Satin Lies

by Tricia Jones

Enrico shoved open the door to their suite, battling against the sharp desire to commit bodily harm. His temper only increased as his sweet and innocent-faced little wife sauntered past him, yawning delicately.

  “What a perfectly lovely evening.” Faye plopped herself daintily onto the chaise, sliding the palest pink silk wrap from her bare shoulders. “It was so relaxing being at sea on such a gorgeous night, and I can’t believe I actually won my first ever game of blackjack.” With a carefree toss, she kicked off cream pumps. “So, are you going to buy it?”

  “Buy what?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded clipped. But he’d had one hell of an evening, no small thanks to the woman draping herself sensuously along the chaise.

  “The yacht,” she said, after another prim yawn. “Are you buying it?”

  He tugged at his tie and threw it onto the dresser, along with his jacket. “No. I am not going to buy the damn yacht.”

  “What a shame, I thought it was delightful.” She smiled at him. “Is there any champagne left? I’m thirsty.”

  “Then try water. You have had enough champagne.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “More than enough.”

  “Excuse me?” she said sweetly.

  “Nothing.” He yanked open the top button of his crisp white dress shirt and went into the bathroom. The woman was driving him insane. She’d been nervous and edgy all day and relaxation personified all evening.

  He’d wanted to keep her nervous and edgy, but his plans had backfired. Now, damn it, his nerves were on edge. Had been since she’d stepped from the bathroom in that long, pink sheath of a dress highlighting every curve and dip of her sumptuous body. The plunging neckline, with that sexy frill, promised easy access to the full, lush breasts beneath. All he had to do was slip his hand inside…

  Enrico leaned forward, pressing his palms against the cold porcelain of the basin. He closed his eyes. Dio! What the hell was he supposed to do now? Take her anyway? Even while she seemed not to care one way or the other?

  Things weren’t going as he’d planned. Nor as he’d wanted.

  He came out of the bathroom, muttering a curse when he saw her still stretched out on the chaise, eyes closed and her head propped on one arm. The position made the neckline of her dress bunch, pushing up one plump breast.

  Temper and lust fired through him until he thought he might explode.

  Faye obviously sensed him. She opened her eyes. “Mmm, I must have dropped off for a few minutes.” She gave him that sweet smile that was starting to irritate the hell out of him.

  He walked to her, curled his fingers around her wrist. “It is time for bed.” He helped her to her feet and she tumbled into his arms.

  “I think you’re right about the champagne,” she giggled. “I have had too much.” She looked him straight in the eye and blinked innocently. “I can’t possibly have sex tonight. You’ll have to wait.”

  Something snapped inside him. “Do not play me for a fool, cara.” His eyes narrowed as his fingers tightened around her arms. He pulled her close. “I told you no bargains, no compromises. You agreed to this marriage knowing exactly what I expect.”

  As if by magic she sobered up, her blue eyes glaring at him. “Well, I have some expectations too.” She pushed at his chest. “I expect to be treated with respect. How dare you treat me like I’m some…some…floozy you can order around? Who will jump whenever you say you’re ready to jump me.” Her voice hitched. “This was supposed to be our wedding night, Enrico. How humiliating do you think it was for me to sit on that yacht knowing those people knew my bridegroom preferred negotiating a business deal rather than being alone with me?”

  “They had no idea this was our wedding night.” The hurt in her eyes punched straight to his conscience, but he reminded himself of her treachery and fired back, “Not that you seemed too concerned. You flirted and batted your eyelashes at any man who came within blinking distance.”

  “Too right. I wasn’t going to let anyone think I was so undesirable my husband could manage to wait a whole evening before making love to me. I wanted people to think there must be something wrong with you.”

  Fury raced through his system. “There is nothing wrong with me.” And to prove it he grabbed her buttocks and yanked her hips against his erection. “You have spent the entire evening making me suffer, brushing against me at every opportunity, flirting and parading yourself. I will not have it.”

  “No, you won’t. Not tonight.” She looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes replaced by a cool conviction. “Ask your hotel owner friend to find you another bed for the night, because you’re not sharing mine.”

  She almost made it to the bathroom, but fuelled by anger, and a sexual frustration that ripped at his self-restraint, Enrico grabbed her wrist and swung her around. “You have no say in the matter.” He used his body to push her against the wall as his hands plunged into her hair and tugged until her mouth was a breath from his. Her startled gasp only made him want her more, but he ignored the flash of dishonor that shuddered through him and pressed himself against her. He would make her his, wash the memory of his brother from her head, from her body, with every touch, every stroke, every kiss.

  She glared at him. “If you do this now, it will be against my will.”

  He watched her mouth as she spoke, felt his own burn to cover it. “You think I care?”

  “Yes.”

  There was no fear in her eyes, no discomfort in her expression. But her voice trembled and it was his undoing. He released her so abruptly that her head bumped against the wall.

  He held her steadfast gaze, trying to get the breath that heaved in his lungs under some sort of control. He didn’t know what was happening to him, didn’t know how to restrain the desire leaping in his blood. He couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. So he turned, snatched up his jacket and stormed from the room.

  Faye stared at the closed door that still reverberated from his exit. Breath shuddered in and out of her lungs, hitched at the back of her throat. She had gotten what she wanted, what she had set out to accomplish at the beginning of the evening. She had forced his anger, made him pay for the humiliation of making her spend her wedding night with other people.

  So why did she feel this awful emptiness? Why did her heart feel ripped down the center?

  Because it had all been a cover, a smokescreen for the hurt. He’d spent the evening chatting, negotiating, for heaven’s sake. So she had set out to make him want her, make him ache to have her. And it had worked. She had won. She’d won because she saw the desire in his eyes whenever their glances met during the evening. She’d won because she noticed his scowls as she flirted outrageously with the yacht owner’s bachelor son. She’d won because of the way he had pushed against her a few minutes ago.

  Yet it was the most hollow of victories, because she ached and she hurt.

  Part of her had willed him to just take her anyway. She knew he wouldn’t. He was too honorable. She had angered him, tormented him, kept the cruelest of secrets from him for almost eight years, and she knew he wouldn’t.

  Damn him.

  The night air brushed her skin as she stepped out onto the terrace. It was beautiful here, she thought, watching tiny dots of light sparkle against the undulating coastline. Above her the clear night sky mirrored back that light with bright, twinkling stars. Below her, the gentle hypnotic lap of water echoed against rock. It was all wonderfully romantic, sensual and heady.

  The only thing missing was Enrico.

  Faye leaned against the iron balustrade. She took a long deep breath, letting it out on a sigh as she closed her eyes. How had things gotten to this? By rights she should be in his arms. He should be in hers. But here they were. Her in this huge bed…sleeping alone. While he was heaven knew where. It had all gone so very horribly wrong.

  She knew he didn’t love her. Never would. But somehow she’d thought—expected—that they would work things out, manage to get along. Her love for him would have facilitated that.


  But the very thing she had tried to avoid when she was pregnant had come back to haunt her all these years later. This was exactly what she had tried to prevent.

  Enrico’s contempt. His terrifying determination to do his duty, at the cost of his own happiness.

  His cool politeness in the weeks leading up to their marriage had been worse than angry words. He had married her for their daughter’s sake. To secure Melita’s future and make sure he was the one who provided it. He wanted his child. Not a wife.

  Faye shivered against the Mediterranean night breeze. What did she want? In the absence of his love, what did she want?

  His respect. She wanted—needed—his respect. If nothing else she wanted that. Yet even that seemed impossible.

  Faye prepared for bed and tried not to care where Enrico would spend the night. Would he ask his friend for another room? Probably not. Just think what a blow that would be to someone with an ego the size of Tuscany. Perhaps he might drive back to Monte Carlo, spend the night there.

  The click of the suite door lock being turned had her snatching her short satin robe from the side of the marble bath, pulling it on as she hurried back into the room.

  She found Enrico dropping his keys onto the side table.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Faye asked, tying the knot of her robe.

  He looked across to her, his gaze flirting over the robe, sending a shudder of awareness down Faye’s spine—along with a heady dose of anticipation and fear. Had he returned to make good on his threat? Had she been wrong? Was he the sort of man to take a woman by force?

  No. He wasn’t. Faye would stake her life—her daughter’s life—on that.

  He rolled his shoulders. “What I am doing is preparing for bed.” He ambled over to stand by it, unbuttoning his shirt. “You may not want me in it, Faye. But that remains your problem.”

  “But I thought—”

  “It seems you’re overly fond of thinking.” He bent to turn back the covers, then faced her where she stood on the opposite side of the bed, fiddling desperately with the knot in her robe. “If you do not want me to touch you, fine. But this is my bed and I intend to sleep in it.”

  He shrugged out of his shirt and Faye forgot to breathe. His chest was wide and muscular, a smattering of hair trailing down the centre. He reached down to unhook the fastening of his trousers and Faye had to swallow. How on earth was she supposed to sleep next to him, feel that solid chest brushing against hers, those powerful shoulders, muscled arms? How was she supposed to do that?

  She looked away as he reached for his trouser zip, mortified when her gaze met and locked with his. He knew what he was doing, she realized, as his mouth quirked almost imperceptibly. He knew because his eyes narrowed, and a warm flush of heat speared across his chiseled cheekbones.

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

  He stopped mid-zip. “What is not appropriate?”

  Faye moved toward the case she had nervously unpacked earlier and hefted it onto the bed. Enrico didn’t move, which at least offered some relief. She’d half expected him to come storming around the bed and snatch the case off, before throwing her down in its place.

  He merely watched as she retrieved underwear from the drawer and stuffed it in.

  “Going somewhere?

  Faye kept stuffing in clothes as hot tears burned the back of her eyes. How could he treat her this coldly? Didn’t he know he was breaking her heart? Smashing all her stupid dreams of building a life together? He might not love her but she had enough for both of them. In time he might have come to care for her.

  Fiercely concentrating on battling back the tears, Faye didn’t realize he’d moved until his hand reached for hers as she continued to pack her case.

  “No, cara.” He took the tee shirt she held and dropped it onto the bed. “If I have been unreasonable I apologize for it.”

  Faye took a moment to compose herself, blinking rapidly as she stared down at their joined hands. “If you’ve been unreasonable?” She resisted the urge to shake her hands free of his, because it felt too good to at least have this contact. This simple connection between them. “You think because we’re married you get to treat me how you like and I just have to go along with it?”

  She waited, hoping for a response. When it didn’t come she pulled her hand away and continued to pack. “I was wrong to keep your daughter a secret from you, but you don’t get to punish me by treating me like my feelings don’t matter. I did what I did because I thought it was for the best. That might be right or wrong, I don’t know, but I did it. I can’t change anything. But I won’t allow you to treat me with such disrespect and—”

  “You are the mother of my child and as such you have my respect.” He caught her hand again and eased her around to face him. With his eyes on hers he lifted her hand and drew it to his lips, brushing his mouth across her knuckles. “You have it, cara. You have my respect.”

  Faye fought the trickle of warmth spreading across her chest. He might say it, might even try to demonstrate it within the confines of their marriage, but he didn’t respect her. Never would. And it caused a sharp tear in her soul.

  “Now,” He gestured to the case and array of clothing scattered around it, “why not put this away? I will get us a nightcap.”

  It was all so very easy for him, wasn’t it? All he had to do was turn on the charm, say the relevant words and hey presto!

  Faye lifted her chin. “I thought you said I’d had enough to drink.”

  He brought her hands to his lips again. “Perhaps another glass of champagne will put you in a mellow mood.”

  His teasing tone sent angry heat into her cheeks. “So I’ll feel inclined to sleep with you? I don’t think so.”

  His fingers tightened over hers. “I have never once had to resort to coercing a woman into my bed, and most definitely not with drink. I will not start now.” His voice was rough and low. “If the woman I have married finds it easy to renege on the negotiated terms of what is in essence a business contract, then it is for me to write it off as an unprecedented failure. I will not beg you for sex nor do I desire a woman under me who is anything less than willing.”

  “I can see why you’ve never had to coerce a woman into your bed,” Faye snapped, as she pulled her hands from his. “You just dazzle them with that amazing charm and humility of yours.”

  “I do not promise what I cannot deliver. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for you.”

  The harsh insults mixed with the emotional rollercoaster of a day, now culminating in his confirmation that their marriage was indeed a business contract, proved a lethal combination. She didn’t feel angry anymore. She felt downright furious. No small measure of that fury was aimed at herself for agreeing to this ridiculous marriage, and the terms which made up their agreement—specifically the one that put her in his bed. Added to which was the underlying realization that perhaps, just perhaps, he might be a little bit right about her not delivering what she’d agreed to.

  Furious with both of them, she marched up to confront him, standing inches away from his naked chest. She jerked her shoulders back, stuck up her chin. “All right,” she snapped. “Take me. Go on. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Take me.”

  He stood his ground, she’d give him that. Not a flicker of reaction on that arrogant face of his. “It is nothing more than you agreed to,” he reminded her, his tone maddeningly matter-of-fact.

  But then his eyes slid down the length of her, hovering at the point where her robe brushed her skin mid-thigh before meandering up to hover again at her breasts. Without looking down Faye knew her nipples had behaved shamefully. She felt it in the way they brushed roughly against the satin, saw it in Enrico’s predatory perusal. She’d only wanted to challenge him, believing he would storm out of the room again, leaving her alone with her misery. But now, as her mind screamed take me, take me, willing him to do exactly as she dared him, she knew she had been lying to herself. She wanted him. Anyway. Anyho
w. Even knowing that for him their lovemaking was little more than a clause in a business contract.

  She hated herself for it. Hated she had sunk so low as to want a man who stood there looking as if he was weighing up whether or not she was worth the effort. Hated that she could be easily affected by that magnificent bare chest rippling with muscle, the rock-hard stomach beneath sexily unfastened trousers.

  Her legs felt boneless even as heat swept through her like a tidal wave. What if he refused now? After she’d all but offered herself on a plate? His for the taking. Literally. She didn’t think she could face the rejection. The indignity of being so undesirable to him he could simply refuse her and crawl calmly into bed…to sleep.

  Panic edged around the fear as she repeated her challenge. “What are you waiting for?” She thrust out her breasts. “Take me.”

  His eyes stayed on hers. “Undo your robe.”

  Faye’s pulse raced at the smooth command, realizing he was declaring absolute control over both her and the situation. “No,” she said. “You want this aspect of our business contract, you instigate it. And don’t for a moment think I intend to participate.”

  She couldn’t, she realized, have said anything more dangerous if she’d questioned his very manhood, and the dangerous gleam in his eyes confirmed her suspicion. She’d issued him the ultimate challenge for a sexually confident male.

  Suddenly she felt like prey—examined, inspected, scrutinized. His primitive gaze filled with wicked and fierce intent, issuing back his own challenge. He held her gaze for long moments, then he looked down to where her chest heaved with apprehension…panic…excitement…

  “I believe you are already participating, cara mia. It merely remains for me to finish what I appear to have begun.”

  All of her senses shot to overdrive. His voice slid over her skin like the finest oil, sensual and seductive. His scent, that special blend of musky, masculine heat, surrounded her in a carnal haze. His physical presence filled her vision, until he was all she saw. She wanted to touch, to explore, to discover.

  Intoxicated, knocked off balance, she fought the urge to close her eyes and just give in to him. To simply let him take her where her whole body screamed to go. Now, more than ever, she needed some control. It would take every ounce of willpower, but she needed to stay in control.