Her eyes flew to his face, the statement knocking her off balance completely. She hadn’t expected this, but she managed to pick up the threads of their negotiation as though it were just that—a simple business deal.
‘Complicated how?’
‘I have nothing to offer.’ He spoke stiffly, his shoulders squared. ‘I’m not interested in a relationship, and I suspect you’ll blur those lines if I do what you ask of me.’
She nodded slowly and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘Sure.’
Her easy acceptance was insulting. ‘If you came to want more from me I can promise you I wouldn’t offer it.’
She bit down on her lip and shrugged once more. ‘Whatever. It’s not important. Forget I mentioned it.’
He looked away once more. Why did she have such beautiful legs? Out of nowhere he pictured them wrapped around his waist as he pulled her closer, pressing into her.
His arousal throbbed painfully.
‘I know I can’t hold a candle to your usual...um...lovers. It was stupid of me to even suggest it.’
‘You are very different,’ he agreed softly.
Her battered pride was almost debilitating in its intensity. He didn’t need to tell her how different she was. She’d seen the photos. He’d all but told her that she wasn’t attractive. God, she’d thrown herself at his feet! Of all the foolish, embarrassing, childish, stupid things to do!
Regret washed over her heart. But pride was beating its drum, forcing her to remember who she was and what she wanted in life. This marriage was a stepping stone for Emmeline—a brick path to freedom.
‘I think I just got carried away last night. The moon... The water... The heat...’ Her smile was dismissive. ‘It won’t happen again.’
She briefly met his eyes and then looked back to her book, pretending fascination with the page she was on even as the words swam before her eyes.
It won’t happen again.
‘That is for the best, cara.’
He spun on his heel and stalked back inside the villa before he gave in to temptation and pulled her to her feet, roughly against his chest, and plundered those sweet lips that had been tempting him all afternoon.
* * *
Rafe let out a low whistle, his eyes locked on some point across the room. Pietro followed his brother’s gaze, though he knew what he’d see.
His wife, Emmeline Morelli, looking as if she’d walked out of a goddamned Vogue photo-shoot. Her dress was beautiful, but every woman at this event was draped in couture and dripping with diamonds. It was Emmeline he saw.
Her long dark hair had been set in loose curls that waved around her back, and the dress itself was a sort of Grecian style, in a cream fabric that gathered beneath her breasts then fell in floaty, gauzy swathes to her feet, which were clad in shimmering gold sandals. She wore a snake bracelet on her upper arm, and a circle of gold around her head.
She looked like a very beautiful, very sexy fairy. Something the two men she had been locked in conversation with for the past twenty minutes seemed eminently aware of. Her face was animated as they spoke, her eyes illuminated and her laugh frequent.
Hot, white need snaked through him.
‘Married life seems to agree with Mrs Morelli,’ Rafe said, and grinned, grabbing a glass of wine from a tray being walked past by a waiter.
‘Si,’ Pietro agreed, willing himself to look away but finding it almost impossible.
‘And you?’ Rafe turned to study his brother, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. ‘I would ask how you’re finding the leap into married life, but I can see for myself that it is no hardship.’
Pietro’s expression was shuttered.
‘No comment, eh?’ Rafe laughed good-naturedly.
A muscle jerked in Pietro’s jaw. ‘There are too many of these twinkling lights,’ he snapped, changing the subject. ‘I feel like they are everywhere I look.’
Rafe’s laugh was annoying Pietro. Everything was annoying him. Who the hell were those men? Had she met them before? It was possible that they had dealings in America...that they knew Col. Perhaps she’d hosted them at the plantation. Maybe they were old friends.
A groan of resentment died in his throat. He nodded dismissively at his brother. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’
Pietro moved quickly, cutting through the crowd, ignoring any attempt to draw him into conversation. But there were so many people between him and his wife and he was the man of the hour, in huge demand.
He spent a few minutes in curt exchange with a board member, and then smiled briefly at his cousin Lorena before getting within striking range of his wife.
He paused, watching her up close for a few seconds, seeing the way her face moved while in conversation.
Guilt was not something he was used to and yet he felt it now. Her father was one of his most valued friends, and yet he’d hardly taken the time to speak to Emmeline. What was making her laugh like that? What did she find funny?
He compressed his lips and moved closer, but at the moment of his approach the two men stepped away—not before one of them pressed a kiss against Emmeline’s cheek and almost earned an angry rebuke from Pietro.
‘Oh, Pietro.’ She blinked up at him, her expression shifting swiftly from enthusiasm to confusion.
His chest felt as if it had been rolled over by a car. He manoeuvred his body, placing himself between Emmeline and the crowd, her back almost touching the wall, so that both of them would be reminded of the night he’d made her come.
Her breath snagged in her throat. She stared up at him, a pulse beating wildly in her throat.
‘Who were those men?’
A frown tugged at her lips, but only for a second. Then the enthusiasm was back in her eyes, apparently irrepressible.
‘Oh, they’re professors at the university! One of them is a lecturer in the psychology department. It’s going to be so helpful to have people there I know already.’
Great. She’d continue to see people who looked at her as though she was an ice cream
