Married for Amari's Heir

by Maisey Yates

  “I do. That’s pretty much all I do.” That was true, too. Another thing she wasn’t certain she should’ve shared.

  “Not anymore. Not with me. I can give you anything you want. I can give our child anything they might want. Anything they might need. And I will do the same for you. I promise, with me it will only ever be feast, Charity. You will never have to live through famine again. I swear it.” His voice was fierce, his dark eyes intent on hers. “I can give you decadence. You will never want for it again.”

  She wanted to take him up on that promise. She wanted to sink into it. To sink into him, to cling to him and make him promise never to let her go.

  It was then she remembered that he’d never promised her fidelity. And he had never promised a relationship. He was only promising things.

  And he had gone out last night.

  He might have slept with someone else less than twenty-four hours ago.

  The idea made her skin crawl.

  “You went out last night,” she said, conscious of the insecurity in her tone.

  He paused for a moment, his dark eyes flat. “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you sleep with someone else?” Her chest tightened painfully.

  “No,” he said, his tone definitive.

  The knot loosened slightly, her heart pounding hard. “Don’t lie to me. Not about that.”

  “I have no reason to. You know that.”

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t sleep with anyone else.”

  He put his palm on her cheek, his dark brows drawing together. “Forever, cara mia? That’s an awfully long time. I doubt either of us can predict the future quite that well.”

  She couldn’t imagine ever wanting another man. But then...she was inexperienced. He was not. She couldn’t fathom it now—but maybe someday.

  But she doubted it. “Then at least not while you’re sleeping with me.”

  “I promise,” he said, his tone grave.

  It was enough for her. It was enough for now. So she leaned in and kissed him, leaning in to his lips, to his promises, to his decadence. Because she was tired of wanting.

  And in Rocco there was satisfaction. So she was determined to seize it.

  For as long as possible.

  * * *

  Rocco was certain he had left some of his sanity back in that bed. Back beneath the covers with Charity. And for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to be disturbed by that.

  He had promised her fidelity.

  Granted, he didn’t think he could make his body respond to another woman even if his brain wanted him to. Hell, he knew he couldn’t. He had tried. He had failed.

  Even so, he didn’t promise such things to women. Because he knew they might start thinking that they had a more permanent place in his life than they did. Though, if any woman had a permanent place in his life it was Charity. Not as his lover, certainly, but as the mother of his child.

  As his lover... She was incredibly beautiful. Incredibly responsive. And right now he couldn’t imagine preferring anyone over her. But sex was all about satisfying the immediate need. And he had no idea how his immediate needs might shift over the course of the next few weeks. He had never practiced long-term commitment. And he didn’t intend to start now.

  But he would honor his promise. His promise not to take anyone else to bed, as long as she was in it.

  He didn’t want to hurt her. Which brought him back to his missing sanity.

  He couldn’t even regret it. She was too beautiful. But it was more than beauty. There were many beautiful women in the world, and he had been with a good percentage of them.

  It was everything she was. Her inexperience, combined with her enthusiasm. The smooth perfection of her coffee-colored skin, a confection so sweet he could lick every inch of it and never be satisfied.

  He wanted to buy her something. A necklace. He could envision it now. Something with a heavy pendant that would settle in the valley between her breasts. He could picture her wearing that and nothing else.

  Damn, he was obsessed.

  And he was beginning to think he might want to bring her to the gala he was attending this weekend. He never brought dates to such events. It was a chance to find a woman for a night of fun, not come shackled.

  But he was well and truly shackled, so he might as well embrace it. He had always enjoyed showing off his new things, after all.

  A new car, a new villa, new suit and tie even. He liked those outward shows of power. Those claims to his new life that couldn’t be taken from him. And he liked others to see them.

  Perhaps it would do him well to show Charity off, as well. His newest acquisition.

  For some reason the idea of it sent a wave of satisfaction through him, a sharp adrenaline rush that always came from adding another thing to his collection. The kind of rush he never experienced over a woman, because sex, while enormously satisfying, was cheap and easy to come by. The woman never mattered, only that he got what he wanted.

  Though, Charity mattered. If only because she was the mother of his child. Really, he could not come up with another reason why she should. Unbidden, his thoughts flashed back to the afternoon he’d spent in bed with her. It was difficult to pretend that didn’t matter. The taste of her, the scent of her. Every damn thing about her. The way her black curls tumbled over his pillow, as untamed and wild as she was.

  Just thinking about her got him hard.

  He shifted, adjusting his position at his desk. She had him acting like a schoolboy. It was disturbing. But delicious in its way. If only because he couldn’t remember enjoying anything quite so much at any other point in his life.

  Yes, he would bring her to the gala. And he would take her out today to find a dress. She said she had had a lack of decadence in her life, and he would see to it that it was rectified.

  He would mourn the lost time with her in the bedroom. But she had scarcely been out of the villa since they’d arrived in Italy, and he wanted her to have a chance to experience the beauty of his home country. A smile curved his lips. He would make a private appointment at a boutique in town. That way if he had a desire to remove every gown after she tried them on, they would not be disturbed.

  He reached toward his phone, his decision made.

  Adrenaline fired through his blood as he thought of what it would be like to walk into the gala with Charity on his arm. A clear and outward sign of his possession. And yes, he did want to possess her. There were a few things he was uncertain about these days, but at the moment that wasn’t one of them.

  She would be his. On that score there was no uncertainty.

  * * *

  Charity had been surprised by Rocco’s abrupt announcement that they were going out. Mainly because every time he had walked into the room over the past couple of days it had ended, not in them going out, but in them getting naked and satisfying their need for each other on the nearest available surface. Not that she was complaining.

  It was a strange thing, to have shared so much physically with someone while exchanging so few words. To exchange such deep, intense intimacies without the common intimacies you could simply speak.

  Even so, it was more than she had with anyone else in her life. More than she had ever had. And he was doing strange things to her heart, twisting it around, cinching it in tight, making her feel as though she couldn’t breathe.

  She was surprised when today he hadn’t taken her clothes off. He had ushered her into his car instead. And now he was driving them into the heart of the village that was down the mountain from the villa. She had done absolutely no exploring of their surroundings, not since he had driven her up to his home at the beginning of the week.

  He maneuvered the car effortlessly through the narrow cobblestone streets, coming to a
stop in front of a shop with an unassuming facade. Red brick and the wooden trim all painted in black with a round sign hanging above the door.

  “We have an appointment,” he said, putting the car in Park and killing the engine before getting out. He rounded to her side of the car and held the door open for her, the show of chivalry unexpected and dangerous to her already-vulnerable heart. A sense of warmth joined the squeezing feeling.

  “To do what? You realize that you have been very cagey. Possibly more cagey than I am on a daily basis. And that’s saying something.”

  He smiled, something he was doing with more and more frequency these days. “It’s a surprise.”

  Her stomach tightened, hope mingling with fear. Because things just didn’t come through in her life. Surprises had never been anything good. And she was afraid to hope now that they might be.

  She didn’t understand this relationship she’d found herself in. Didn’t understand what was happening to her at this moment in time. But she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. She just wanted to close out the world, the future, the reality, and keep living in it.

  “Trust me,” he said, extending his hand.

  “You know I don’t trust anyone,” she said, her voice breathless even to her own ears.

  “Okay then, right now. Trust me right now.”

  She reached out and took his hand, and his fingers closed around hers, his grip strong. “I can do that.”

  He tugged her forward, leading her into the shop. Inside they were greeted by a petite Italian woman dressed all in black, her hair pulled back into a severe bun, her lips painted a bright red.

  “Mr. Amari,” she said, inclining her head, “I have set aside a few selections based upon your description of both the event and your friend here,” she said, gesturing to Charity. Charity was not sure how she felt about being called Rocco’s friend in quite that tone. She was not his friend. She was his lover. Though, she imagined the woman meant escort or something. But Charity wasn’t that, either.

  Are you really his lover, though? What are you really?

  She gritted her teeth and met the other woman’s eyes, forcing a smile. She was not a shrinking violet. That much she was sure of. If she had one legacy from her father that she would claim and use, it was the ability to shine in any situation, at least outwardly.

  “Charity Wyatt,” Charity said, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The shopkeeper was clearly surprised by the introduction, but she took Charity’s offered hand and shook it, and Charity could tell she had won a bit of grudging respect.

  “If you don’t mind,” Rocco said, “we will continue to the back to begin trying things on. Now that you have seen Charity, perhaps you have a few other selections to recommend?”

  The woman could tell she had been dismissed, but because Rocco was so darn rich and powerful, it was also clear that she wouldn’t argue, even though she wanted to. “Of course, Mr. Amari. Everything is set up in the back, and if you need anything at all just let me know.”

  “We will,” Rocco said, tightening his hold on Charity’s hand and leading her toward the back of the store, into an alcove that was furnished with plush chairs, a three-way mirror and a little changing area that was partitioned off from the rest of the room by a thick velvet curtain.

  “And are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” she asked, abruptly realizing that she had no idea what she was doing here.

  “I have a gala to attend tomorrow night. I thought you would like to be my guest,” he said, sitting down in the chair and sprawling out, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his elbows positioned on the armrest, fingers tented beneath his chin, his gaze watchful.

  She blinked. “You’ve only just decided you want to take me?”

  “I never bring women to such events. This is some sort of charity thing—I’m not sure for what. I don’t really care. I’ll throw money in the box, and it’s good for my name.”

  “Why do you want to bring me?”

  He frowned. “What sort of question is that?”

  “You don’t normally take women to these sorts of things, you just said. Now you want to take me. And I’m wondering what changed.”

  “I decided I didn’t want to meet a woman at the event and take her home with me. That is the beginning and end of why I don’t bring dates to these sorts of things. But you are the only woman I want to go home with, so it stands to reason you should come with me.”

  Some of the warmth in her chest was squashed by his words. “Oh.”

  He looked away, as he often did when she started getting personal or emotional. “Were you expecting something else? I am not a sentimental man, cara mia. You should have realized that by now. Honest, yes. Sentimental? No. I can fully satisfy your carnal desires, but your finer feelings will have to be dealt with elsewhere. Perhaps watching romantic movies?”

  It made her angry that he did that. That he minimized then what had, for a brief, shining moment, become such a large thing in her mind.

  A chance to be brought into his world. A chance to be part of it. A part of him.

  So she didn’t feel so alone.

  “You’re assuming I have any finer feelings,” she said, turning and walking into the dressing room, shutting the velvet curtain behind her. “I’m only a con woman after all. It’s very likely I don’t have them.”

  She turned and saw an array of dresses hung there, waiting for her. She was having a flashback to that moment in her apartment, when she had realized that she was caught. When she was staring at a lingerie bag, a dress and a demand.

  But this was different. This time, she had her choice of dress.

  She reached out and touched the hem of one of the gowns, the fabric soft, finer than anything she could have afforded under normal circumstances. She touched each one of them, settling on the one in emerald green, the softest to the touch.

  “I never said you didn’t have feelings,” he said, his voice coming from a much closer place than it had been only a moment before. He was standing right on the other side of the curtain, she could tell.

  “But it’s what you think, isn’t it?”

  “I may have a difficult time understanding feelings, or connecting with them, Charity. However, I never said you didn’t have them. And I certainly didn’t say it was because you were a con woman. You are the one who seems hell-bent on identifying yourself as such as often as possible.”

  “So neither of us forget.” She tugged her shirt up over her head, then made quick work of her pants, before taking the green dress off the hanger and undoing the zipper, stepping into the waterfall of rich silk.

  “I am not likely to forget as it is the thing that brought us together. What a wonderful story for us to tell our child.”

  She pulled the dress up, holding it against her breasts, reaching behind her and trying to get a hold of the zipper tab.

  She managed to get it partway up, but could not get the fabric to meet more than midway up her back. She arched, trying to contort herself so that she could get it up the rest of the way, rustling against the curtains as she did so.

  “Let me help you,” Rocco said, his voice softer, richer, darker than the crushed velvet that separated them.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t be so damned stubborn,” he said.

  And then she felt his hands on the fabric of the gown, one braced on the base of the zipper, the other on the tab, as he quickly did it up. A lightning bolt of need shot through her as his knuckles brushed against her bare skin, only a fleeting touch, but it was enough. And not nearly enough all at the same time.

  “There,” he said, “it’s much easier when you aren’t stubborn, isn’t it?”

  She looked over her shoulder and was surprised by how close he was, his lips a whisper
from hers now. “Easier, maybe. But it’s not as much fun.”

  A smile curved his lips and she suddenly found herself being pushed deeper into the dressing room, his hold tight on her hip as he turned her to face him, pressing her back against the mirror. “You think this is fun?” He pressed his body against hers, and she could feel the hard length of his arousal against her stomach. “A little challenge?”

  “What is life without a challenge?”

  “Death,” he said, leaning forward, scraping the sensitive skin of her neck with his teeth. “As long as we struggle we know we’re still alive.”

  There was no doubt that she felt alive now. Her heart was thundering hard, her pulse racing, her core aching for something only he could give her.

  “We can’t do this here,” she said, her voice strangled.

  “I’m paying a lot for this room. I’ve paid less for hotel suites. All things considered, I can do whatever the hell I want here.” He kissed her just beneath her jaw.

  “This is a nice dress,” she said.

  “It would look nicer crumpled up on the floor.”

  “That won’t help me choose,” she said.

  “I like your lips,” he said, leaning in and kissing her hard, deep. When they parted, they were both breathing hard. “But I like them much better when they are wrapped around my dick.”

  Desire shot through her like an arrow, hitting its target straight on, the ache inside of her intensifying. But this was how things always went with him. He demanded; she acquiesced. He pushed and she gave way.

  But not now. She would make him wait. She would make him beg.

  “I have shopping to do,” she said, leaning forward and taking his lower lip between her teeth, nipping him gently. “And you need to go sit out there and behave yourself. And tell me which dress you think looks best.”

  He growled, tightening his hold on her and pulling her firmly against his body. “Is that what I have to do?”

  “Yes,” she said, keeping her tone firm.

  He released his hold on her and took a step back, his dark eyes glittering. “Have it your way.” He turned and walked out of the dressing room, and for a moment she was afraid he had walked out altogether. Until she heard him settle in the chair.