‘I think we need to sort out a few technicalities.’ Santo smiled, and reaching for the bottle he topped up her glass.
‘Oh, really?’
‘I’m still struggling with the ending.’
‘Which is why you are paying big bucks to someone like Taylor, to carry it off...’ But her voice trailed off as she realised they were no longer actually discussing the film. Instead Santo had replaced the bottle then dipped into the ice bucket and pulled out a cube. She stared, fascinated, clutching on for dear life to her champagne glass, as his fingers approached her naked breast.
‘The script reads that he notices the small changes to her breast...’ He watched her bite down on her lip as he ran the ice cube around her nipple.
Her free hand went to move his, to stop him, but she wanted the full Santo experience. Instead she looked down at her nipple, tight and erect, and then, just as it was surely unbearable, she got the warm reprieve of his mouth. He sucked, gently at first and then deep, and just when it was too much, just when her body was begging for conclusion, his hand dipped back into the bucket for more ice.
‘And realising that she might be pregnant—’ Santo’s voice was low as they worked through the script, as between words he kissed her ‘—his hand moves to her stomach...’ And Ella’s eyes screwed closed as in the film Taylor’s must, but in Ella’s case it was because his hand was full of ice. ‘And still he kisses her,’ Santo said, taking the dripping ice into his mouth and kissing her with a very cold tongue. ‘Why would he still kiss her when he knows she has been unfaithful?’ Santo lifted his head and asked her.
‘Because when he stops kissing her, he knows they must talk and he doesn’t want to know the truth.’
‘Does he forgive her?’ Santo asked. ‘Does he end it?’
‘He surely has to,’ Ella said.
‘Even though he loves her?’ Santo checked.
‘He cannot trust her,’ Ella said.
‘Too simple.’ He was sucking on the ice and she watched the round, smoothed slivers as he ran them over her stomach.
She was so turned on, watching his fingers work the cubes down. She lifted her knees a little, blanched as he teased and intimately iced her then breathed as his tongue warmed and sucked a far more tender place than her breast.
And she was more than a willing participant. The sensations he delivered and the skill of his tongue were exquisite, and it was Ella sucking on ice cubes and passing them to him now.
For Santo, the feeling was incredible. He liked sex, and a little play prior just to be nice, but if the clock stopped now, even without coming, this was the best sex he had had. He was just fascinated by her body, by the sighs and moans from her mouth, how if he put his tongue there her fingers tightened in his hair, and if he put it there, her hands sought her thighs and still she kept passing the ice.
‘I always use...’ He was pressing ice into her with his tongue and she thought she might die from the pleasure.
‘I know,’ Ella whimpered, locked between pleasure and pain.
‘I want to try...’
‘Please...’ She was in this very strange place, where for the first time she could voice her want, did not have to be demure, be quiet, did not have to hold back what was on her mind. She had never opened up to another before, but she handed herself over to him now, if just for a while.
He climbed up her body and she was frozen deep on the inside and frenzied with heat at the surrounds. Her body, her skin, wet and cold from their games, sought the relief of him dry and warm now on top of her and he wrapped his arms under her.
‘God, Ella...’ He looked down, nervous at diving in as she begged him to hurry. Santo had never expected to be tentative his first time unsheathed, and she heard his shocked moan as he entered. ‘I don’t like it.’ They were both shaking with laughter, with shock, with adventure, and then he moved a little more. ‘Actually—’ he rocked deeper and harder ‘—I’ve changed my mind.’
The friction warmed her, warmed him, till they were soaked and panting, and Santo was true to his word, had never made love unsheathed, but for this he willingly broke the rule. As she warmed to him he found new pleasures—the grip of her muscles, the increasing warmth. His promise to take forever, to do her slowly, was one he wanted to keep, for all he wanted was this.
‘This morning I hated the day—’ he was moving so fast within her now ‘—and now...’ She couldn’t understand what he was saying, she was too locked in her own thoughts. Then he was gracing her with Italian, but her brain didn’t attempt to compute, because she felt her thighs starting to shake and this flood of warmth to her groin. But more than that, she was thrashing with her own thoughts, holding back her own words,
‘Santo.’ She considered for a brief second that the press outside must have got in, because lights were exploding in her head as if there were a thousand cameras aimed at them. She moaned and writhed and climaxed as Santo moved faster and it was bliss to come first, to just gloat from the podium and savour as he came a delicious last.
Santo was lost, feeling her pulse around him. He forced his own torture just so that he could feel each flicker and throb, and then gave in.
Ella watched his face contort and felt the pulse of his relief. Then, as if he might have been hit over the head, he collapsed onto her, the weight precious, the calm of sated. Santo lay there, his face in her hair that was spilled on the pillow, and he was almost nervous to look up.
It was the lack of condoms that had made it amazing, he told himself.
Or perhaps that he had wanted her for so long that made it all more intense?
‘Santo?’
He went to move, assumed he was too heavy, except her hair was sliding beneath his face as she turned hers to his, and what Ella couldn’t possibly know as his lips met hers was this was Santo’s first kiss with meaning.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY ENDED UP checking out at four.
In the morning!
But, ever thoughtful, Santo left a huge tip for the maid.
The press were still convinced that Alessandro was in the hotel and so, instead of heading out there with soaking wet hair from the shower, Ella took a bit of time to dry it. She stood in bra and panties and put her make-up on and turned herself back into his PA again, but with Santo watching on.
‘You like make-up,’ he observed, watching her rouge her cheeks.
‘Do I?’ Ella answered, adding mascara and then moving to her lips, but Santo wasn’t paying attention. He had taken out her concealer and was now standing behind her trying to cover up the mess he’d made of her neck. He looked amazing, wearing black jeans and black shirt and, with his eye a vivid purple, he looked sulking and rough. But there was a smile on the edge of his lips as he painted her neck.
‘Do you want to borrow it?’ Ella heard the slight edge to her own voice and fought to check it.
‘No need.’ He turned her round to face him. ‘I never cover up my mistakes.’
And she’d have to see them.
It hit Ella then what she’d signed up for, understood all his ex-lovers’ tears that she’d mopped. She had sworn she could handle just a little bit of Santo, but standing facing him, Ella knew enough about herself to know that already she wanted more. Yes, her notice should have been with immediate effect, because four weeks was way out of Santo’s attention-span range.
As his mouth moved in to kiss her, as he hoisted her body to him, she could feel him dressed but indecent on her near-naked body and the effect of him made her nervous.
‘No.’ She said it too sharply. It came out too tense and quickly Ella qualified. ‘I’ve just done my make-up.’
And in the world Santo inhabited, it was an entirely appropriate response, just his wasn’t. ‘I could turn you around then...’
He did just that. As he started to kiss her shoulder she watched his hands sliding over her stomach in the mirror and then she looked to her own eyes and saw her sudden panic, because he was going to be impossible
to get over, because forever she would remember this.
And Ella didn’t do sentiment.
‘You’ve got a movie kicking off in a couple of hours and I want to go home.’ She turned and smiled and she meant it. Ella put on her skirt and blouse and her shoes and made idle chit-chat, but she could hear blood whooshing in her ears, was fluttering in mild panic and didn’t want him to see, didn’t want to even give him a hint that he moved her.
Santo didn’t seem to notice any difference in her. It was Santo who had changed, for this time as he faced her in the lift, he was a different man going down than up. Relaxed even as he headed out, not even bothering to scowl to the media, he saw her into the car, then drove towards Ella’s villa. He needed no direction as he had dropped her off a couple of times before, but she had never asked him in and neither did she now. But Santo was having none of it.
‘Make me coffee.’ Santo yawned, because there was another drive ahead now to get to the run-down docklands where they were filming, only Ella wasn’t joining him till Tuesday. ‘And if you do...’ He smiled. ‘I will give you today off.’
‘I was already taking it off anyway!’ Ella said as he followed her into her villa. She was just a touch embarrassed—it was pretty sparse, just a small one-bedroom rental. As she headed into the kitchen to put the coffee pot on the stove Santo stayed in the lounge, looking at the few books she had and noticing they were all about directing.
Noticing, too, that, apart from that, there were no real clues to her.
He was very used to checking out women’s homes—it was a fleeting game he played—but there was nothing to be learned about Ella here. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him—she was only here temporarily after all—but there wasn’t even a family photo above the fireplace.
And nothing much about her in her bathroom either, Santo noticed when he excused himself for a moment and shamelessly peered into her cabinets. He did make a mental note of her favourite scent and then smothered a smile, because he had been about to let Ella know, so she could order some, and flowers and jewellery too! Had she not been a woman she had just bedded, Ella would have been told later this morning that the works were needed for her new lover. For once, Santo wasn’t feeling seedy after excess. Nope, there wasn’t even the vague pang of guilt that happened all too often after an empty encounter.
‘Coffee!’ he heard her call from the kitchen. Santo glanced into her bedroom, saw the unmade bed and a bra on the floor. As exhausted as he was, as much as he needed to get to work, when he thought of her lying there calling him a bastard into her phone, he could easily have called to her to say to hell with the movie and that he wanted his coffee in bed.
Instead he headed back to the kitchen, watching as she poured the thick black coffee into two small cups and then sweetened them. She passed one to him and he took a grateful sip.
‘For that—’ he smiled ‘—you can turn your phone off till tomorrow.’
‘And have you go crazy that I didn’t pick up? I don’t think so.’
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Just have a day—I’ll deal with anything that comes up. Turn your phone back on when you get there tomorrow.’
‘I’ve got some things that need to be done....’
‘Nothing that cannot wait. Do them tomorrow and then drive down—maybe get there in the evening. There won’t be much action on set for a couple of days. It will all be setting up and getting to know the others.’
‘You’re sure?’ Ella checked, because Santo was a pretty demanding boss, but she really was exhausted.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ Santo said. He watched her face closely when he spoke next. ‘Unless you need to keep your phone on in case your family ring...’
‘No.’
He took another sip of his coffee. She really gave nothing at all away.
‘Your mother’s Italian?’ he checked. ‘From where?’ Santo asked, though he knew already from her dialect, but he wondered if she would share.
‘Sicilian.’
‘And your father?’
‘He’s Australian.’
And her eyes warned him that she would tell him no more than that, but he chose to ignore. ‘Are they still together?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered...’ Santo said. ‘I was just asking about your family in the same way you asked about mine.’
And yes, Ella realised, she was being brittle and defensive when there was absolutely no need to be. It was a simple question after all. ‘Yes—’ she gave a tight smile ‘—they’re still together.’
‘Now,’ Santo said, noticing her breathe out in relief as he changed the subject. But that soon faded when she found out to what he was changing it to. ‘We need to speak about this job that you are considering taking....’
‘No.’ Firmly Ella shook her head. ‘We’ve just spent the day and night in bed.’
‘Which makes it a perfect time for talking.’
‘For you, perhaps’ was Ella’s swift retort. ‘I’ll speak to you about this at work.’
‘Ella, I don’t want you taking that job.’
He didn’t know how thin the ice was that he was skating on, because so many times her own father had used those very words to her mother.
‘I choose where I work.’
‘If you could just listen—’
‘I mean it, Santo,’ she interrupted. ‘We will talk about this at work. You have a say in my career when we’re there and that’s the only place that you do.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
Not to Ella. Her mother had worked in a factory until Ella was born, but had given it up to help out in her father’s shop.
Occasionally Ella could remember her mother asking her father if she could take an outside job—heaven knows they had needed the money—but her father had liked his wife close by, liked that she could speak little English, liked the lack of friends in her life.
‘I don’t care if you think I’m being ridiculous. I’ll talk to you about this on Tuesday.’
‘Can you hold off from responding to him till we’ve spoken though?’
‘Santo!’ Ella warned.
‘Okay!’ He wasn’t at all used to being told no to anything but he conceded and gave her a very nice kiss on her mouth. ‘Thank you—I never thought it possible, but you made yesterday a good one.’
‘And you.’ She smiled back at him, conflicted. She wanted him gone, yet she did not want to let him go, did not want him heading off to the film set without her. She could feel little snaps of doubt biting at her, because, really, Ella wasn’t so sure that she could handle this. Santo was big league—no matter how much she told herself that this wasn’t going to hurt, there was the sensible part that was starting to realise that it was.
Any day soon.
She looked into his eyes, perhaps for the last time like this, because with Santo’s track records he could be in Taylor’s arms tonight.
‘Good luck with the first day of shooting.’
‘I’ll need it...’ Santo rolled his eyes.
‘What are you going to say to Taylor about the photos?’
‘What’s the point saying anything?’ Santo shrugged. ‘I told her to behave. I told her how much the film was relying on her to stay out of trouble. Really, it might be easier to just stitch her knees together.’
Ella laughed as she said goodbye to him, but her heart wasn’t in it—because even with her knees stitched together Taylor was still breathtakingly beautiful, and Ella wouldn’t put it past Santo to be ringing her at midnight with an urgent call for scissors!
Except, Ella remembered, she was turning off her phone.
It was bliss to climb into bed and to know that nothing would disturb her, except she hadn’t counted on her thoughts. The panic that had gripped her in the hotel bathroom was back now.
It wasn’t just sex.
She lay staring up at the ceiling, still trying to tell herself that it was, that she could do this. Ella had long si
nce guarded her heart well, so she certainly wasn’t going to start holding out hope for Santo. She smiled at the very thought of him reformed, but then it faded, because even if the reformed Santo came tied up with a bow she’d never be able to trust him.
Ella slept well into late afternoon, but of course as soon as she woke she checked her phone—presuming, because she knew how he operated, there would be an awful lot of calls and endless texts from Santo. To be in his spotlight was intense.
Nothing.
She checked and checked again, trying to batten down her disappointment before it properly took hold. Surely she should be pleased he hadn’t bombarded her, except...yes, the high she had been floating on was starting to disperse. Without her propping Santo up, there were no flowers arriving at her door bearing cards filled with overused sentiments. Ella even managed a wry smile as she recalled one of their recent conversations.
‘What should I put?’ She’d checked when he’d told her to send some flowers.
‘You decide.’
He’d clearly had second thoughts about leaving this particular note to Ella, because he’d buzzed her a few minutes later. ‘What did you put?’
Ella had sighed before replying. “I enjoyed our weekend. You were amazing. Santo.”
‘No, that’s the flowers she should be sending me.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Don’t worry about flowers, just some jewellery, sapphire.’
‘She’s got blue eyes then, has she?’
Yes, she knew him too well.
Stop it, Ella, she told herself as she set about packing for the shoot, reminding herself that she wasn’t going to let Santo upset her, that she had gone into this with her eyes wide open. Then, refusing to heed Santo’s advice on her career, she replied to Luigi and accepted the job and then wrote out her resignation—because whatever happened now between her and Santo, she wouldn’t be working for him for much longer.
She got through the night without a single word from Santo and long into the next day, running the million errands a wild weekend in Santo Corretti’s life generated. It was actually late evening by the time she finally pulled up at the boutique hotel, close to where filming would take place. The drive should have been a pleasant one—the scenery was stunning after all, the traffic light—but she passed a few signs for her mother’s village, and though the area where they were filming wasn’t where her mother had come from, it was closer than Ella felt comfortable with. Stepping out of her car, there was a knot of unease in her stomach. It was her mum’s birthday in a few days and she’d have no choice but to ring her. If her mother found out just how close she was to her village, it would be terribly awkward not to visit her aunts.
Scandals Of The Powerful: Uncovering the Correttis / A Legacy of Secrets (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) / An Invitation to Sin (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) (Mills & Boon M&B) Page 11
