At The Italian's Bidding (A Hot Italian Nights Novella Book 5)

by Annie West

  But right now his look wasn’t that of a lover. It was set, determined, passionless. And it sent a shard of ice straight to her heart.

  ‘I did wrong last night, Lia. You weren’t yourself and I took advantage of you. It was unforgiveable.’

  Lia stared, aghast at both his expression and the harsh regret she heard.

  ‘You didn’t take advantage. I kissed you, remember?’

  He shook his head. ‘You were tired and then there was the wine you’d drunk. If any other man had made a move on you last night I’d have knocked him out. Instead I…’ He shrugged, those broad shoulders lifting stiffly. ‘You’re family and—’

  ‘Hold it right there!’ Lia dragged her hand from his. ‘We’re not family.’

  ‘As good as. You’ve grown up with me in the house, hanging out with your brothers. What would your relatives say if they knew we’d had sex? Your brothers? They expect me to look after you, just like they do.’

  A hollow feeling ripped at her stomach, widening as a chasm tore open within her.

  ‘This has nothing to do with my family. This is to do with you and me. My brothers don’t tell me about their sex lives and I don’t expect to tell them about mine.’

  Niccolo scraped a hand across his gorgeous, taut face as if trying to wipe away the memory of last night.

  ‘This is different and you know it, Lia. I’ve always been like a brother to you.’

  She shook her head, her hair swirling about her shoulders. This was turning into a nightmare.

  ‘I’ve never thought of you like that, Niccolo. Ever.’ She let those words sink in. ‘I treated you as a friend but never a brother.’ Now was not the time to announce she’d secretly nursed a passion for him from afar. That what had begun as a teenage crush had never truly been conquered, but had instead morphed into true, deep affection.

  ‘You’re not my protector. I don’t need one. I’m not a kid any more, Niccolo. I’m an adult.’

  ‘You’re inexperienced. I realised that last night and I should have stopped but I didn’t.’ His face looked chiselled from stone, as if every word cost him. ‘I had an obligation to protect you. Instead I—’

  ‘Tell me the truth, Niccolo.’ She folded her arms across her chest, holding in her jumping heart and trying to keep the hurt in too. Even so, she knew her voice shook. ‘Is all this old-fashioned stuff because I was a virgin? Is that why you’re tying yourself in knots?’

  If she’d slapped him she couldn’t have got a stronger reaction. His face paled and his eyes bulged in unmistakeable horror.

  Too late Lia realised her mistake.

  ‘You were a virgin?’ His lips twisted and he swore under his breath. He dropped her hand, instead palming the back of his neck. ‘I wondered but I wasn’t sure.’ He shook his head. ‘Who do I think I’m kidding? I didn’t want to be sure. Because I didn’t want to stop.’

  Suddenly he was on his feet, striding across the room, thrusting open the door to the balcony and heading out to lean over the edge, hands clamped on the balustrade and head bent as if he had trouble sucking in enough oxygen.

  Stunned, Lia stared. He hadn’t wanted to stop. Of course he’d enjoyed last night. She’d known that before he confused her with his apologies.

  She waited for him to turn around and come back to her, but he stayed where he was. A man apparently battling demons.

  Lia frowned. They were demons of his own making.

  With a soft curse she flung aside the sheet and stood. She glanced around, looking for her robe but couldn’t see it. Just then Niccolo whipped round and their eyes met.

  Instantly currents of electricity coursed through her as if she’d touched a live wire. From her lips, her breasts, between her thighs. Even running from the backs of her knees to her heels and round her waist.

  The look in his eyes told her he found her desirable. More — he wanted her. But his grip on the railing, arms splayed out on either side as if to anchor himself, told her he wasn’t going to come to her.

  Lia swallowed. No man had ever seen her naked, except Niccolo. She felt self-conscious and at the same time strong and powerful. She refused to cover herself or buy into his guilt trip because they’d shared themselves.

  It had been utterly glorious.

  Lifting her chin to counteract the lump in her throat, Lia crossed to the door. She paused, letting him look his fill. Every inch of her hummed with energy, with want and anticipation.

  But she wouldn’t beg.

  ‘First, this isn’t about my family, this is about me and you, Niccolo. I won’t let you use that as an excuse.’

  ‘It’s not an excuse. It’s about honour and obligation. About doing the right thing.’

  Men! Suddenly fury outweighed caution. ‘I’m not an obligation, Niccolo. I’m a woman. And as for honour…’ She breathed deep and saw his gaze fix on her breasts as they rose. The sight both delighted and infuriated her. ‘Your honour isn’t affected by the fact I chose to have sex with you. Surely you don’t carry on like this when any of those other women,’ she waved one hand disparagingly, ‘elect to sleep with you.’

  ‘But you’re not one of them. You’re deliberately misunderstanding.’

  ‘Am I?’ Her hands went to her hips. ‘Rubbish. You’re tying yourself in knots because the truth is your friendship with my family means more to you than any relationship we might have.’ Lia’s words stalled as the truth struck. It was true. And it would always be true. Matteo was his best friend. And Niccolo regularly caught up with Luca and Gennaro, even Aurelio on occasion.

  A great weight crushed her chest as she tried to breathe, making her words emerge raw and husky. ‘I had sex with you because I care for you, Niccolo. I wanted to share that with you. I still do. And as for my virginity,’ she couldn’t believe she had to spell this out, ‘ending that was my decision, not yours.’

  Suddenly she’d had enough. Standing here, naked both physically and emotionally, was too hard, when all she wanted was for him to fold his arms around her and tell her this wasn’t an end but a beginning.

  She choked down a ball of hot emotion. ‘If you can ever get past your…scruples,’ she spat the word, ‘then let me know.’

  Then she spun on her foot and marched to the bathroom. Once inside she snicked the lock shut and stumbled to the plush chair beside the bath. She couldn’t drag in enough air and her legs wobbled as if they were made of overused elastic.

  But worse, far worse, was the knowledge her night of rapture, and her fragile belief in a relationship with Niccolo, were over. Last night as he’d shared his hopes for the future, she’d felt so close to him, honoured to hear his secret plans. And later…

  Lia slammed her mind shut on what had come later.

  There was nothing more for her with this man. After years of dreaming and hoping finally, surely, this would cure her of her pointless yearning.

  Niccolo wasn’t for her. He never had been and never would be. For just now he’d met her gaze with eyes that were dead.

  The memory slithered through her, as cold and killing as any deadly reptile.

  Whatever had motivated him last night — lust, possibly tinged with curiosity and lubricated by the fine wine that had flowed at the party — it was finished now.

  Niccolo had rejected her. Worse, he regretted what they’d done. There could be no going back.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  ‘It’s such a shame Lia had to leave early. I was looking forward to spending the day getting to know her better. She’s such a lovely girl, Niccolo. Far more genuine than some of the women you and your cousins have dated.’

  Niccolo froze in the act of passing his grandmother a cool drink.

  Leave? His nape prickled and his skin grew tight. His heart rammed hard into his ribs then lurched into an unfamiliar rhythm.

  ‘Niccolo? What’s wrong? You’ve gone an awful colour. Don’t tell me it’s food poisoning! No-one else is ill this morning.’

  Dazed, he looked
down into his grandmother’s concerned face. He’d felt appalling all morning, tense and restless and… Dannazione! He didn’t have a word for the sickening brew of emotions, guilt and lust, honour and protectiveness. But the idea of Lia leaving without talking with him —

  ‘I’m fine, Nonna. Not sick at all.’ He ignored the nausea swirling in his gut. ‘Here, have your drink.’ He passed it to her and subsided into the chair beside her, positioned to catch the view over the gardens to the lake. In the distance he heard kids laughing and his cousin Giancarlo’s speedboat revving as it left the private pier.

  ‘It’s Lia, isn’t it?’ Shrewd eyes surveyed him.

  Niccolo sipped his own drink and wished it was alcohol. Anything to numb the feeling that everything that had been so simple was now completely out of control.

  ‘As you say, it’s disappointing she had to leave so early but—’

  But what? What excuse had she used to explain her departure? And how had she left? He suspected public transport to Bergamo on a Sunday would be painfully slow. If she’d returned to her apartment there and not headed for her family home.

  She’d been so distraught, so worked up, who knew where she’d gone?

  Again guilt smote, swift and lethal, shredding what was left of his conscience. And more than guilt. Fear. Fear for the damage he’d done. He’d hurt her when he’d tried, too late, to protect her.

  ‘I thought it odd that she left when you were ferrying your aunt and uncle across the lake.’ The old lady paused. Piercing dark eyes skewered him where he sat. ‘What happened, Niccolo? She seemed happy yesterday.’

  He thought of prevaricating. Of pretending everything was fine. But he didn’t have the heart for it. He’d never felt so wrong inside.

  Niccolo slumped back into the cushioned seat and raked his fingers through his hair, mildly astonished to discover his hand shook. He, whose iron nerves and steady hands were legend on the racing circuit.

  He’d handled it all wrong.

  ‘She was happy.’ He thought of the tender interest on her face when they’d talked down by the lake, her smiles as she’d chatted with his family. Her beautiful eyes wide with wonder and delight as he’d taken her to ecstasy. Last night she’d glowed, positively incandescent and he hadn’t been able to drag his eyes off her.

  How had he wrecked all that?

  He swung round. ‘How did she go? Did you see?’ Pride be damned. He was more concerned about whether Lia was all right than admitting a fault before his nonna.

  ‘One of our guests offered her a lift.’

  The sick feeling in Niccolo’s belly intensified, bile rising to his throat, threatening to make him gag.

  Please, not Paolo Calderone.

  The thought of Lia with that slimy playboy made him want to punch something, preferably Calderone’s smarmy face.

  Surely, even if she was upset, Lia wouldn’t have turned to him for help?

  ‘Who was it?’ He could barely get the words past his gritted teeth. ‘Calderone?’

  ‘Of course not. I didn’t invite him to stay the night. It was my friend Marco from Padua. He had to leave early and— Niccolo? Where are you going?’

  He was already on his feet, bending to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Nonna. I promise to explain later.’ Though not everything. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I have to see Lia.’

  The astonishment faded from his grandmother’s face, replaced by a cat-that-got-the-cream smile as she took his hand in hers. ‘I’m glad. I like her very much, Niccolo.’ She paused, squeezing his fingers. ‘I just hope she forgives you.’

  Niccolo didn’t question her assumption he was the one in the wrong. He was too busy wondering if Lia would even talk to him.

  He’d never been so terrified in his life.

  *

  Lia tightened the belt of her robe with determined fingers. It wasn’t the silk robe she’d bought to match her pretty new nightdress – the one she’d worn when she’d shared a bed with Niccolo. She didn’t think she’d ever wear those again. No, this was crisp cotton, serviceable and fresh.

  She couldn’t bear the touch of silk against her skin. It reminded her of last night. And of Niccolo.

  Don’t go there. Not now.

  The first thing she’d done on returning to her apartment was have a long shower, her second for today. As if she could wash Niccolo Marchesi from her mind and body as easily as she washed her hair.

  But she feared nothing would erase the memory of him, standing there in the bright sunlight, as handsome as a young god, telling her what they’d shared had been a mistake.

  A mistake!

  Fury seared through her and she welcomed it. For it incinerated, even if only for a moment, the hurt. He’d enjoyed himself but not enough to outweigh his precious scruples. She was less important to him than her family.

  She’d always known it but had hoped this weekend he’d changed.

  As if!

  She brushed her hand down her bright red robe, telling herself she’d been bold and strong, just like this red. She had nothing to regret, apart from the fact she’d spent so long pining for a man who’d never appreciate her.

  Her mouth threatened to crumple but she wouldn’t let it, despite the terrible crushed feeling inside, as if something was irretrievably broken. Instead she picked up her comb and began to untangle her wet hair.

  She’d put on her prettiest dress, and a whole lot of makeup, then go out. She’d ring one of her friends, maybe make up a party for a meal out. She’d—

  There was a knock at the door and Lia froze. Instantly, unstoppably, her mind went to Niccolo. Niccolo finding out she’d left and following her.

  Her heart was pounding fit to burst and the woman in the mirror had bright colour in her cheeks where before there’d been none.

  She dropped the comb with a clatter and grabbed the edge of the bathroom basin.

  She would not do this to herself. It couldn’t be him. He’d be counting his lucky stars she’d left after that awful scene at the villa. No doubt he’d find excuses to avoid her in future.

  It was her brother Gennaro’s engagement party next weekend and Luca was bringing someone special to meet the family too. Matteo and Angela, newly reunited, would be there and even Aurelio had hinted he might bring a friend. For a little while Lia had fantasised about Niccolo attending as her date, not just as a family friend.

  But Niccolo would probably find himself with sudden urgent business on another continent.

  Her heart squeezed.

  Face it, Lia. You won’t be seeing him for a long time.

  If Niccolo didn’t find reasons to avoid the De Laurentis family gatherings in future, she would. She’d all but told him she loved him and all he could think about was what other people would say! She deserved better.

  The knock came again, longer this time.

  Lia swung round and headed for the front door. It would be one of the neighbours. Nevertheless, she had to take a deep breath before she cracked the door open.

  ‘Lia. Thank God!’ Dark eyes held hers, sending her belly into a desperate loop the loop. Her heart pulsed so fast she felt sick.

  Instinctively she pushed the door. She refused to face Niccolo. Not yet. Not before she had a grip on her emotions.

  But it stuck. She shoved with all her strength but couldn’t shut it. Then she looked down and saw one large, hand-made leather shoe wedged in the gap. Inexorably the gap widened, the door pushing back towards her despite her desperate grip.

  ‘I don’t want to see you, Niccolo. There’s nothing more to say.’

  ‘The hell there isn’t.’

  Suddenly he was there, crowding her entry with his big shoulders and his magnetic personality. She could almost feel her nerves zapping at the energy he radiated.

  Lia stepped back, one hand closing the collar of her robe, the other hugging her waist tight, as if that would suppress the terrible anguish inside.

  Her head snapped up. ‘I told you, I don’t want
you here.’

  ‘Too bad. I need to see you.’ His mouth was grim as he closed the door, then had the temerity to lock it.

  A shiver ran through her. Indignation, surely. Not anticipation. No, she had too much pride for that. No way was she going to fall into this man’s bed again.

  Not that he wanted her there.

  Not that they’d even made it to the bed that first time.

  The memory swamped her, making a mockery of her outrage. For despite her fury and hurt, there was longing too.

  She still wanted him.

  Still loved him. That was the worst part of it. How much easier if it had been a one night stand with a stranger instead of the culmination of years of yearning.

  Niccolo folded his arms, planting his feet wide, as if challenging her to eject him.

  But suddenly Lia didn’t have the energy. Heart pummelling and limbs stiff, she turned and crossed to her big, overstuffed armchair. It was old-fashioned and worn but it was like sinking into a sustaining embrace. She hooked a cushion to her stomach and wrapped her arms tight around it, tucking her feet beneath her. Hoping she had the stamina for this confrontation.

  *

  Niccolo stared down at Lia and swallowed. Beautiful, feisty, gorgeous, Lia looked damp and angry but somehow smaller than when she’d tried to push him back onto the street. She had such a big, generous personality he tended to forget how little she was. Right now she looked as if a stiff breeze would blow her over, despite the determined set of her chin.

  Because of him.

  He’d rehearsed what he’d say all the way from the villa. He’d planned explanations and counter arguments. But the sight of her, so fragile and defiant, cut through his carefully formulated words.

  Was he too late?

  Was the damage irretrievable?

  With a thud he hit the floor with his knees, ripping the cushion from her grasp and tossing it over his shoulder. He took her cold hands in his and held tight. She didn’t resist, didn’t react at all. That, more than anything, terrified him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lia. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’