A Deal Sealed by Passion

by Louise Fuller

Her head was spinning. It would be so easy to surrender to the golden glow of his touch. Taking a small, shallow breath, she glanced helplessly around the cafe. An elderly man and his wife were smiling at her, their lined faces soft with approval. No doubt they thought she and Massimo were some young couple—a pair of newlyweds, maybe. She breathed out sharply. Whatever they thought they were seeing, they were wrong. And she must have absolutely no sense of self-preservation if she was going to let that beautiful, lethal smile blind her to the perils of getting involved with him any more than she already had.

  For where would that involvement end? Probably he would grow bored with her the minute she surrendered her body to his. And that would be humiliating. But humiliation was the most positive outcome here. What would happen if she fell in love? Her stomach twisted. A memory of her father slid into her head: hunched, shrunken on a sofa, clutching her mother’s cardigan, his face wet with tears. Her face tightened. Then her pain would be infinitesimal and immutable.

  She shivered.

  Love! She’d read the poems and listened to the songs on the radio. But love wasn’t just about devotion or even passion. It was about sacrifice too. And if you had that sort of love—a love that exploded inside you and sent shock waves to the tips of your fingers—then at some point you would end up paying. And it would take everything you had. Your strength, your health, your happiness, your sanity.

  She bit her lip and abruptly withdrew her hand from his. ‘You’re right. We do want the same thing. But the difference between us is that I know that’s not enough of a reason to have sex.’ She spoke quickly, her desire to be gone giving force to her words.

  Beckoning for the waiter, she pushed back her chair and threw a handful of coins onto the table.

  His face hardened. ‘Why are you fighting this?’

  ‘Because it’s wrong,’ she shot back. ‘Wrong. And stupid.’

  ‘You didn’t think that yesterday!’

  His voice was filled with frustration, but it was the chill in his eyes that whipped the breath from her throat.

  ‘That was then—’ she said hotly.

  ‘Oh, please!’ His scorn, sharp-edged, sliced through her denial. ‘If I kissed you now you’d kiss me right back.’

  The truth felt like a blast of cold air. She took a deep breath. Why was she fighting it? Would it really matter if she took his arm and led him to some anonymous hotel in the town? For a moment, she could almost feel the weight of the door key in her hand. Could feel the shimmering heat between their naked bodies—

  She straightened her shoulders. Sex made everything seem so simple. All it required was some bodies and the right mix of hormones. But no matter how much she ached to feel the weight of his body on hers she wasn’t going to give in. No amount of ecstasy was worth risking the pain and loss her father felt.

  She breathed out slowly as, behind her, a bus pulled noisily into the square. ‘Yes. I kissed you,’ she said defiantly. ‘And I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy it or that I don’t find you attractive. Only it’s not enough. Not enough for me to sleep with you. It might have been if we felt the same way. But we both know your motives have nothing to do with passion and everything to do with paying me back for getting in your way.’

  Massimo stared at her, caught between anger and admiration. She was right to question his motives although she was also wrong: he didn’t want to pay her back. Maybe at first he’d simply intended to exploit their powerful sexual attraction and thereby make her more malleable. But now his motives seemed to be growing more complex and confused. Just as the ache in his groin grew ever more intense and painful.

  Watching his face harden, she felt her heart beat high in her throat—and then the tension seemed to drop inside her. Suddenly, for the first time in days, she felt calm. Wanting sex for its own sake wasn’t wrong. But she knew deep down that Massimo’s desire for her was motivated more by power than lust. Her refusal to move out had simply fuelled his desire to have his own way: if he couldn’t have the palazzo he would have her instead. And that was wrong.

  Her heart was thumping painfully hard and, feeling almost light-headed, she came to a sudden decision.

  ‘Like I said, it’s not a reason to stay but it is a reason for me to move out.’ Snatching her handbag from the table, she stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll send someone to pick up my stuff. Congratulations. You’ve got what you wanted!’

  She heard Massimo swear softly, saw his hand reach out to stop her, and then she turned and darted across the pavement towards the bus, slipping between the doors as it started to rumble away from the square.

  * * *

  Switching off the shower, Flora wrapped herself up in the towel provided by the pensione and stared glumly at herself in the small chipped mirror above the sink. Last night she’d been on a high, but now things felt slightly different. Her elation had dissipated, leaving behind the miserable realisation that, while she might have succeeded in having the last word, she had made herself homeless in the process.

  She sat down on the bed and watched the cafés in the street below set up their tables.

  So what was she going to do now? She couldn’t stay holed up in the pensione for ever. Sooner or later she would have to go back to the palazzo to pack. And then it hit her. She hadn’t just made herself homeless: her seedlings and plants, including her precious night-flowering orchids, would soon be on the streets too.

  She bit her lip. Unless Massimo would agree to let them stay in the greenhouses. But it seemed unlikely. He would probably just laugh in her face. Tears pricked her eyes and she angrily swatted them away and took a deep breath. Tonight. She would go tonight and collect her orchids and leave the rest of her life behind. Start again. Live light. It would be an adventure. Besides, much as she loved the palazzo, the thought of being responsible for it had always made her feel edgy and uptight.

  Feeling a little happier, she began to dry her hair.

  Incredibly, she’d managed to hitch a ride most of the way to the palazzo, but it was still nearly nine before she finally slipped through the side door. The house was dark and strangely silent in a way that it hadn’t been for weeks and she sighed with relief.

  He was out! Probably celebrating her departure. But at least it meant she wouldn’t have to see his stupid, smug face.

  Feeling her way around the furniture, she made her way carefully through the house until finally she saw a glimmer of light. Her first thought was that at least she wouldn’t break her neck on the stairs, but then, as she stepped into the hallway, something like fear scraped over her skin.

  The front door was wide open and moonlight was shining straight through the doorway into the hallway. On legs that felt as though they were made of glass she walked softly across the floor. Looking nervously out into the darkness, her heart stopped as her thoughts tumbled into one another.

  Massimo’s car was still parked on the gravel beside the limousine. So he was home. Unless he’d taken a taxi. But then if he wasn’t home why had he left the front door open?

  She turned round and stared into the darkened house. And then the air seemed to shrink in on her as, with a sudden, paralysing lurch of fear, she heard something or someone move tentatively in the stillness. She froze, her stomach slowly turning to ice. But it was no good pretending she hadn’t heard it. Somebody was inside the palazzo. Somebody who didn’t want to be seen.

  For a moment her body was rooted to the floor, her breath coming in panicky little gasps, and then there was a crashing sound, a muttered curse, and it was as though a pin had been pulled inside her. Anger, bright and blinding white, rose up and blossomed like a flare.

  How dare they?

  Gritting her teeth, she thought longingly of Umberto’s ancient shotgun. It was broken and unloaded, but it still looked pretty damn scary. Only it was locked up in one of the outhouses. And then suddenly
she saw the broom...leaning against the banisters, gleaming in the moonlight like some magical mythological weapon. Breathing out slowly, she picked it up and walked swiftly across the hallway and kicked open the kitchen door.

  She had barely stepped into the room when she felt hands grab her. Strong male hands, gripping her round the waist and neck, twisting and crushing her. She lashed out with her feet and arms but her attacker was stronger, much stronger than she had ever imagined, and in sheer animal terror she sank her teeth into his arm.

  ‘Let me go!’

  He swore and, feeling his grip loosen, she yanked herself free. There was a cracking sound, and she staggered backwards with a cry.

  ‘F-Flora?’

  Her heart was crashing against her ribs so loudly that for a moment she wasn’t sure if she was hearing things, and then she heard him curse softly in the darkness. Breathing out, she reached behind her and flicked on the lights, squinting as brightness filled the room.

  ‘M-Massimo! What on—?’

  He was suddenly beside her, his hands gripping her arms, his eyes the exact colour of a stormy night sky. ‘You damned little fool! What the hell do you think you’re doing, creeping around in the dark in the middle of the night? I could have broken your neck!’

  Through the beating of her heart Flora could hear the shock in his voice. But she didn’t care. A fury wilder than any storm reared up inside, splitting her open.

  Tearing free of his grip, she thumped him hard in the chest. ‘What do you mean? You’re the one creeping around in the darkness. And how dare you tell me what I can and cannot do?’

  Tension was shimmering off him like a heat haze. ‘What is it with you? Don’t you ever get tired of fighting me? It’s like you’re on some kind of mission!’

  She glared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘You attacked me!’

  He stared at her incredulously. ‘Then how come I’m the one bleeding?’

  ‘You were hurting me!’

  They were inches apart. She could feel the heat of his body. He smelt of salt and leather, and despite her anger she felt heat spike up inside her.

  He held up his hand. ‘You bit me!’

  ‘Good!’ she snapped. ‘It’s the least you deserve after how you’ve treated me.’

  ‘How I—’ He stepped towards her, and she heard his sharply drawn breath. ‘If you were a man—’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’d wipe the floor with you.’

  Her hands formed fists, but he was too quick for her. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her against him. ‘That’s enough! Stop acting like a wildcat or—’

  She tried yanking herself free, but he clamped her body closer.

  They stared at each other, the tension pressing down on their skin, the air tightening around them.

  ‘Or what?’ she said hoarsely. ‘You can’t—’

  ‘Oh, but I can,’ he snarled and, lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his, stifling her protest with a kiss that tasted of fire and danger.

  He pulled her closer, hard and fast, his body pressing against hers so that she could feel the thickness of his arousal. His mouth was hot, his tongue probing fiercely between her lips, teeth nipping, tugging, her body tingling, growing tighter and tighter—

  Her breath shuddered, jerking out of her with a gasp as his fingers slid over her collarbone and over the thin fabric of her bra. She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted any man. His touch was like fire on her skin, melting her from the outside in. She shivered. Pleasure, like sunlight falling on leaves, swept over her. Her body burned with need. Her heart was racing...wild, frantic—

  And then, like a drum beating out a warning rhythm, she heard the kitchen clock chime the hour and it saved her.

  ‘No—’ She broke away from him, stepping back clumsily.

  ‘What—?’

  He didn’t move, but she saw something flicker in his eyes, only her brain seemed to be spinning on its own axis and she could barely speak, let alone make sense of his body language. ‘No. We’re not doing this. I told you.’

  He was angry: his breathing unsteady, his gaze hostile and frustrated. ‘Then why the hell did you come back?’

  She blinked. Why had she come back? The question seemed to slip away from her, like a coin in a penny fall machine. Slowly, her thoughts began to level out and she met his eyes squarely. ‘To get my orchids.’

  He stared at her, his jaw tightening.

  Catching the disbelief in his expression, she lifted her chin. ‘They’re bulbophyllum nocturnum,’ she said defensively. ‘Night-blooming orchids. They’re very rare. It took me almost a year to convince Professor de Korver to send me some seeds.’

  He frowned. ‘Are they dangerous?’

  She gaped at him. ‘No! Why would they be dangerous?’

  There was a short, tense silence and then he shrugged. ‘I thought maybe you might be raising an army of ninja orchids. All armed with brooms, primed to attack me.’

  Flora swallowed. He was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood. She wasn’t ready for that but despite his earlier accusation, she was tired of fighting him. She shook her head.

  ‘They’re actually pretty ordinary, really, except they only flower at night. Usually I check in on them about eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Do you tuck them up as well?’ he said coolly.

  Their eyes met and she bit her lip. ‘I just want to collect them and then I’ll leave,’ she said stiffly.

  A muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘Then I’ll just get my jacket.’

  She stared at him in horror. ‘I don’t need an escort. I know my way—’

  ‘And I need to know where you are. So. Either I go with you or you leave without your precious orchids.’

  They walked in silence through the gardens, Flora stalking ahead like an angry cat.

  Despite the almost tropical heat of the greenhouse she shivered in the darkness. It had been bad enough being alone with Massimo in the brightly lit kitchen. Now, in the sultry, sticky warmth of the greenhouses, with the leaves brushing against her face, it felt as if he was some big predator, stalking her through the jungle.

  Holding a torch in one hand, she made her way carefully through the foliage. Behind her there was a muttered cursing as he banged into a watering can.

  Turning, she frowned and said tersely, ‘Be careful! You’ll break something.’

  ‘Yes. Like my neck,’ he said irritably. ‘Is that why you brought me out here? To finish me off?’

  ‘Don’t blame me! It was your idea to co—’

  Abruptly, she stopped. ‘Oh! I don’t believe it! It’s flowering. It’s actually flowering!’

  Massimo leaned round her and stared, bemused, at a small yellowish-green plant. ‘It is?’

  She nodded happily. ‘I know it doesn’t look like much but it’s such an incredible plant. It’s so stubborn, so determined to survive. And it’s unique. There’s no other orchid even remotely like it.’ She let out a sigh of contentment. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m just so happy.’

  Massimo stared at her in silence. The air around them tasted warm and perfumed, and something in her unguarded enthusiasm touched him. His heart was speeding and he took a step closer, his arm brushing against hers. ‘So... Is that it, then?’ he said hoarsely. He paused, his words jamming in his throat. ‘Do you want to take them and go, or—?’

  She looked up at him. His eyes looked almost black in the torchlight, the shadows making his face look younger, more vulnerable. She felt her stomach swoop down, as though she’d stepped off a diving board. Her breath was twisting in her throat. She should run. Or bite him again. Or maybe hit herself with the torch. Anything to stop this soft, gauzy heat creeping over her skin. She needed to focus, to concentrate on the facts. He was the enemy. Worse, he was an enemy who had
managed to tear through all her carefully built up layers of logic and reason as though they were tissue paper.

  But then what were they really but memories of her father’s grief? Maybe now was the time to lay those ghosts to rest. After all, Massimo wasn’t the love of her life: and this was only ever going to be sex.

  Looking up, she saw the night sky, blue-black like a bruise, and suddenly she wanted to dive into it and lose herself beneath the inky surface. ‘Or what...?’ Her voice was husky, slipping and sliding with fear and longing.

  ‘Or this...’ he murmured softly, and slowly he lowered his head and kissed her.

  It was a different kind of kiss. Softer. Slower. Sweeter. His pulse jumped as her lips parted, and he felt his groin tighten painfully. Groaning, he pulled her closer, his hands curling around her waist so that she was pressed against the full length of his arousal. Tearing his lips from her mouth, he kissed her neck, licking and nipping the petal-soft skin. He could feel her fingers tangling urgently through his hair, feel her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she dragged him closer.

  ‘Massimo—’

  His body stiffened even as his brain seemed to melt. Hearing her say his name was like a spike of adrenaline in his heart. He felt light-headed.

  And then, moaning softly, she jerked away from him. ‘Not here—’

  They ran, stumbling, through the empty gardens and into the kitchen.

  ‘Where do you want to—?’ he began, but she stepped towards him, eyes blazing, and he reached out for her and jerked her into his arms, crushed her mouth against his.

  She kissed him back, her lips parting as, breathing unsteadily, he nudged his knee between her legs, pushing her back against the table. His hands framing her face, he kissed her again and again with an urgency he’d never felt before. She tasted clean and cool—of springtime and green woods. His lips moved lower, kissing her neck, her throat, licking the salt from her skin. Hunger jack-knifed in his stomach as he heard her breath catch, felt her pulse flutter.

  Flora felt her body tense as his hand slid under her T-shirt, her muscles spasming, a tingling heat swamping her. Her breath shuddered in her throat and desire...warm, sweet, liquid...rose up inside her as he moved between her thighs, flattening her body against his.