Mistress Arrangements. Helen Bianchin
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assured herself as she chose the opposite side of Ann-Marie’s bed, conscious that she was the focus of two pair of eyes—one pair loving and direct, the other musing and faintly speculative.
Forget he’s there, a tiny voice prompted as she picked up the book and began to read. Who do you think you’re kidding? another derided.
Somehow Carly managed to inject her voice with its customary warmth and enthusiasm, and she had almost finished when Ann-Marie’s eyes fluttered down.
Minutes later Stefano rose quietly to his feet and waited at the door for Carly to precede him from the room.
‘Does she usually wake in the night?’ he queried as they neared the head of the stairs, and Carly shook her head.
‘Very rarely.’ She was a nervous wreck, she had a headache, and all she wanted to do was have a long leisurely shower, then slip into bed. She said as much, adding, ‘I’ll drop Ann-Marie at school in the morning, then go into the office for a few hours.’
‘Clive Mathorpe isn’t expecting you,’ Stefano drawled, and she felt a frisson of alarm at his long hard glance. ‘I’ve already enlightened him that his highly regarded Carly Taylor is Carly Taylor Alessi.’
Anger surged to the surface at his high-handedness. ‘How dare you?’ she vented in softly voiced fury. ‘I am quite capable of telling him myself!’
‘As my wife, there’s no necessity for you to work. Your first priority lies with Ann-Marie.’ The velvet smoothness in his voice should have been sufficient warning, but she was too stubborn to take any heed.
‘I agree,’ she conceded, determined to win points against him. ‘However, as she’ll be at school from eight forty-five until two-thirty, I don’t see why I shouldn’t spend those hours delegating work to whoever will take my place over the next few weeks.’
‘I’ll allow you tomorrow,’ Stefano agreed hardly. ‘But that’s all.’
‘Don’t begin dictating what I can and can’t do!’ Carly said fiercely. She felt defensive, and very, very angry. ‘And don’t you dare imply that I’m an irresponsible mother! What sort of father will you be?’ she demanded. ‘It isn’t nearly enough to provide a child with a beautiful home and numerous possessions. The novelty soon wears off when you can’t be present at the school fête, or attend the end-of-year play.’ Her eyes flashed with fiery topaz as her anger deepened. ‘What happens next week, the week after that, and all the long months ahead?’ she queried fiercely. ‘You’ll be too busy jetting off to God knows where, cementing yet another multi-million-dollar deal. When you are home, you’ll probably leave in the morning before she wakes, and return long after she’s given up any hope of catching a glimpse of you. How am I going to explain that your liaison with fatherhood will be conducted by remote control?’
His eyes were dark and unfathomable, and she was aware of a degree of anger apparent. ‘Why are you so sure it will be?’
‘Because you lead such a high-profile existence,’ she flung in cautiously. ‘It can’t be any other way, damn you!’
He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, and it was all she could do to hold his gaze. Yet she wouldn’t subvert her own beliefs in deference to a man whose credo was different from her own.
‘Tell me, are you staging a fight as a matter of principle, or merely as an attempt to vent some of your rage?’
‘Both!’
‘With any clear thought to the consequences?’ Stefano pursued, his eyes never leaving hers for a second.
‘Don’t you dare threaten me!’
One dark eyebrow rose in cynical query. ‘If you imagine I’ll take any invective you choose to throw in my direction without retaliation, you’re mistaken,’ he warned silkily.
Carly felt as if she was on a rollercoaster leading all the way down to hell. ‘I’m damned if I’ll play happy families at a flick of your fingers!’
‘I doubt you’ll do or say anything to upset Ann-Marie.’
He was right. She wouldn’t. Yet she desperately wanted to hit out at him for invading her life and turning it upside-down.
‘Do you enjoy the power it gives you to use my daughter as an excuse to blackmail me?’
‘Are you making an allegation?’ Stefano countered in a voice that would have quelled an adversary.
For a few fateful seconds they seemed locked in silent battle, and she felt as if she was shattering into a thousand pieces. ‘It’s the truth!’
He stood regarding her in silence, his eyes darkly inscrutable, yet there was an air of leashed anger apparent, a sense of control that was almost frightening.
‘Quit while you’re ahead, Carly.’
She felt the need to be free of him, and preferably alone. For a few hours at least. ‘I’m going to take a shower and watch television for a while.’
One eyebrow rose fractionally. ‘A desire for solitude?’
‘I’m off duty,’ she declared, uncaring of his reaction.
‘Careful with your claws, my little cat,’ Stefano warned softly. ‘Or I may choose to unsheathe my own.’
There was nothing she could add, so she didn’t even try. Instead, she turned and walked towards their suite, and once inside she carefully closed the door.
He didn’t follow, and she moved into the en suite and shed her clothes, then took a long shower, and, towelled dry, she pulled on a thin cotton shift and emerged into the bedroom, to stand hesitantly, unsure which of the two beds she should occupy.
Dammit, she swore softly. With her luck, she’d choose the wrong one, and then Stefano would be cynically amused by her mistake.
There was only one solution, and she caught up a towelling robe and slid it on, then walked through to the sitting-room, activated the television, and sank into a comfortable chair.
If necessary, she determined vengefully, she’d sleep here, rather than slip into the wrong bed!
Sunday evening television offered the choice of three movies, an intellectual book review, or a play spoken entirely in Hungarian. A karate-kickboxer epic wasn’t her preferred viewing, nor was a terminator blockbuster, and she wasn’t in the mood for a chilling thriller. After switching channels several times, she simply selected one for the sake of it and allowed her attention to wander.
At some stage she must have dozed, for she was aware of a strange sense of weightlessness, a desire to sink more comfortably into arms that seemed terribly familiar.
A small sigh escaped her lips, and she burrowed her face into the curve of a hard, muscular shoulder, then lifted her hands to encircle a male neck.
It felt so good, so right, and she murmured her appreciation. Her lips touched against warm skin, moving involuntarily as they savoured a texture and scent her subconscious recognised—not only recognised, but delighted in the discovery.
Except that she wanted more, and the tip of her tongue ventured out in a tentative exploratory tasting, edging up a deeply pulsing cord in search of a mouth she instinctively knew could bestow pleasure.
Then the barriers between unconsciousness and awareness began to disperse, bringing a horrifying knowledge that, although the arms that held her belonged to the right man, it was the wrong time, the wrong room, and her dream-like state owed nothing to the reality!
For a moment her eyes retained a warm luminescence, a musing witchery, then they clouded with pain before being hidden by two thickly lashed veils as she struggled to be free of him.
‘Put me down!’
‘I was about to,’ Stefano drawled as he placed her between fragrantly clean sheets, and her lashes