse.’
‘Is that some sort of compliment?’ he asked with the hint of a wry smile.
Emma didn’t get the chance to answer as the maître d’ came to lead them to a table in the little courtyard outside. A short time later they were seated with drinks and a plate of warmed olives and fresh crusty bread set in front of them.
Rafaele picked up his glass and slowly twirled the contents. ‘So tell me, Emma,’ he said. ‘Marriage and kids is high on your to-do list, is that right?’
‘If the right person comes along, then yes.’
‘Are you one of those young women who have a checklist on what they are looking for in a man?’ he asked.
‘I don’t see a problem with sorting out what you don’t want from what you do,’ Emma said.
‘So what’s on your list?’
‘The usual things,’ she said. ‘Faithfulness, a sense of humour and a willingness to be emotionally available.’
‘You did not mention money.’
‘That’s because it’s not as important as love.’
He gave her a cynical smile. ‘It is always important, Emma,’ he said. ‘At least it is for all the women I know.’
‘I don’t agree,’ she said. ‘Your father is a perfect example of how money doesn’t buy love. He had more money than he knew what to do with and yet he didn’t have the love and respect of his son.’
‘That’s because he did not want it,’ he said. ‘Now, I thought we were not going to talk about him—or have you changed your mind?’
‘I’m just trying to understand you, Rafaele.’
‘I do not need your understanding, Emma,’ he said. ‘What is it about women that they always want to pick apart a man’s brains? Now, be a good girl and choose something to eat. I am starving after my swim.’
Emma let out a sigh and busied herself with the menu, all the while conscious of the way her body was responding to his close proximity. She knew his desire for her was purely a physical thing on his part; he was between mistresses so why wouldn’t he want a quick fling with her to satisfy the primal urge to copulate? Her cheeks grew hot as her brain filled with images of him in the throes of making love, his strong, tanned naked body glistening with sweat as he pumped his essence into the secret heart of her until she…
‘Have you had too much sun today, Emma?’ Rafaele asked. ‘Your cheeks are bright red.’
Emma fanned her face with the menu. ‘Um…it’s still a bit hot, don’t you think?’
‘Would you prefer to move indoors where there is air-conditioning?’ he asked.
Her eyes fell away from his. ‘No…I’m fine out here,’ she said and picked up her drink. ‘I like being outdoors.’
‘I suppose you must spend a great deal of time indoors in the role of a nurse.’
‘Yes…if the patient is housebound.’
A small silence passed.
‘How ill was my father towards the end?’
Emma brought her eyes back to his. ‘He was very ill,’ she said softly. ‘He had to have high doses of morphine to control the pain so he spent the last couple of weeks drifting in and out of consciousness.’
‘So you sat by his side and did everything you could to make him comfortable.’
Emma hunted his expression but found nothing to suggest he was needling her. Instead she thought she saw a flicker of regret pass through his ink-black eyes as they held hers. ‘Yes…that is exactly what I did…’ She waited a second or two before adding, ‘Rafaele…sometimes people cha
nge when they know they are about to die. I think your father would have contacted you, but he ran out of strength. I wish now I had done it for him.’
There was a rueful set to his mouth as he spoke. ‘I probably would not have listened if you had.’ He drew in a breath and added, ‘We were too alike if the truth be known. I never quite forgave him for not protecting my mother and he never quite forgave me for not protecting Giovanni.’
‘What happened to your brother?’ Emma asked.
He picked up his glass and stared down into the contents for a moment. When his eyes came back to hers they had a brittle edge to them that warned her she had come a little too close. ‘I did not bring you out this evening to talk about the past and what can never be changed,’ he said. ‘You have told me all I needed to know and as far as I am concerned I have done the same for you. The rest of my family are dead and buried. I am the only one who remains. Let that be the end of it.’
Emma frowned at him. ‘Why do you keep pushing everyone away?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you care how other people feel about you?’
‘I am not responsible for other people’s feelings,’ he said. ‘I am only responsible for my own.’
‘It sounds to me like you don’t have any feelings,’ she said. ‘Or if you did you switched them off years ago.’
‘I have feelings but I choose not to let them get out of control. I do not see the point in being anyone’s slave. Once you care too much for someone they can exploit you. That is why I do allow myself to become too attached. It is easier all round. No one gets hurt, or at least not intentionally.’
‘So you won’t allow yourself to love anyone, not even the women who share your body and your bed,’ Emma said in disgust. ‘Don’t you realise how much you’re short-changing yourself?’
The Fiorenza Forced Marriage Page 7
