Satin Lies

by Tricia Jones

  Unable to face his reproach, Faye looked away. It was awful Matteo’s memory was tarnished by such a legacy, especially when he’d tried so hard. But what could she say? How could she handle this to make sure she left Teo with some pride, some respect?

  Enrico seemed to read her thoughts. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.”

  She expected to see contempt as she looked back at him, at the very least a kind of mocking challenge. If she had, she might have insisted it was none of his business, that she didn’t have to explain anything to him. But instead she saw understanding, a flicker of compassion, and it had her throat constricting.

  She took another sip of brandy and lifted her chin. “Everything was fine at first. Teo used his mother’s inheritance to dabble in relatively successful business projects, not wildly exciting but we ticked over. Then he got involved in plans for this huge leisure centre which included a multiplex cinema, shops, wine bars. It was a disaster from the word go. There were numerous delays in planning applications and tender documents, then there were construction problems and staff difficulties. Teo wouldn’t give in.” She looked up, ventured a tentative smile. “You know what he was like, gently stubborn and even a little reckless when he had the bit between his teeth.”

  Faye waited, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement, but Enrico’s serious expression didn’t flicker. She took a breath and went on.

  “It was soon obvious to everyone involved that the project needed a complete rethink, but Teo believed in it and insisted on plying good money after bad. His business partner lost interest. Teo was given very poor counsel and his accountant wasn’t up to much.” Again Faye waited, but it seemed Enrico wasn’t yet ready to fully sympathize with his brother’s plight.

  “Then his partner decided to pull out and Teo thought he could do better on his own.” Faye’s insides shook as she remembered that worrying time. “For a while he did and things seemed to settle down. Then interest rates went up and he had borrowed heavily. He had no option but to sell some of our assets and, well, he tried hard to make things right—”

  “He sold your home? He put his wife and baby at risk?” Enrico shook his head vehemently. “No business is worth that.”

  “He was desperate.” Faye felt the heat in her chest. If only Enrico knew how hard Teo had struggled. He was no businessman, despite his Lavini blood. He was an artist, a poet. She felt hugely responsible for allowing that gentle soul to take on her problems. “He had nowhere to turn.”

  Enrico’s nostrils flared. “He could have come to me.”

  “You know he would never do that.”

  Enrico stood and went over to the window. “He could have told me he was about to plunge himself into bankruptcy,” he said, with his back to her. “That his wife and child were about to be put out on the streets.” He turned, glowering at her. “Dio! Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “I couldn’t. Things were bad enough between Teo and me. Had I come to you—” which she wouldn’t have done in a million years, “—it would have made things even worse. And you keep exaggerating things. We were never destitute, or about to be put out on the streets.”

  “What happened to the rest of the money?” Enrico demanded. “While he lost an extraordinary amount of his inheritance on questionable business projects, it doesn’t account for the whole of it. I saw the paperwork, Faye, so do not try and deceive me.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I want the truth.”

  Faye toyed with the finger that once held her wedding ring. “Please don’t insult me. You already know, or have at least guessed. It was one of the reasons you fought with your father…” She was about to say that night but stopped herself. “Why do you insist on dredging it all up now? It makes no difference to anything.”

  “He was a damn fool, and you were no better.”

  Faye’s chin shot up. “I beg your pardon.”

  “You knew he had a gambling problem. Why the hell did you not safeguard your own security by insisting money be placed in your name?”

  “For the same reason you fought with your father on his wedding day and demanded that Teo share your inheritance. Weren’t you as foolhardy? You knew of his gambling and yet you still insisted your father sign over the bank to you both on equal terms.”

  “That was different. It was a matter of family integrity.”

  “It was no different. You felt responsible for Teo, you always have. You wanted—demanded—your father put Teo’s name in his will and when he refused you…you hit him.”

  The color drained from Enrico’s face. “The subject under discussion is that of your late husband’s recklessness.”

  She wasn’t about to let him off so easily. “Then why did you insist your father bequeath the business to both of you if you knew Teo was likely to gamble away his share of the profits?”

  “Because it was fair.”

  “And because you always felt guilty that your father favored you. You felt you owed something to Teo.”

  “And you, Faye? What did you owe my brother? Perhaps you were stricken by guilt that you gave me what should rightly have belonged to him, and therefore allowed him carte blanche where money was concerned.”

  Faye swallowed down the lump that lodged in her throat. “That had nothing to do with anything,” she lied, painfully aware it had everything to do with everything. But she wasn’t about to argue the rights and wrongs of the loss of her virginity right now. “It was only fair Teo be allowed to handle his own inheritance. It was his mother’s money. You seem to forget that I came into the marriage with very little.”

  “Your father was a victim of the stock market. He had sound enough business acumen but was unlucky. It was totally different from consciously gambling away your family’s security, both on the card table and through questionable business projects.”

  Faye curled her fingers tightly around the brandy glass. “There’s nothing to be gained from debating all this now. What’s done is done.”

  “On the contrary. Just what are you planning to live on when you return to England? There was no insurance, Faye. No endowments. Nothing.”

  “Then I’ll manage the same way as I have for the past few years. I have a good job and I might even start my degree. I can do it by distance learning and my employer said he would sponsor me.”

  “Where will you live? Surely you don’t intend to remain in that—”

  “It’s perfectly adequate. And our neighbors are lovely.”

  He shook his head. “I will arrange for something more suitable.”

  “You will not. It’s my choice where I live and I will make the decisions I think are best for myself and my daughter.”

  “Melita is my niece and a Lavini. In the absence of a father she is my responsibility. As are you.”

  A determined fierceness lit his eyes and Faye almost crumbled beneath it as guilty pressure pressed against her heart. In the absence of a father…

  “I understand you want a part in Melita’s life and I won’t deny you that,” Faye offered, knowing she had to appease his sense of familial duty. “But that means something like seeing her at Christmas, taking her on trips to the zoo.”

  Enrico’s laugh was short and cruel. “I want more than that. Melita is my blood.”

  With an even stronger bond to him than he could imagine, Faye thought miserably.

  She nodded, then swallowed the last of her brandy. “Perhaps we can iron out the details another time,” she offered, knowing full well she was too tired, too emotional to argue with him and come out on top. Her hands shook a little as she placed her empty brandy glass on the table. “I’d like to take Melita shopping tomorrow. We need some things.”

  He stood when she did. “I will arrange it.”

  “Thank you.” Faye stepped around the small table at the same time he did. Their bodies collided. Instinctively Faye reached out for the safety of his chest, her palms hitting hard, solid muscle. His hands gripped her arms.r />
  “Oh.” It was all she managed as she was drawn into him, his fingers tightening and digging firmly, but gently, into her flesh. She stared at his throat, at the small hairs escaping his unbuttoned collar. All at once she remembered how that dark hair arrowed down his torso, sheathing lean, honed muscle. How wonderful his abdomen felt beneath her hands, the strength of him, the power of him…as he’d thrust into her…

  What was she doing?

  Her legs weakened at alarming speed, her lungs tightening to such an extent she barely drew breath. She tried to push away, or maybe she just thought she did, because she was still held tight against him and, heavens above, it felt amazing.

  Better than her memories, better than her dreams. Here. Now. He was all she ever wanted. All she ever would want.

  But it could never be, because if he knew the secrets she kept hidden he would despise her. She couldn’t bear that. Couldn’t bear for him to hate her.

  “Rico…” she whispered, watching the storm rage in his eyes. She ached to press her fingers to the hard line of his jaw, to trace the fullness of his mouth.

  “It’s been a long time since you called me that,” he said gruffly. “A long time.”

  He pulled her closer, gripping her so hard she would have winced, except then he would have let go. She wouldn’t chance that.

  “Yes,” she murmured, letting her hands creep up his chest. “A long time. So much has happened.”

  His gaze slid slowly over her face. “Too much, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.” Faye reached up, brushed the back of her fingers over his cheek feeling the rough graze of stubble. “Rico.”

  He looked at her mouth, drawing closer and closer. “I am undone when you call me that.”

  A delicious shiver swept over her as she watched his mouth descend, imagining the warmth of his full lips as they covered hers. She lowered her eyes…waiting…waiting…and felt…

  Nothing.

  Just a cold emptiness as Enrico pulled back, locking his arms to his sides. “I apologize.” His face went hard. “That was inappropriate. I can only assure you it will not happen again.”

  Desire, tempered with embarrassment, burned her face. “Don’t apologize.” Because I can’t bear it. I can’t bear your cool assurances. “We’re both tired and things are hardly normal right now.”

  Enrico rammed his hands in his pockets. “As my brother’s widow you command my respect.”

  “Well, nothing happened, did it?” Faye snapped, irritated by his stoical forbearance while she felt like falling in a puddle at his feet. “Certainly nothing to reproach yourself for.”

  He scoffed. “I have spent the past years reproaching myself. Do you think I have forgiven myself for what happened between us? You were young and innocent. Barely a week had passed since you told me you were in love with my brother. I had no right to seduce you.”

  God. When she’d confessed to him she was in love with someone, he thought she’d meant Teo. “I knew what I was doing,” she snapped, confusion and irritation making her head spin. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

  “You meant only to placate me, but I took advantage of the situation. Do not think I hold myself above reproach for the breakdown of your marriage. I am to be held accountable.”

  “Why would you believe that?”

  “You told Matteo what happened between us. It is not something a man can easily forgive, the knowledge that his bride slept with another man, his brother, on the eve of their wedding.”

  “It wasn’t the eve of our wedding. Teo and I never planned to marry.” It was out before she could stop it, and the flash of Enrico’s eyes alerted her to her error. “I mean, when you and I…we…Teo and me, we hadn’t actually set a date. I could hardly be termed his bride.” She averted her gaze as guilt whipped at her flesh. “You had nothing to do with the breakdown of our marriage.”

  “How easily you lie, cara,” he said gently. “Something you learned in the years we have been apart?”

  Yes, oh yes, and she hated it. Hated all the lies. All the deceit. But whatever she did, she couldn’t win. She might agree that, yes, he was responsible for the breakdown of her marriage, although not in the way he thought. Then he could keep her on that pedestal, the one that exonerated her from any wrongdoing in their lovemaking while placing all the blame at his own door.

  But if she confessed her marriage was a sham, a mere marriage of convenience, she would have to reveal the reasons for it. That finding herself pregnant with his baby had made her determined to keep her pregnancy from him. Hadn’t he told her that he would never allow himself to be tricked into a loveless marriage the way his father had been? That he never wanted a child of his to be subjected to the excruciating pain of knowing how much his parents hated each other? How much his father loathed his mother?

  Aside from all that, she would have to reveal Teo’s secrets. She would never do that. It was the one thing that had terrified Matteo.

  Well, Enrico would never hear the truth from her lips. Teo had kept her secret for all those years. She would afford him the same privilege.

  “I’m not lying,” Faye told him, as her heart squeezed painfully. “You had absolutely nothing to do with the breakdown of our marriage.”

  Chapter Six

  For the next few weeks the days slipped into an easy rhythm. When Enrico was around, Faye was forced into recuperation mode and when he wasn’t she kept busy helping Carla with light duties around the villa or spending her time in the library. She had taken on the task of cataloguing the extensive and enviable Lavini collection of first editions and rare volumes into some sort of order.

  A call to her employer back in England informed her all was well and she was to focus on her full recovery. Several calls to her neighbor confirmed her flat was okay and Blaster, much to Melita’s relief, had settled in his temporary home quite happily.

  Melita was virtually glued to the horses and spent all available time helping out in the stables. Enrico had arranged for her to start at a local school the following week. Although only a few weeks remained before the summer break, he thought it best she attend school rather than be tutored at the villa, as she was missing her friends back home. It was one thing in which they were in absolute agreement, although Enrico insisted on footing the bill for the exclusive private school. Faye had put up a fight but, realizing she was hardly in a healthy enough financial position to argue, eventually gave in. But it niggled at Faye, who secretly vowed she would find some way to repay him for everything. As soon as her full memory returned, and she was given a clean bill of health by the doctor, she would get back to her real life. Then she would set about paying Enrico back. Every single euro.

  Although he spent an inordinate amount of time away on business, when he was around, Enrico addressed Faye with a polite courteousness that belied the underlying tension between them. They were rarely alone, but when they were, he cited business as an excuse to disappear into his study.

  Late one Friday afternoon Faye closed the leather-bound catalogue and rubbed her eyes. A cool breeze from the library’s French windows whispered around that part of her legs not covered by white cropped trousers. She hadn’t done too well with the cataloguing that day, constantly distracted by the knowledge that Enrico was returning from a four-day trip to Vienna. Her stomach gave that familiar, if unsteady, roll at the thought of seeing him.

  She looked around the large library with its floor-to-ceiling books, drank in the smell of polished leather and the scent of pine drifting in on the breeze. Faye closed her eyes. It was in this room that she’d tried to placate Enrico after that awful fight he’d had with his father mere hours after Ruggerio’s wedding. Guests had mingled on the patio, in the gardens, and early evening scents drifted through the open doors and windows. Faye remembered how she’d tried to close them, how she’d wanted to keep Enrico’s furious ranting from reaching the wedding guests.

  But he wouldn’t have any of it.

  “Leave them open,�
�� he’d demanded, his anger fuelled by the whisky he’d downed. “Let them all hear what a complete bastard he is.”

  Faye hurried toward the doors anyway, smoothing down the silk of her lilac shift dress as she went. Her hand reached out for the brass handles when Enrico came up behind her. Growling, he threw his arms around her waist, pulling her back sharply against the rock-hard strength of his muscular body.

  “I said leave them open.”

  He tugged her backward into the library, kept his arms around her waist as he rasped into her ear. “Stop trying to protect him, carina. Let his illustrious guests know the kind of monster he is.”

  All Faye’s senses were on full alert, her chest tightening until she managed only tiny gasps of air. As Enrico’s warmth pressed up against her back, she was aware of several things simultaneously—the solid wall of his muscled chest, the feel of his powerful arms encircling her waist, the way her bottom fit so easily into the cradle of his hips and—oh my—the rock hard length of him pressed tight against her.

  Faye prayed he wouldn’t let her go, because there was no way she would remain upright at that moment without his support. She wanted him. Wanted him to keep holding her like this. “He…he’s not a monster,” she managed, choosing words she knew would provoke him to keep hold of her and maintain that exquisite heat melting her system. His heat. She lifted her hands to her waist and placed them over his. “Rico…”

  He spun her around, so fast she felt dizzy with the movement. “The bastard wants to deny his own flesh and blood what is rightfully his. Whose fault was it he let himself be manipulated, tricked into marriage by a woman who used whatever means she could to trap him? If he was unhappy with the arrangement, too bad. He had a duty to the woman he impregnated. Even if he felt no love for her he had no right to take it out on Matteo.”

  Faye had never seen him so incensed. She’d been party to arguments between him and Ruggerio before, too many times for comfort, but she’d never seen him like this.