Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed. Michelle Smart
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prison that will make the one I was incarcerated in look like a holiday camp.’
He threw a thin document file on her bed before she could argue any more about it. ‘Here’s the contract.’
‘You don’t waste time.’
‘Read through it, sign it and we can leave.’
‘Are we at Tampa Bay?’ She hadn’t seen any sign of land from her balcony.
‘No. You’ve already reached your decision so my helicopter will take us inland to my jet. My assistant and lawyer are waiting in the saloon—they’ll act as witnesses for the contract.’
‘You can’t expect me to sign it now?’
‘It’s written clearly and concisely. It won’t take you more than five minutes to read it.’
Giving him a baleful glare, Elena leaned over the bed to grab the file and see for herself.
As she turned back again, pulling the elegantly bound papers out, something about him made her stop.
There was an expression on his face she’d never seen before. A look in his eyes...
Heat pooled in her stomach and spread through her, climbing up to crawl through the veins in her face.
She’d taken his oversized shorts off the second she’d arrived back in her cabin.
She’d leaned over to grab the file totally forgetting she had no underwear on.
He’d seen her.
Gabriele’s breathing had become heavy, his eyes containing a blackness that was quite unlike the angry circles of ice he usually looked at her with.
Please, something, anything, swallow her up right now.
He’d seen her.
His throat moved and then he coughed and took a step back before pulling a small tube from his pocket. ‘This is some lotion for you to put on your wrists—it should help with the bruising.
‘I will leave you to dress and read through the contract.’ He no longer looked at her, his voice even deeper than normal. ‘I will send someone for you in thirty minutes.’
He didn’t wait for a response, throwing the tube on the bed and leaving the cabin in three long strides.
* * *
Gabriele concentrated hard on the conversation with his lawyer, discussing the finer details of the contract Milo had drafted for him.
Milo knew better than to try and talk Gabriele from the route he was taking. He had been his family’s lawyer for over two decades, and there was little about Gabriele that Milo didn’t know. It was this familiarity that made him sense the lawyer didn’t approve of this particular route.
Whether his lawyer approved was irrelevant. As for Anna Maria, his assistant, she was too well paid to have an opinion on anything.
His lawyer and assistant were the only people to know the truth and he intended to keep it that way. To the rest of the world, especially to Ignazio, his and Elena’s marriage would be the real deal.
It was only when Milo and Anna Maria both rose that he knew Elena had arrived.
Straight away his mind flashed to the image he’d been fighting not to see for thirty minutes.
The base of her bottom.
The base of her white, peachy, perfect bottom. The way it darkened at the base of the curve to show the promise of her hidden femininity.
One look and his pulse had paused for a heartbeat then surged into life, heat throbbing through his bloodstream.
He hadn’t had such a visceral reaction to a woman since his teenage years. Arranging his features into neutrality, he turned his head to see her standing by his chair. She’d changed into another pair of long, boyish shorts and a plain white T-shirt, her hair now neatly tied back.
Gabriele made the introductions.
She shook hands with them both before casting him with another of the baleful glares he was becoming accustomed to.
He waited until Milo and Anna Maria had left them alone before saying, ‘That is not the kind of greeting a man expects from his fiancée when in public.’
‘Get used to it.’
He fixed her with a stare. ‘I do not expect you take pleasure in my company but when we are in the company of others I expect you to treat me with respect and adoration. That will begin immediately.’
‘Adoration?’ she snorted, taking the seat opposite him and crossing her legs.
‘Have you read through the contract? It details it quite clearly.’
She met his eyes.
Colour flooded her cheeks and he knew that she knew what he had seen.
She snapped her gaze away and cleared her throat. ‘As long as you only expect adoration in public. In private you can sing for it.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else,’ he replied sardonically. ‘Do you have any questions about the contract?’
‘The sleeping arrangements...’
‘Are non-negotiable,’ he supplied before she could go any further. ‘For as long as our marriage lasts, it will be a traditional marriage, one in which we make a child.’
‘We can use insemination.’ Elena knew she sounded desperate but she didn’t care. How could she sleep with him? He might be a walking pack of gorgeous testosterone but she hated him.
He laughed. For once it sounded genuine. ‘No. We will make a baby in the traditional way. The world will believe our marriage is for real. Given the history between our families, our marriage will generate media scrutiny like nothing you will have ever experienced. Our staff will be besieged and offered money which would tempt even the saintliest person. We sleep together and that’s the end of the matter.’
Elena squeezed her eyes closed and wished herself away from this nightmare she had fallen into.
The contract had been as concise as Gabriele had promised but seeing the terms written so bluntly made her wish there had been some superfluous words to take the edge off.
Divorce proceedings shall be initiated by Party 2, Elena Ricci, only when conception has been achieved and subject to that Party 1, Gabriele Mantegna, shall initiate divorce proceedings without any encumbrances.
There were even long clauses regarding the custody of their mythical child, clauses that, while splitting custody evenly, gave Gabriele all rights with regards to education and ‘moral upbringing’ whatever that meant. He’d included her demands but had also stipulated his stance that her family must not be allowed any contact with their child or else all custody rights would be revoked and he would become sole guardian.
That he would use an innocent child as a pawn in his game of vengeance made her blood fire with fury. What kind of despicable monster would do such a thing?
Yet a different kind of heat suffused her as she imagined sharing a bed with him.
She’d never shared a bed with anyone in her life. To think of sharing one with a man as overtly masculine as Gabriele, of being burrowed under the same sheets...
‘The evidence against my father. I want it destroyed now, not when we divorce.’
He shook his head. ‘If I destroy it now there will be nothing to stop you from backing out of our deal.’
‘Isn’t my word good enough?’
‘You’re a Ricci. Your word is as useful as a chocolate teapot.’
A choked laugh razed her throat and she coughed.
One day she would learn not to laugh at inappropriate moments. Unfortunately it wasn’t