One Night In…. Оливия Гейтс
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to hear that,’ Alessandro replied with wintry politeness.
‘Are you?’ Her smile curled upwards, as sleek and sly as a cat’s. ‘Who’s your friend?’
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is my wife—Meghan,’ he said coldly. ‘We’re on our honeymoon.’
‘Your wife?’ Emilia let out a peal of incredulous laughter. ‘You’re joking! You? Married?’
‘I assure you it is true, and a most pleasant truth at that.’
Emilia’s gaze raked contemptuously over Meghan. ‘This milky miss? Come on, Alessandro. She could amuse you for a day, a week, not much more. I know you … I know your pleasures.’ Her smile was so intimate, so suggestive, that Meghan gave a little gasp of wounded surprise.
Alessandro’s body was taut, his mouth a thin slash of anger. ‘You are insulting me and my wife.’
Emilia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Her, perhaps,’ she agreed, her voice lowered to a hiss. ‘But you? That would be hard to do.’
Meghan saw the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes before he bit out, ‘I will ask you to leave.’
Her lips tightened, and she turned to Meghan, speaking slowly now for her benefit. ‘Forgive my rudeness. Alessandro and I go a long way back. I’d no idea he’d changed so very much.’ She glanced back at him slyly. ‘If indeed he needed changing.’
‘You must have known he’d taken over Di Agnio Enterprises,’ Meghan pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, though she felt like clawing the other woman’s eyes out. ‘It seems you are not such good friends with my husband as you thought.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Emilia acknowledged with an icy smile. ‘I never would have imagined him latching on to a woman like you.’ She turned to Alessandro, touched her fingers to her lips and boldly pressed them to Alessandro’s mouth. ‘Ciao, bello.’
He stood still, a muscle ticking in his jaw, his eyes both blazing and cold.
Then she left.
Meghan stared down at her virtually untouched souvlaki. The silence stretched between them, thin and taut as a wire, oppressive as a leaden weight.
‘I guess she’s not too happy you’re married,’ she finally managed, trying to keep her voice light and amused and failing miserably.
Alessandro’s eyes and voice were flat, cold. ‘She wouldn’t be. Emilia and I used to be lovers.’
Icy shock drenched her, left her near to trembling. It didn’t surprise her—of course she’d guessed as much—but it still hurt.
And Alessandro’s cold, calculating delivery of such a fact hurt even more.
‘Used to be,’ she finally repeated, lifting her chin. ‘That’s what’s important now.’
Alessandro’s mouth turned up in a mocking smile. ‘How fortunate I am to have such an understanding wife,’ he remarked lightly. ‘And such sensitivity will surely come in useful, considering I’d slept with at least half the women at the cocktail party the other night.’
Meghan’s vision blurred, whether from tears or shock she didn’t know.
‘That doesn’t matter,’ she whispered, though it felt as if it mattered very much.
‘Oh, good,’ Alessandro said musingly. ‘Because it’s probably more like two-thirds.’
‘I know you were a playboy, a womaniser, Alessandro,’ Meghan said through gritted teeth. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I know you’ll be faithful.’
‘Do you?’ he mocked, and she gripped the edge of the table, struggling to hold onto her composure, her calm.
She wanted to break down completely.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she finally asked in a low voice. ‘You’re deliberately trying to provoke me. To hurt me.’
Alessandro leaned forward, his eyes glittering with malicious intent. ‘But gattina,’ he said softly, ‘I’m showing you so you know not to be hurt. This is who I was—who I am. You can’t change me. You can’t save me.’
Right then Meghan didn’t even want to try.
She barely remembered the rest of the meal. She must have eaten and drunk, because their plates were cleared away, her glass refilled. She lived in a shocked daze, wondering why Alessandro hurt her so much, why she let him.
Surely enough was enough?
She couldn’t keep doing this.
It wasn’t worth it.
But I love him.
Meghan had wanted power for herself this time, had married for it, but she’d become its victim instead. Again.
Alessandro’s victim.
The pain of that realisaton sliced her soul in two—was worse than anything she’d known before.
And she didn’t know what to do.
They walked back to their villa in silence, the air wrapping them in a warm, sultry blanket, so different from the shattered atmosphere that lay between them like a thousand splinters of hurt emotion, devastated feeling.
Back in the villa, Meghan walked on wooden legs to the bedroom. She undressed, slipped into her nightgown—another silky confection that made nonsense of what was between them now.
She lay still in bed, her eyes hot and dry.
She was past tears.
It was too late for them, anyway.
Alessandro came in after a little while. He peeled off his clothes and slipped between the cool sheets, his back, an expanse of indifference, towards her.
She wouldn’t let it end this way tonight, Meghan thought.
She wouldn’t be a victim.
She wouldn’t run away.
She would take control. She would demand it.
She reached for him, found herself grabbing his shoulders, pulling him over to her. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him hard, in demand.
A brand.
He didn’t respond. She sensed rather than felt his surprise, and after a moment he rolled away from her.
‘No, Meghan. Not like this.’
His rejection, on top of everything else, was too much.
She’d had enough.
‘Yes, like this.’ She pushed him onto his back, smiling as his eyes widened in surprise. She straddled him, her thighs pressed against his manhood, her own eyes blazing.
She felt the answering stir of his own desire, saw the flicker of admiration in his eyes as she sat above him, naked and bold.
She had him in her thrall, in her power. He was splayed beneath her, waiting, wanting.
Then Meghan smiled sadly.
‘I’m not a whore,’ she said softly. ‘And I won’t use a whore’s tricks to bind you to me. I love you. I know you don’t love me. You can run away from that, you can try to make me run, but you can’t change the truth.’
He looked glorious, his chest bare and smooth and brown, his dark hair rumpled against the white linen pillow. His eyes were dark, fathomless, searching.
Then slowly he reached up, held her face in his hands, and brought her lips down to his.
Surrender.
‘Make love to me, Meghan.’ He smiled against her mouth, his hips rocking hers. ‘Make love to me.’
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