She had no idea how long she remained motionless, for there was no awareness of the passage of time, just a slide into introspection that took her back over six years to the day her daughter was born, and the joy, the tears and the laughter that had followed through a few childhood illnesses, the guilt of having to leave her in child care while she worked, Ann-Marie’s first day at kindergarten, her first visit to the zoo, and the day she had started school. She was a quiet, obedient child, but with a mind of her own.
‘Unable to sleep?’ The query was quietly voiced, and Carly turned slowly to face the man standing in the aperture.
For an age she just looked at him, her eyes large and unblinking in a face that was pale and shadowed, then she turned back to the scene beyond the window. ‘I wish it was all over and she was home,’ she managed in an emotion-charged voice, and felt rather than heard him move to stand behind her.
‘Likewise,’ Stefano muttered in agreement.
No power on earth could speed up time, and she closed her eyes in an effort to gain some measure of inner strength. She had to be strong, she had to be, she resolved silently.
Hard, muscular arms slid around her waist from behind and pulled her gently back against a solid male frame.
For a moment she resisted, stiffening slightly, then she became prey to the protective shelter he offered, and she relaxed, allowing his strength to flow through her body.
It was like coming home, and the sadness of what they’d once shared, then lost, overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes tightly against the threat of tears, feeling them burn as she fought for control.
For all of a minute she managed to keep them at bay, then they squeezed through to spill in warm rivulets down each cheek to fall one after the other from her chin.
Firm hands slid up to her shoulders and turned her into his embrace, one hand slipping through the thickness of her hair while the other slid to anchor the base of her spine.
It felt so good, so right, so safe, and after a long time she slid her hands round his waist, linking them together behind his back.
The strong, measured beat of his heart sounded loud against her ear, and she rested against him for a long time, drawing comfort from his large frame, until at last she stirred and began to pull free of him.
Without a word he loosened his hold, and, slipping one arm about her waist, he led her back to their suite. Both beds bore evidence of their occupation, and she viewed each, feeling strangely loath to leave the sanctuary of his embrace, yet to go tacitly to his bed would reveal an unspoken willingness for something she was as yet unprepared to give.
For what seemed an age he stood in silence, watching the expressive play of emotions chase across her features, then he leant forward and brushed his lips against her cheek, trailing gently up to her temple before tracing slowly down to the edge of her mouth.
It was an evocative caress, his lips gently tracing her own with such a heightened degree of sensitivity, it was almost more than she could bear.
It would be so easy to allow him to continue, to follow a conflagrating path to total possession and its resultant euphoria. Except that it would only be a merging born out of sexual desire, not the meeting of two minds, two souls, the sharing of something so beautiful, so exquisite, that the senses coalesced and became one.
She went still, lowering her hands slowly down to her side, and Stefano lifted his head slightly, viewing the soft mouth, the faint smudges beneath her shimmering eyes, and his expression became watchful, intent, as she sought to swallow the sudden lump that had risen in her throat.
Carly wanted to cry out, yet no sound emerged, and she willed herself to breathe slowly, evenly, as he drew her down on to his bed and pulled her gently into the circle of his arms.
His quietly voiced, ‘Sleep easy, cara,’ sent goose-bumps scudding in numerous directions to places they had no right to invade. She lay there, unable to make so much as a sound, and within minutes she became aware of the steady pattern of his breathing. Then slowly she began to relax, and gradually sheer emotional exhaustion provided a welcome escape into somnolence.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANN-MARIE CONTINUED to improve with each passing day, and there was immense relief at the week’s end to receive the neuro-surgeon’s voiced confidence of a complete recovery. It balanced the shock of seeing the bandages removed for the first time, and evidence of a vivid surgical scar.
Carly was so elated on leaving the hospital that she decided against phoning Stefano, and opted to tell him the news in person. Consequently it was almost four when she entered the towering modern city block and rode the lift to Reception.
There was a sense of déjà vu on stepping into the luxuriously furnished foyer, although this time there was the advantage of needing no introduction. Carly entertained little doubt that an expurgated version of her previous visit had filtered through the office grapevine, and she kept her eyes steady with a friendly smile pinned in place as the receptionist rang through to Stefano’s personal secretary.
Renate appeared almost immediately, her features schooled to express warmth and a degree of apologetic charm. ‘Stefano is in conference with a colleague,’ she enlightened Carly as she ushered her into his private lounge. ‘I’ve let him know you’re here, and he said he’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.’ The smile deepened. ‘Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Something cool?’
‘I’d like to use the rest-room first, if I may?’ Carly returned the woman’s smile with one of her own. ‘And something cool would be great.’
As she was about to re-enter the lounge several minutes later a door opened several feet in front of her to reveal a tall, attractive brunette whose stunning features were permanently etched in Carly’s mind.
Recognition was instantaneous, and Carly’s whole body went cold as she watched Angelica Agnelli turn back to the man immediately behind her and bestow on him a lingering kiss.
Carly felt as if the scene was momentarily frozen in her brain, like the delayed shutter of a camera, then the figures began to move, and she watched as Stefano stood back a pace and let his hands fall from Angelica’s shoulders.
His expression held warm affection, and stabbed at Carly’s heart. At the same moment he lifted his head, and Carly watched with a sort of detached fascination as they each became aware of her presence.
It was rather like viewing a play, she decided as she glimpsed the darkness in Stefano’s eyes an instant before he masked it, and she was prepared to go on record that the dismay evident in Angelica’s expression was deliberate, for the faint smile of contrition failed to reach her eyes.
‘Carly,’ Angelica greeted her with apparent warmth. ‘Stefano told me you were back.’ Her expression pooled into one of apparent concern. ‘How is your daughter?’
The faint emphasis on ‘your’ wasn’t missed, and Carly marshalled innate dignity as a weapon in her mythical arsenal. ‘Ann-Marie is fine, thank you,’ she responded steadily. Her eyes lifted to meet Stefano’s slightly narrowed gaze, and she summoned a deliberately sweet smile. ‘Renate is fetching me a cool drink. I’ll wait in the lounge while you see Angelica out.’ She placed imperceptible stress on the last word, then softened it with a studied smile as she turned towards the beautifully attired young woman whose haute-couture clothes hugged a perfect figure. ‘Goodbye, Angelica. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.’ Not if I see you first, she added silently as she turned into the private lounge.
With extreme care Carly closed the door behind her, then crossed towards the bar where an iced pitcher of orange juice stood beside a tall frosted glass.
Pouring herself a generous measure, she sipped at it abstractly and told herself she felt no pain. Dammit, she swore softly. There had to be subversive psychic elements at play somewhere in the vicinity, for each time she entered Stefano’s private lounge she was moved to blinding rage.
However, this time she’d be calm. Another voluble, visible display of temper would have the staff label
ling her a shrew. Yet she defied even the most placid woman not to be driven to anger when she was faced with evidence of her husband’s affaire de coeur.
It was five minutes before Stefano joined her, and she turned quietly to face him as he entered the room. His expression was inscrutable, his eyes faintly hooded, and he made no attempt at any explanation.
He looked the epitome of a successful businessman, his three-piece suit dark and impeccably tailored, the pale blue shirt made of the finest silk, and his shoes hand-stitched imported leather.
She was reminded of the saying that ‘clothes made the man’. Yet her indomitable husband could have worn torn cut-off jeans and a sweatshirt, and he’d still manage to project a devastating raw virility that had little to do with the physical look of him.
If his relationship with Angelica Agnelli continued to extend beyond that of friends, then anything Carly said would only fuel her own anger and lead inevitably to another confrontation.
Besides, she was twenty-seven, and no longer the naïve, trusting young girl who had believed in one true love. Reality was the knowledge that love didn’t conquer all, nor did it always last forever.
‘How was Ann-Marie this afternoon?’
Carly met his dark gaze with equanimity. ‘Improving,’ she informed him steadily. ‘The specialist is confident she’ll make a full recovery.’
His features relaxed into an expression of immense relief. ‘Grazie a Dio,’ he breathed with immense gratitude.
‘Obviously it would have been better if I’d phoned with the news.’
One eyebrow slanted above a pair of eyes that had become strangely watchful. ‘Why obviously?’
‘Business, pleasure and personal affairs are an incompatible mix,’ she hinted with unaccustomed cynicism, and saw his eyes narrow.
‘Angelica—’
‘Don’t even consider proffering the rather hackneyed explanation that she’s merely an associate.’ She lifted her chin, and her eyes were remarkably clear as they held his. ‘I’ve heard it all before.’
‘Angelica is a valued family friend,’ he continued with hard inflexibility, and the gold flecks in her eyes flared with brilliant topaz as she refused to be intimidated in any way.
‘Valued is a very tame description, Stefano,’ Carly responded, wondering what devilish imp was pushing her in a direction she’d sworn not to tread.
‘Perhaps you’d care to offer a more lucid alternative,’ he drawled with dangerous silkiness, and she was powerless to prevent the surge of anger coursing through her body.
‘She wants you,’ she declared with quiet conviction. ‘She always has. For a while I stood in her way. Now that I’m back…’ She trailed off deliberately, then effected a slight shrug. ‘If she can hurt me emotionally, she will.’ The need to be free of him was paramount, and she turned to leave, only to have a detaining hand catch hold of her arm and pull her back to face him.
Any escape could only be temporary. It was there in his eyes, the latent anger a silent threat should she continue to thwart him.
‘Let me go.’ The words left her throat as his head lowered, and she turned slightly so that his lips grazed her cheek. Then she cried out as he slid his fingers through the thickness of her hair, and his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was nothing less than a total possession of her senses.
A muffled groan of entreaty choked in her throat as he brought her even closer against his hard, muscular frame, and when he finally lifted his head she stood quite still, bearing his silent scrutiny until every nerve stretched to its furthest limit.
His hands slid with seductive slowness to her waist, then cradled her ribcage, the pads of each thumb beginning an evocative circle over the hardening peaks of her breasts in a movement that was intensely erotic.
She had to stop him now, before she lost the will to move away. ‘Sex in the office, Stefano? Whatever will Renate think?’ she taunted softly. ‘Or maybe she’s accustomed to her boss’s…discreet diversions?’
His eyes narrowed, and a muscle hardened at the edge of his jaw. ‘Watch your foolish tongue.’
Carly laughed, a soft mocking sound that was the antithesis of anything related to humour. Gathering courage, she added with unaccustomed cynicism, ‘I imagine many women shared your table as well as your bed in the last seven years.’
His eyes stilled for a second, then assumed a brooding mockery. ‘You want me to supply a list, cara?’
For one heart-stopping moment she looked stricken. The thought of that long, superbly muscled body giving even one other woman the sort of sexual pleasure he gave her was sickening. To consider there had probably been several made her feel positively ill. Suddenly she’d had enough, and was in dire need of some breathing space—preferably as far away from her inimical husband as possible.
If she didn’t leave soon, the ache behind her eyes would result in silent futile tears, and without a further word she turned and left the room.
Within minutes of reaching home she crossed to the phone and dialled Sarah’s number. At the sound of her friend’s voice she clutched hold of the receiver and sank down into a nearby chair for a long conversation that encompassed an exchange of news as well as providing a link to normality.
‘You must bring James to dinner,’ Carly insisted as Sarah exclaimed at the time. ‘I’ll check with Stefano and give you a call.’
‘Lovely,’ the other girl declared with enthusiasm. ‘Give Ann-Marie a big hug from me, and tell her I’ll visit tomorrow.’
Dinner was a strained meal, for Carly found it difficult to contribute much by way of conversation that didn’t come out sounding horribly banal. In the end, she simply gave up, and pushed her food around the plate before discarding her cutlery to sip iced water from her glass.
Stefano, damn him, didn’t appear a whit disturbed, and he did justice to the dishes Sylvana provided before finishing with fresh grapes, biscuits and cheese.
Carly sat in silence during the drive to hospital, unwilling to offer so much as a word in case it ended in a slanging match—or worse.
There was such a wealth of resentment at having witnessed the touching little departure scene between Angelica and Stefano that afternoon—and unabating anger. It almost eclipsed the joy of witnessing Ann-Marie’s pleasure in their visit, and the expressive smile when Stefano presented her with yet another gift.
‘I’m getting spoilt,’ Ann-Marie concluded, hugging the beautifully dressed doll close to her small chest, and her eyes gleamed when her father leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
The words held such poignancy that Carly had to blink fast against the threat of tears.
‘My pleasure, piccina.’
‘What’s a piccina?’
‘A special endearment for a special little girl,’ he responded gently.
It was almost eight when the Mercedes pulled into the driveway leading to Stefano’s elegant home, and once indoors Carly made her way through to the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’ It was a perfunctory query that incurred his narrowed gaze.
‘Please.’
Her movements were automatic as she filled the percolator, selected a fresh filter, then spooned in a blend of ground coffee-beans.
‘Would you prefer yours here, or in the lounge?’
‘The lounge.’
Damn, that meant she’d have to share it with him, yet if she opted out he’d only be amused, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.
Five minutes later she placed cups and saucers, sugar and milk on to a tray and carried it through to the informal lounge. Placing his within easy reach, she selected a chair several feet distant from where he was seated.
‘We’ve been invited out to dinner tomorrow evening,’ Stefano informed her with indolent ease as he spooned in sugar and stirred the thick black liquid in his cup. ‘Charles Winslow will be there with Kathy-Lee.’ His eyes seared hers, darkly analytical in a manner that raised all her fine body hairs in a gesture of s
elf-defence.
‘And Georgeanne?’ She arched a brow in deliberate query. ‘I’m not sure I want to go.’ The thought of standing at his side for several hours playing a part didn’t figure very high in her order of preferred entertainment.
‘Most of the men present will have their wives or partners in attendance,’ he drawled, and she said sweetly,
‘Why not invite Angelica? I’m sure she’d delight in the opportunity. Then you could have two women vying for your attention.’
One eyebrow slanted in quizzical mockery, although anything approaching humour was sadly lacking in his expression. ‘I’ll ignore that remark.’
A crazy imp prompted her to query, ‘Good heavens, why? It’s nothing less than the truth.’
His expression didn’t alter. ‘Watch your unwary tongue, mi moglie,’ he cautioned in a deadly soft voice.
‘Don’t threaten me,’ she responded swiftly, feeling the deep-rooted anger begin to surge to the surface.
‘Warn,’ he amended with quiet emphasis.
‘There’s a difference?’
His eyes lanced hers, silent and deadly in their intent. ‘Give it up, Carly.’
‘And concede defeat?’
‘If you want to fight,’ Stefano drawled with dangerous silkiness, ‘I’m willing to oblige.’ He paused deliberately, then continued, ‘I doubt you’ll enjoy the consequences.’
A shaft of exquisite pain arrowed through her body, although defiance was responsible for the angry tilt of her chin as she berated, ‘I seem to remember you preferred your women warm and willing.’
‘What makes you think you won’t be, cara?’ Stefano drawled, his expression veiled as pain clouded her beautiful eyes, rendering her features hauntingly vulnerable for a few heart-stopping seconds before the mask slipped into place.
She was treading dangerous waters, yet she was too incensed to desist. ‘Did it never occur to you that my taste in men may have changed?’
Passion's Mistress Page 10
