Читать книгу Mistress To a Latin Lover - Кэтти Уильямс, Jane Porter, Cathy Williams - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

CASS was dangerously close to tears but she wouldn’t give in to them, wouldn’t give in to him. He’d made their lives a living hell by playing her…using her…letting her hope, dream…

“Wrong!” she choked, hands knotted, fingers fisted. “You know what you wanted to know. You believed what you wanted to believe. But one thing is truth, the other is fantasy, and I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not the girl I was.” She threw her head back, her face flushed, her skin so hot she thought it would peel off. “And I’m not playing nice anymore.”

“Obviously not. If he can convince you to play along with his little charade—”

“It’s not a charade.”

“Well, bella, I’d be willing to bet you one hundred thousand dollars there’s no wedding, and that if I called the churches in Padua, there’s nothing on the books, and if I pressed you harder, you’d tell me there’s no ring, no engagement, nothing of substance here.” He stared into her face, his body close, too close, heat and power emanating from him in waves. “Care to make that bet?”

For a moment she couldn’t answer, the air bottled in her lungs and all she could do was remember the way he’d taken her against the wall, taken advantage of her body, her senses, the way he played her then even as he did now.

Maximos did know her. He knew her too well. “No,” she whispered.

“No,” he echoed, a half smile shaping his lips. “I didn’t think so.”

He abruptly rose and she scooted back on the bed, watching him take several steps back. His jaw jutted, his anger was palpable. “So how much is Sobato paying you?”

“He’s not paying me anything!”

“So what then was your price? Because you must have been damn expensive. Did he offer cash? Stocks? Ownership in the company?”

“You make me sound like a prostitute!”

“Close enough in my mind. First you’re my mistress and now you’re his.”

“I’m not his mistress.” She jumped from the bed, marched on him. “I’m not his mistress. He’s paid me nothing, offered me nothing. He knew I wanted to see you, knew I needed to see you—”

“Why?”

She was angry, so angry she could hardly see straight. Her hands clenched, her chest rose and fell. “Because I thought I still cared about you. I thought there was something between us—” she broke off, shook her head, livid “—obviously I was wrong.”

“If you wanted to talk to me, you could have called me.”

“You wouldn’t have talked.” Her eyes felt hot with tears. “You never talk on the phone. You hardly say anything even when we’re together. You communicate with sex—”

“Maximos?” A young woman stood hesitantly in the doorway. Dark hair, medium height, she was very slender, almost ethereal in her pale pink slip dress, the delicate straps of the dress highlighting her perfect shoulders tanned a honey-bronze and the hint of high full breasts molded by the delicate pink fabric. “I’ve been sent to find you.”

Maximos glanced at his watch. “I’m late,” he said with a sigh.

“You are,” she agreed, smiling a little, less nervous than she’d been moments ago. “And your mother is already in the car.”

Maximos understood. He headed toward the door, and approaching the young woman, he kissed her on both cheeks. “My mother’s fretting.”

The woman’s expression was mischievous. “She is your mother after all.”

Cass’s tummy flipped at the playful, and yet intimate, exchange. They were close, Cass realized, and it crossed her mind that they might just be more than friends…

Cass looked away as Maximos dropped a kiss on the woman’s forehead. “Tell Mother I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” she answered, before whispering something in his ear that made him laugh and then disappearing again down the hall.

But Maximos’s laugher died as he turned to face Cass. For a long moment he stared at her, his dark brows heavy, his gaze speculative. “I hope you know what you’re doing, carissima.”

His dark gaze held hers and for one second she let herself get lost in his dark eyes, in the stillness that set him apart, in the silence where he didn’t share what he thought, or wanted. At least not with her. “I hope so, too,” she answered.

A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes. “Be careful that Sobato doesn’t hurt you,” Maximos added after a moment.

“He can’t.” She struggled to smile. “My heart’s already broken.”

“Since when?”

“February.” When you left me. But she didn’t have to add the last part. He knew. She saw the realization register in his eyes and then he’d shuttered the emotion and his expression was blank again.

“I’ll see you at the dinner,” he said, before walking out.

And God, he was good at that, she thought, awash in pain, alive with feeling. No one was as good as Maximos at walking out.

For several minutes after Maximos left, Cass stood at the mirror in the ensuite bath and tried to finish getting ready for the party but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do her hair or apply makeup.

Hair and makeup seemed so pointless. No matter how much she dressed up the outside, she’d still feel the same on the inside. And on the inside she felt old, and tired, and very sad.

Losing Maximos in February had been awful, but the miscarriage had been the final blow, the one she couldn’t seem to recover from.

And looking at her face bare of makeup she could see her age in her face, see the small creases near her eyes, the two faint grooves near her mouth. She was thirty. Single. And very much alone.

People at work called her invincible. They believed she was unemotional, unsentimental, married to her job. And maybe once upon a time she had been that tough career woman. But losing Maximos and the baby had changed all that. For the first time in twentysomething years Cass wanted something that wasn’t tied to work, achievement or material success.

She wanted to feel loved. She longed to be part of something bigger than herself, something warmer and stronger.

She craved a family.

With a self-conscious gesture, Cass touched her hair, the strands still a natural amber-gold, a color close to the shade of her eyes. In the early days of her advertising career, she’d learned to play up her rich coloring by wearing black—in leather, satin, silk—or exotic animal prints like faux leopard spots and tiger stripes. She’d always worn incredibly high heels, her boots and shoes dangerous, toes pointed, aggressively sexual. She’d liked keeping people at arm’s length, had enjoyed keeping others guessing.

Now looking at her bare face and loose wavy hair she knew she’d changed. Permanently changed. She’d finally understood—internalized—that success was a cold bedfellow, that achievement meant nothing if she wasn’t happy, and she’d never be happy if she couldn’t love and be loved in return.

Her mouth lifted in a wry, dry smile. Maybe her broken heart had actually done her some good.

Cass combed her hair, pinning it up in a sophisticated twist at the back of her head, applied her usual makeup and fastened delicate diamond drop earrings to her earlobes before slipping her feet into pale satin heels and heading downstairs.

The house was virtually empty but the butler appeared in the hall and indicated that Emilio was already outside in the car waiting.

Emilio was indeed in the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel.

She saw his face as she approached, his gray eyes narrowing, his expression critical. “What’s wrong?” she asked, opening the passenger door.

“I don’t like it,” he said flatly, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as he looked her up and down.

His petulant tone irritated her. “Don’t like what?”

He gestured to her dress, and then her face and hair. “Any of it. You look…too smart, too together. It’s not right. Not the image I’m looking for.”

“That’s too bad,” she said calmly, barely able to keep her irritation from showing. This man was telling her about image? Image is what she did for a living, image paid her bills. But beyond the issue of expertise, no one told her how to dress, or how to behave. Not Maximos. And certainly not Emilio Sobato. “You can change if you want to. I’m certainly not. I like this dress. I like the way I look—”

“And so does Maximos.” Emilio’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I heard him compliment you. When I was in the bathroom. And it’s obvious you’re dressed to please him.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out the truth—that Maximos knew the truth about her and Emilio’s charade. She pictured Emilio’s outrage and for a split second she enjoyed the idea of popping his horrible little bubble, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Not before the Guiliano reception—it was Adriana’s special night after all. For another, she didn’t want to be alone with Emilio once he did know.

He would be angry. And outraged. And God knew what he’d do then.

“I brought this dress because I like it,” she answered coolly, shrugging off his criticism, “and I’m not changing. So can we just go, please?”

But Emilio wasn’t starting the car. Instead he climbed out the driver’s side and walked around the sports car. “We have an agreement,” he said softly, his tone almost menacing. “This weekend you’re with me.”

Cass didn’t like his tone, or the way he attempted to intimidate her. She put her finger against his chest and firmly pushed him back. “Don’t crowd me, Emilio, and don’t attempt to threaten me. I know why I came here this weekend. But I don’t know why you did. Do you?”

“I love weddings.”

“Especially ones where you’re not wanted.”

He smiled. “Call me cruel, but I like to watch people suffer.”

“You mean, Maximos suffer.”

“Yes. I get a great deal of pleasure from watching my good friend Max Guiliano suffer.” He leaned past her, reached into the car and pulled out a white shopping bag and thrust it at her. “Now please go and change so I can continue enjoying myself this weekend.”

Cass opened the tiny glossy shopping bag, pushed aside the lavender tissue paper and stared at a puddle of white. “What is this? Lingerie?”

“No. It’s a dress.”

“This isn’t a dress.” She lifted the fabric and the puddle of white became a long sheer lace and chiffon gown. “This is a slip. Something one wears under a dress, not instead of a dress.”

“Whatever. The point is, I want you to wear it.”

“No.”

“You made a deal with me—”

“I might as well have made a deal with the devil.” She shook her head, feeling the gold diamond earrings swing from her earlobes. “Because this isn’t what I agreed to do. I said I’d pretend to be your fiancée, I even agreed to a phony wedding in Padua, but I’m not going to humiliate Maximos, his sister and the entire Guiliano family by showing up at Adriana’s rehearsal dinner in a slip.”

“You will.” Emilio chucked her under the chin. “Because I know something you don’t want Maximos to know.”

“I’ve no secrets.”

“Are you sure?” Emilio took the paper bag and shoved it at her middle and leaned close to her, very close. He dropped his voice, cocked his head and mouthed in her ear, “I know about the baby, Cass.”

Cass stiffened, froze. Everything within her froze. Her eyes, her mouth, her heart, her brain…

“I know all about it,” Emilio continued. “I know what you did—”

“You know nothing!”

“Temper, temper,” he taunted. “But unfortunately for you, I do know. I know you terminated the pregnancy. And trust me, if Maximos discovers what you did to his child…he’ll never forgive you.”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t move. It was impossible. How did he know about the baby? How could he know?

And what did he know?

She’d told no one. No one knew. She hadn’t even taken time off of work when she’d been morning sick. Hadn’t even missed work the day after she’d checked out of the hospital.

“Are you blackmailing me?” she asked, voice unnaturally low. She hadn’t terminated her pregnancy. It’d been a horrible miscarriage and yes, there had been procedures done afterward, but everything done had been necessary. She’d been hemorrhaging so badly…not that any of that was Emilio’s business. It was nothing to do with him. It was her secret shame.

“Yes, actually, I am.” He smiled. “You’re going to finish this weekend, finish what we started—”

“He knows why you’re here, Emilio. He knows you’re interested in his new design—”

“Fine, he can’t prove anything. And he’ll still hate seeing us together. He’ll hate it every time you touch me. He’ll be sick each time you turn your adoring eyes on me, insane with jealousy every time I get a fondle, or sneak a kiss. And you better make it believable or I’ll tell him everything.”

Cass took her courage, her last bit of strength and wrapped it around her like a much needed cloak. She’d been hurt by Maximos, gravely hurt. Emilio could do nothing to her. “Then tell him. I’m not scared.”

He chuckled. “Good girl. You keep pretending to be tough, and I’ll pretend I’m a sensitive guy.” His laugh faded and his face hardened. “But it’s just a shame, you know, about the pregnancy, because the one thing Maximos has always wanted was to be a father. He’s longed for a child.” His gaze met hers and held. “Especially a daughter.” Emilio hesitated. “In fact, you’d find this is quite a sensitive subject with him. Explosive, even.”

There was more to this than Emilio was telling her and Cass wanted to know the facts…the truth…but she doubted she’d get the truth from Emilio. Anything he said had to be twisted. Just the way he twisted the facts about her miscarriage. “How did you find out?”

“I was at the hospital that night you checked yourself in. The woman I was dating happened to be your doctor.” He looked at her, his expression speculative. “I have a copy of your medical records. It says plain as can be—D & C.”

She felt the ground shift beneath her. Cass reached out, touched the car door to steady herself. “Go to hell.”

“That’s all it says, Cass. Nothing else. Maximos will think you ordered the D & C.”

She ground her teeth together. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, well, you don’t know Maximos very well if you think he’ll find that an acceptable excuse.” Emilio pushed the dress toward her again. “Now go change because there’s fashionably late, and then there’s just very late and I prefer to be the former, not the latter.”

Back in her bedroom, Cass woodenly unzipped her turquoise designer gown, slowly stepping out of the soft fabric and laying it flat on the bed.

Even more slowly she unhooked her delicate lace bra and with trembling hands drew the sheer white gown toward her.

Even if Emilio was dating her doctor, how could he get a copy of her records? That was illegal. Patient records were confidential.

But Emilio doesn’t play by the rules, does he?

No, she answered herself, and now her secret was out. She had been pregnant. And she’d suffered a horrible miscarriage—the pain had been unbelievable and even that awful pain had been nothing compared to the heartbreak. She’d wanted the baby. Wanted the baby desperately.

It didn’t matter anymore, did it?

Wearily Cass pulled the slip dress over her head, down on her shoulders, smoothing the sheer fabric over her hips.

Stepping into the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror.

It was the most indecent thing she’d ever seen. Nearly completely sheer in the front, the slip dress left nothing to the imagination. You could see everything. Her breasts, the nipples, the dark rosy aureoles. Her belly button. The shadow of her sex.

Cass drew a slow shallow breath. What was she doing? Why was she here, playing this game? It had seemed so simple in Rome when Emilio had first invited her.

She’d accompanied Emilio to Sicily to show Maximos she didn’t need him anymore, or want him any longer, and then she’d return to Rome and get on with her career and her life.

Fighting a wave of icy panic, Cass plucked at the plunging neckline of her white lace slip dress. She couldn’t attend a young woman’s rehearsal dinner wearing a sheer white lace dress with her breasts and thighs exposed.

Cass knew she had flaws and faults—many, many—but she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t humiliate another woman—much less Maximos’s sister—and she couldn’t humiliate herself.

But what about the baby?

Cass leaned against the counter’s edge and covered her mouth, trying not to gag.

But there wasn’t a baby, not anymore, and nothing Emilio could say or do would bring the baby back…

Numbly, resolutely, Cass changed out of the white lace dress and put her turquoise gown back on. She struggled to get the zipper back up before smoothing loose tendrils of hair back into the elegant twist, tucking a few new pins into the twist to secure it better.

Cass was partway down the hall when Emilio appeared at the head of the stairs.

It was hard to read his expression in the shadowy hall but his tone betrayed his fury. “You didn’t change.”

“It didn’t fit,” she said calmly, reaching for the banister but before she could start to descend the staircase Emilio grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her back.

“I don’t appreciate you wasting my time.”

“Take your hands off me.”

He wrapped his fingers tighter around her biceps. “Change. Now.”

“I can’t.” But she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic and she knew it. “The dress didn’t fit. I’ll send it home with you so you can return it in Rome.”

For a moment he said nothing. He didn’t move. He just studied her in the dim light of the hall.

Then swiftly he took a step toward her, reached for the front of her turquoise gown and jerked violently on the fabric, ripping the designer gown wide-open.

“Oh dear, it looks like this gown doesn’t fit, either.” He made a sympathetic clucking sound before turning away. “Put on the dress I gave you or I shall go straight to the reception and announce to everyone that you weren’t just Maximos’s mistress—but the mother of his late child.”

Cass swayed on her feet, her right hand clutching the torn gown to her breast. “I didn’t come here to ruin the wedding—”

“But you did want to humiliate him—”

“No.” Her voice quavered. “No, I don’t want to humiliate him, I’d never want to humiliate him. I love him. I’ve always loved him.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Emilio turned away, headed for the stairs but paused briefly on the top step. “Hurry. You’ve five minutes before I leave for the restaurant, and don’t think I won’t spill the beans. I’d like nothing better than to spoil sweet Adriana’s special night with really bad news. And trust me, Cass, this would be really bad news.”

Cass put the dress on and walked out of the room without even looking in the mirror. She didn’t need to look in the mirror. She knew exactly what she’d see and it made her sick.

Outside, Emilio was gunning the engine. He said nothing as Cass slid into the passenger seat but in the glow of the dashboard light she saw the satisfied curl of his upper lip.

The rehearsal dinner was being held at a restaurant near the cathedral and Emilio found parking on a narrow street not far from the restaurant. Just before Emilio pocketed the car keys he reached over, tugged on Cass’s French twist, pulling the pins out until her heavy honey-brown hair fell to her bare shoulders.

But he wasn’t finished yet. With the tip of his finger he smudged her lipstick up over the bow of her upper lip, below her lower lip, and then with his thumb he smeared her eyeliner beneath her eyes. “Better,” he said, wiping his hands off. “Nice and slutty. Just the way I like my women.”

Despite her flaming cheeks, Cass steeled herself, clamping down on her emotions, refusing to let herself think or feel as she walked next to Emilio. She hated him. That’s all she knew. She hated him and somehow she had to get through this evening, survive the shame of this evening until she could speak to Maximos and try to explain.

And what would she say?

She was sorry? She hadn’t meant to embarrass him? She hadn’t meant to ruin Adriana’s wedding?

Her throat squeezed closed, and she stepped carefully over the rough curb stones in her dangerously high heels, paused in the restaurant doorway and straightened her shoulders. Just do this. Just get through this. And then go home as soon as you return to the palazzo.

The wedding party was already at the restaurant and Cass spotted Maximos almost immediately. He wasn’t alone, either. He was standing with the young woman who’d been sent to find him earlier, the beautiful brunette in the pale pink dress, and his arm rested lightly around her waist.

Cass halted inside the door, her legs turning to lead.

Maximos was with her. She was his date.

Cass blinked, feeling thick, stupid. She didn’t know why she was so shocked. Of course Maximos had a new woman. There was no reason for him not to. He was a man, a man in his prime, and he was physical. Sensual. Sexual.

Cass felt Emilio’s hand in the small of her back, urging her forward but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Of course he had a new woman, she silently repeated, but what stunned Cass, what hurt her so much, was the face that his new lover wasn’t kept in the background, wasn’t a woman he saw late at night or only on the weekends. This new woman wasn’t a mistress…but a partner.

“Sophia,” Emilio said, his voice in Cass’s ear. “That’s Sophia d’Santo. Maximos’s longtime companion.”

Longtime companion? Cass couldn’t look away from Maximos and pretty Sophia. Had Maximos possibly been seeing another woman when he was seeing her? She suspected Emilio was lying, just as he lied about everything else and yet it didn’t take much to throw Cass, not when she was already feeling so vulnerable…so ridiculously insecure.

“How long?” she asked faintly, stomach churning.

“Three years. Four. Maybe longer.”

Cass glanced up, saw that Emilio was serious. But again, that could be Emilio acting. And he seemed to have a genuine talent for drama and theatrics. “You know her?”

“I knew her sister better.”

“Her sister?”

“Lorna.” Emilio shot Cass a sly glance. “You should ask Max about Lorna sometime. It’s not often a man gets both sisters.”

“Gets?”

“Possesses.” Emilio shrugged. “But then Maximos is rich, and powerful, and connected. No wonder Sophia still throws herself at Maximos even though he treated her older sister shamefully.”

Cass glanced at pretty Sophia but saw nothing in the girl’s manner, or behavior, to indicate that Sophia was anything but sophisticated, and refined. “Is Lorna…the other sister…here?”

Emilio hesitated, then shook his head. “No.” His hand slid from her waist and he took her elbow instead. “Let’s get something to drink.”

Emilio steered her through the throng toward one of the restaurant staff passing out champagne to guests. “I can’t wait to see his face when he sees us,” he added, dropping Cass’s elbow to take two champagne flutes from one of the passing waiters. “His expression will be priceless.” Emilio handed her a glass before raising his own. “To revenge.”

He took a large swallow from his glass before noting her cold expression. “Come on, smile. This is fun.”

She turned her head away, sickened. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pull this off. “Emilio—”

“No.”

“I can’t do—”

“Too late. We made a deal.” His voice dropped, his hand returning to her arm. “There’s no backing out now. Remember?”

She felt the lump grow in her throat. “I don’t want to hurt him—”

“But I do. Badly.” He reached for her chin, and leaned toward her as if to kiss her but she turned her head away and his kiss landed on her cheek. “Bad form, cara,” he whispered.

“I never agreed to physical intimacy,” she answered, forcing her lips up in a ghoulish smile as another couple passed close by, both blatantly staring at the front of her gown and Cass suddenly remembered what she was wearing.

God. What a disaster. All of it. Meeting Maximos, falling so madly in love, losing him, losing the baby, losing her mind…

Emilio dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “We’re drawing attention,” he whispered, nodding to the room at large. “I can pretty much guarantee that Max will be here to greet us very soon.”

Cass followed Emilio’s gaze and saw the way people were looking at them. Men and women alike were giving them disgusted looks and it was obvious that the elegant men and women gathered in the salon silently, strenuously objected to Emilio’s presence, their objection a tangible thing. Whatever feud existed between Maximos and Emilio extended to the rest of the Guiliano family.

“And here he comes,” Emilio murmured, stepping back so Maximos could get a clear view of Cassandra in her see-through gown. “He looks fit to be tied, doesn’t he?” he added, twirling a long strand of Cass’s hair around two fingers. “You should see his face every time I touch you.”

“You’re sick,” she choked, trembling on the inside, unable to look away from Maximos’s face. His jaw was thick, his dark eyes glittering with barely concealed rage.

Emilio smiled. “I know.”