“Why are you so upset?” He repeated, when she didn’t speak. Tears moistened her eyes and he felt a wave of panic. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I’m not upset,” she said after a moment, the words belied by how close to tears she was, by how her voice wobbled. “I’m trying to think through what’s best. You loved her, but she chose her husband. Now, she’s single and she obviously wants you back. I don’t want to stand in the way, but…”
Revulsion kicked into gear. The idea of leaving his marriage for Melinda filled him with a sense of complete disgust.
He liked things the way they were. He was happy. “But?” His voice was gravelled.
“I don’t want to leave Freddie.” Her voice cracked and he felt a rush of impatience, and something else, something a lot like a dark vein of jealousy.
“And me, cara?” His words were gravelly.
“This isn’t about us.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “We both know if the timing had been different, if Melinda had left her husband for you six months ago, then you’d be with her now.”
“I beg your pardon, neither of us ‘knows’ that. Do you honestly think I am the kind of man to take someone back after that kind of behaviour? She made a liar of me, she made me a subject of global scorn.” He spat the words angrily. “My relationship with Melinda was over the minute she chose to go back to her husband.”
“And if she’d chosen you?” Cleopatra pushed, a hollow quality to the words. “You’d still be with her.”
He clamped his jaw shut, the picture she painted one he’d – strangely – never even imagined. “Let’s stick to the truth, not fantasies. She didn’t leave him for me. I refuse to deal in hypotheticals.”
“Fine.” Her face was pinched. “You want to talk truth? You still love her. It’s why you’re so adamant you could never love anyone else,” Cleopatra pushed, her eyes lifting to his now so he felt the accusation in them.
He ground his teeth together, frustration exploding in his veins. “What can I say to convince you that she is nothing to me? That I do not care if I never see her again?”
Cleopatra bit down on her lower lip and that signature gesture of hers was the final straw for Benedetto. He dragged her body closer to his, so his clothes were made wet by her bathers, and he claimed her mouth desperately, his tongue duelling with hers, his hands pushing through her wet hair, holding her head steady for his investigation.
“She is no one. Nothing.”
He tasted salt and groaned. It was imperative that he got her to understand what he meant. He needed her to get this.
“You are my wife.”
But Cleopatra shook her head, breaking their kiss and staring up at him. He could see for himself the evidence of her desire, her body trembling, her nipples hard, her pupils huge, but she pressed a hand to his chest, holding him at a distance.
“Don’t.” The word was a whip against his soul. She sucked in a breath, making a visible effort to calm down. “Don’t call me your wife.” Her eyes flashed with the strength of her feeling. “We both know this is a sham.”
It infuriated him. “Does it feel like a sham?”
Her hand lifted higher, curving over his shoulder, and she pressed her body closer to his, so desire threatened to topple his thought process completely. But there was profound sadness in her features, and his insides twisted with a need to fix that. To fix this. “A marriage without love is just a business deal.”
She was right.
In that way, their marriage was a sham. But he discarded her objection, kissing her again, his kiss a promise, and a persuasion. “That’s why this works so well.” He held her close to him, breathing in her sweet fragrance. “Neither of us wants the uncertainty of love, the mess of emotions. Our marriage is perfect because it’s businesslike. Don’t let anyone ruin that.”
She kissed him back but he thought he heard her sob. It made him all the more determined to help her forget anything except this – the blinding reality of their pleasure, the sense they made when they were together. Nothing else mattered.
For the first time ever, making love to her husband felt wrong. His body weight on hers was a curse and an urgency. She ached for him; his touch, his kiss, his nearness, but she was also terrified. Terrified of how strongly she needed of him, of how much this meant to her. Of how addicted she was to him, and this – their lives together.
Regardless of what he said, something was shifting inside Cleopatra. It wasn’t just Melinda’s appearance. If Cleopatra was honest, the nine days without Benedetto, while he’d been working in Seattle, had forced her to contemplate what they were doing – and why the hell her days felt so empty and joyless. She’d missed him, she’d missed him with all her heart, and she’d needed him in a way that felt suspiciously like a piece of a puzzle being slid into place.
Melinda’s appearance had only helped to clarify that – how tenuous Cleopatra’s place was here, how easily Benedetto could replace her with another woman, how Alfredo would forget her soon enough.
He made love to her and his body whispered promises of all the things he would never really offer. His body made her feel loved, special, needed, irreplaceable.
And she wasn’t.
Just as Melinda hadn’t been.
Sensual heat exploded through her and she gripped his shoulders tight, holding onto him even while she realised she had to let him go. She’d been right, up on the terrace – she had to go before he could push her.
She had to go, unless…
Unless?
Unless he could promise her more after all.
Her breath was rushed, her body tormented by the strength of her desire, but her mind was dragging her back down to earth, making her see things clearly, making her face up to what she was feeling.
Oh, God.
She had to go, unless he could look her in the eyes and tell her he felt as she did. Unless he could refute everything he’d already said and tell her he was in love with her too.
It was like hoping for a thunderstorm on a summer’s day in the Sahara. She could hope and she could pray but nothing changed what she knew to be likely.
She was just stupid enough to have fallen in love with her husband, and she had no real hope that he would feel the same.
Her future chasmed before her like an awful void, but even then, she knew she had to face this. She couldn’t play ostrich and pretend she didn’t feel as she did, nor could she act as though this marriage wasn’t hurting her every damned day.
He lay behind her, one arm clamped over her body, and she stayed where she was, knowing it would be the last night they spent together. In the morning, the sun would rise, and she would face the day, and her future, and she would be brave and strong, just like always.
But in this moment, in the magical hours before dawn had grabbed hold of the earth, she stayed right where she was, committing every last detail of how this felt to memory.
“You cannot be here.”
It was amazing, the difference time could make. He looked across the table at Melinda, and he felt nothing but impatience and irritation. He regarded her beauty, but impassively, as one might a technically skilled but otherwise uninspiring piece of art in a gallery.
He felt nothing. Not a single cell stirred to life.
“I had to see you.” She reached over the table, her hand curving across his, and he resisted the temptation to flinch away. He was glad Cleopatra and Freddie had left for their morning walk, glad he could resolve the Melinda problem before they returned. Melinda would disappear.
Then, things could go back to how they had been. Cleopatra had been upset, but she’d get over this.
It only served to increase his impatience.
“Why?”
Her eyes were locked to his, her expression earnest. “I was wrong, a year ago. I shouldn’t have left you.”
And despite the dispassion he felt, incredulity shifted in his gut. “You cannot be serious?”
“It was hard, Ben. I did the
best I could. I thought it was right, but now I see how stupid I was…”
“You were married. You stayed with your husband. You ended it with me. Are you saying now that you regret this?”
“Yes.” Her throat shifted as she swallowed. “I do.” She sighed. “I miss you and I want you back.”
The words landed into the room with a thud. He stared at her for several beats, waiting until he could trust himself to speak without too much animosity coming across in the words. “You can’t seriously expect me to welcome you back with open arms?”
Her face was pale, her skin like cream. “Why not?”
What could he say? Which reason was most valid? “I’m married, for one.”
If it was possible, her skin drained of even more colour. “To the woman I met last night?”
His stomach ached. He hated that Cleopatra had endured that. “Yes.”
Melinda stood, her svelte body shaking a little as she paced across the room. The silence was barbed. “Then divorce her.”
His laugh was without humour. “As you did your husband?”
“That’s different. Carlo and I had been together seven years when I met you. Who is this woman to you?”
Benedetto glared at Melinda, his temper rising, his mind searching for a way to describe Cleopatra. It was hard to distil who and what she was into a single sentence. She was his saviour and salvation, she was goodness, kindness, passion and patience, she was beautiful and sexy and wonderful and fascinating. She was the opposite of Melinda in all the ways that mattered most.
“She is the best woman I have ever known, and I will not divorce her. Not for you, not ever.”
Melinda’s jaw dropped. “You’re being deliberately hurtful. You’re angry with me.”
He growled. “I was. A year ago, I was furious with you. Still, if you had come to me then, who knows what I might have said? I might have moved heaven and earth for the chance to have you back in my life. But not now. I’m not that man any longer.” Cleopatra had changed him.
The realisation caused his frown to deepen.
How? When?
“Are you seriously saying you would like me to leave?”
He expelled a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
Her smile was feline. She prowled towards him, bending low when she was at his side. Her hand curved around his neck and her lips brushed his earlobe. “I don’t believe you.”
It was like being gouged with a thick blade. He reached up and pulled her hand away urgently, her touch disgusting, wrong, unwanted. “Believe it.” He spat the words out. “I want you to leave, and do not think you can ever come back again.”
14
CLEOPATRA MOVED HER PASTA around her plate without attempting to eat it. She couldn’t. Her tummy was tied in a billion tiny knots.
“You’re very quiet.”
She shifted her gaze to meet Benedetto’s, and wished she hadn’t when sparks burst from him to her, igniting a flame of desire in her bloodstream, so she wanted, more than anything, to push aside her thoughts and doubts and simply stay exactly where she was. Just for a little longer.
But a day’s thinking had done little to change her mind. She felt just as she had the night before.
It was nothing to do with Melinda, and everything to do with Cleopatra’s understanding of their marriage, and what she now knew she wanted from Benedetto. Never mind that he wouldn’t give it. She couldn’t remain married to him in ignorance of that – not when her feelings were so clear.
“As I’ve said, cara, I am sorry she came,” he said with a sigh, laying his fork down and regarding her earnestly.
“It’s fine.”
“You’re upset.”
“No.” Her brow furrowed. “Not about that. I mean, I was, except it’s more just that she made me feel…” Cleopatra drew in a breath. “I think we need to be honest about what’s happening here.”
Benedetto reached for his wine, sipping it thoughtfully. “And what’s that?”
“Is this what you envisaged for us, when you proposed?”
“No.” His answer was lightning sharp. “It has far exceeded my expectations. I had no idea we’d be so compatible. I didn’t expect to enjoy your company in this way, I didn’t expect that we would become lovers. I had no concept of what you would bring to my life.”
Relief and hope flashed inside of her but she didn’t express either. With a superhuman effort she managed to keep her expression neutral. “And what’s that?”
His smile was so sexy, she had to tamp down on her body’s natural impulses. “Everything I need.”
It was something, but somehow, she wasn’t sure it was enough. She shook her head slowly, expelling a soft sigh.
“What is it, cara?” He reached over the table and laced their fingers together. She stared down at them, his dark, hers pale, and something like confusion cut through her. How could something feel so right, and so wrong, all at once?
This was crazy. If she told him how she felt, she’d risk losing everything. Was she really going to do that? Couldn’t she just make the best of what they had?
“I … have to tell you something.”
His brow creased as he waited, silently, for her to continue.
“I thought this made sense, and in some ways it still does. Or it did.”
“It still does,” he insisted.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”
He was quiet, his expression watchful. “Do what?”
“Stay married to you.”
His shock was quickly muted, but she saw it. She understood it.
“It’s nothing to do with Melinda,” she said quietly, before he could point out – once more – how little the other woman meant to him. She toyed with her fork, searching for words.
“Her arrival definitely helped me to understand how I feel, but I think, really, the time you were in Seattle was enough of a wake up call.” She cleared her throat. “The thing is, you were only gone nine days, but I felt… I felt like a part of me was missing.” She swallowed quickly, forcing herself to hold his eyes even when she was shivering with the strength of this confession.
He didn’t speak and silence enveloped them, heavy and laced with emotions.
“I missed you so much it hurt, Benedetto. And then when Melinda showed up, I thought about you going back to her, I thought about you leaving me, and I couldn’t breathe.” She swept her eyes shut, trying not to give into the aching emotions overtaking her.
“I told you –,”
“I know,” she cut him off with a decisive nod. “You don’t want to be with her.” She swallowed reflexively. “But that’s sort of beside the point.”
“Is it?” His voice was like iron, laced with cynicism.
“Somehow, you’ve become a part of my life and I don’t want that to end.” She blinked, meeting his eyes, and then looking away when her heart shuddered in her chest.
“It’s not going to end,” he said emphatically.
Lord, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to feel even a hint of his certainty. But she didn’t. Having awoken to the inherent risks of her situation, she could no longer ignore them.
“How can you promise that? Marriage is hard enough without this pervasive sense of doubt. You don’t love me – if you’d chosen to go back to Melinda, all of this would have disappeared for me. It’s a house of cards. There’s no security here.”
“What kind of security do you want?” Impatience crept into his tone. “We’re married. The whole purpose of this was to make sure you’d be a permanent fixture.”
She refused to be thrown off point. “In Freddie’s life, not yours. You told me you wanted us to be able to see other people, for our individual lives to go on basically as normal.”
“Obviously that’s changed,” he pre-empted, dragging his hand through his hair. “I’m not dating anyone else, and I have no intention of doing so.”
She frowned. She didn’t think he’d been involved with anyone else,
and yet, the future was still so unclear. There was no reason to think his position wouldn’t change, no reason to think he wouldn’t feel differently in a month or a year.
“Our marriage meets every requirement I have. You are excellent with Freddie, he adores you. And I love being with you. This is easy and right. What more could either of us want?”
It was an excellent question, one she only formed an answer to now that he asked it. “I’m glad you’re so happy,” her smile was just a ghost. “But I want more. I want it all.”
She made herself hold his gaze. “I want a real marriage, and a real family. I don’t want to tread water here with you, pretending this is a life, when it’s actually just an elaborate shell.”
His face bore a mask of disbelief.
She pushed on, regardless, before he could say anything that would cause her to change her mind.
“I want to be married to someone who loves me as much as I love them. I want you to love me.”
The gauntlet was down. She stared at him, knowing he didn’t love her, knowing she was waiting for the axe to drop, and it was a surreal kind of out-of-body experience. And yet, she was glad she’d said it. She knew as soon as she’d admitted how she felt, it would be the beginning of the end, but she also felt an enormous sense of relief.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how much of herself she was holding back from him, how heavy those words had been in her mind. She loved him, and he needed to know that.
Silence surrounded them. “But you don’t love me,” she challenged, when he still didn’t speak.
He swore in his native tongue. “Damn it. Why do you keep talking about love as though it is the be all and end all?”
Her eyes met his unflinchingly now. “Because it is, for me.” Her features shifted. “Until I met you, I didn’t think it mattered. I was happy to work and live and be by myself, on my own. I think we were alike, coming into this, I really do. But you changed me. Loving you has changed me, and now, I don’t want to settle for a marriage that is two thirds of what I need. I want to be loved.” Her voice cracked. “I want to be with someone who loves me.”
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