My Italian Beast (Part Two): Contemporary Billionaire Romance (Beasts in Bed Book 4)

by Marian Tee

  “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.

  Marcus took his phone out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “Then call him and ask him yourself.” When she didn’t say a word, he pushed the phone closer to her, saying forcefully, “Call him---”

  “No!”

  When patrons from other tables turned to look at them, it was only then Anneke realized how dangerously close she was to succumbing to hysterics---

  Oh God.

  It was starting all over again, her world turning upside-down and it was because of him, always because of him.

  Marcus Ravelli.

  When Anneke turned to him, the look of vulnerability on her face tore at him. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, “but I just can’t do this.” And then she was rising clumsily to her feet.

  Panic struck him, and he stood up right away. “Anneke---” He caught hold of her wrist just as she turned away.

  Keeping her head turned away from his, she muttered under her breath, “Please let me go.” The heat of his touch was bringing back too many memories, and they all hurt. She tried yanking her wrist out of his hold, but this only caused his grip to tighten, and her frustration and terror grew. “Please let me go. Can’t you see we’re causing a scene---”

  “I don’t give a damn,” he muttered back. “All I give a damn about is keeping you from leaving---”

  Only when she heard his last words did she realize how close she was, tottering over the edge, and now she was falling, breaking, snapping---

  Anneke whirled to face him, crying out, “You left me first!”

  Heads started to turn towards them, but she no longer cared. “You cheated on me.”

  “Anneke---”

  “You made me beg.”

  He started to reach for her. “Anneke, please---”

  “And after all that, you still left me.”

  The pain of that night flared back into life inside of her, and all she could suddenly see was her past self, slumped down on his basement floor, her life crumbling around her---

  And he knew that.

  And he still had left.

  Self-loathing burned inside of Marcus as he watched the play of emotions on Anneke’s face. He knew – of course he goddamn knew – what she was thinking. Remembering. And when he heard her speak---

  “What did I do to you that was so terrible you h-had to destroy me---” Her voice broke.

  And so did his heart.

  “It wasn’t you,” he said hoarsely. “And I know how it sounds like a fucking cliché, but it is the truth, bambina---”

  She flinched. “Don’t.” Her voice was tight with suppressed tears. “Just don’t call me that.”

  “But you are that. You will always be that---”

  Lies.

  All lies.

  “It’s never going to happen again, Anneke.”

  More lies. Oh God, why did he always have to lie?

  “I love you---”

  A soft cry of pain escaped her.

  And that was the greatest lie of all, and she could no longer bear it.

  Anneke glanced wildly at the table---

  Coffee? No, that was too hot.

  Vase? No, that might break his head.

  So all that was left---

  Anneke grabbed the handful of sugar cubes from the crystal saucer and threw it at Marcus’ face, one after another.

  It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was everything that was not proper, nothing that practical Anneke de Konigh would be expected to do, but oh God, it killed her still.

  And that the Italian billionaire remained immobile throughout it, letting her pellet him with sugar cubes of all things---

  His face devoid of emotion even as people around them started taking videos, one that would eventually spread all over the Internet and turn viral---

  But oh, his eyes---

  Those dark eyes that held hers even as she shot another table’s worth of sugar cubes at him---

  Those eyes were telling her it was okay.

  She could do anything she wanted with him, and it was okay.

  That was what killed her most of all, and the glass bowl in her hand slipped out of her hold. It crashed to the floor, and silence descended in the entire café at the loud, splintering sound.

  He stepped forward, and she started to tremble.

  “Anneke.” His voice was heartbreakingly gentle.

  God oh God, he was killing her all over again.

  “Stop.” Her voice was a tear-clogged whisper. “No more.”

  Marcus swallowed hard. “Anneke---”

  She shook her head wildly. “Please.” The trembling of her body grew worse. “P-please. Whatever it is you’re planning – please, please stop. Please. Please. Please. Before you break my heart again – I’m begging you, please, please stop.”

  Chapter Six

  As the limousine rolled up the driveway, Anneke pulled out her gloves from her bag and began putting them on. It took longer than usual since her hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

  Winter had barely begun, but it was already colder than usual in St. Valentine, Contini’s very own ski haven. Glancing outside the window, Anneke wasn’t surprised to find on-site security already having its hands full, trying to keep the press out of the premises. None of the reporters seemed to even notice that snow had started to fall, much less care that the air could turn freezing cold any moment.

  The chauffeur opened the door for her, and she thanked him without meeting the older man’s gaze. That he had seen her break down inside the car still shamed her. A de Konigh wasn’t supposed to be that weak. She owed it to her family to be stronger than that.

  The family’s long-standing housekeeper and butler were waiting to greet her by the steps, and Anneke quickly summoned a smile for the two, not wanting them to worry about her. Willem de Konigh had trained these two, after all. Anneke would bet her life they knew what had gone down between her and Marcus Ravelli, could probably repeat their entire exchange verbatim if her eldest brother ever asked them to.

  “Hallo, Mrs. Bakker, Bertrand.” She gestured vaguely at the throng of reporters that persisted on hanging outside the gates. “Sorry about that.”

  “We’ve never let such things bother us,” the housekeeper dismissed, and the butler affirmed this with a regal nod.

  About to step inside the chalet, Anneke hesitated. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that some of the reporters were beginning to feel the cold, rubbing their hands and shifting on their feet to keep themselves warm.

  Anneke turned back to the housekeeper, asking uncertainly, “Perhaps we could give them hot chocolate?”

  “You’re too nice,” Mrs. Bakker sniffed. “But if you insist.”

  The butler shut the doors closed as soon as they stepped inside, and Anneke sighed in relief at the hallowed silence that welcomed them. Looking around, she could feel herself relaxing even more at the familiar sight of her surroundings. Opulent the twenty-foot chandelier may be and however grandiose the living room was – it was still home.

  And right now, she badly needed to feel she had a place where she belonged, a place she could always run to –

  Like she once had, when the man she loved had thrown her away.

  “Your luggage is presently being delivered to your room, mevrouw.”

  The butler’s words drew her attention back to the present, and she smiled gratefully at Bertrand. “Thank you for always being so attentive, Bertrand.”

  “It is our honor to be of service, mevrouw.” Bertrand nodded at the housekeeper, and it was only then that Mrs. Bakker spoke again.

  “Would you care for some tea before retiring, mevrouw?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll have it in the morning room, if that’s okay.”

  The housekeeper bustled off to the kitchen, and after escorting her to the living room, Bertrand left her as well. In a blink of an eye, she was alone again, and Anneke unconsciously rubbed her arms, thinking that the silence around her didn�
�t feel as comforting when she was alone.

  Lowering herself to one end of the couch, she pulled her legs up, tucking them under her chin. She hugged herself, but the cold persisted---

  And she soon realized that there was no escaping it, since the cold came from within.

  Memories started to drift back---

  No. No. No.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t ever want to remember.

  But neither her mind nor her heart cared to listen.

  Images gradually came to life in her thoughts.

  Of an eighteen-year-old Marcus giving her one unforgettable summer---

  Of an adult Marcus, losing himself in the ecstasy of Anneke pleasuring him with her mouth---

  And of Marcus, her husband, walking out on her.

  The images tore her apart---

  Over and over and over.

  When her phone started to ring, Anneke didn’t even have to look at it to know that he was calling her. Even though she had his number blocked, even though she had changed her number for good measure – she was sure of it.

  And how laughably stupid was that?

  How could she be so foolishly certain of some things about him but not even see the breakdown of her marriage coming?

  It was a little past midnight by the time Anneke finished taking her shower and made it to bed. She was both physically and mentally exhausted, a curious thing considering how she had done nothing all day but eat and devour her favorites on Netflix.

  A glance at the laptop she had left open on the bedside table showed several unread emails from all members of her family. She had told them early on she was switching her phone off, and she had let them assume it was because of the press.

  But of course it was not.

  Lying on her back, Anneke stared blankly at the ceiling, trying not to succumb to the urge---

  But only a few seconds had passed before she was fumbling for her phone on the bedside table.

  Somehow, she had found the strength to switch it off when he wouldn’t stop calling her. But surely now – surely it was safe?

  As soon as her phone powered back to life, the first thing she saw was the preview for new and unread messages ---

  There were one from every member of her family, but the bulk of it was from an unregistered number.

  And of course that was him.

  God, he was so cunning.

  Phone calls Anneke had enough self-discipline to ignore, but text messages?

  Reading one will have you falling into an endless rabbit hole, Anneke warned herself. There’s no turning back once you start.

  But as wise words to one’s self always went, these were promptly ignored, and Anneke clicked on the unread messages.

  Marcus: I’m sorry about today.

  Marcus: Please let me call you.

  Marcus: At least let me know you’re okay.

  Marcus: I’ll call you every half hour until you talk to me.

  Anneke’s eyes widened. Had he, really? Her stupid heart started squeezing painfully as she checked her voice mailbox---

  And her throat began to tighten. Her heart began to ache. And ah, the tears---

  She moved to another message and another and another---

  Everything – every damn one – was from him, and the tears that she had been struggling to hold back the entire time finally fell.

  Call me. I’m sorry. Let me know you’re okay.

  The tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving the salty taste of despair on her lips.

  Why now, Marcus?

  Why not when I needed you?

  Why now when it’s too late?

  Curling up in a ball, she stared at the phone in her hands, feeling like she was holding everything that mattered – and yet none of it had ever been hers.

  Anneke closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she was surprised to find out that she had actually fallen asleep, and Anneke abruptly sat up. She immediately thought of checking the time, and that was when she remembered---

  Looking down, she saw that her fingers were still curled around her phone.

  Her grip on it loosened, and Anneke’s throat dried when she saw the time and the number of missed calls listed on the screen. It was pretty easy to calculate – one for every half hour.

  Marcus.

  Oh, Marcus.

  Why?

  And just a few minutes later, right on time, her phone started to vibrate again.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus was bent over the rails of his hotel room’s balcony, staring down at the empty road, when he heard a completely unexpected sound come out of his phone.

  “Hello?”

  Shock had him losing his grip on a phone to an eight-hundred-foot drop. “Accidenti!” He caught in time but almost fell over the balcony in the process. “Fuck!”

  On the other end of the line, Anneke blinked, stunned. “I beg your pardon? Are you actually---?”

  Marcus caught the end of her words and was aghast at the realization that Anneke thought he had been cursing her. “No, you misunderstand. I was---”

  The iPad he had left on the balcony table caught his eye, its screen lighting up with a Google News alert, and he cursed under his breath when he realized what the latest thing the press was reporting about him.

  Okay, that was too much, Anneke thought, more than a little offended at being cursed several times. “This is obviously a bad idea,” she muttered. “I’m sorry if you’re mad that I didn’t answer any of your calls, but that’s my right---”

  Realizing he had been once again misunderstood, he said right away, “Don’t hang up.” And without waiting for her to answer, he asserted vehemently, “I wasn’t cursing you in any way.”

  When she still didn’t answer, he added in a stiff voice, “I didn’t expect you to answer my call. It shocked me – enough to drop my phone.”

  “Oh.”

  Grimacing, he felt honor-bound to further reveal, “And I almost fell over the balcony---”

  Anneke gasped. “What?”

  “You can Google it if you wish. I’m sure the photos are all over the news by now. Apparently, some reporter with telescopic lens had all the luck and got everything.”

  Unable to help it, Anneke grabbed her laptop and began typing Marcus’ name, feeling a little hysterical all the while. It was so strange, typing his name after all this time. And did he really nearly fall off---

  Her face whitened as image results of her Google search popped out, and they were exactly as he had said.

  “Oh my God.” This time, Anneke was certain hysterics had gotten a hold of her, and a crazy little laugh escaped her. “Oh my God.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

  Forty-first floor, the caption mentioned. Near mishap averted. Would have fallen to his death. Other websites said the same, but the terms were more graphic, and Anneke found herself clutching her chest.

  Marcus had almost died.

  Hearing her choke out another panicky little laugh greatly disturbed Marcus. “Anneke?”

  She didn’t answer, only letting out another laugh.

  Accidenti! Realizing Anneke was in shock, he said immediately, “Take deep breaths.”

  “N-no, I---”

  “You’re in shock,” he cut her off in a hard voice.

  Oh. Was she? Anneke’s mind was lost in a haze. Was that why she was feeling ever so faint? She clutched her chest more tightly. It hurt so, so bad still, and yet she could feel herself fading from the world at the same time.

  “Anneke, did you hear me? You need to start taking deep breaths.” And when Anneke remained silent, he added forcefully, “Do it. Now.” Frustration crept into his voice. “Per favore, bambina.”

  The painfully familiar endearment did it for Anneke, hauling her past the icy cage of shock, and she let out a loud, uneven gasp.

  “Keep taking deep breaths.”

  She found herself doing blindly as a
sked.

  Half a minute passed, and he asked, “How do you feel?”

  “B-better.”

  Dio. Relief made him shudder, and not wanting to give the press more fodder, Marcus grabbed his iPad from the table and walked back inside his suite. After switching the call to loudspeaker, he placed all his stuff on the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

  When Anneke heard the clink of ice against glass, she asked dumbly, “Are you drinking right now?”

  “You should, too,” he advised curtly. “It should help get rid of any remnants of shock.”

  As Marcus downed the glass in one gulp, he heard Anneke mutter awkwardly, “Thank you.”

  He put the glass down as soon as he heard the words, knowing that the state he was in could put him in danger of crushing the glass. Taking a seat on one of the stools, he said carefully, “It was my fault. I’m sorry the photos caused quite a shock.”

  The silence that followed was expected.

  He knew what he had realized was beginning to dawn on her, too.

  She wouldn’t have reacted so adversely – if she hadn’t cared.

  “Anneke---”

  She couldn’t help shaking her head at the sound of her name on his lips. “No.” The word came out both a plea and a desperate denial of reality.

  His chest heaved at the sound of her voice. Porca miseria. Self-loathing poured inside of him at the realization that he was hurting her. Again. Was this what Padre Adolfo meant that he was a changed man? How could he believe he was now a better man when he kept hurting the only woman that mattered to him?

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Anneke.” A choked laugh spilled past her lips, and his lips twisted. “Sounds like the biggest fucking lie in the world, doesn’t it?”

  Oh. Despite everything, the self-deprecating words had a smile wobbling over her lips, and she said shakily, “Kind of.”

  “Thought so.”

  And her heart skipped a beat because oh, dear God, but didn’t this feel just like the old times? Wasn’t this just like that one unforgettable summer when they’d enjoy countless banter, all the while struggling to ignore the sexual attraction sizzling between them?