Читать книгу The Chatsfield: Series 2 - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 40
ОглавлениеWITHOUT EVEN GIVING her time to change, Gianni bundled Keelin, veil and all, into a waiting limousine outside the Chatsfield Hotel, accompanied by the inevitable flashes of the paparazzi cameras. They pulled out smoothly into the Rome evening traffic after Gianni had taken his seat in the back.
She had been avoiding him and that simmering rage all afternoon like a coward. Every time she’d looked at him she’d just seen those black eyes and the banked fire in their depths, and could still feel the firmness of his lip between her teeth all over again. And the guilt to have been audacious enough to encourage his mother to invite those people, especially when the meek and mild woman had said nervously, ‘I don’t know, Gianni won’t like it.’
So now she felt doubly guilty. When she was the one who had been marched up the aisle. So why didn’t you just turn and run? asked a snarky inner voice. Keelin ignored it, that feeling of inevitability and how she’d succumbed to it, too vivid for her liking.
She only realised then that she was still, ridiculously, holding on to her bouquet. She said a little redundantly now, ‘I should have thrown it.’
Gianni plucked it out of her hand and pressed a button so that his window slid down. A group of female tourists were standing on a corner reading a map near where the car was stalled at a red light. Gianni shouted out, ‘Signora!’
They looked up and Keelin could see their collective double takes as they took in who was calling to them and she could have rolled her eyes. But then he was calling out, ‘Catch!’ and he lobbed out the bouquet which flew high into the air and then into one of the girl’s outstretched hands. Much to her squealing delight.
Gianni didn’t respond, he just hit the button and the window slid back up again. Keelin’s mouth had opened in shock. He looked at her as the car moved off again, a mocking glint in his eyes. ‘Is it not traditional for the groom to throw it?’
Keelin shut her mouth and then said icily, ‘No, it’s not. But then not a lot about this wedding is traditional.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Gianni growled softly, ‘I have every intention of this marriage becoming very traditional very soon.’
Her breath shortened at the explicit look in Gianni’s eyes. ‘We have to talk about this. You can’t seriously expect that we’re going to just—’
He cut her off. ‘I do seriously expect that this marriage will be a real and enduring one, Keelin, so the sooner you come to terms with that, the better.’
She crossed her arms over her chest and was aware of how ridiculous she must look. Angrily she ripped the veil off her head then, wincing as pins caught in her hair. She shrank back when Gianni hissed his disapproval and put out a hand as if to help.
‘It’s fine. I can do it.’
She continued to pick out pins and said angrily, ‘Since when did someone like you ever want to have a real and enduring marriage?’
Gianni’s anger matched hers. ‘Since it came with a business deal that will make Delucca a brand name all over the world and a wife who I want more than any other woman.’
Keelin was fired up and ready to blast back with a response but her words dissolved on her tongue. A wife who I want more than any other woman.
And just like that she could feel something crumble inside her, give way. Treacherously. She dragged her gaze away from his long enough to notice that they were driving into an airfield where a helicopter was waiting.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, avoiding thinking about what he’d just said and how it made her feel.
Gianni seemed to curb his anger. ‘We’re going to my villa in Umbria. For a week. It’s remote enough to keep you out of mischief and it’s where we can really get to know each other and start our happily married life together.’
The fact that his words held a sarcastic edge made Keelin feel stupid for having lost her focus for a second.
‘Does it have a tower?’ she asked tartly. ‘So you can lock me away and just call this marriage what it is—a prison?’
He tutted and smiled a little. ‘Such a dramatic imagination. Bondage, imprisonment, whatever will you think of next?’
Keelin wanted to launch herself at him across the back of the car and wring his neck but he was opening his door and stepping out of the car before she could do anything. The driver had opened her door and was waiting solicitously for her to get out too.
She eventually did, huffily. Still clutching the veil. Gianni was lifting two small suitcases out of the boot and carrying them over to the helicopter where a pilot was waiting. Keelin followed, reluctantly. ‘What about the rest of my things?’
Gianni threw back carelessly, ‘They’ve been sent on ahead.’
She muttered something under her breath about hoping he’d remembered to pack the hair shirts. When she caught up with him at the helicopter he turned and said dryly, ‘I wouldn’t dream of marking your skin with a hair shirt, Keelin. You’ll dress in nothing but silk and satin, for my delectation.’
She scowled at him, not liking the way she had a sudden urge to see the expression on Gianni’s face if she was to parade before him in some sensual silk concoction.
‘Neanderthal.’
He just smiled but behind it Keelin could see the remnants of his anger. He still hadn’t forgiven her for almost derailing the wedding. Or for engineering the invitation of his father’s henchmen.
He held out a hand and she looked at it warily. Gianni’s smile faded and he said crisply, ‘It’s a long walk back into Rome in a short wedding dress and high heels, Keelin.’
Giving in to the inevitable, she slapped her hand into his and let him help her up and into the aircraft. He buckled her in, big capable hands moving far too close to her belly and breasts with proprietorial ease. As if she was already his. She might be in name, but not in the way it mattered most, deep in her body and soul. And she vowed then that he would never reach that part of her. At least then she’d have rights to sue for divorce on grounds of nonconsummation!
Gianni took the veil out of her hand. ‘I don’t think you need this any more, do you?’
He didn’t wait for an answer, just put it somewhere in the back with the bags. The pilot joined them, climbing into the front, greeting Keelin warmly and not looking remotely fazed to have a petulant-looking bride for a passenger. Gianni shut Keelin’s door and then he swung into the other seat at the front and handed her some headphones. ‘Put these on.’
She took them and smiled faux sweetly. ‘Yes, sir.’
It was only when she saw him communicate with the pilot and flip some switches that she realised that Gianni was co-piloting the helicopter. The rotor blades were whirring now and any grudging admiration she might have felt went south with her belly when the small craft lifted off the ground with a wobbly tilt and then into the dusky sky.
When Keelin had got over her white-knuckle terror of being on her first helicopter ride, she looked down and could see Rome spread out beneath her. Gianni’s voice came into her headphones. ‘Look down to the right, you’ll see the Colosseum.’
Keelin did, and sucked in a breath. It was so beautiful, already illuminated in floodlights for the early evening. Gianni proceeded to point out other landmarks and Keelin was struck dumb by the experience, and also because he was being so solicitous.
He stopped the travelogue when they were clearly leaving Rome behind and she felt absurdly buoyant after the experience. She had to force herself to look away from the back of his dark silky hair and broad shoulders. He’d just been polite, that’s all. But she wouldn’t have expected it of him after the roller coaster of the day.
The problem was, for a small moment Keelin had almost fooled herself into thinking that they were a couple heading off on a romantic honeymoon, for real. And it hadn’t felt all that disturbing.
* * *
By the time they were landing Keelin’s knuckles were white with fear again. It was too dark now to really make out the surroundings. The helicopter touched down with a small bounce, and when the engine was switched off and the blades had stopped turning, the silence was almost deafening.
Gianni was opening her door and Keelin’s mouth went dry. His short hair was tousled and his tie was undone, the top button of his shirt open. He held out a hand and after a moment Keelin let him take hers, feeling those long fingers wrap tight around her.
He said goodbye to the pilot and was leading her over to a jeep parked nearby. After putting bags in the back, he got into the front beside her and she saw that keys had been left in the ignition. Clearly they were on his private estate.
Feeling seriously intimidated she asked, ‘Where are we exactly?’
Gianni was focusing on driving along a rough path. ‘We’re not too far from a town called Montefalco, south of Perugia.’‘Oh.’
They came to a halt outside the entrance of a grand-looking villa. The door opened and light spilled out along with the figure of a petite older woman dressed in black. Gianni got out and greeted her with warm kisses on both cheeks. She was already taking the bags off him and he called something out to her as she went back inside. She laughed in response and it made Keelin’s hackles rise as she could well imagine Gianni had said something about his wife.
She hated not knowing what they’d said and found herself making a vow to learn Italian before she stopped herself—what was she thinking? She wouldn’t be married long enough to need Italian!
Gianni came around to the passenger door and she was out before he could touch her. The old woman was back now, without their bags.
Gianni said, ‘Keelin, meet Lucia Cabreze, who runs the villa.’
Innate good manners made Keelin move forward to accept the hand she was offered and she smiled. No need for this woman to suffer because she hated Gianni.
He explained Lucia’s apologetic expression. ‘She doesn’t speak English but she hopes you’ll be happy here. I’ve assured her you will.’
Keelin smiled back and tried to indicate the same sentiment while shooting Gianni a filthy look.
Then the woman stood back and made a shooing gesture for them to go inside. No doubt so that there could be no further delay in getting down to the business at hand.
Keelin yelped when Gianni dipped and she felt herself being lifted into his arms. ‘What are you doing?’ she gritted, her heart pounding shamefully at this over-the-top masculine gesture.
Gianni, not remotely out of breath as he climbed the steps, said easily, ‘Lucia will expect it, she’s traditional. And don’t you know it’s an ancient Roman custom to carry brides over the threshold because they’re not meant to be happy at leaving their father’s houses? So they had to appear to be all but dragged into their new homes.’
Keelin huffed inelegantly as Gianni climbed an inner set of stairs. ‘Well, this is wrong on both counts, so you could have saved yourself the bother.’
Gianni was striding along a dark corridor now and he said, ‘The other advantage is that it gets me where I want you that bit quicker.’
He finally put her down outside a door and opened it to reveal a vast suite bathed in soft romantic lighting. A huge four-poster bed dressed in lush dark red sheets was the focal point. It was a room for sensual abandon. A room for lovers.
Keelin turned around and came face to face with Gianni’s chest. She looked up and could only see the stark and determined lines of his face. Her gut turned to jelly. He put his hands on her arms and slowly walked her backwards into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with a foot.
Her heart was thumping, blood racing. ‘Gianni, please, we should talk about this.’ She winced inwardly when she recalled her words: I’ve been with, like, tons of guys.
He took his arms off her and moved into the room, saying curtly, ‘Funnily enough, I’m done with talking.’ He pulled off his jacket and threw it down on a chair, a hand reaching up to his cravat.
Keelin gulped.
‘Don’t just stand there, mia moglie, take off your dress.’
When she didn’t move he just said coldly, ‘Now.’ He tore off his cravat and started on the buttons of his shirt to reveal his magnificent chest bit by bit, and panic gripped Keelin in earnest. He was so masculine.
When his shirt was half open he made a sound of frustration and irritation deep in his throat and abandoned undoing more buttons to stride over to Keelin.
Black eyes raked her up and down and he said throatily, ‘Do you know what this dress has done to me all day?’
Keelin shook her head, fascinated by the intensity in his expression. He reached out and traced the lace edging that sat against her collarbone. Her breath hitched and her nipples went stiff against the material. Her hands felt sweaty.
‘This dress has kept me on the very edge of my control. You wore it deliberately to provoke me, didn’t you? Even if you did harbour the somewhat misguided hope that you could actually avoid marrying me.‘Maybe,’ he said now, musingly, ‘I should have tried reverse psychology with you from the start? If I’d sent you this dress to wear, then you might have worn the other one, but you know what? I prefer this, because this dress is all about one thing—the only thing I’m interested in right now.’
Feeling dazed, and mesmerised, conscious of Gianni’s finger moving back and forth seductively under the neck of the dress against her skin, she just said faintly, ‘What’s that?’
He looked at her, black clashing with green.
‘Sex, Keelin. I want to make love to my beautiful wife.’
And with the most gentle yet deliberate of movements he brought his finger down the center of her dress, and the delicate lace ripped apart like butter melting either side of a hot knife until he got to the top of the bodice under the lace, just above her cleavage.
Then his other hand came up and with both hands he tore the lace edging away completely from front and back, so now Keelin stood before him in a strapless sheath of a minidress, with the remains of her sheer lace sleeves still on her arms. She might have appreciated the sartorial edginess of the look if she wasn’t engulfed in shock and heat.
Gianni looked down at her, seeing her breasts barely confined by the bodice. For a moment she had a vision of him ripping that clean apart too. The fact that she wanted him to make love to her was a revelation that she couldn’t really wrap her head around. How had it come to this so quickly? And yet she knew that if she had a choice right now, she wouldn’t walk away. She was burning up inside and only he could assuage that.
She also had a keen sense of just how far she’d pushed him this time. He was clearly not in a gentle mood. And even though a part of her felt excited at his passion, another more sensible part knew she had to tell him the truth.
Her voice was shaky. ‘Gianni, wait, there’s something I should tell you.’
They were way beyond games now. Here was a bristling alpha male demanding his mate, and Keelin knew from the bulge in his trousers that she’d been aware of all day that he was more than ready to take her to bed. And while a part of her thrilled at that and ached for it too, she couldn’t. Not like this. She wasn’t experienced enough for him in this mood.
He bit out, ‘Keelin, so help me, Dio.’
Fear fluttered along Keelin’s nerve endings dousing her desire. ‘The thing is, I haven’t been entirely honest.’
He was silent for a long moment and then he emitted a curt unamused laugh. ‘Honest? Principessa, you wouldn’t know honesty if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.’
Keelin stung at that and she curled in on herself, inwardly. This man hated her. He was only marrying her because she came with a pass to unlimited business growth and potential. And here she was quivering before him like a virgin on their wedding night. Well, that might be because you are a virgin, a voice pointed out.
Gianni wrapped two hands around Keelin’s waist, hauling her into his hard body. His hard, hot body.
‘Bella, I know exactly what you are now. An amoral spoilt little liar who seeks only to get her own way, but I’ve won this round and now it’s time for my prize and I’m going to claim it before I die of frustration.’
Then his mouth was on hers, hot and hard and demanding and so ruthlessly passionate that it scrambled every one of Keelin’s functioning brain cells. Every corner of her body wanted this in spite of what her head was telling her about going slowly.
It was only when she felt his hands come to the zip at the back of the dress that some sanity broke through. She pulled her mouth away and pushed both hands against his chest. Hard. ‘No.’
Gianni looked at her. About to explode. Fingers poised to undress her completely.
‘We need to stop, you need to stop.’ Her mouth felt swollen. She backed away, dislodging his hands, and sucked in a deep quivering breath. ‘The thing is that I’ve never done this before. I’m a virgin...’
Gianni just looked at her. Disbelief was etched onto his face. And then other expressions followed: derision, disdain and disgust. He backed away too.
Humiliation made her skin prickle to know she’d laid herself so bare for his ridicule. ‘Gianni, wait, I—’
He put up a hand. ‘Basta. I don’t want to hear it, Keelin. I’ve had enough of your lies and playacting. Just go to bed. Damn you.’
And then he turned around and walked out, the door closing with incongruous softness behind him. Keelin looked at it in the gloom for a long time before reaction set in and she started to shake. The slivers of lace on the floor mocking her.
Her mind mercifully went to some numb place, induced by shock, fatigue and an overload of emotion. Vaguely aware of what she was doing, she kicked off her shoes and found the zip at the back of the dress, yanking it down. She stepped out of it and went to the bed, and climbed into it, pulling the luxurious covers over her body. And then she weakly shut out all of the voices and recriminations and slept.
* * *
When Keelin woke in the morning it took her long minutes to figure out where she was and why she was in her underwear in the most sumptuously soft bed she’d ever lain in.
Then she opened her eyes and took in the room and it all came flooding back, along with the reality of opulent dark red furnishings and antique furniture.
She came up on her elbows and looked around. The curtains hadn’t been drawn so she pushed back the covers and got out, squinting a little at the daylight outside. A robe was behind the bathroom door, so after splashing some water on her face she pulled it on.
There were French doors and a balcony so she opened the doors and stepped out. The view took her breath away. Undulating green hills as far as the eye could see. For a moment she felt absurdly homesick as it reminded her of Ireland.
And then a low but powerful noise impacted—and she realised that that must have woken her up. And just as she thought that, she saw the helicopter rise up from the back of the property and bank to the left before disappearing off into the horizon, quickly becoming a small black dot. She hadn’t been able to see who was in it but she assumed the pilot was taking it back to Rome.
Something skated over Keelin’s skin to think of Gianni and how angry he’d been last night. And of facing him this morning. Recalling the events of the previous day felt a little dreamlike. Had it really happened?She looked down and saw the enormous diamond of her engagement ring and the slim wedding band.
Oh, yes, it had happened. She’d exchanged vows with the man in front of witnesses. And even now she could recall the strange kind of paralysis that had gripped her.
Knowing she’d have to face him sooner or later, Keelin went back inside and found that her things that had been sent on ahead were hanging up or in drawers. Along with a lot of clothes that looked brand-new. Her blood boiled slightly to think of him instructing someone anonymous to pick things out for her.
After a quick shower she dressed in worn jeans and one of her favourite plaid shirts and thought to herself that if Gianni didn’t like it, then he’d have to get used to it because this was the real her.
But as she found her way downstairs she had the uncanny sensation that Gianni wasn’t here. And until now she hadn’t even realised she’d been so aware of his whereabouts at any given time.
Lucia the housekeeper appeared as Keelin got to the bottom of the stairs looking a little worried. She spoke fast and made some kind of gesture with her hands, as if something was flying away. It was the unmistakable concern mixed with pity in her kind brown eyes that sent the knowledge into Keelin’s gut.
Gianni had been in the helicopter. He’d gone somewhere and left her here. For a second she almost couldn’t breathe. Her belly lurched. Lucia was taking her by the arm, still speaking unintelligible Italian, guiding Keelin to a gorgeous outdoor terrace where a table was set for breakfast.
Lucia fussed around her but Keelin was struggling to compute what that might mean, if Gianni had left. Mechanically she ate what was put in front of her and drank hot strong coffee.
She didn’t like the awful creeping sensation of isolation, of being somehow powerless. She was in a villa in the middle of nowhere—it seemed—with not a word of Italian and no idea why Gianni had left or when he’d be back.
She tried to ask Lucia if he’d left a note but Lucia just shook her head, clearly not understanding. Smiling at Keelin apologetically, she seemed to make some more motions as if to say that Gianni would return.
When she’d bustled off again, Keelin decided to try his office in case he’d left a note there, but there was nothing but blank paper.
She sank down into his chair. Maybe this was it? She’d pushed him so far that he’d just left her here? So why didn’t that evoke some sense of satisfaction or triumph? A kind of hysteria bubbled up but she pushed it back down. But she couldn’t stop the edges of panic from gathering in the wings, ready to pounce and drag her back to her childhood.
Telling herself that he must have left momentarily and that there had to be some explanation, Keelin got up and forced herself to explore the villa. It was only when she returned about an hour later after having seen not another soul that the panic started to grip her in earnest.
Lucia couldn’t be found now. It didn’t even occur to Keelin to try and phone Gianni. He’d given her that card with his numbers when they’d met but she had no idea where it was now. And in any case her mobile phone battery was dead and she couldn’t find her charger.
She was entirely alone in this vast villa somewhere south of Perugia and as the day wore on with no sign of Gianni returning, Keelin wasn’t in Italy any more. She wasn’t twenty-three. She was back in her past, at some indeterminate age, and she knew that there was not one person in the world who cared remotely where she was. Or that she was alone.
And slowly, the walls that she’d so painstakingly built over the years started to crumble, because she’d sworn she’d never allow this to happen again.
* * *
As Gianni drove back to the villa late that night the anger he’d been feeling all day was still there. His eyes were gritty from fatigue, and frustration pounded like a pulse in his blood.
Damn her. His wife, who he should have bedded last night. His wife. He’d almost been tempted to stay in Rome for the night but some very unwelcome sense of guilt had stopped him. Even though he shouldn’t be feeling guilt.
When he thought of Keelin now though, all he could see in his mind’s eye were the lurid images from last night, and how feral he’d felt as he stood in front of her. How badly he’d wanted to just rip that dress apart completely, baring her to his gaze.
And then Keelin had spouted the latest lie from her pretty mouth. A virgin. Ha! Virgins were as extinct as the dodo as far as Gianni was concerned. He’d stopped believing in virgins right about the time that the sixteen-year-old girl he’d been in love with had said to him patronisingly, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. It’s your first time, isn’t it?’
The memory faded...last night he’d felt as if he was climbing an interminable mountain. He’d also felt raw and exposed in his desire for Keelin when she kept pulling back, denying her own desire. A shudder of disgust went through him, to have been reduced to something almost mindless. Again. It had been enough to make him leave, get some space.
He cursed softly as he drove into the forecourt of the villa. No lights shone. Irritation surged, along with a sense of panic at the thought that Keelin might have gone. Disappeared.
A faint sense of unease prickled over his skin. He got out of the jeep and went up the steps, opening the door, flicking on a light. There wasn’t a sound. But somehow Gianni sensed that she was here and something eased inside him, even as that irritation remained.
He took off his jacket and made his way up to the bedroom. It was dark up here too, and for a moment Gianni thought Keelin might be in bed asleep but then he saw a shape by the window.
He flicked on a light and Keelin was illuminated sitting in the window seat, legs drawn up under her chin, hair long and wild around her shoulders. And just like that, lust gripped him with a force that almost made him sway.
But something wasn’t right about the picture. She wasn’t moving. Gianni came further in. Feeling afraid now and not liking it, he rapped out, ‘Keelin?’
Slowly she turned to look at him and he sucked in a breath at how pale she was and how huge her eyes looked. And as he watched, she seemed to come back to life, emotion making those eyes flash and burn like bright jewels.
She got up from the seat and came straight over to him, and lashed out, landing a blow to his chest before he could deflect it. It had enough force to make him take a step back.
‘Don’t you ever, ever, leave me alone like this again. Do you hear me? Never.’
Gianni stared at her. The anger in her voice was palpable. She looked haunted. Not piqued that he’d left her for a day. Haunted.
He said slowly, ‘I would have thought that’s exactly what you wanted since the day we met.’
