The Salvatore Marriage Deal Read online

  If she was getting married she ought to tell her mother, but she honestly couldn’t bear the thought of sharing her news with her mother, or anyone else she was close to. Although she knew she had to go through with it because it was the best thing for her child, she still had misgivings about the way Vito had treated her. About the way he was continuing to treat her.

  How would she manage to keep up the pretence that it was a perfectly normal, happy marriage in front of people who knew her well and cared about her? She simply couldn’t afford to reveal the truth behind the marriage. Vito had made it plain that they must maintain a normal happily-married front. Her child’s future depended on it.

  ‘We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready,’ Vito said, walking to the door. ‘My grandfather is at his best in the morning. He tends to sleep in the afternoon.’

  Lily pushed back the covers, got out of bed and headed for the en suite. Half an hour later, she was sitting at the dressing table, adding the finishing touches to her make-up while she waited for Vito to return.

  She was apprehensive about meeting his grandfather, and had tried to ease her nerves by taking extra care with her appearance. Her hair was freshly washed and straightened, so that it hung down in a sleek blonde curtain well past her shoulder blades. Her make-up was light and natural looking, but the judicious use of blusher had given her a bit of colour in her cheeks.

  She had chosen to wear her ivory linen-suit again. It was a bit creased from travelling, but everything else was still packed haphazardly in her bags and was not likely to look any better. She looked in the mirror and decided that, although she might not look very glamorous, she was perfectly presentable.

  The door opened and Vito came into the room.

  ‘I’m ready to go,’ she said, standing up quickly and reaching for her handbag.

  Vito looked at her, picking up small details that were different from the day before. She didn’t look so washed-out and, with her hair brushed down in that shimmering veil halfway down her back, she was starting to look more like the beautiful young woman he’d shared his life with over the winter. But she was still wearing the ill-fitting suit from the day before.

  ‘I know this outfit isn’t perfect,’ Lily said, as if she’d read his mind. Or maybe, he thought, she’d simply read his expression. Although her shocking act of betrayal had made her a stranger to him, he mustn’t forget that they’d lived together for five months. Undoubtedly she’d got to know him quite well in that time. ‘But I don’t have anything else suitable,’ she added.

  ‘A dress would be better.’ Vito turned to open the huge fitted-wardrobe on her side of the room. ‘Preferably something with a bit of colour—to brighten my grandfather’s morning.’

  ‘But…’ Lily stared into the wardrobe in obvious surprise. ‘All my clothes.’

  ‘You didn’t take them with you.’

  Vito selected a soft peach-coloured silk dress he had bought for her in Milan. Lily was always drawn towards natural, pale colours—her favourites were cream and ivory—and, despite the fact he knew they suited her, he’d always had the urge to liven up her choices. ‘I had to assume none of the items I bought for you were to your taste after all,’ he added.

  ‘I didn’t pay for any of them,’ Lily said. ‘They were all so expensive—I didn’t think they were mine to take.’

  ‘Of course they were.’ Vito suddenly felt annoyed. He’d enjoyed buying things for her, and when he’d seen she’d left them behind it had been a brutal reminder of how she’d duped him—like a spiteful smack on the cheek, on top of her shameless infidelity. ‘What did you think I was going to do with them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lily said, smoothing her hand over her hair in a gesture that revealed how unsettled she felt. ‘Maybe sell them. Or give them away. I never expected to find them still in the wardrobe.’

  Vito turned and looked at her, deliberately keeping his expression bland as he laid the peach dress out on the bed. He wouldn’t let himself think too closely about why he’d never got rid of all the things she’d left in his room.

  Over the years he had invited very few women to share his home. And, once he had decided it was over, it was over—completely. For the most part they had taken everything with them, especially anything of value, like designer clothes and jewellery. Then any remaining items had been disposed of quickly, eradicating any evidence that anyone had ever been in his home.

  But when his housekeeper had enquired about Lily’s belongings, he had barked at her to leave them. After that the poor woman hadn’t mentioned them again—and had left them well alone. Out of sight in wardrobes and cupboards. But not entirely out of mind.

  ‘You left the clothes and the jewellery,’ he said. ‘But you were quick enough to take every last piece of the lingerie I bought for you.’

  ‘The clothes, the jewellery—they cost so much,’ Lily said. A pretty flush had risen to her heart-shaped face, making the blood flow faster around Vito’s body.

  ‘The lingerie was expensive too.’ He took a step closer to her, getting a kick of satisfaction as she refused to back away, even though he had clearly invaded her personal space. ‘You knew that.’

  ‘What would you want with my lingerie?’ A spark in her hazel eyes and a defiant lift to her chin challenged him. ‘Even you wouldn’t sell second-hand underclothes.’

  ‘I didn’t want to sell them,’ Vito said, deliberately letting his voice drop to a seductive purr. ‘I wanted them for myself. You were gone, the nights were long…’

  Lily gasped, suddenly speechless as she stared at his handsome face. ‘Don’t be so…so…’

  ‘Don’t looked shocked. It’s a natural desire. You know how good we were together…physically,’ Vito said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting something to remember you by.’

  ‘Stop it,’ Lily said, hearing an edge of panic in her tone. But Vito’s voice was rumbling through her, making her remember what it had been like to make love with him.

  ‘I wanted to hold the flimsy little things in my hand as I thought about the good times we’d spent together,’ he drawled, with blatant come-to-bed eyes locked onto hers from under sultry, half-closed lids. ‘I longed to smooth the silky fabric against my skin—thinking about the feel of your skin against mine.’

  ‘Stop it.’ Lily’s cheeks were starting to burn. ‘You could have gone out and bought some more lingerie if you were so desperate.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been the same,’ Vito replied, with a meaningful smile on his full, sensual lips. ‘It was knowing that the silk had been next to your body, pressing close to your most intimate places…’

  Lily bit her lip, trying to think of a suitably cutting remark to put a stop to this line of discussion. She wasn’t used to Vito talking like this, but although it was unsettling there was also something strangely exciting about it.

  A wave of warmth was washing through her body, putting her senses onto full alert in a way that hadn’t happened since she’d left Venice, until yesterday in Vito’s empty penthouse.

  ‘Are you wearing something I bought you now?’ Vito’s eyes were running over her, as if with his X-ray vision he could see through her linen suit to discover what underwear she had chosen. ‘Or have you discarded it all—along with the sanctity of our relationship?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what I’m wearing under my suit,’ Lily said, appalled by how her breath was catching in her throat.

  ‘It used to be my business.’ Vito dropped to his knees beside her and placed his large, warm hands on her hips. He tugged her gently towards him so that his cheek was resting on her stomach. ‘You used to like me to come home from work, take you in my arms and hold you close. You loved it when I ran my hands up your legs, slipped them under your skirt, and traced my fingers over the silk and lace that covered the most sensitive part of your body.’

  ‘That’s over now.’ Lily struggled to keep her voice level as Vito’s words set off an alarming chain-reaction of sensation t
hrough her. It was true that she had loved the touch of his hands on her body, had revelled in the way that he made her feel. ‘That was before you treated me so horribly.’

  ‘Yes,’ Vito said, letting his hands start to slide slowly down over her hips and thighs. ‘That time is over. But now we are starting a different stage in our relationship. We are soon to be man and wife.’

  Lily stood absolutely still, acutely aware of the movement of his hands. The familiarity of his touch was triggering a mass of conflicting feelings in her. Her body knew him, knew what exquisite pleasure he could give her.

  But her heart felt betrayed. How could she be responding to him after he had treated her so unforgivably?

  ‘It won’t be the same,’ she said, thinking how special it had been to make love to him when she’d believed he cared about her. She’d always thought it was more than just sex.

  ‘It will be better.’ Suddenly his fingers were unzipping her skirt. ‘It will be the cement that holds our marriage together. Neither of us wants this marriage to fail—there is too much at stake.’

  Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her skirt slipped to the floor. Part of her wanted to flee to the en suite and cover up with a warm, fluffy robe. But most of her was shamelessly enjoying the feel of Vito’s eyes as he ran his gaze over the French lace-knickers she was wearing.

  ‘Are you wearing the matching bra?’ He stood up and started unbuttoning the front of her jacket.

  It was almost impossible for Lily to stand still. Liquid desire was running through her veins, making her feel more alive than she could remember. It was as if she had merely been existing, waiting to be back in Vito’s arms.

  Since he had stormed back into her life, demanding that she marry him, she’d known that this moment was inevitable. He was a red-blooded male, with a powerful libido. Celibacy was not in his nature. If this marriage was to succeed, then sex would play an important part.

  But his hands were moving so slowly. It was taking him too long to remove her clothes. She yearned to feel his hands on her body, to feel his naked skin next to hers. She ached for him to make love to her, because that was surely what was to follow. And then she could let herself pretend that things were back to normal—that he had never thrown her out, and the last six weeks had never happened.

  At last her jacket fell away to reveal a plain stretch-lace camisole. He took hold of the hem and pulled it over her head. Then he stepped back and let his gaze slide all over her.

  Lily stood in her lacy bra and French knickers, still wearing her hold-up stockings and high-heeled shoes. Hot anticipation pooled deep inside her. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples were diamond-hard points straining against the flimsy covering of lace.

  He’d hardly touched her, yet a sensual tingle moved through her body, settling in her most intimate place, making her need for him almost unbearable. She could feel her exposed skin flushing, betraying her sexual readiness to him.

  His blue eyes grew darker as he looked at her, and she knew exactly how the sight of her was affecting him. She could hear the change in his breathing, recognise the expression on his face that meant he wanted to make love to her. But he made no move towards her.

  Suddenly a shuttered look descended over his features and he turned to pick up the peach dress from the bed.

  ‘You’ve lost weight,’ he said. ‘But this style should be forgiving.’

  ‘Forgiving?’

  His choice of word was like a slap in the face.

  At that exact moment she knew he would never forgive her for what he thought she’d done. It made no difference that he was mistaken, that there was no possible proof of her sin against him—her denial would continue to fall on deaf ears.

  ‘You are the one that needs forgiveness, for the awful way you treated me. For the way you’re still treating me!’ She snatched her clothes up off the floor and held them protectively across her body.

  He had never truly planned to make love to her. His intention that morning had only ever been to humiliate her.

  But she’d spoken her mind before she thought about the consequences, and as Vito turned back towards her his fury was almost palpable.

  ‘Don’t pursue this.’ His words were forced out through gritted teeth, and she could see the monumental effort he was exerting to control his rage. ‘You won’t win. You can’t win. It would be better for everyone if you don’t keep reminding me of your betrayal—of the fact that you are carrying another man’s child inside you.’

  ‘But—’

  Vito didn’t need to speak again to quell Lily’s retort. As his gaze met hers, the tortured look in his eyes cut through her pain, and in a sudden instant of clarity she realised how he was being torn apart by his belief that she had cheated on him.

  But it wasn’t her fault that he thought she’d been unfaithful. Was it madness to stay with someone who thought her capable of such a thing? But she’d made her decision—she had to marry him to make a future for her unborn child.

  Later, for her own sake, she was going to have to try to discover why he believed what he did. But for now she had to let it rest. From the anger and tension radiating from every ounce of his powerful body, she could tell that now was not the time to keep pushing him. There was no chance of having a reasoned conversation with him while he was so tightly wound and his anger so raw.

  ‘Put this on,’ Vito said, holding out the dress to her.

  She slipped it over her head silently, gathered her long hair to one side, and turned to present him with the zip. She straightened her shoulders consciously, determined to show him that her will was as strong as his. She wouldn’t fight with him now—but neither would she let herself be quashed by the brute strength of his personality.

  He pulled the zip up slowly, not touching her at all. She exhaled quietly, careful not to let him know that she’d been holding her breath in case his fingers brushed against her sensitive spine. Then she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror.

  She hardly recognised the girl who gazed back at her. The girl who’d worn that dress and lived in this bedroom—that girl—belonged to another time. A happier time.

  If she was going to survive this marriage, she was going to have to assert herself. Show Vito that, despite his threats and undeniable position of strength, he couldn’t walk all over her.

  ‘That will do very well,’ Vito said, his patronising tone setting Lily’s nerves on edge. He passed her bag to her and headed towards the door. ‘We must set off to my grandfather’s.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Lily gripped her suede bag tightly and dug in her heels.

  ‘What is it?’ Vito turned back impatiently.

  ‘That sweater,’ she said, tossing her bag onto the bed and walking briskly towards him. ‘It’s not right. You can’t wear a depressing black sweater if you’re serious about cheering your grandfather up.’

  ‘He won’t be looking at me…’ Vito’s words petered out as she gripped the soft cashmere in her hands and started peeling it off his body.

  ‘You must have something lighter and fresher. Maybe your pale-blue sweater?’ It was an effort to keep her voice steady, but she was proud of how matter-of-fact she managed to sound. Especially when she discovered he wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater, and an intoxicating waft of his pure, masculine aroma filled her senses, making her legs feel weak all over again.

  She took a step back, and for a second let her eyes run over his magnificent form. A shiver of sensual appreciation ran through her, and she realised her ploy to regain some control was in serious danger of backfiring on her.

  Vito turned and stepped towards his wardrobe. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t tear her gaze away. She’d always loved to watch him without his shirt on—never failing to be fascinated, and frankly turned on, by the irresistible play of his well-defined muscles beneath his golden-brown skin.

  ‘It’s your choice.’ He indicated the neatly folded piles of sweaters in his wardrobe—but for a momen
t Lily got the impression he wasn’t simply talking about clothing. He’d seen the way she was looking at him. He knew how she was reacting.

  Was he letting her know that, if she was prepared to make the first move, he wanted to make love to her after all?

  With an effort of will, she pushed the thought aside. He was probably playing with her again, and she certainly didn’t intend to cause herself any more humiliation.

  ‘This is a cheerful colour,’ she said, tossing a blue sweater at him. ‘That will brighten your grandfather’s day.’

  Vito pulled it on silently. Then, without even bothering to check his appearance in the mirror, took her hand and pulled her towards the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CA’ SALVATORE, the beautiful palazzo that had been the home of Giovanni Salvatore for more than seventy-five years, stood in the very heart of the city on a magnificent stretch of the Grand Canal.

  It was possible to make the journey from Vito’s home by water, using the impressive canal entrances of both palazzi, but Lily was pleased when he decided they should walk. She had missed strolling through the maze of narrow streets, along canals and over bridges. Although she had lived in Venice for quite a while, she’d discovered something new almost every outing, and had always taken pleasure from investigating unfamiliar areas.

  Now she walked apprehensively beside Vito. He’d told her that his grandfather was old and frail, but she knew that for most of his life Giovanni had been a formidable Venetian businessman. Vito had often spoken of him with a great deal of respect, but also great love.

  She knew that when Vito was a child he’d come to live with his grandfather at Ca’ Salvatore after his parents had died in an accident. It was clear that Giovanni was still hugely important to him—as was this visit. For everyone’s sake, she hoped things would go smoothly.

  It didn’t take long to reach the baroque palazzo, and for a moment Lily gazed in awe at the building’s amazing façade, complete with marble pillars and statues.