Surprise.
He had no idea what she was talking about.
“Did you send out a bulletin to all the best boutiques in Rome? You’re huge, pregnant wife needs something to wear? Max,” she shook her head, softening her words with a smile. “I could have ordered something online. I was just trying to make do until I had the baby.”
“You’re not due for weeks,” he pointed out with insufferable logic.
Except it wasn’t logical, it was indulgent. “Six weeks,” she said with a shake of her head, “and I have enough to see me through.”
“Not if you are feeling negative about yourself,” he said, so simply, as though her self-opinion mattered that much to him. She pushed up from the wall, warmth spreading through her as his eyes ran over her body once more, just as they had the night before. Except, no. This was different. This was possessive, knowing, whereas last night he’d been uncertain, almost afraid of the chemistry that exploded between them. Except Max Montebello wasn’t a man to fear anything.
“But seriously, what am I going to need that green dress for?”
He moved closer, shifting out of his jacket and hanging it over his arm. He was wearing a crisp blue business shirt. As he moved closer, she caught a hint of his masculine fragrance – pine needles and citrus. Her gut rolled. All she could think about was the way he’d held her the night before. She tried to grab hold of the anger that had been a flame in her bloodstream for the five years of their estrangement, but it was completely extinguished. She stared at him and felt…warmth of a wholly different sort.
She felt…she didn’t want to analyse it. It was too new, too dangerous, too terrifying – but even as she pushed the thought away, her eyes widened with imperative understanding. She felt love.
For their baby, she hastened to add, certain she couldn’t be stupid enough to feel love for him?
“There is a fundraising event I go to each year – I’m on the board. It’s Friday night. I thought you could wear it then.” He paused, his hesitation unnatural for Massimo Montebello. “If you are happy to attend it with me?”
Her heart was still racing from the realisation of a moment ago. She bit down on her lip, then stopped when his eyes dropped to the gesture.
“I’m –,” she had no idea what to say. She had no plans. She had a dress. And they were married – at some point this sort of thing was inevitable. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life in a bubble, hidden away in his villa. Why did she even want to?
She tilted her chin defiantly, as though by accepting his invitation she could prove something to him, and to herself. “Fine,” she lifted her shoulders as though it barely mattered. “That sounds fine.”
On the night of the event, he arrived home a little earlier than usual. He went to his room and showered, changing into a tux to meet the charity’s black-tie dress code. But his mind was absorbed with Alessia. Alessia as she’d been ever since they’d slept together. Alessia who had smiled at him easily, looked at him as though their past was finally in the past.
Alessia who was filling his mind completely so he found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else.
And now, he imagined her dressing in that damned gown and felt an impatience he could only process by denying it. He’d chosen the dress because the colour was perfect for her, and because when he’d touched it he’d imagined her wearing it, he’d known she would need to wear it without a bra, and he hadn’t been able to imagine a world in which Alessia hadn’t had the damned dress. Now, he wanted to storm into her room and demand to see her – so he did the opposite. He dressed calmly, proving to himself he could easily conquer his need for her. Then he went downstairs and poured himself a scotch, pulling an ipad from a shelf and loading up his emails. He responded to a few, lifted his gaze to the clock for about the tenth time in half as many minutes and finally decided he’d done enough proving to himself.
He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo, checking the box was still there. It was.
Feeling like the worst kind of fool, he made his way through the lounge room, up the ancient stairs that led to her room, noting with displeasure that the carpet had frayed again halfway up. He’d have it ripped out and replaced before the baby arrived – repairing it wasn’t enough, and he’d never let anything happen to their child.
Their daughter. Emotions slammed into him, emotions that made him feel weak and vulnerable, emotions that could almost make him feel as though he were beginning to rely on other people, to allow his happiness to be dependent on them. It was something he’d known since childhood he’d never allow to happen.
This wasn’t that.
Alessia was an old family friend, and if he was going to make a go of his marriage to anyone, it was to Alessia. They were well-suited. A perfect match, in many ways. Physically, intellectually, and in terms of their families and backgrounds. He was grateful to her, and yes, he was even grateful for how things had turned out, despite the fact six months ago he would have said children were a mistake he never planned on making.
He knocked on the door and waited, wondering why he was holding his breath. He forced himself to exhale normally.
“Come in?”
He pushed the door inwards, and his breath seemed to experience the opposite problem, coming too fast, as though he’d run a marathon.
His low whistle was unplanned. “You look…” he couldn’t find words. The dress was stunning, but even in his wildest fantasies, he couldn’t have imagined this. She wasn’t just beautiful, though she was that – and then some. The dress flattered every single delectable curve of her body, sculpting her breasts, her stomach, her rounded rear, so she looked like an incredibly breath-taking homage to femininity and fertility. His mouth was dry and he allowed himself the luxury of simply staring at her, taking everything in. Beyond her beauty though was her vibrancy. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks glowing. She wore barely any makeup, and her blonde hair had been simply styled in a low bun, elegant and simple, but the impact was enough to knock him sideways.
“On second thoughts, let’s stay home,” he muttered, thinking the last thing he wanted to do was take her out to be ogled by God knew who.
She laughed, shaking her head, the simplicity of that gesture sparking something inside of him.
“No way, buster. This dress is too gorgeous to be left at home.”
He could have said the same about her.
Instead, he moved closer, appraising her as an artist might a newly painted canvas.
Her eyes were mysteriously shy. “She did a good job.”
“Who?”
“Whoever chose it.”
“I chose it.”
Alessia startled visibly. “You chose this dress?”
His frown showed bemusement. “I chose all of your clothes.”
She looked towards her wardrobe uncertainly. “You went dress shopping for me?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”
“I just…didn’t expect that. You’re busy.”
“You’re my wife.” He said it as though it were simple, when he knew it wasn’t. Because she had a damned good point – why had he set aside a morning of his day to wander Via dei Condotti looking for clothes for Alessia? Because this pregnancy was as much his responsibility as hers and buying her clothes was a simple way to make things easier for her.
“But it’s…”
He waited, a smile curving his lips.
“Perfect,” she finished with a shake of her head.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the flat velvet box. “Not quite.”
“No?” She angled herself towards the mirror, studying her reflection, so she didn’t see the jewellery at first. But he held it closer and her eyes caught it in the reflection, tracing the outline of the exquisite diamonds.
“Oh, Max.” She spun around, looking first at him and then with a frown, at the diamond necklace. “Tell me that’s not real?”
It was a silly thing to ask, given the size of his fortune.<
br />
“It’s not real.”
She half rolled her eyes. “What’s it for?”
“You.”
“I said ‘what’, not ‘who’.”
“It’s perfect with the dress.”
And it was. Ten emeralds, each with a teardrop shape, were suspended on a cord of diamonds. Each teardrop was surrounded by diamonds, so the effect was incredibly shiny and eye catching. Alessia watched as Max moved it into position, placing it around her throat, so it hung in the indent of her clavicle, like a princess’s necklace.
His fingers brushed the flesh at the back of her throat as he clipped it into place.
“Do you like it?” His accent was heavier when he spoke.
He saw her throat shift as she swallowed. “It’s very beautiful, Max. But you didn’t have to do this.”
Something about her manner confused him – as though buying her jewellery was too much, as though it wasn’t appropriate. “It’s nothing,” he waved his hand through the air, stepping back and intentionally downplaying the gift. “Just a trinket. Shall we go?”
* * *
All of Europe’s glitterati were packed into the ancient temple on the outskirts of Rome. Elevated on one of the hills, it offered a spectacular view back over the city and il vaticano, but it was inside that the view truly sparkled.
Guests were dripping in head to toe couture, from designer shoes to gowns to jewels that were almost as extravagant as those Max had gifted her with an hour earlier. Self-consciously, she lifted her fingertips to her throat, running her hand over the stunning necklace.
It wasn’t just that it was unexpected, nor unprecedented, and it wasn’t even that it must have cost at least a hundred thousand euro – probably twice that. It was that Max had seen it and thought of her. Max had bought it for her, specifically, just as he had the dresses, and this gown. His hand in the small of her back was a constant presence. He guided her through the crowd, introducing her where necessary.
“I heard that you’d married again,” one of the very beautiful socialites drawled. It was an innocuous comment but her tone implied, ‘what a shame’.
“I hope this time lasts longer than the first time. What was it? Six months?” another added, not bothering to hide her cattiness.
Beside her, Massimo drew Alessia closer. “We intend for it to last a lifetime,” he murmured, the words powerless to undo the sharpness of the other women’s comments. Alessia didn’t show how they’d affected her, but as they walked away, she felt Massimo’s intent gaze on her profile.
“They’re just bored,” he said with a lift of his shoulders.
“Yes.” But the memories were right there, haunting her, removing the pleasure she’d felt in dressing for this evening. Memories of how she’d felt as an innocent twenty year old on the few occasions she’d attended something with Massimo. Those nights had been few and far between – usually only when her father was in town and insisted on it, and it had been impossible to show him the true nature of their marriage. On those rare occasions they’d put a brave face on it and gone out like a ‘normal’ couple. And Alessia had endured snide comments, sidelong glances, and without any assurance of knowing that Massimo found her desirable at all. She’d felt like a fraud and a phony and she felt a whisper of that now, despite the way he held her close, despite the memories of how much he wanted her fuelling her brain as well.
“It bothers you?”
“Less so now than it used to.” She plucked a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter before remembering she couldn’t take a sip. She replaced it only for Massimo to say to the man, “Please bring my wife a drink.”
“Of course. What would you like, signora?”
“An orange juice,” she said with no idea if she felt like one or not.
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You said it bothers you less now than it used to?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” But a Senator from America approached them at that moment, engaging Massimo in a detailed conversation about some of their Texan oil interests. Alessia took the opportunity to excuse herself. She told them she was going to the ladies room but instead, she cut across the outskirts of the ballroom, keeping a smile on her face that didn’t reach anywhere near her eyes, not allowing anyone to arrest her progress.
She wasn’t aware of Massimo’s gaze following her as she went, nor was she aware of another pair of eyes that were glued to her progress. A pair of cream French doors opened onto a balcony that seemed to wrap around the side of the building. She stepped out gratefully, fingering the necklace distractedly as she breathed in the frigid evening air. Her wrap was inside. She wouldn’t be able to stay on the balcony for long, but just for a moment it provided the perfect escape.
And yet she wasn’t surprised when a moment later she heard a door a little way down push open. She lifted her head, turning that way expecting to see Massimo, aware he wouldn’t allow her to escape his line of questioning for long.
It wasn’t Max.
It was Sam.
The man she’d been engaged to. The man she’d thought, at one time, was so madly in love that he’d never hurt her, never disappoint her.
“Lexi.” He walked towards her with his confident gait, his movie-star charm in full swing. The tux he wore was perfect on his frame, his blond hair brushed back from his brow, his eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that made it difficult to remember the way in which he’d unceremoniously dumped her.
“Sam?” She was a far less competent actress than he. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m with a friend.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes dropping to her pregnant shape then lifting to her with undisguised surprise.
“You’re having a baby?”
She looked away from him, wondering at the flash of guilt that fired inside of her.
“Yes.”
“And soon.”
More guilt. They’d only ended their engagement relatively recently. Despite the fact he’d dumped her, she couldn’t help but be aware of the sense of betrayal.
“Jesus, Lex. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Anger flashed in her belly but she concealed it expertly. “Do you think you have any right to know?”
His eyes hardened, his expression showing anger for a brief second. “Yes.”
She gripped the railing tighter. So much for fresh air to settle her nerves!
“We were engaged to be married –,”
Her eyes flashed. “And then you cancelled our wedding, a fortnight before it was due to take place. You didn’t call me to make sure I was okay; not once. You didn’t give me the courtesy of explaining why…”
He opened his mouth to speak then shook his head. “It had to be done.”
She no longer cared. Sam felt like a thousand lifetimes ago, and yet it didn’t make sense. They’d been so close, such good friends. His behaviour had been incredibly unkind.
“Sam, what happened?”
“You’re freezing,” he murmured, shrugging out of his black jacket, handing it to her, embracing her in his familiar aroma. She closed her eyes, not because she missed him or wanted him, but because there was such an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
“Thank you.” She took the jacket, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders, keeping her eyes on the sweeping view of Rome.
“Who are you here with?” She prompted him.
“You think that’s what we should be discussing?” His laugh lacked humour. “Tell me about him.”
“Who?” But she knew who he meant. Massimo was in every single one of her thoughts, all the time. Even an oblique reference to him sparked something in Alessia’s blood.
“The father. You must have met him very soon after our engagement ended.”
Her lips twisted in a wry grimace.
“Yes.” What was the point in going into their sordid history? She opened her mou
th to say something else but the sound of a door opening had them both turning, right as Max stepped out onto the balcony, just as she’d known he would, in search of her. His expression of inquiry shifted instantly to one of surprise then dislike, then enmity, before settling on cool disinterest. How did he do that? He had a billion facial muscles, his features so expressive, and yet he could discipline them into whatever order he wished so quickly!
“Alessia.” He strode towards her, hands in pocket, his demeanour relaxed. But she knew him better than that – his body was radiating tension, his back ramrod straight, and his eyes skimmed Sam with a natural-born antipathy, as though he somehow knew her history with him.
“Max,” she forced a smile to her lips, exhausted suddenly, and wanting only to be at home. His home, she reminded herself, but it was forced. An approximation of how she used to feel. Somewhere, somehow, that line had been eroded by the life they now shared. His home had become their home. The only place she wanted to be. It scared her and warmed her all at once.
“Massimo Montebello,” he said, leaning towards Sam, hand outstretched. It was a bizarre moment – her husband and her ex-fiancé shaking hands, meeting like two random strangers.
“Yes,” the other man nodded. “I know.”
Massimo’s eyes narrowed a little, a warning expression on his face. Great. They were going to get all territorial. She needed to put a stop to that. “You’re involved with the charity?” Max prompted suspiciously. Did he think Sam had come to see her? That he’d somehow known she’d be here.
“My cousin is chairman of Infinito Banking.”
“Renato diNova?”
Sam dipped his head forward then turned to look at Alessia, a smile lifting his lips. “That’s how we met.”
“Yes.” Heat flushed her cheeks. She looked from one to the other, and for the second time that night, felt a desperate need to escape. Her past and present were mixing, filling her with a sense of being pushed underwater. And yet, when she looked at Massimo, she could breathe again, as though a scuba mask was being pressed to her face. He was her salvation – somehow, he’d become that when she hadn’t expected it; hadn’t prepared for it. She loved him.
Loving the Enemy Page 13
