Modern Romance Collection: March 2018 Books 1 - 4. Cathy Williams
Читать онлайн книгу.
vows. They opted for dangerous sports rather than infidelity. You know, the kind of activities which make your insurance premiums shoot up. Sky-diving, heli-skiing, free-diving—you name it, they did it. When my father crashed the speedboat it was profoundly shocking but, on some level, I realised I’d been waiting for something like that to happen for a long time.’
Nicole held her breath, unwilling to say anything which might shatter the fragile atmosphere. She wondered why he’d never told her any of this before. Because they’d never had that kind of relationship. They’d been about to split up when she’d discovered she was pregnant—and after that, everything had been about the baby. Even after their marriage they’d never confided in one another because their compartmentalised lives had never seemed to overlap. It was only now, when their relationship was almost over, that Rocco seemed prepared to reveal something of the real man behind the successful mask he presented to the world. Too little, too late, she thought—but that didn’t stop Nicole’s heart from going out to him.
‘Oh, Rocco,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
His voice was dismissive. ‘I don’t want your pity.’
‘It isn’t pity. It’s compassion.’
‘Whatever you call it, I don’t want it. It all happened a long time ago and I think we’ve done this subject to death, don’t you?’ He stifled a yawn and glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better order a car to pick us up.’
Nicole registered the dismissive note in his voice and realised what he was trying to do. He was deliberately changing the subject. Telling her in no uncertain terms to keep her pity and her comfort to herself, but Nicole wasn’t done. Not yet. She licked her lips. ‘Just one more question.’
This time he made no attempt to hide his impatience. ‘This is getting tedious, Nicole.’
‘I need to know something else, Rocco, and this may be the last chance I get to ask it. Was salvaging your personal reputation the real reason you brought me out here?’
In the muted grey light of the upmarket room, his sapphire eyes looked very startling. ‘I could probably swing the deal without you by my side,’ he said slowly. ‘Let’s just say your presence was a precautionary measure.’
‘And that’s all?’
His eyes met hers. ‘Originally.’
‘And then?’
He shrugged. ‘Once you got out here I realised there was something unfinished between us.’
Her heart pounded. ‘You mean sex?’
There was a pause before he nodded. ‘Se. That’s exactly what I mean. It has been a long time since I’ve been intimate with a woman.’ He met the question in her eyes. ‘Not since the last time I had sex with you, if you’re interested.’
‘I’m not,’ she said breathlessly, and wondered if he could read the lie in her voice.
‘It seemed a pity to deny something we both wanted,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘You were always the best lover I’d ever had and I wanted to know if you were as good as I remembered.’ He gave an odd kind of laugh. ‘And you are. But that’s all it was—lust, fired by curiosity.’
‘You certainly don’t pull your punches, do you, Rocco?’
‘Don’t ask questions if you can’t deal with the answers,’ he said as she got out of bed and turned her back on him.
But as he watched her getting dressed, Rocco was aware of a sudden feeling of frustration. He’d thought sex would mean closure—a satisfying finale to their doomed marriage. Yet somehow it hadn’t worked out like that. It had ended up being about more than the physical. It had given her the courage to ask him stuff and her questions had made him open up. Made him tell her things. Feel things. Things he didn’t want to feel. His mouth hardened as he reached down the side of the bed for his phone, closing his eyes to blot out the sight of Nicole pulling a pair of white panties up over her smooth, pale thighs.
Nicole hooked her bra in place, trying very hard to stop her hands from trembling and trying to ignore the fact that Rocco was speaking in rapid French on his phone and acting as if she wasn’t even there. She felt like some kind of hooker he’d brought to an anonymous hotel room, and even the revelation that there had been no other woman since their split wasn’t enough to calm her ruffled senses. She had been a fool. No two ways about it. She had been there for the taking and he had taken her. His unfinished business, as he had described it.
But for her?
For her it felt as if he’d picked her apart and left all the ends unravelled, so that she was left aching and wanting more. Pulling on her white sundress, she tried to smooth out some of the creases. More of him. Why hadn’t she realised that physical intimacy would take her to a place where it wasn’t safe to go? All that hard work she’d done on herself to try and forget him was all for nothing because right now she felt as vulnerable around Rocco as she’d ever been.
And she still had to endure some wretched cocktail party on his fancy yacht.
Nicole’s cheeks were burning as she walked through the lobby in her crumpled white sundress, aware of the doorman’s faint and knowing smile. And as she stepped out onto the sun-drenched pavement she realised that Rocco still hadn’t kissed her.
SMALL WAVES SLAPPED rhythmically against the side of the craft and, on the shoreline, distant lights glittered like scattered diamonds. Standing on the deck of his luxury yacht, Rocco Barberi surveyed the guests who were drinking champagne and chattering, wondering why he felt like a spectator at his own party. Fresh oysters and tiny blinis heaped with caviar were doing the rounds, and below deck one of the dealers from the famous nearby casino was demonstrating card tricks to accompanying squeals of disbelief. The party had the indefinable buzz of being a success—and Rocco had just been presented with the succulent cherry which would sit on top of the cake.
A short while ago, Marcel Dupois had taken him aside to say they were satisfied with his offer for the company, and saw no reason for any further delay. Rocco sensed that a deal could be concluded as early as next week and he should have been toasting his own success and looking hungrily to the future, just as he always did.
So why was he feeling a distinct lack of enthusiasm about putting together a new deal?
Why the hell was his temper feeling so damned frayed?
He knew why. The evidence was right there before his eyes. Nicole, wearing a close-fitting scarlet dress—a colour he’d never seen her in before—which apparently she’d made herself, just as she’d made the white sundress he’d torn from her body earlier that day. A Nicole who once again had everyone eating out of her hand with a sunny display which was in marked contrast to her distinctly cool mood once they’d left their hotel room.
Had she been angry with him for being so frank with her this afternoon? Her chilly attitude towards him had seemed to suggest as much. As soon as they’d arrived back at his house she had excused herself, saying she needed to get ready—and during the drive here she’d spent the whole time playing with her mobile phone, and acting as if he weren’t there.
Yet the moment they’d set foot on his yacht she had blossomed into the vivacious beauty who was drawing the eye of everyone at the party. Heads turned as she walked by and he found himself wondering if people could detect her natural sensuality, as if what they’d been doing straight after lunch was manifesting itself in her glowing appearance. His fingers tightened around the rail, because now he was bitterly regretting having told her things. Things about his parents. About not knowing about love. Things she didn’t need to know.
Annelise Dupois was tapping him on the arm. ‘Oh, but she is so charmant,’ she said, her gaze following the direction of his to where Nicole was standing, her mahogany curls illuminated