Читать книгу Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 104

FOR a moment, Tina was stunned into immobility. But only for a moment.

Though her brain told her to resist his kiss, she wound her fists into his shirt instead and arched her body into his. He threaded one hand in her hair and tilted her head back, his other hand sliding down to cup her bottom.

Excitement shot through her in a chain reaction of sparks and sizzle and longing so sharp it made her moan.

She thought that she’d remembered what kissing him was like, but she hadn’t remembered even a tenth of it. He consumed her, his tongue sliding against hers, his mouth demanding everything she could give.

Had it been like this in Venice? Yes—and no. Yes, he’d kissed her with this kind of passion—but he hadn’t kissed her without restraint. Now there was no restraint. He was a sexual animal, pushed to the edge of control, and she welcomed his fierceness.

His kiss turned her inside out, and she only wanted more.

His hand slid beneath her cover-up—beneath her bikini—and she gasped. He cupped her bare bottom, squeezed, pulling her harder against him until she could feel his erection straining against her abdomen.

Liquid need melted into her core. She wanted him, wanted to feel his body inside hers again. She wanted that perfect storm of passion and heat, the tactile pleasure of touching him everywhere.

She’d never felt more beautiful, more alive and wonderful, than she had when they’d made love the last time. She desperately wanted that feeling again even if it was bad for her. Even if she’d wake up afterward, feeling hungover and hating herself for giving in.

She. Did. Not. Care.

Tina yanked his shirt from his trousers, desperate to feel his bare skin beneath her palms, but a sudden noise outside the door startled her and brought her crashing back to reality.

There were people out there. And dresses. Dresses that had made her so angry she’d come in here to confront him about his lack of respect for what she might want.

But before she could summon the energy to push him away, he stepped back abruptly. He looked wild, his eyes gleaming, his hair mussed where she’d threaded her fingers into it. Not only that, but his body was still aroused, still ready for her. She could see the outline of an impressive erection straining against the fabric of his khakis.

A part of her wanted to close the distance between them, unzip him and wrap her hand around that steely velvet part of him.

But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t that bold. And besides, she’d come in here for a different reason altogether. A reason she’d forgotten the instant he’d touched her.

“That is why we are marrying,” he said, his voice lashing into her with its coolness as he tucked in his shirt again. “Not because this is a fantasy, or a love affair, or any other reason that suits your romantic sensibilities. We are marrying because we have passion, cara. And because, as you so helpfully pointed out to me last night, there were consequences to that passion.”

He turned and walked back to his desk, raking a hand through his hair as he went. “Now go and choose a dress. Or send them all away. But don’t come in here crying to me because you believe you’ve been cheated out of your little girl fantasy.”

Tina sucked in a fortifying breath. She felt like a fool, and it wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. “It’s not my fantasy,” she told him angrily. It wasn’t entirely true, since she and Lucia had often dreamed of their wedding day when they were teenagers, but she was quickly adjusting her expectations of what her adult life was going to bring her.

He looked thunderous. “Maledizione! Then why did you barge into my meeting as if someone had stolen your puppy?”

Chastened, Tina felt her anger crumple under the weight of embarrassment. She’d wanted to be taken seriously, and yet she couldn’t manage not to storm into a business meeting because she’d been focused on her own hurt feelings. No wonder her brother didn’t think she could handle the pressure of working for him.

“You didn’t ask me what I wanted. You simply assumed,” she told him. She took a halting step toward him, clasped her fist over her heart, which beat hard. She wanted him to understand. Needed him to understand.

“I’m a person, Nico. An individual with wants and needs of my own. I don’t need to be told what to do. I want to be asked what I want.”

He picked up a pen and tossed it down again. Then he sat at the desk and pushed both hands through his hair, resting his head in his palms. The move stunned her. “What do you want, Tina? What will make you happy?”

Her throat ached at that single gesture of defeat. Now she felt petty. How did he do that? How did he move her from blazing anger to embarrassment and then guilt in the space of a few seconds?

She realized that he must have gone to a lot of trouble to bring the gowns here. After all, they’d left Italy quickly and arrived in Gibraltar with no preparation.

He’d done something miraculous, something he’d not had to do but that he’d probably thought she might want. Tina’s throat ached. Outside this room, a seamstress waited with several top designer gowns. All she had to do was choose one, and the woman would fit it to her body in the space of a few hours.

It was all too real, too fast. She swallowed hard. She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t ready for any of this—and neither was he. They were like two people turned loose in a vast forest without a compass or a map. They were stumbling, fumbling and getting more and more lost.

And hurting each other in the process.

She knew what she wanted, what she wished she could do. It was impossible, but she said it anyway.

“I’d like to go back to that night in Venice and make a different choice,” she whispered. For both their sakes.

He looked up, his eyes sharp, hard. “Clearly, that isn’t going to happen. I suggest you find a way to be happy now.”

If only she could.

Tina chose a gown. In the end, she’d been unable to send the seamstress or the dresses away. The one she picked was a gorgeous creation, a strapless gown that hugged her torso and then fell in a lush fall of voluminous fabric from her hips. The dress was unadorned, which was part of the reason it had appealed to her. The beauty of it was its simplicity.

She chose to wear her hair up, though she left it curly, and tucked in a few sprigs of tiny white daisies. The wedding was to take place in the hotel, so there was no need to worry about piling herself and the fabric into a car.

No, all she had to do was go downstairs at the appointed time and arrive at the small chapel the hotel had set up for the purpose. She’d chosen to walk down the aisle by herself, since Renzo was not here to give her away. She refused to allow one of Nico’s security detail to do it though he had suggested it. When she’d declined, he’d shrugged.

Now she gathered the small bouquet of flowers the hotel had provided her while the woman who’d helped her dress sniffled.

“You look so lovely, miss,” she said. “He will be so proud when he sees you.”

Tina managed a smile. She didn’t think Nico would be anything other than relieved to get this over with, but she didn’t say so. “Thank you, Lisbeth.”

Lisbeth dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “It’s so romantic, isn’t it? Your man flying all those gowns in to surprise you. I could have melted on the spot.”

Tina’s fingers shook as she twisted a curl that had fallen over her brow. Her stomach dived into the floor. He’d flown the gowns in special, and she’d reacted so furiously over it. She felt childish and hollow inside as she remembered him with his head in his hands.

It made her remember the younger him, oddly enough. He’d been different then. More human. She could picture him at their kitchen table, laughing with Renzo and her mother while she sat very quietly and tried not to blush or stammer or let her adoration of him show whenever she looked at him.

He was a harder man now. He wasn’t vulnerable in the least, and yet he’d shown that single moment of emotional vulnerability. As if the weight of the things pressing down on him had, for a moment, been too much to bear.

She’d wanted to go to him and put her arms around him. She’d wanted to ask him to share his burdens with her, but she had known he would not. Now she was ashamed of herself. She’d been so focused on her own feelings that she’d failed to consider his.

He’d insisted they marry for the baby, but it couldn’t be what he’d planned to do with his life. A family was such a life-changing decision; to have it forced upon you was not what anyone would wish for. It wasn’t just about her feelings. It was about his, as well.

Tina left the suite and took the elevator down to the main level, Lisbeth making the trip with her in order to guide her to the right place. Nico was waiting for her outside the chapel. Tina nearly stumbled to a halt, but managed to keep walking anyway. It was just a superstition that it was bad luck for him to see her before the wedding—though how could it get any worse than a wedding neither of them truly wanted?

He was dark and forbidding in his tuxedo as he stood near the entrance. He looked so serious that her heart notched up. His gaze raked her, those stormy eyes smoldering with heat when he met hers again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“There is one last thing we must do before we wed,” he told her. He led her into a small adjoining room with a desk and chairs. The two men she’d seen with him this morning were there. With a jolt, she recognized them for what they were.

Lawyers.

If the serious expressions on their faces didn’t give it away, then the briefcases and neat pile of papers would have. Nico handed her a pen as one of the lawyers pushed the papers toward her, which were conveniently flipped back for her signature.

And she’d actually felt a glimmering of sympathy for him earlier? Tina turned to look at him, anger kindling in her belly.

“Certain things must be spelled out before we marry, Tina,” he said before she could speak.

“I am aware of that,” she said tightly as she settled into a chair and jerked the papers from beneath the lawyer’s fingers. A prenuptial agreement wasn’t unusual or even unexpected. But there was something about the cold-blooded efficiency with which he’d orchestrated this entire marriage thus far that had her on edge.

Yes, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to get the gowns. And she’d actually felt badly that she’d been mad over what she’d considered to be his high-handedness—but now she was angry again. Angry because he’d waited until the last moment, when she was dressed and ready for the ceremony, to spring this on her.

No doubt because he expected her to sign without question. Because he thought she was empty-headed and in need of someone to tell her what to do. Maybe he expected her to simply do as she was told, which made him no better than Renzo in that respect.

She glanced up at him, the agreement in her hands, and hoped she looked coolly controlled. “You may want to sit down,” she said. “This might take a while.”

His lips twitched. She wasn’t certain if it was annoyance or humor that caused it. Regardless, it only made her more determined.

“It is a fair agreement,” he said. “You get quite a generous settlement should we divorce, and maintenance for life.”

Tina flipped to the pages where the financial portion was spelled out. “Very generous,” she said after she’d scanned the numbers. “And yet you’ve made a mistake.” She tapped the pen against the page.

One of the lawyers cleared his throat, and Tina sliced her gaze in his direction. The look she gave him must have been quelling because he subsided without speaking.

“I believe that Pietro wanted to say there is no mistake,” Nico said. She thought he sounded vaguely amused, but she was too irritated to be sure.

“Well, there is. You are forgetting that this sum—” she tapped the pen on the page again “—must be adjusted for inflation. A divorce in a year is quite a different animal than a divorce in twenty.”

“So it is,” Nico replied.

“You’ve also failed to take into account any money I may bring into the marriage.”

“I don’t want Renzo’s money.” His voice was harder this time.

Tina fixed him with an even stare. “I’m not talking about Renzo’s money. I’m talking about mine.”

One eyebrow lifted. “I wasn’t aware you had any.”

“I do, in fact,” she told him evenly. “I’ve made investments of my own.”

“I’m not interested in your petty investments,” he snapped, and anger seared into her. Petty investments, indeed. She wasn’t about to tell him what she’d accumulated, unless it became a point in the contract. Her wealth came nowhere close to his, or Renzo’s, but she’d earned it herself through the strength of her skills—and she wasn’t going to give him control over it.

“Great. Then you won’t mind adding a clause that states that fact.” How typically arrogant of him to assume that she brought nothing to the marriage other than what Renzo had given her.

Nico’s eyes burned hot as he took the pen from her and bent over the papers. He crossed out the figure that was written there and substantially increased it. And then he flipped to the end and added a clause about any money she brought into the marriage.

The first lawyer took the page and read it, then handed it back with a nod.

“Satisfied?” Nico asked as he shoved the document toward her again.

“I’ll let you know once I’ve read the whole thing.”

It took over twenty minutes, but she finished reading and attached her signature in bold strokes. She’d worked hard on that signature, ever since Frau Decker had told her she wrote like a mouse that expected to be eaten by the cat at any minute.

“Grazie, cara,” Nico said, taking her hand in his and helping her from the chair. A frisson of excitement rolled through her at his slight touch. How very annoying in light of what had just happened.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, as if he knew how she reacted to him, and pressed his lips lightly to her skin. A tingle shot down her spine. “Now, let us get married.”

Tina forced a smile. “Yes, let’s.”

She might be a mouse, and Nico might be the big cat waiting to pounce on her—but she fully intended to choke him on the way down.

They returned to Italy as soon as the ceremony was over. Nico thought about staying in Gibraltar for the night, but he had urgent business to attend to and no time for dallying.

He could hardly credit that he was a married man now. It wasn’t something he’d expected to do anytime soon, if ever. Not even to preserve the title within his direct line. It would have gone to a cousin, so it would not have been lost to the family, and that would have been good enough for him.

But now he was married, and to the most unlikely woman of all. Tina sat across from him as the jet winged its way back to Italy. She was still in her gown because he’d insisted on leaving immediately. He’d expected her to change on the plane, but she had not made a move to do so. She simply sat and read her eReader, as if flying in a wedding gown was the most ordinary thing imaginable.

She looked, he had to admit, incredible. Her riot of hair was contained in an elegant loose twist, though several strands had come free to frame her face, with its pert nose and long lashes that made her eyes look as if they were closed when they were merely downcast and concentrating on her book.

Her shoulders were bare, and her breasts rose into lush, golden mounds that threatened to spill over the stiff bodice. He remembered kissing her this afternoon, when she’d burst into the office in that ridiculously small bikini, and his body grew hard.

It had taken everything he’d had not to untie her bikini bottoms and thrust into her right there up against the door. He’d been about to do just that when the noise had reminded him they were not truly alone.

Nico shifted in his seat, unable to concentrate on the spreadsheets before him. He closed the computer with a snap, and Tina glanced up. Need jolted through him as their eyes clashed and held. He could feel the tension in the air, the electric snap of sexual promise that flowed between them like water gushing over a fall.

It would be so good when he stripped her naked again. So, so good.

“Why did you not change into something more comfortable?” he asked her.

She shrugged a pretty shoulder. “You can be forgiven for not knowing it, I suppose, but wedding gowns require a bit of help to get into and out of.”

He didn’t think his body could get any harder. Apparently, he was wrong.

“I’ll help,” he said. Growled, really.

Her violet eyes were wide. And blazing, he realized. As if she, too, were doing everything she could to not think about sex and failing miserably.

“I’m not sure you wouldn’t tear the fabric,” she murmured.

“I might,” he said, his blood beating hot and fierce in his veins. Urging him to take her.

“I’d rather you didn’t. If we have a daughter, I might like to give this dress to her someday.”

A fierce wave of possession swept him then. Why did the prospect of a child cause his gut to clench and his heart to throb?

“And if I promised to be careful?”

Her tongue darted over her pink lower lip; in response, the pain in his groin shifted to an excruciating level.

“I might have to accept your offer, since there is no other way to get out of the dress.”

Dear God, he wanted her right now. He wanted to take her hand and lead her to the plane’s bedroom and have his wicked way with her.

But they’d been airborne for an hour already and he knew they weren’t far from landing. Besides, he wanted far more than a quick tumble from her. He wanted to explore her thoroughly. He wanted to strip her slowly and build her excitement until she begged him to possess her. And that would take time. Time he did not have right now.

There was no choice but to control this need raging inside him like a hurricane.

“I will take you up on that, Tina, but not until we are safely home again.”

She dipped her head, but not before he thought she looked somewhat disappointed. The knowledge she wanted him, too, sent a slice of raw lust burrowing deep into his gut. When he’d taken her to bed in Venice, he’d thought she would be like other women. And she had been, until the moment when he’d realized he couldn’t quite forget the sexy virgin siren he’d bedded that night.

What was it about her? He’d been asking himself that since the morning after their encounter in Venice.

If he’d known who she was, he wouldn’t have touched her, regardless that doing so would anger Renzo. He might be bad, but he wasn’t that bad. Or, he was that bad, but he wouldn’t have been able to do it when he remembered her as a shy teenager, hiding behind her hair and gazing at him with puppy dog eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking.

She’d been sweet, shy and so very innocent. Her adoration had amused him at the time, though he’d been careful not to let her know that he knew how she felt.

She didn’t gaze at him that way any longer, and he found he missed it in a perverse sort of way. She’d worshipped him once, and now she did not. Now she looked cool and almost indifferent at times. He was certain, however, that she was not.

“What are you reading so intensely?” he asked, determined to change the subject in an effort to get himself under control.

She looked down at the eReader as if she’d forgotten it existed. What she said next was not even close to what he’d expected her to say. “Oh, just a journal article on rational option pricing and derivative investment instruments.”

Nico blinked as he dredged up memories of university. “You’re reading about financial engineering?”

He should have realized there was more inside that lovely head than he’d assumed, considering the way she’d gone after the financial arrangements in the prenup. She’d been a tiger. He’d thought she was just very savvy, but now he realized it was something entirely different.

It turned him on in ways he hadn’t imagined. And it made him wonder about those investments she’d mentioned. Not because he thought she’d made a fortune, but because he was suddenly curious.

She looked fierce. “And why is that so hard to believe? Not that you’ve ever asked, but I have a degree in finance. With honors, I might add.”

No, he hadn’t asked. Why hadn’t he asked? Because he’d thought her expertise was in shopping and looking pretty, that’s why. It was the sort of thing he was accustomed to from the women in his life. Not that he didn’t have seriously smart women working for him, but he’d never actually dated any of them.

“That’s impressive,” he told her sincerely. “I’m surprised you aren’t working for your brother with that kind of résumé.”

She looked angry. “Yes, well, Renzo has certain opinions about what I should be doing. And working for him was not it.”

“Then he is a fool.”

Her eyes were suddenly sharp. “Really? Does that mean you’d consider allowing your wife to work in the finance department of Gavretti Manufacturing?”

He flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his tuxedo. “Perhaps. One day.” He had no intention of letting her anywhere near his financial department. She was a D’Angeli, and he didn’t kid himself that her loyalties had suddenly switched when she’d said her vows.

Still, if he’d been Renzo, he would have used her expertise. He could say that honestly. He always used the best tool for the job.

“I suppose I can’t ask for a better answer,” she said. Then she laughed, the sound so light and beautiful that it pierced him in unexpected ways. “I bet you thought I’d tell you I was reading a romance novel, or perhaps a tome that everyone claims to have read but really haven’t.”

He couldn’t help but smile in return. She was infectious when she laughed. “Such as?”

“Oh, Ulysses maybe. Or Moby-Dick. Something giant and meaty and excruciating in the extreme.”

Nico put a hand over his heart in mock horror. “I happen to like Ulysses.”

The corners of her mouth trembled as she worked to keep a straight face. “Then I am sorry for disparaging it. I’m sure it’s a fine piece of literature.”

“You aren’t sorry,” he said, enjoying the way her face lit up with mischief.

She gave up the pretense and laughed again. “No, not really.”

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ve never actually read Ulysses. I was just teasing you.”

She shook her head. “That’s very bad of you.”

He took her hand in his, his thumb ghosting over her palm. He could feel the tremor that ran through her body. An answering thrill cascaded within him. Soon, he would take her. He had to.

“I like being bad,” he murmured as he nibbled her pretty fingers. “I excel at it, in fact.”

Her only answer was another shiver.