by Anne Mather
‘She has no breeding, no class, no idea of how to go on. How she’s going to fill her responsibilities as contessa I can’t imagine. Thank goodness I’m in the country for the day of the gala charity luncheon.’ She shook her head. ‘He asked me to step in and host it. Begged me. I couldn’t let him down. We both know his wife would make a hash of it, and the Mattani name is too important to be made a laughing stock.’
Carys didn’t hear any more vitriol. She’d finally unlocked her feet and prised her hand from the wall.
‘Since the family name is so important to you, I’m surprised to hear you doing your best to taint it.’
Despite the bile rising in her throat, Carys somehow managed to sound cool and in control. Each word emerged with a crystal-clear diction that would have made her language tutor proud.
Amazing what shock and fury could produce. Especially since Carys wanted only to retreat and give in to the nausea.
Instead she stood straighter in her heels and smoke-blue suit of finest local silk. She told herself she looked elegant, even chic, like the countess she now was.
Livia spun round, hectic colour rimming her artfully madeup cheeks.
Carys looked up at the woman who’d tried to destroy what Alessandro and she had shared. For the first time she saw beyond the careful grooming and exquisite sophistication to the ugly greed and discontent beneath.
‘Anyone would think you had an axe to grind,’ Carys said softly and heard a collective intake of breath from the women watching so avidly. ‘That you had your nose put out of joint because you’d been supplanted by Alessandro’s wife.’ She let a pause lengthen. ‘Supplanted by a younger woman.’
The widening of Livia’s eyes and a single muffled laugh from the group told Carys she was right.
She was tempted to confront Livia with her lies and machinations. But she refused to play her game and feed gossip to the curious. Instead she summoned a stiff-lipped smile. ‘But we know that’s nonsense, don’t we?’
Livia opened her mouth then shut it, nodding abruptly.
‘As for my charity lunch,’ Carys continued, ‘no doubt there was some misunderstanding about the arrangements. I’ll ensure it’s sorted and send you an invitation, Livia. I hope your friends will all attend too.’
Dimly she was aware of nods and agreement, but her focus was on the woman before her, who suddenly looked smaller and less assured. Carys didn’t feel satisfaction or triumph, just a cold lump of distress in the pit of her belly.
‘I must go, but I’ll talk to Alessandro about having you to the villa for a meal soon. Ciao, Livia.’ She pressed obligatory kisses to the other woman’s cheeks, heard her automatic responses, then turned and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other all the way to the entrance.
By the time she was alone in the back of the limo, her rigid control had cracked. She was shaking, her skin clammy, and her stomach heaved anew.
She tried to concentrate on the shock and defeat in Livia’s eyes but instead remembered only her words.
What choice did he have? His wife would make a hash of it…he begged me…
No, Carys didn’t believe it. Alessandro wouldn’t do that to her. Livia had lied again. Carys wouldn’t trust her as far as she could lift Alessandro’s favourite Lamborghini. As soon as the shaking passed, she’d ring him and he’d confirm it.
He’d told her he trusted her.
He’d looked so sincere she’d believed him without hesitation.
But now that old doubting voice whispered again in her head. Had he said it just to woo her into compliance? To make things easier between them? Pain lanced her chest.
No! He’d meant every word.
Yet maybe trust came in different forms. He might trust her word but not think she was fit for the role of wife to a megawealthy industrialist.
Who could blame him?
She hadn’t grown up in his world. Didn’t know all the rules. And maybe—the thought sneaked up out of nowhere—he secretly believed, as others had, that her reading problems reflected on her capacity in other things.
Another surge of nausea made her hunch in her seat. She spent the next few wretched minutes riding wave after wave of pain, trying to blot out the voice of doubt.
Finally, she sat up straight, staring blind-eyed out the window. The roiling in her stomach was vanquished for now, yet she trembled in the aftermath of distress.
She lifted her chin. No matter that a craven part of her was tempted to agree with Livia, that she didn’t know how to go on in these rarefied social circles. Carys was here to stay. She was Alessandro Mattani’s wife and she’d prove to everyone, herself included, that she could handle whatever that entailed. She owed it to herself, and to Leo.
Her hand slid to her stomach. If she was going to bring up her family in this place, she couldn’t afford to let herself sink into the shadows as she’d done when she was young. She knew what that was like, and it was a place she didn’t want to visit again.
She’d worked all her adult life to make something of herself, prove to herself that she was as good as everyone else, and not live down to her family’s expectations. She refused to let anyone put her in that position again.
She was tired of being made to feel second best. Even by herself.
Carys slipped her cellphone from her handbag and punched in the number for Alessandro’s office. She ignored the tingle of fear running through her. Instead she reminded herself Alessandro trusted her.
Alessandro was out of his car and loping up the front steps before the echo of the Lamborghini’s engine died. The front door swung silently open before he reached it.
‘Where’s my wife?’
Paulo moved back to let him enter. ‘I believe madam is still at the pool. Master Leo has had his swim and gone up for a nap.’
‘Good.’ What needed saying was better done in private. Alessandro strode towards the fitness wing, his sense of urgency growing with each step.
He’d been driving home when his efficient new assistant called, explaining that the contessa had rung to ask about arrangements for the charity lunch. When she’d checked, it was to find the fool of a woman who’d been his temporary PA had arranged for Livia to host the event. Despite his express instructions that his stepmother no longer be invited to represent the family or his company.
He speared a hand through his hair, frustration rising. At Livia. At incompetent temps. At himself for not double-checking.
He stalked down the corridor. All the while his assistant’s voice echoed in his head. ‘No, she didn’t leave a message. No, she didn’t say anything. She hung up after I told her about the luncheon.’
Alessandro had a bad feeling about this. He knew Carys sometimes felt unsure of herself. That was why he’d taken it slowly introducing her to society. He guessed at the scars her family’s treatment of her had caused. Scars he suspected had never truly healed.
He thrust open the door to the pool, shrugging out of his jacket and tie as the warmth hit him. He dropped them on a chair, eyes fixed on the small form swimming in the pool. Usually she swam gracefully. This time there was a dogged determination about her freestyle stroke that spoke more of churning emotion than the need for exercise.
Carys let her palm slam onto the tiles at the end of the pool. She was too tired to make a proper racing turn. Her chest heaved, but still the hurt and anger bubbled inside. She’d do a few more laps, till her mind cleared.
A shadow fell on the tiles. Hands reached down.
‘Let me help you out.’
Automatically she kicked out off the wall, propelling herself away. But Alessandro forestalled her by grasping her upper arms and using his extraordinary strength to haul her out to stand before him.
She didn’t want to talk to him yet. Not till she was calm. Not till she’d got over the sense of betrayal. It was just a lunch, for goodness sake. Nothing to get worked up about.
Yet it felt like more. Like once again she hadn’t measured up. Like l
ast time when he’d kept her to himself rather than trust her to socialise with his friends. Like all the times her parents hadn’t showed, or hadn’t remembered or just weren’t interested. Like she was doomed to be second best still.
‘Look at me, Carys.’
She looked. He stood in a puddle as water sluiced off her body. His trousers were wet from where he’d lifted her, and his shirt clung in a way that made her want to run needy hands over his sculpted chest and torso. The knowledge fuelled her anger just as she was aiming for calm.
‘You’re home early.’ It emerged as an accusation, belying the rapture she’d found so often when he returned in time to play with Leo, then take his wife to bed for some late afternoon loving. She bit her lip and looked over his shoulder.
A finger at her chin inexorably lifted her face towards his. There was no escaping his dark gaze or the sympathy she read there.
She didn’t want his sympathy! She wanted so much more.
The futility of it hit her. She’d married Alessandro pretending not to care for him, but she’d known, deep in her heart, that she was fated to love this man no matter how unequal their circumstances or the feelings between them.
Alessandro’s heart jammed against his ribs, almost stopped beating, as he saw her reddened eyes.
His indomitable Carys had been crying. The realisation gutted him. His hold on her tightened, but he resisted the need to pull her close. The set of her jaw and the flash of her ice-bright eyes were pure warning.
‘I can explain—’
‘I’m sure you can.’ Bitterness laced her words. ‘I suppose your office warned you I’d rung. That I knew you’d asked Livia to take my place.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ Not in the way she thought. His hands gentled on her shoulders, sliding down her slick arms in an instinctive gesture of comfort.
‘Wasn’t it?’ Her gaze shifted. She didn’t want to look at him. ‘You think I’m not up to playing the role of contessa.’
‘Don’t say that!’ He hated it when she talked of playing a role. As if at any moment she might decide she was tired of the act and simply leave. His fingers tightened and he planted his feet wider, instinctively ready to fight for what was his.
‘So you asked Livia, begged her to step in.’
‘That was a mistake, Carys.’
‘You can say that again!’ She tried to shrug out of his grip, but he refused to release her. He watched temper war with pain as her lips trembled and her eyes glowed bright with slow burning anger. He wanted to fold her close and soothe her.
‘I’m you’re wife, Alessandro. Not some employee you can put aside if you think they’re not up to a job.’ The words poured out in a rush. ‘You manipulated me into this marriage. Gave me no choice in the matter. It’s too late to decide now that you didn’t get a good bargain when you married me.’
‘Now hold on.’ She’d hit on a sore spot. He knew a sneaking guilt that he’d forced her into marriage. That he’d taken unfair advantage of a woman who hadn’t the resources to withstand him. He’d been utterly ruthless in getting this woman into his home and his bed.
‘No, I won’t hold on!’ She straightened, glaring at him with something akin to hatred in her eyes. That look set his heart pounding and fear skimming through him. A fear such as he’d never known.
He couldn’t lose Carys. It was impossible. Not now.
‘I’m not some prop to be pulled out and shown to the public when you want a compliant wife, then shoved aside when you think I’m not up to dealing with your aristocratic friends.’
‘You can’t believe that’s what I’ve been doing!’ Indignation warred with sympathy. ‘I’ve been giving you time to adjust, trying not to overwhelm you. I know this is different to what you’re used to.’
She wasn’t listening, just shook her head and planted her hands dead centre on his chest, pushing as if to make him move away.
He stayed planted exactly where he was. No one, not even Carys, dismissed him.
‘I’m tired of this, Alessandro. Tired of being treated as second best. Tired of settling for less.’
‘Settling?’ His brow knotted. ‘What do you mean settling?’
‘This convenient arrangement of ours,’ she said, distaste dripping from every syllable. ‘It can’t go on like this. I can’t—’
‘Convenient?’ Alessandro tried to obliterate burgeoning panic, funnelling his fears instead into the wrath that surfaced when she spoke of ending their marriage. ‘You accused me of that the night we got married, didn’t you? You were wrong then and you’re wrong now.’ After all this time they were back where they’d started. Why couldn’t she see how important this was? How important they were. ‘You think this marriage is convenient for me?’
Azure eyes met his, unblinking. Her gaze pierced him to the soul. ‘I think you got what you wanted, Alessandro. But it’s not enough for me. I—’
He refused to listen to Carys request a divorce. Feelings, more tumultuous than he’d ever experienced, exploded within him, shattering the last of his iron-clad control, leaving him defenceless against the pain that ripped him apart.
‘You think this is convenient, Carys?’ He swooped down and took her mouth with his. The kiss was hard, demanding, proprietorial, almost brutal, but he could no longer hold himself in check.
She was his. Absolutely incontrovertibly his. Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Carys, kissing her. He pulled her close, enfolded her in an embrace that nothing could break.
He needed her. Wouldn’t be whole without her.
The feel of her there, her heart hammering in time with his, her soft lips yielding, even giving back kiss for furious kiss, only strengthened his certainty.
‘Or this?’ He drew back enough to lick a line from her collarbone to her ear, feeling her judder in response, her breath catch in a gasp of pure pleasure.
‘There’s nothing convenient about what I feel for you, Carys.’ He drew back just enough to hold her dazed eyes with his. ‘I refuse to give up the woman I love. Do you hear me? There will be no talk of divorce. I won’t accept it. I won’t give you up.’
This time when he kissed her, he lifted her right off the ground, securing her with one arm around her bottom, the other around her torso, pulling her to him as if he could meld her wet form into his own.
They were one, damn it. They belonged together.
‘Sandro?’
‘No.’ The coward in him didn’t want to hear her pleas to be released from their marriage. Instead he kissed her again, turning and walking the few paces till he felt the wall against his arm. He held her there, secure in his arms, her back to the wall, unable to escape, as he concentrated on ravaging her senses with all the passion welling inside him.
He could swear she responded as ardently as ever. More so. Perhaps, after all, she could be persuaded.
‘Sandro.’ Only lack of oxygen, the need to breathe again, allowed her to speak.
Her fingers against his lips stopped him when he would have kissed her again to stop the flow of words he didn’t want to hear.
‘Please, Sandro.’ Such emotion in her husky voice. His heart squeezed in sheer terror as he knew he couldn’t put off the moment any longer. He drew back enough to look down into her face. But he didn’t relinquish his hold. He held her clamped hard against him.
‘You love me?’ There was wonder in her eyes, and doubt.
He was a proud man. From childhood he’d learned not to share himself, not to trust his heart to anyone else. But what he felt was too big to be hidden.
‘Can you doubt it, Carys?’ He lifted his hand to stroke her brow, her cheek, her swollen lips. ‘I think I loved you even before I saw your picture in that brochure. Definitely from the moment I held you in my arms in my hotel suite, and almost died from the sheer ecstasy of you there, with me.’ He swallowed a rising lump in his throat.
‘And when I saw you holding our son…’ This time his kiss was tender, soft and fleeting. Reluctantly he p
ulled back, watching her eyes widen.
‘I didn’t know what love was till I met you, tesoro mio. But now I do. It’s the glorious warmth I feel just thinking about you. Just remembering your smile when you’re not there. It’s the desire to keep you safe, to protect you and care for you every day of the rest of our lives. To share my life with you. It would kill me if you left.’
His heartbeat slowed to a sombre, waiting pulse. ‘I was only half alive before I found you again. Please…’ He didn’t care that he laid his innermost self open and vulnerable before her. All that mattered was having Carys in his life.
‘Oh, Sandro!’ Her kiss was fervent but almost clumsy as she pressed her lips feverishly to his. He felt hot tears slide down his cheek and realised she was crying in earnest.
Guilt scorched him. Did he really want to trap her with sympathy?
‘Sandro.’ She pressed kisses to his chin, his lips, his face. ‘I love you so much. I’ve always loved you. I thought you’d never feel the same.’
He shuddered with the shock of it. But lifting his head, he saw the truth in her eyes. She glowed incandescently as if lit from within. Even then he couldn’t believe.
‘But you wanted to leave me. You said so.’
Her smile, through drenched eyes and a tear-stained face, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
‘No. I couldn’t do that. Ever.’ The words sank into his soul and settled there. A tentative sense of peace washed through him. He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she stopped him.
‘I’m here for good, Sandro. I just meant I couldn’t put up with accepting less than a real marriage with real responsibilities. I couldn’t bear thinking you were ashamed of me, that I wasn’t good enough to be your contessa.’
‘Never say that, piccolina.’ He hitched her higher so they were at eye level. ‘You are the perfect wife for me. In every way.’ He let the words echo around the tiled walls, satisfaction filling him.
‘The luncheon arrangements were a mistake. I didn’t invite Livia to take your place. I—’
