Читать книгу Rumours: The One-Night Heirs - Carol Marinelli - Страница 17

RAUL STEPPED INTO his suite, unexpectedly alone.

Allegra had, of course, rung ahead, and everything had been prepared for Raul to return with a female guest.

The suite was dimly lit, but Raul saw champagne chilling in a bucket. He bypassed it. Throwing his jacket on a chair, he poured a large cognac and downed half in one gulp, then kicked off his socks and shoes, wrenched off his tie and removed his shirt.

In the bathroom Raul rolled his eyes, for the sight that greeted him seemed to mock. Candles had been lit and the deep bath was filled with fragrant water. But Raul would be bypassing that too—perhaps a cold shower might be more fitting.

He soon gave up prowling the penthouse suite dressed for two and lay on the bed. He took another belt of his drink and considered extending his stay for another night in Rome.

Unlike before, when he had actually wanted to flaunt Lydia under Bastiano’s nose, Raul suddenly had a sense of foreboding.

Yes, Lydia might have stood up to her stepfather tonight, but for how long would that last? She was strong—Raul had seen that—but her family clearly saw Lydia as their ticket out of whatever mess they were in. And Bastiano, Raul knew, didn’t care what methods he used to get his own way.

It wasn’t his problem.

Over and over Raul told himself that.

He was angry with Bastiano rather than concerned about Lydia, Raul decided.

Only that didn’t sit quite right.

Tomorrow he would be out of here.

Raul had rescheduled the jet for midday tomorrow. He would soon be back in Venice and this trip would be forgotten.

Raul didn’t even want the hotel now—Sultan Alim’s words had hit home. The Grande Lucia was far too much responsibility. He wanted investments he could manage from a distance. Raul wanted no labour of love.

In any area of his life.

Raul managed to convince himself that he was relieved with tonight’s outcome.

Well, not relieved.

Far from it.

He was aching and hard, and was just sliding down his zipper, when he heard knocking at the door.

Good things, Raul realised as he made his way to the door, did come to those who waited. For just when he had thought the night was over, it would seem it had just begun!

He didn’t bother to turn on the lounge light—just opened the door and Lydia tumbled in.

She had a suitcase beside her, which would usually be enough to perturb him, but there were other concerns right now.

She was shaking while trying to appear calm.

‘Sorry to disturb you…’

Her voice was trembling.

‘What happened?’

‘We had a row,’ Lydia said. ‘A long overdue one. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that now.’

Oh, it wasn’t just that she knew the price for a night in his room—Lydia wanted to go back to feeling happy.

Preferably now, please.

She wanted the oblivion his mouth offered, not to think of the turbulent times ahead.

He was naked from the waist up and her demand was sudden. ‘Where were we?’

And her mouth found his and her kiss was urgent.

He tasted of liquor, and he was obviously aroused when she pressed into him.

Yet for once Raul was the one slowing things down.

His body demanded he kiss her back with fervour, that he take her now, up against the wall, and give her what she craved.

Yet there was more to this, he knew.

‘Lydia…’

He peeled her off him and it was a feat indeed, for between his attempts to halt her he was resisting going back in for a kiss. He was hard and primed, and she was desperate and willing.

An obvious match.

Yet somehow not.

‘Slow down…’ he told her. ‘Angry sex we can do later.’

Raul never thought of ‘later’ with women and was surprised by his own thought process, but his overriding feeling was concern.

‘I’m not angry,’ Lydia said.

She could feel his arms holding her back as he somehow read her exactly and told her how she felt.

‘Oh, baby, you are!’

She was.

Lydia was a ball of fury that he held at arm’s length.

She was trying to go for his zipper. She was actually wild.

‘Lydia?’

He guided her to a chair, and it was like folding wood trying to get her to sit down, but finally he did.

Lydia could hear her own rapid breathing as Raul went over and flicked on a light, and she knew he was right.

She was angry.

He saw her pale face and the red hand mark, and Raul’s own anger coiled his gut tight. But he kept his voice even. ‘What happened?’

‘I told Maurice that I shan’t be his puppet and neither shall I be returning home.’

He came to her and knelt down, and his hand went to her swollen cheek.

‘Did he hit you anywhere else?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m fine. Really I am.’

Raul frowned, because there were no tears—it was suppressed rage that glittered in her eyes.

‘Do you want me to go and sort him out?’

‘I would hate that.’

He rather guessed that she would.

‘Please?’ he said, and saw that she gave a small smile.

‘No.’

He would do so later.

Right now, though, Raul’s concern was Lydia. He stood and looked around. There was a woman in his hotel suite, and for the first time Raul didn’t know what to do with her.

Lydia too looked around, and she was starting to calm.

She saw the champagne and the flowers, and the room that had been prepared for them, and cringed at her own behaviour. She had asked for romance and he had delivered, and then she’d thrust herself on him.

‘Can we pretend the last fifteen minutes never happened?’ Lydia asked.

‘You want me to go back to licking your feet?’

Lydia laughed.

Not a lot, but on a night when laughter should be an impossible task somehow she did.

She felt calmer.

Though she was shaken, and embarrassed at foisting herself upon Raul, now that she had stood up to Maurice she felt clearer in the head than she had in years.

‘Do you want a drink?’

She nodded.

‘What would you like?’

And she could see his amber drink and still taste it on her tongue.

‘The same as you.’

‘So, what happened?’ Raul asked, and she answered as he crossed the suite.

‘A necessary confrontation, and one that’s been a long time coming,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve hated him since the day my mother first brought him home.’

‘How long after your father died?’

‘Eighteen months. Maurice had all these lavish ideas for the castle—decided to use it for weddings.’

‘I hate weddings,’ Raul said, taking the stopper off the bottle and pouring her a drink. ‘Imagine having to deal with one every week.’

‘They’re not every week—unfortunately. Sometimes in the summer…’ Her voice trailed off mid-sentence and Raul knew why. He was minus his shirt, and with his back to her, therefore Lydia must have seen his scar.

She had.

It was the sort of scar that at first glance could stop a conversation.

A jagged fault line on a perfect landscape, for he was muscled and defined, but then she frowned as she focused on the thinner lines.

A not so perfect landscape.

Oh, so badly she wanted to know more about this man.

But Lydia remembered her manners and cleared her throat and resumed talking.

‘In the summer they used to be weekly, but the numbers have been dwindling.’

‘Why?’ Raul asked, and handed her the drink. He was grateful that she had said nothing about the scars. He loathed it when women asked about them, as if one night with him meant access to his past.

And it was always just one night.

Lydia took a sip. In truth it had tasted better on his tongue, but it was warming and pleasant and she focused on that for a moment. But then Raul asked the question again.

‘Why are the numbers dwindling?’

‘Because when people book a luxury venue they expect luxury at every turn, but Maurice cuts corners.’

He had heard that so many times.

In fact Raul had made his fortune from just that. He generally bought hotels on their last legs and turned them into palaces.

The Grande Lucia was a different venture—this hotel was a palace already, and that was why he was no longer considering making the purchase.

‘Maurice is always after the quick fix,’ Lydia said, and then stilled when she heard the buzzing of her phone.

‘It’s him,’ Lydia said.

‘I’ll speak to him for you,’ Raul said, and went to pick it up.

‘Please don’t.’ Her voice was very clear. ‘You would only make things worse.’

‘How?’

‘You won’t be the one dealing with the fallout.’

And, yes, he could deal with Maurice tonight, but who would that really help? Oh, it might make Raul feel better, and Maurice certainly deserved it, but Lydia was right—it wouldn’t actually help things in the long run, given he wouldn’t be around.

‘Turn your phone off,’ Raul suggested, but she shook her head.

‘I can’t—he’ll call my mother and she’ll be worried.’

Raul wasn’t so sure about that. He rather guessed that Lydia’s mother would more likely be annoyed that Lydia hadn’t meekly gone along with their plans.

He watched as her phone rang again, but when she looked at it this time, instead of being angry she screwed her eyes closed.

‘Maurice?’

‘No, it’s my mother.’

‘Ignore it.’

‘I can’t,’ Lydia said. ‘He must have told her I’ve run off.’ Her phone fell silent, but Lydia knew it wouldn’t stay like that for very long. ‘I’ll ring her and tell her I’m safe. I shan’t tell her where I am—just that I’m fine. Can I…?’ She gestured to the double doors and it was clear that Lydia wanted some privacy to make the call.

‘Of course.’

It was a bedroom.

Her first time in a man’s bedroom, and it was so far from the circumstances she had hoped for that it was almost laughable.

It had been an almost perfect night, yet it was ruined now. Lydia sat on the bed and cringed as she recalled her entrance into his suite.

Lydia was very used to hiding her true feelings, yet Raul seemed to bring them bubbling up to the surface.

Right now, though, she needed somehow to snap back to efficient mode—though it was hard when she heard her mother’s accusatory voice.

‘What the hell are you playing at, Lydia?’

‘I’m not playing at anything.’

‘You know damn well how important this trip is!’

A part of Lydia had hoped for her mother to take her side. To agree that Maurice’s behaviour tonight had been preposterous and tell her that of course Lydia didn’t have to agree to anything she didn’t want to do.

It had been foolish to hope.

Instead Lydia sat there as her mother told her how charming Bastiano was, how he’d been nothing but a gentleman to date, and asked how she dared embarrass the family like this.

And then, finally, her mother was honest.

‘It’s time you stepped up…’

‘Bastiano doesn’t even know me,’ Lydia pointed out. ‘We’ve spoken, at best, a couple of times.’

‘Lydia, it’s time to get your head out of the clouds. I’ve done everything I can to keep us from going under. For whatever reason, Bastiano has taken an interest in you…’

Lydia didn’t hear much of the rest.

For whatever reason…

As if it was unfathomable that someone might simply want her for no other reason than they simply did.

It was Lydia who ended the call, and after sitting for a few minutes in silence she looked up when there was a knock at the door.

‘Come in,’ Lydia said, and then gave a wry smile as Raul entered—it was his bedroom, after all.

‘How did it go with your mother?’

‘Not very well,’ Lydia admitted. ‘I’m being overly dramatic, apparently.’

‘Why don’t you have a bath?’

‘A bath!’ A laugh shot out of her pale lips at his odd suggestion.

‘It might relax you. There’s one already run.’

‘I’m guessing I wouldn’t have been bathing alone, had I come up the first time.’

‘Plans change,’ Raul said. ‘Give me your phone and go and wind down.’

‘You won’t answer it?’ Lydia checked.

‘No,’ Raul said.

Her family was persistent.

Raul, though, was stubborn.

The phone continued to buzz, but rather than turn it off Raul went back to lying on the bed, as he had been when Lydia had arrived.

And that was how she found him.

The bath had been soothing. Lydia had lain in the fragrant water, terribly glad of his suggestion to leave her phone.

It had given her a chance to calm down and to regroup.

‘They’ve been calling,’ Raul told her by way of greeting.

‘I thought that they might.’ Lydia sighed. ‘I doubt they’ll give up if Bastiano hasn’t. Apparently Maurice has said he’ll meet him tomorrow and I’m supposed to be there.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘No, of course—but it’s not just about dinner with Bastiano…’

‘Of course it’s not,’ Raul agreed.

‘I think he wants sex.’

‘He wants more than sex, Lydia. He wants to marry you. He thinks you’d make a very nice trophy wife. Bastiano wants to be King of your castle.’

He watched for her reaction and as always she surprised him, because Lydia just gave a shrug.

‘I wouldn’t be the first to marry for money.’

And though the thought appalled her it did not surprise her.

‘I doubt my mother married Maurice for his sparkling personality,’ Lydia said, and Raul gave a small nod that told her he agreed. ‘Would you marry for money?’ Lydia asked.

‘No,’ Raul said, ‘but that’s not from any moral standpoint—I just would never marry.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve generally run out of conversation by the morning. I can’t imagine keeping one going with the same person for the rest of my life.’

He did make her smile.

And he put her at ease.

No, that wasn’t the word, because ease wasn’t what she felt around him.

She felt like herself.

Whoever that was.

Lydia had never really been allowed to find out.

‘You’d have to remember her birthday,’ Lydia said, and sat next to him when he patted the bed.

‘And our anniversary.’ Raul rolled his eyes. ‘And married people become obsessed with what’s for dinner.’

‘They do!’ Lydia agreed.

‘I had a perfectly normal PA—Allegra. Now, every day, her husband rings and they talk about what they are going to have for dinner. I pay her more than enough that she could eat out every night…’

Yes, he made her smile.

‘Do you believe in love?’ Lydia asked.

‘No.’

She actually liked how abruptly he dismissed the very notion.

It was so peaceful in his room, and though common sense told her she should be nervous Lydia wasn’t. It was nice to talk with someone who was so matter-of-fact about something she had wrestled with for so long.

‘Would you marry if it meant you might save your family from going under?’

‘My family is gone.’ Raul shrugged. ‘Anyway, you can’t save anyone from going under. Whatever you try and do.’

The sudden pensive note to his voice had her turning to face him.

‘I wanted my mother to leave my father. I did everything I could to get her to leave, but she wouldn’t. I knew I had to get out. I was working a part-time job in Rome and studying, and I had found a flat for her.’ He looked over at Lydia briefly. ‘Next to the one I told you about. But she wouldn’t leave. She said that she could not afford to, and that aside from that she took her wedding vows seriously.’

‘I would too,’ Lydia told him.

‘Well, my mother said the same—but then she had an affair.’ It was surprisingly easy to tell her, given what Lydia had shared with him. ‘She died in a car accident just after the affair was exposed. I doubt her mind was on the road. After she died I found out that she’d had access to more than enough money to start a new life. I think her lover had found that out too.’

He wanted to tell her that his mother’s lover had been Bastiano, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make, and he did not want to make things worse for her tonight.

‘Lydia, what I’m trying to say is you can’t prevent anyone from going under.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘Even if you marry him, do you really think Bastiano is going to take advice from Maurice? Do you think he will want to keep your mother and her husband in residence?’

He took out all her dark thoughts, the fears that had kept her awake at night, and forced her to examine them.

‘No.’

‘Take it from me—the only person you can ever save is yourself.’

Strong words, but clearly she didn’t take them in, because when her phone buzzed Lydia went to pick it up.

‘Leave it,’ Raul said.

‘I can’t do that,’ Lydia admitted. ‘I might turn it off.’

‘Then they’ll know you’re avoiding them. Just ignore it.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes, you can—because I shan’t let you hear it.’

She had thought Raul meant he would turn the ring down, but instead as the phone started to ring again he reached for her and drew her face towards him.

Nothing, Lydia was sure, could take her mind from her family tonight.

She was wrong.

His kiss was softer than the others he had delivered.

So light, in fact, that as she closed her eyes in anticipation all he gave was a light graze to her lips that had her hungry for more as his hand slid into her hair.

Kiss by soft kiss he took care of every pin, and Lydia found her lips had parted, but still he made her wait for his tongue.

She had tasted him already, and her body was hungry for more.

Yet he was cruel in attack for he gave so little.

He undid the knot of her robe with the same measured pace he had taken in dealing with her hair and then pushed it down over her arms so that she sat naked.

Lydia felt something akin to panic as contact ceased and he ran his gaze down her body. It wasn’t panic, though, she thought. It was far nicer—because as the phone buzzed by the bed she was staring down at him, watching his mouth near her breast, and she would have died rather than answer it.

‘Do you want to get that?’ Raul asked, and she could feel his breath on her breast.

‘No…’ Her voice had gone—it came out like a husk.

‘I can’t hear you,’ he said, and then he delivered his tongue in a motion too light, for she bunched the sheet with her fingers and fought not to grab his head.

‘No,’ she said, and when his mouth paused in delivering its magic, she added, ‘I don’t want to answer.’

‘Good.’

He sucked hard now, and she knew he bruised.

Raul gave one breast the deep attention that her mouth had craved, and she fought not to swear or, worse, to plead.

She should tell him that he was her first, Lydia thought as he guided her hand to his crotch and she felt his thick, hard length through the fabric.

But then her phone buzzed again and the teasing resumed, for he stood.

‘Do you want me to get that?’

‘Turn it off,’ Lydia said.

‘Oh, no.’

He slid down his zipper and the buzz of the phone dimmed in her ears when she saw him naked.

Yes, that would hurt.

Oh, she really should tell him, Lydia thought as she reached out to hold him. But then she closed her eyes at the bliss of energy beneath her fingers and the low moan that came from him as his hand closed around hers.

He moved her slender fingers more roughly than she would have. She opened her eyes at the feel of him.

She could hear their breathing, rapid and shallow, and then his free hand took her head and pushed it down, and she tasted him just a little as her tongue caressed him.

And for Raul, what should have been too slow, the touch of her tongue too light, somehow she owned the night.

The slight choking in her throat closing around him brought him close to release, so that he was grateful for the sudden buzzing and it was Raul who was briefly distracted.

Lydia wasn’t.

She was lost in the taste of him when for the second time that night—but for a very different reason—she felt a tug on her hair and looked up.

Now when she licked her lips it was to savour the taste of him.

And Raul, who did not want this to be over, put her to bed.

On top of it.

Raul was decisive in his positioning of Lydia, and her loose limbs were his to place.

He knelt astride her and put her arms above her head, held them one-handed as the other hand played with the breast he wasn’t sucking.

‘Raul…’ She was about to tell him about her virginal status, but her phone buzzed again and he thought that was her complaint.

‘Shush…’

And then he moved so that he knelt between her legs, and reached to the bedside drawer for a condom, and she lay there watching as he rolled it on.

‘Raul…’ Her voice was breathless, but she should say it now—she was trying to.

‘You talk too much.’

She had said two words and both had been his name. She went to point that out but lost her thought processes as his head went down between her legs and she lay holding her breath and nervously awaiting his intimate touch.

He kissed her exactly as he had the first time.

Raul’s mouth lightly pressed there, and then there was the tease of his tongue. Slowly at first, as Lydia had been slow, for he thought she had been teasing him at the time.

‘Please…’ Lydia said, not sure if she was asking to speak, asking him to slow down or asking for more.

His jaw was rough, his mouth soft and his tongue probing. It was sublime.

His mouth worked on and she started to moan.

His tongue urged her on.

Lydia’s thighs were shaking and she fought to stay silent. And then she gave in, and he moaned in pleasure as she orgasmed. He kissed her and swallowed as she pulsed against his lips.

And then he left them.

She was heated and twitching, breathless and giddy and perfectly done as he moved over her and crushed her tense lips with his moist ones. His thigh moved between her legs and splayed her, and even coming down from a high, with the feel of him nudging and the energy of him, Lydia knew this would hurt.

‘Slowly,’ she said, but her words were muffled, so she turned her head. ‘I’ve never—’

He was about to aim for hard, fast and deep, when he heard those two words that were so unexpected.

‘Slowly,’ she said again.

He could do that.

An unseen smile stretched his lips at the thought of taking her first, practically beneath Bastiano’s nose. And then the thought of taking her first made his ardour grow.

But then, just when bliss appeared on the menu, the stars seemed to collect and become one that shone too bright. And, like a headmaster grabbing an errant student by the shoulder, he suddenly hauled himself back from the edge.

Everything went still.

All the delicious sensations, gathering tight, slowly loosened as his weight came down on her rather than within her.

And then he rolled off and onto his back and lay breathless, unsated, both turned on and angry.

He told her why. ‘I don’t do virgins.’

There was so much she could protest at about that statement.

Do?

And her response was tart, to cover up her disappointment and, yes, her embarrassment that he had brought things to a very shuddering halt.

‘What, only experienced applicants need apply?’

‘Don’t you get it?’ He ripped off the condom and tossed it aside, and ached to finish the job. ‘There’s nothing to apply for, Lydia. I like one-night stands. I like to get up in the morning and have coffee and then go about my day. It’s sex. That’s it. There are no vacant positions waiting to be filled in my life.’

‘I wasn’t expecting anything more.’

‘You say that now.’

And now Raul sulked.

He had heard it so many times before.

Raul didn’t do virgins, and with good reason—because even the most seasoned of his lovers tended to ask for more than he was prepared to give.

‘I mean it,’ Lydia insisted.

‘Do you know what, Lydia? If you’ve waited till you’re twenty-four I’m guessing there’s a reason.’

There was—she’d hardly had men beating down the door.

But a small voice was telling her that Raul, as arrogant as his words were, was actually right—making love would change things for her.

Then again, since she had met Raul everything had already changed.

‘Go to sleep,’ he said.

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes, Lydia, you can.’

His voice was sulky, and she didn’t know what he meant, but as she lay there Lydia started to understand.

She felt a little as if she was floating.

All the events of the night were dancing before her eyes, and she could watch them unfold without feeling—except for one.

‘What happened to your back?’

Her voice came from that place just before she fell asleep. Raul knew that.

Yet he wished she had not asked.

Lydia had not asked about one scar but about his whole back.

He did not want to think about that.

But now he was starting to.