by Heidi Rice
His breathing stilled as he tensed and I regretted the probing question, knowing I had no right to ask it. But before I could take it back he answered me.
‘I told you. She was a prostitute,’ he murmured, but he didn’t sound bitter now, or angry; he simply sounded guarded.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘And that must have been terrible for both of you,’ I continued, wanting to understand; the life he had described to me sounded traumatic. ‘But...’
‘Why would it be terrible for her?’ he interrupted me. ‘She chose that life.’
‘How do you know that?’ I asked. ‘Surely very few people choose to be prostitutes,’ I added when he remained silent. ‘They do it out of desperation or addiction or coercion. Are you sure she wasn’t forced to make that choice?’ I said, wanting to ease his pain, because, beneath the harsh words, I could hear the ripple of insecurity.
He had given me so much in the past five days, by showing faith in me, by making me feel special and valued and important. And I wanted to do the same for him. Obviously his feelings for his mother were complex and their circumstances when he was growing up something I knew very little about. I couldn’t right the wrongs she may have done him. But being a prostitute, being forced to sell yourself for money didn’t make you a bad person; it didn’t mean his mother hadn’t loved him, any more than my mother’s search for love in all the wrong places meant she hadn’t loved me. People were complex, they could be weak and fickle, foolish and selfish, but there was almost always goodness in them too. And I had the strangest feeling when he spoke about his mother, he was also speaking about himself. I couldn’t tell him how I felt about him. It was too soon. Too much. But I wanted him to know how special he was, regardless.
‘How about we stop talking about her?’ he said at last, his open palm stroking my hair in an absent caress—but I could hear the edge in his voice again, and knew I’d gone too far, I’d overstepped the mark. ‘It’s a real buzzkill,’ he added. ‘And the truth is, I don’t hate her; I don’t even remember her that well.’
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Hey?’ He shifted, his knuckle nudging my chin up. ‘Don’t look so sad. What happened to me as a kid is so long ago it doesn’t matter now.’ But I could hear the hollow tone, and the deafening thunder of his heartbeat beneath my ear, and I wondered if he was lying.
But then he rolled on top of me and the stiff weight of his erection brushed my thigh. The inevitable surge of blood rushed to my core.
‘And I’ve got something much more important to discuss,’ he said, his tone husky and assured again.
He was distracting me with sex, putting emotional distance between us, the way he had done right from the start. But as his lips captured mine in a demanding kiss and he angled my hips to slide the thick erection home, I gave myself up to the physical pleasure to stem the foolish wave of sadness.
My feelings were my own to handle and control—and, however much it might hurt in the long run, I would always be grateful for these brief, beautiful moments of connection. I had the vague realisation my mother had made the same brutal bargain—to trade sex for intimacy—but, before the disturbing thought could take root, he rocked his hips and surged deep. I cried out as the muscles of my sex clamped around his thick length, milking him in the throes of another earth-shattering orgasm.
I drifted moments later on the edges of a dream, his arm tight around my shoulder as he lulled me to sleep, and for one foolish moment a wish flickered in my consciousness. If only I could find a way past the demanding, cynical, indomitable man he had become and reach the little boy beneath, then I could tell him how much he was loved, by me at least.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I LAY IN the darkness, staring at the ceiling cornice above my bed, and felt the weight of Edie’s head on my shoulder. My sweat-soaked skin felt clammy as it dried.
She was exhausted; I’d exhausted her. We’d exhausted each other. But I wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon, the adrenaline powering through my system like one of Alexi’s damn racing cars, speeding around and around in circles with nowhere to go.
I’d pounded into her like a madman until I heard her sobs of release and felt her swollen flesh hold me in the grip of her orgasm. Not once, but twice.
But far worse had been what came in between, her quiet words, whispered in the darkness.
‘What did your mother do that made you hate her so?’
‘Surely few people choose to be prostitutes.’
Words that were just like Edie. Sweet, naïve, romantic... And sadly idealistic.
But, as much as I wanted to disregard what Edie had said, deny her defence of a woman who didn’t deserve an ounce of my sympathy or hers, the conversation had left me feeling raw and exposed. And scared, dammit.
It was midnight. I needed to sleep too. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. I had to say goodbye to the guests, brief my finance team about the decisions made over the week and get the next stage of the expansion plan in motion now the new investors had been chosen.
Then I was supposed to be catching a flight to Las Vegas tomorrow night. I had a new hotel and casino complex opening there in two weeks and I wanted to oversee the inauguration.
But, as Edie shifted beside me, the events of the night kept tumbling over and over in my head.
I had planned to take her with me to Vegas. I’d already asked Nina to design a new wardrobe for the trip, had included Edie’s name on the flight roster and informed my PA in Vegas that she would be joining me for all the events we had planned.
I was supposed to be telling her in a few hours’ time.
But I couldn’t ask her now. Because of that innocuous question, that should have been easily answered.
I didn’t remember my mother, not really; I’d made sure of it. But Edie was right. I still hated her for what she had done to me.
But what I hated more was that Edie knew. That she had exposed my weakness so easily.
It shouldn’t matter what Edie thought of me or didn’t think of me. It shouldn’t matter that she cared, but somehow it did. Because she already mattered to me more than she should.
Seeing the moisture in Edie’s eyes when I had told her how furious I had been with Elise Durand on her behalf had all but crippled me.
Gratitude, affection, perhaps even love for me had shone clearly in her expression and for one agonising second I had wanted desperately to be worthy of it.
That desire had only escalated during the evening.
The dancing, when I couldn’t let her out of my arms, the intensity of our lovemaking afterwards, had all been a pathetic attempt to redirect the feelings I had developed for Edie. But now as I lay in the darkness, the pearly light of a midsummer night illuminating the bedroom’s furnishings, and felt the need still pulsing in my groin as I listened to her soft breathing, I knew I was kidding myself.
Just like all the lies I’d been telling myself for days about the reasons why I wanted to take her to Vegas with me. It wasn’t for her bright, brilliant mind, or her sweet, lively companionship, or even the incredible way she responded to my touch, even though I had become addicted to all those things. No, it was far, far worse than that. I wanted her to come to Vegas with me because I didn’t want this affair to end. Because, after only five days of having her in my bed and only a few weeks of having her in my life, I couldn’t imagine what I would do without her.
I didn’t want to let her go. Which was precisely why I had to.
I couldn’t open myself up to those needs again, those wants.
I shuddered, despite the warmth of the room in the sultry night. The memory of cold stone, rain spattering my bare arms and legs, hands holding me, voices whispering strange words as I screamed and kicked and cried. The nightmares that had come again and again, waking me in strange beds, reminding me I was alone. I wasn’t enough. I could never be enough.
> I couldn’t go back there again. Not ever. Not for any woman. I’d spent years getting over that night, burying that broken child so deep no one could find him, not even me. But somehow Edie had brought him out of hiding.
Which made her a threat I had to protect myself against.
As much as I hated the thought of letting Edie go, I hated the thought of being dependent on her touch, her laughter or her kindness a great deal more.
Edie was fierce and sweet, but also an innocent. She might believe she loved me but, once she discovered how cynical and disillusioned I really was, she would realise I could never love her back... And then her feelings would sour. Maybe not now, maybe not even in the next few weeks or months, but it would happen eventually, and it would hurt me... I could not afford to give her a chance to break me—the way my mother had broken that little boy.
Edie’s hand unfurled against my chest as she slept. She snuggled closer, resting her palm on my sternum, gravitating towards me even in sleep. The possessive, unconscious touch sent a shaft of longing through me and my heart slammed into my ribs.
I tried to calm the heavy erratic rhythm as I listened to the soft murmur of her breathing... And considered how to end our affair swiftly and irrevocably tomorrow while I waited for the dawn.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Take a week off at Belle Rivière. You’ve earned it. Joe will be expecting you in Monaco on the eighteenth. Contact him if you have any concerns.
Buon viaggio!
D
I STARED AT the note from Dante that had been delivered to the suite as I packed, my hands shaking, and gulped down the ball of confusion and anguish in my throat.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. And now I was being forced to confront it.
I’d known something wasn’t right as soon as I’d woken up this morning, my body aching from the intensity of Dante’s lovemaking, with Dante nowhere in sight. It was the first time in five days I’d woken up without Dante’s arms around me.
When I’d joined him in the breakfast room, he’d been in the middle of a phone call and had barely glanced at me. And I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since. Not properly. Not even during my private team interview after the guests had departed.
He’d informed me I was getting a two-thousand-euro bonus along with the rest of the team. I’d been hopelessly flattered and so proud. He hadn’t mentioned us—I’d assumed as part of his efforts to keep our affair out of the work environment—so I’d made an effort not to mention anything personal too.
But before he’d dismissed me he’d told me he was offering me the probationary position he’d spoken about. I’d be working alongside Joseph Donnelly in the landmark casino in Monaco as a player strategy consultant—to observe the play and spot the systems the high stakes players were developing or using to gain an unfair advantage against the house. The salary was more than I had ever dreamed of earning—enough to support both me and Jude, to pay off the mortgage on Belle Rivière and undertake the estate’s much needed renovations. We’d even be able to hire a small staff to help keep the place clean and well-maintained again—if I could persuade him I could do a better job of spotting the cheats than his current team.
It was more than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. And I had been absolutely thrilled to accept the position.
But as soon as he’d outlined the job offer, in that impersonal, pragmatic tone, and the excitement had built under my breastbone, I’d known the primary reason I was so thrilled wasn’t because of the amazing benefits and salary, or even the exciting challenges and opportunities the work would represent, but because he had shown such faith in me. And also because working in an important executive position in Dante’s organisation would give me the chance not just to see him again, but maybe even for us to continue our affair. Or at least that’s what I’d hoped.
Somewhere, deep down, I had even managed to convince myself that was one of the other reasons he had offered me the job. Because he wanted to keep me close too.
In the hours after I’d accepted the job and signed the contract though, there had still been no chance to talk to Dante privately. I’d tried to convince myself it was because he was busy.
After the last of the guests had left and the team interviews had been completed, Dante had hosted a final lunch for the team out on the terrace, with everyone laughing and toasting each other on a job well done. I’d left a seat for him next to me, but he’d walked past it and taken a seat at the far end of the table with Joseph Donnelly and his events manager, Evan Jones. I’d been stupidly hurt at first and then realised how ridiculous I was being.
What was I, five? He probably still had work to discuss with Joe and Evan.
But after the meal he’d disappeared again. And my insecurities had begun to mount.
Why had he hardly spoken to me? Was he avoiding me? Was it because of what I’d said to him about his mother the night before? Why had I probed like that?
I’d tried to keep a lid on my fears and anxieties by keeping busy myself. Surely he would talk to me in time, explain what was happening, where we stood.
After saying goodbye to the other team members as they climbed into their various cars and taxis, I had headed up to our suite of rooms. The vague hope I’d had that he might be up there packing had been dashed when I’d walked in on a maid busy folding all his clothes into a series of suitcases.
I’d duly packed my own stuff. At last there had been nothing else left to do, I could hear the staff being ordered about by Collette, who was making the final preparations to clear the chateau and close it up for the next few weeks. As I sat in the bedroom alone, my own suitcases stacked ready to leave, I began to feel as if I had been totally forgotten. Should I go downstairs, find Dante? Where was he? Was it possible he’d already left, without even telling me?
And that’s when one of Dante’s assistants had come to inform me Dante had arranged for the company helicopter to return me to Belle Rivière. And handed me the note, written in Dante’s bold cursive script.
I read it again as my head started to pound.
Had he dismissed me? The chill that had been working its way over my skin all day seemed to wrap around my heart.
Had I done something wrong? Was it because of the liberties I’d taken last night? Was he angry about that conversation? What had happened to the man who had been prepared to fight for my honour over a single snide comment? Who had danced with me and then made love to me—bringing me to two mind-blowing orgasms. And then held me in his arms while I fell asleep.
I didn’t understand; my confusion became almost as huge as the deep well of hurt at his actions.
Was this how my mother had always felt? When she’d been discarded by the men she had loved.
I’d tried to tell myself my affair with Dante was not the same, because I was working for him. Because we were equals. Because I hadn’t become too invested in our relationship. But as the empty space in my belly grew, seeming to consume me, I knew that was a lie.
Something fundamental had changed for me last night. And it hadn’t changed for him. Or he wouldn’t have ignored me today.
I wanted to feel outraged, but all I felt was devastated.
I folded the note.
‘Do you want to leave now?’ the young man who had delivered the note said. ‘I believe the helicopter is ready whenever you want to go.’
‘Is Dant... I mean, is Mr Allegri still here?’ I asked.
I should leave—a part of me knew it would only hurt more to confront him about my dismissal. I wouldn’t make a scene, I promised myself, remembering all those times I’d heard my mother plead, or seen her cling to a lover as he’d left her. Remembering the times my sister and I had crept into her bed and tried to comfort her tears, tried to stave off the black mood we knew would come until she found a new ‘protector’. I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t.
/>
My heart wasn’t broken. I couldn’t let it be. I couldn’t afford to lose the job he’d offered me.
He owed me nothing; I understood that. I’d entered into this affair with my eyes open. Or at least I had tried to. And, while things had changed for me, it wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t changed for him. It had only been five days after all. Five glorious, intense days. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least get to say goodbye.
Before I saw him again in a work situation I needed to have closure. To know that there was no chance for us, or I might become delusional again.
The young man smiled. ‘Yes, he’s still here; he’s in his office.’
‘Do you know if he’s with anyone?’ I asked. I wanted to be brave and bold, the way he’d made me feel this past week, but I wasn’t quite bold or brave enough to interrupt him while he was in a meeting.
‘No, everyone else has left except you and the skeleton staff who are locking up the villa.’
I nodded and stood up. ‘If you could have the luggage taken to the helicopter, that would be great. I’ll meet you down there.’ I would need to make a quick getaway once I’d said my goodbyes. I couldn’t afford to linger, or the boulder pressing against my larynx might start to choke me.
The young man nodded and left to get some of the staff to help him.
I tucked the curt, businesslike note into the back pocket of my jeans, brushed sweaty palms on the denim and headed in the opposite direction. As I approached Dante’s office, my throat started to ache with unshed tears. I’d been such a naïve fool.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t have to; his office door was ajar and I could see him sitting at his desk, tapping on his laptop. He was wearing the same shirt and tailored trousers combo he’d worn when I’d come in here for my interview.
His head jerked up as I stepped into the room, reminding me painfully of the first time we’d made love—the way he’d sensed my presence while he’d stood on the beach.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Edie, hello—is there a problem with the travel arrangements?’ he asked. ‘I thought you would have left by now.’
