by Annie West
Is that why he’d succeeded so well at the helm of The House of Conti? Because he understood that combination of practicality and image?
For the first time it occurred to her that, though he’d abandoned the career he loved, perhaps Massimo’s new role gave him some outlet for his talent and passions. It had seemed such a waste when he’d turned his back on the theatre.
But not as much of a waste as their marriage.
Gina yanked her attention away from the images and the memories they evoked. She couldn’t afford a trip down memory lane.
Yet, as she dragged her case into the adjoining dressing room, she couldn’t suppress a tiny glow of relief that the cold-hearted businessman hadn’t totally eradicated the man she’d once loved with all her innocent heart.
That glow faded when she saw the collection of clothes hanging in the vast wardrobe. All in shades of grey, fawn and black, they filled one wall.
Gina stepped closer and saw a note pinned to one of them. Tearing it free she read the typescript.
Choose what you need for the week. The black dress is for tonight’s dinner.
Gina touched the shoulder of one full-length dress, noting the discreet black and silver Conti label hand-sewn beneath the neckline. Then a tailored dove-grey jacket. Then a shirt of silk so fragile it felt like she touched a butterfly wing.
Her hand dropped and she stepped back, surveying the array of matching shoes, again in black, grey, and fawn. Everything seemed to be her size. How did Massimo even know what it was? He wouldn’t remember from all those years ago.
But of course all he’d had to do was contact the wardrobe mistress from the film she’d just finished, explain that Gina was staying with him, and request her details.
Not that Massimo would have done it himself. His secretary would have. Just as he’d got someone else to type the note. He hadn’t even bothered to sign it.
What, did you expect a handwritten note from your husband? Maybe a few kisses on it too?
The voice in her head was sharp with rebuke and it shook her out of her distraction. Though it didn’t quite kill the momentary yearning for the days when Massimo’s notes had been passionate declarations.
A shimmy of regret passed through her. But the past was dead and gone, wasn’t it? This was now. A present when Massimo’s only interest in her was as a tool to promote his family company.
Her mouth firmed. In Venice Massimo had stipulated exactly what he demanded of her and she’d had no choice but to agree.
Seven days living in his home. Attendance at a precise number of events at his side. He’d specified how she was to conduct herself. What she was to say to queries about their relationship. That she wasn’t to squirm from his touch, that she was to smile and charm and pretend she didn’t object to him wrapping his arm around her in public.
There’d been no mention of a wardrobe, especially a wardrobe that was so not the woman she’d become. She’d given up trying to conform in neutral colours years ago, around the time their marriage ended. Now she dressed for herself in bright, bold colours that made her feel good. Looking at the array of perfect clothes in their perfectly chic, discreet colours made her feel sick.
Could she go back to pretending to be the woman Massimo wanted? Gina told herself it was just a costume, like for any other performance, but this stuck in her craw. This wasn’t part of their agreement. Massimo hadn’t asked, he’d simply ordered.
Indignation sizzled anew. He’d blackmailed her into being his pawn, giving up a week of her life for him. Wasn’t that enough? She was a person, not a doll to be dressed to his satisfaction. She’d agreed to be here under sufferance. That was enough.
Massimo would have to take her as she was.
Gina laughed, the sound brittle. Years ago she hadn’t been good enough. Now even when he wanted to profit from her celebrity, he tried to stage-manage her into an image that suited him, or more precisely, his family brand.
Beneath the ancient hurt, her resolve hardened. She mightn’t be good enough for the Contis but she was happy with who she was.
If that wasn’t enough for him, too bad.
*
Massimo was in the large salon, taking a call, when footsteps approached from the bedroom wing.
Anticipation burred his nerves. He’d come home to find the apartment silent and Gina locked away in the guest suite. He’d thought about knocking on the door, inviting her to join him in a pre-dinner drink, but clearly she was waiting till the last moment to make an appearance.
Impatience had twisted his gut. But he’d mastered it. Let her take her time tonight. He had all week. Longer. One way or another she wouldn’t be leaving. He’d make sure of that.
The eagerness with which she’d finally accepted this deal, her smile when he’d talked of dissolving their marriage, still rankled, sharpening every possessive instinct.
Yet he’d been sure he glimpsed something behind her determined expression. Something that shadowed her glorious eyes. Perhaps her feelings for him weren’t as dead as she pretended. Instinct told him she still cared, or if not cared, she hadn’t managed to excise him from her emotions as completely as she pretended. He could work with that.
The footsteps stopped and he turned to the doorway.
Massimo’s mouth dried and his PA’s voice became a drone of sound in his ear. He forced the air out of cramped lungs as a shock wave smacked him full force. He told his PA he’d deal with the issue tomorrow and ended the call.
‘You know how to make an entrance.’
Perfectly arched eyebrows lifted a fraction but Gina said nothing. She knew exactly the impression she made in that royal-blue dress that matched her eyes. It didn’t cling tight to her magnificent figure. It didn’t need to. A scattering of miniscule beads winked with every breath she took so ripples of light fanned down from her breasts to her hips in an enticing rhythm. The hem ended above her knees, and her legs looked endless.
Massimo swallowed, feeling abruptly as if his tie turned into a garrotte. His throat dried as he recalled those smooth, ivory-toned legs tangled with his. The triangle of bright auburn hair at her sex. And her husky, breathless cries of wonder as she gave him her virginity and he gave her her first multiple orgasm.
The memory was so vivid it might have been yesterday. He wanted it to be just yesterday. Or today.
How had he let seven years pass? It was too easy to say that at first there’d been sheer panic at the enormity of what he faced, then wounded pride when she walked away and didn’t look back. He had his old man’s stubbornness, so he’d been sure she’d come back and when she didn’t, well, he’d had no intention of letting her see how much that hurt. So he’d buried his feelings till he finally realised that was no solution.
He had to resolve this.
Heat burned the back of his neck, his palms and his groin. His flesh steamed as he struggled to yank his gaze back up to her face.
There was a knowing glint in her eyes. Damn it. She knew what she did to him.
But he could use that to his advantage. Instead of looking away Massimo let his carnal thoughts show in a smile that bared his teeth. ‘You look good enough to eat, Gina. One slow bite at a time.’
There it was. Almost hidden by her sudden hissed intake of breath. A flash of heat in those fine eyes that spoke of arousal.
It didn’t last. The next second her expression was scornful. Massimo had what he wanted – for now. Proof that desire was mutual.
‘You shouldn’t—’
‘Of course I shouldn’t. My apologies. My mind’s on eating. Clearly I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.’
A tiny line appeared on her brow as if she wasn’t sure if he were serious.
Oh, he was serious all right. Serious about getting Gina exactly where he wanted her. And keeping her.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
Gina stared at the man before her. In formal clothes he looked imposing and dramatically handsome. Her foolish heart gave a silly littl
e quiver of excitement.
She’d told herself over and over that the reason she’d ensured they never met in seven years was because she hated him. The dreadful truth was that, though she couldn’t forgive him for the shabby way he’d treated her, she was still connected. More than connected. Attracted.
It was there in her runaway pulse, the hollow sensation down low in her body and the way her perfectly comfortable dress now scratched her skin, particularly her breasts, as if she’d suddenly become hyper-responsive to touch.
At least it was her dress that suddenly chafed. Designed especially for her by Angela’s sister. It was a sign of how far Gina had come that she could afford to commission a dress for herself. Matteo probably thought it puerile of her to reject the Conti dresses, but Gina refused to be bought. That’s how it would feel if she put on one of those elegant, sombre-toned outfits. Not herself, but a woman pretending to be someone more acceptable.
‘I didn’t come here to be insulted or treated like some inanimate...’ She struggled to find an appropriate word.
‘No. You came to help me out.’ Massimo smiled again. To her surprise it wasn’t a carnivorous grin that transfixed her trembling body with the idea he might sink those white teeth into her neck. It was the surprisingly sweet smile she’d once told herself he reserved for her alone.
No doubt he’d used it on a lot of women since they parted.
‘Only because you threatened me into it.’ She stood straighter, wishing her heels were higher as he approached and she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. ‘And because it means we can end this...’ Unaccountably her throat closed and she had to pause. ‘Once and for all.’
‘This marriage.’ His deep voice drew the word out.
Massimo was just a step away now. Gina caught the subtlest hint of fresh pine-scented soap on male skin. The heat still suffusing her body drilled down through her abdomen to that aching hollow between her legs.
She blinked and told herself she didn’t do instant arousal anymore. Not for anyone. It was just that they shared a history. At some level her body recognised his. But once this week was over there’d be no need for them to meet again.
And you think that will make the yearning any less?
‘I don’t appreciate being manipulated.’ It was better to hang onto anger than allow that pang of regret over their failed marriage. It was too late to save their doomed relationship and there was no sense torturing herself over what might have been.
Yeah. Good luck with that. You’ve been so successful in putting it behind you. You’ve never even tried to find someone else who could make you happy.
Gina wished the sniping voice in her head would shut up. Especially when Massimo’s shrewd eyes locked on hers. She felt the air escape from her lungs as from a pierced balloon. Her traitorous knees shook till she forced them to steady.
‘And for the record, I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself for the time I’m here. I don’t need your charity. I may not be as wealthy as the Contis but I make a good living.’
‘Ah. That scraped your pride, did it?’ Something ignited in those pale eyes. His nostrils flared and suddenly he didn’t look like the sophisticated businessman the world saw. He looked like a hunter, focused on his prey. ‘You should try having your spouse walk out on you. That really hurts.’
Gina boggled up at him, her mouth opening then closing as she registered that he’d actually accused her of desertion.
‘Success has obviously gone to your head, Massimo. It’s impaired your memory. You were the one who left me. I offered to go with you originally but you wouldn’t let me.’
Was it shallow of her to feel a flash of triumph when his mouth tightened? Too bad. She was in no mood to let him rewrite history.
‘It would have made things complicated.’ He drew a slow breath as if reining in his temper. ‘But then later when I asked you to join me you refused. You just walked away.’
Powerful emotion throbbed in Massimo’s voice. Curiously it made her insides squeeze tight.
Gina’s hands slid to her hips. ‘You didn’t ask, you demanded. You just expected me to throw in my career for you.’
‘And obviously your career was more important than our marriage.’
‘What were you offering in return, Massimo?’ Her head thrust towards him as her ire rose. ‘A role as a downtrodden little spouse, living under the thumb of her in-laws in their tomb of a house? You couldn’t wait to get away from it when you were young but suddenly you wanted us both to live there. To give up the careers we loved for the privilege.’ She sucked in a ragged breath, stunned at how the old hurt crammed back, filling every crevice of her being. ‘And I was supposed to do that even though they looked down on me. They thought I wasn’t good enough for you.’
The pain was a writhing beast inside her now, like a dragon, breathing fire that ignited old hurts.
‘You’re exaggerating, Gina. They—’
‘Exaggerating!’ She feared she’d self-combust as outrage spiked. She breathed deep, telling herself that all she was doing was hurting herself, and showing Massimo how much he’d hurt her. ‘Perhaps you’re right. After all, you didn’t tell them about me, not even after we were married. How could they look down on me when they didn’t even know I existed? Till the day I rang and asked to speak with you.’
Unfortunately that memory was as vivid as ever. She’d been missing Massimo and worried about the increasing gaps between his phone calls. One day she hadn’t been able to reach him even to leave a message so she’d looked up the number for the Conti villa. The woman who answered had been dismissive when Gina asked to be put through to Massimo. Until Gina had told her she was his wife.
But instead of calling him to the phone the woman had screeched at her. Gina hadn’t caught every word but two things she’d registered. That the woman’s son, Massimo, wasn’t married and that she didn’t appreciate prank calls.
‘I explained that.’
‘So you did.’
Massimo had skirted around the truth but it was simple enough. His family had expectations of him. They thought he should marry someone they already knew. Someone from their elite circle. His father in particular had plans for Massimo and as he hadn’t been well it was best not to stress the old man too much.
In other words, the future they had in mind for their eldest son didn’t include marrying a penniless, illegitimate actress who didn’t even know her father because he’d disappeared before she was born. Far from being from the highest echelons of society, Gina was working class and only half Italian. The other half was Scottish or perhaps Irish. Her mother’s English wasn’t good and the short affair that got her pregnant had obviously not been spent talking.
‘Listen, I—’
‘Is that the time?’ Gina made a show of checking Massimo’s designer watch. She trembled at the high-octane cocktail of emotions swirling through her. This had to stop now. The past was a dead end. It would get them nowhere. ‘Shouldn’t we be leaving? We’re already late. I thought tonight was something important.’
It seemed Massimo agreed. His eyes flicked to his watch then back to her, impaling her with that grey-green stare that should have been cool but which scorched her right to the soles of her feet. His mouth compressed as if forcing down an argument. Then he took her elbow, shepherding her silently towards the door.
Gina wanted to yank her arm free of his hard grasp. It set up a riot of jittery sensation right through her body, reminding her of how she used to respond to Massimo when she was young and naïve. When she thought he loved her and love could conquer all.
Worse still, she realised it was disappointment she felt. Disappointment that tonight’s event for the glitterati of the fashion industry was more important to Massimo than them – Gina and Massimo.
See. She was doing it again. There was no them.
Gina breathed deep and pinned on the serene expression she saved for red carpet events and tricky interviews.
One thing was
for sure. This unwanted week with her ex was the perfect way to kill those last, sentimental feelings she had for Massimo Conti. When this was over she’d be cured once and for all.
*
Massimo held himself stiffly as, hours later, he opened the door and watched Gina walk back into the apartment ahead of him. There was a subtle sway to her hips as she moved, a grace that drew his gaze and made him want to gnash his teeth. His temper and his frustration were at dangerous levels.
All evening he’d watched Gina practise her feminine wiles, charming everyone. She’d laughed and listened, delighted and mesmerised. Even the women seemed to like her, despite her vivacious beauty, for she had a warm, natural manner and showed an interest in others.
And as for the men...
Pain radiated through his jaw and Massimo realised he was grinding his molars. Ahead of him, Gina sauntered towards the bedroom wing as if he’d already been dismissed. The fire he’d been tamping down all evening sparked into flames.
‘We need to talk.’ The words emerged abruptly but Massimo was past playing a polite fiction.
‘I’m tired.’ She didn’t turn but he saw her shoulders rise.
‘This won’t take long.’
She swung around, her glorious hair bouncing around her almost-bare shoulders, her eyes wary. For an instant he thought he read vulnerability in that beautiful face. Were those shadows haunting her eyes? Then the illusion disintegrated. She lifted her eyebrows in a show of boredom.
Massimo crossed the space between them in a moment. Gina’s eyes widened slightly as she lifted her chin to hold his gaze but she didn’t retreat.
Of course not. Gina wasn’t the sort to back down. He’d always loved that about her. Tonight, teetering on a knife edge between desire and wrath, racked by jealousy, it was the last straw.
