Читать книгу Modern Romance February Books 1-4 - Линн Грэхем, Maisey Yates - Страница 21

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVERYTHING HAD GONE smoothly during their escape from Isolo D’Oro, and it continued to go smoothly upon their reentry into Aceena. Alex would have been surprised, but things tended to go smoothly for him, so he saw no reason this should be different. Except for the fact that everything about it felt different in a million small ways he could not quite quantify.

Well, there was one thing that he could name. Gabriella. He ignored that thought as they walked into the hall at the D’Oro estate.

He had the painting under his arm, the rest of their bags being handled by the staff. Gabriella was walking along beside him, wearing a pair of plain pants and a button-up blouse, her very large glasses returned to their usual position. And somehow, even with all of that, he saw her no differently than he had last night. She was fascinating, beautiful, irresistible. But here he was resisting. Overrated, in his opinion.

“We must bring this to my grandmother as quickly as possible,” Gabriella was saying, the animated tone of her voice never failing to stir something inside of him.

She cared about so many things. Dusty books and history and the people around her. It made him ache. Made him wish he could still feel like that. Feel in ways he hadn’t since he was eleven years old.

They were directed by the staff to the morning room, where her grandmother was taking her tea.

“Grandmother,” Gabriella said, the word sounding more like a prayer than anything else. As though Lucia were Gabriella’s salvation, her link back to the real world.

He still didn’t feel linked to the real world. The shipping company was back in New York, along with a great many of his real-world concerns. Somehow, over the past week, his life had started to revolve around a painting, and giving compliments to the woman that stood before him.

“Is that it?” Lucia asked, gesturing to the painting that Alex held, facing away from her.

He nodded slowly.

“May I?” she asked, her voice suddenly hushed.

He handed the painting to her, careful not to reveal too much of it. He had seen it, but he felt the need to allow her to experience this at her own pace. In somewhat of a private fashion.

He watched the older woman’s face, watched as she placed her fingertips over the painting, her dark eyes filling with tears. “I can see,” she said, her voice trembling, “I can see how much he loved me. It is there. Still.”

“Who?” Gabriella asked.

“Bartolo. His name was Bartolo. An artist. And I... I did not think there was any way I could sacrifice my position for love. But I’m old now, Gabriella. And I look at this and I see just how deep his feelings were. And then... Then we were thrown out of Isolo D’Oro, anyway. I asked myself every day what the sacrifice meant. I married a man who was suitable. I rejected the one who was not. For what? For a kingdom that crumbled. Seeing it again... Understanding... His love was more than I deserved. He did not deserve one so faithless as myself.”

Gabriella’s hands were folded in her lap and she was wringing them as though the queen’s words were causing her great distress. “Grandmother, of course you did what you had to do. You did what you felt was right.”

She sighed slowly, sadly. “It is all any of us can do, I’m afraid. But when your best isn’t good enough it galls particularly with the sharp clarity of hindsight.”

“I hate to cause you any further pain, Your Highness,” Alex said. “But—”

“But your grandfather wants this painting returned to his possession,” Lucia said, her tone grave.

“Yes. There are few things in his life that he prizes beyond money. Beyond anything. This painting is one of them. And though I can’t tell you why, though it must seem strange as you are the subject of the painting, I can only tell you that it is an old man’s greatest wish to have this again.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and Alex felt shamed by the emotional display for some reason. Shamed by how jaded he was, by how little credibility he gave to love and emotion when he saw such depth of it before him.

“Of course he can have it,” Lucia said, her words shocking Alex down to the core.

“I will pay whatever you ask for it. He’s prepared to compensate you handsomely.”

She placed her hand over the painting again. “I don’t want money. I want him to have it.”

Alex met her gaze and nodded slowly. “He will.”

Gabriella looked over at him, her expression filled with concern. “He isn’t going to make a scandal with it?”

Alex shook his head. “No. My grandfather has no interest in scandal. He has no need for money.”

Gabriella didn’t ask if he was telling the truth. Something about that warmed his chest in a way that he wasn’t certain he deserved.

“You must stay with us tonight, Alex,” Lucia said.

His heart slammed against his breastbone. Denial was on the tip of his tongue. He shouldn’t stay. He should go. But he was in no position to deny the older woman anything. “If you wish.”

“And I do have a condition on giving you the painting.”

Everything inside of him stilled. “Do you?”

The older woman nodded. “Gabriella shall go with you. She will help deliver the painting. Acting as an ambassador for our family.”

“If you wish,” he said again.

He had been desperate to escape Gabriella. Her tempting mouth, her soft touch. Nothing good could come of the attraction between them. Ever. Acting on it—more than they already had—was simply not an option. He would leave her untouched.

But in order for him to honor such a vow, he would need to get a good deal of distance between them.

This was not conducive to that goal.

He had honorable intentions, but he was a flesh and blood man. His spirit was willing but his flesh was very, very weak where she was concerned.

Still, he could not refuse.

“Of course,” he said.

“Excellent,” the queen said, “I will have some of the staff show you to your room. In the meantime, I would like to spend some time with my granddaughter.”

* * *

Gabriella looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight, but she was still sitting awake in the library. Her conversation with her grandmother was playing over in her mind.

Lucia had been talking of an old love, of honor and duty perhaps not being everything. Of how her heart still ached, all these years later, when she looked at the painting.

It was so very strange for Gabriella, to hear her pragmatic grandmother speaking of love. They had spoken of it before, but always Lucia had been cautionary, because she had spoken of its loss.

Now, though...she said when she looked at that painting it made her feel so full. It made her realize all the beauty she had carried with her thanks to that ill-fated affair.

Made her realize she could never truly regret loving Bartolo, though she had not spent her life with him.

In addition to that, Gabriella’s nerves were slightly frazzled with the idea of going to New York. More specifically, going with Alex.

It meant an extension on their time on Isolo D’Oro. More time just to be near each other. Circling around the larger things that neither of them were prepared to embrace.

She wanted it. She wanted more time with him. But she wasn’t sure they should have it.

Things were... Well, they weren’t normal between them. She had been looking forward to getting away from him, and now it appeared that wouldn’t be happening. Of course, as much as she had been looking forward to there being some distance between them, she had also dreaded it.

The idea of going back to life as it had been before. As though she had never met him, as though they had never spent a week on Isolo D’Oro together. As though he had never called her beautiful, as though they had never kissed... The very idea of that was painful to her. Sat in her chest heavily like a leaden weight.

Which was probably the most telling sign that she didn’t need to get away from him.

She stretched out on her tuffet, raising her arms, her hands balled into fists. She looked back down at the book she’d been reading and rubbed her eyes. It was a history book that focused on the art and culture of Isolo D’Oro. She had thought to look at it with her newfound real-life take on Isolo D’Oro to see if it might enhance it. Mainly, she had just sat there staring at the pages. Imagining the countryside. Being there, standing in the sunshine with Alex. Sitting in the garden with him, basked in moonlight as he tasted her. Touched her.

The door to the library opened and she startled.

Alex was standing there looking dashing, like a hero from a historical novel come to life.

He was wearing a white shirt open at the collar, the sleeves pushed up past his forearms. His hair looked as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He looked... Well, he looked like temptation personified.

“I thought I might find you here, Gabby,” he said.

Her stomach did a little flip at his use of her nickname. “Yes, I do like the library.”

She took her glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of her nose before putting them back in place.

“You look tired,” he said.

“I am. But I couldn’t sleep. I don’t see how I could with everything that’s happening tomorrow. New York. I’ve never been.”

“I feel much the same.”

“Why? Are you so anxious to get back to your real life?”

“No,” he said, his tone dry. “That isn’t the problem. It isn’t fantasies about work that have me tossing and turning.”

“If it isn’t fantasies of work, then—” Her eyes clashed with his, the meaning of his words suddenly sinking in. “Oh.”

“It would be better if you were not coming with me, Gabriella,” he said, his tone full of warning.

She nodded slowly. “I have no doubt that’s true.”

“Doing what’s right is incredibly tiresome,” he said, walking deeper into the room, moving to sit in the chair across from hers. “And yet, it is the only thing that separates us from our parents, is it not?”

She nodded mutely.

“And I have to separate myself from them,” he continued, his voice rough.

“You have,” she said. “You’re nothing like them at all.”

“I have a half brother,” he said, the words hitting her in a strange way, taking a moment for her to untangle. It seemed like a change of subject, and yet she knew it wasn’t. Not really. “I found out about it when I was eleven years old. My father had an affair, as I told you before.”

“My parents have had many,” she said slowly.

“Affairs were nothing new,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “But a child... My mother was incensed. He was humiliating her. Bringing shame upon her. Causing the world to believe she might not be desirable.”

Gabriella tried to force a smile. “My mother screams a very similar refrain once every few months.”

“This was different,” Alex said. “I heard the altercation. It was Christmas. Snowing. Outside, the house had white lights strung all over it. As though they were trying to tell the world that we were normal. That we were a happy household. But inside... There were no lights. There was no tree. There was no happiness. And out there... My father’s mistress brought her son. He was not much younger than I was. Ten, maybe. She stood out there screaming at my father, their son by her side. Telling him that he had to acknowledge him. My father refused. I...I looked out there and I saw him. And I knew exactly who he was. I told no one. My father drove off in a rage, my mother with him, as they tried to escape the scene. Tried to get away from his mistress. This monster of his own making. That was the night they were in the accident. It was the night they died. And the only people left alive who knew about Nate were his mother, himself and me. I told no one. I kept my half brother a secret.”

“Oh, Alex, what a terrible burden.”

“What a terrible burden I put on him. A child. But I was so angry, Gabby. I blamed him. He was what they were arguing about. And so... I chose comfort over truth. I chose to do what was easy, not what was right. Had I been any sort of man...”

“You weren’t,” she said, her chest tight. “You were a boy.”

He shook his head, lowering it. “Not so much a boy.” He looked younger when he said it. She felt like she could see him, as he’d been then. Young and trying so hard to be brave. To uphold the honor of his family in the only way he knew how.

“Yes,” she said, her throat aching. “You were.”

“He was entitled to that money. To come to the funeral of his father. To be acknowledged. I robbed him of that. Until we needed him. When my grandfather needed a bone marrow transplant I let everyone know about Nate’s existence. He was Giovanni’s only hope, you see. I...I cannot forgive myself for those things, Gabby. I cannot. They reveal that underneath everything I have tried to fashion for myself I am nothing more than my father’s son. A man who uses people. A man who thinks nothing of putting others through hell in order to preserve his own comfort.”

“That isn’t true, Alex.”

He curled his hand into a fist. “Yes, it is. There’s a reason I’m telling you this.”

“What’s the reason?”

“Because I need you to understand. I need you to understand that I’m not a saint. That while I make a habit of practicing restraint, in the end I will only fail. In the end, I will reveal myself to be nothing more than what my blood has dictated I should be.”

“We’re more than blood, Alex, don’t you think?”

“Are we?”

“You said yourself your grandfather took care of you. Your father is his son.”

“In which case I have to ask myself if it was my mother. If some people are destined to drag down those who they love. Just another reason to stay away from me.”

Her heart thundered, and she felt dizzy. He was so convinced he was toxic. And that was why they couldn’t... She wasn’t even entirely sure what they couldn’t. Knew only that he was saying they couldn’t, and she knew whatever it was that she wanted to. “But what about what I want?”

“You don’t know what you want.”

She blinked. “Of course I do. I’m a grown woman, Alessandro. You don’t know what I want more than I do.”

He got out of the chair, dropping to his knees so that he was down in front of her. He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. He looked raw. Desperate. And she had to close her eyes, all of her focus going to that slow, sensual touch. “Gabriella, I have seen so much more of the world than you have. Believe me when I tell you that I know what you should want. What will keep you safe.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“It cannot happen,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he was telling her or himself. “I cannot kiss you again,” he continued. “If I did, I would only sin greater.”

She opened her eyes, looked down at him. At the creases on his forehead, the deep grooves that bracketed his face. Those lines made him all the more devastating. Without them, he would be too beautiful. But those lines—the evidence of years lived—gave him texture. Took him from mere beauty to devastating.

She ached. For him. With need for him. “All sins can be forgiven, can’t they?”

“Not all, Gabby. My life—my childhood—is a testament to that. Some sins cause damage that is irreparable. That wound so deeply they will never heal. Ask my half brother about that. I would tell you to ask my parents, to ask my mother, but she’s dead.”

“But, Alex... If we both want each other...”

“You don’t even know what it means to want, Gabriella.”

Her chest felt tight, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “That isn’t fair, Alex, you don’t get to tell me that I don’t know what desire is when you’re the one who showed it to me. When you’re the one who made absolutely certain that I learned what it was.”

“I have already hurt you.” He shook his head, his tone filled with regret. “I would not like to do it again.”

“Then don’t.” She was on the verge of begging for something she had never imagined wanting with this much ferocity.

“I won’t.”

“Must you be so honorable? Must you choose this moment to be a man of your word? To be sincere?”

He nodded slowly. “If there is any moment where I must choose it, it is this one.”

She slid out of her chair, joining him on the floor. She took his hands in hers, leaning forward, touching her lips slightly to his. “But if you didn’t?” she asked, her mouth brushing his as she spoke the words.

He reached around behind her head, sifting his fingers through her hair and drawing her head back slightly, his dark eyes intent on hers. “If I did not, Gabby,” he said, his special nickname for her sending shivers along her spine. “If I didn’t, then I would lean in and I would kiss you, more deeply than you kissed me just now.”

“What else?” she asked, knowing she would burn for this. Past the point of caring.

“I would run my tongue along the line of your top lip before delving inside. I would taste you. So deep and long neither of us would be able to breathe. We wouldn’t want to breathe.”

She was shaking now, trembling with need. “Alex,” she whispered.

“I would pull your T-shirt up over your head, so that I could see you,” he said, resting his palm on her stomach, his touch scorching the material of her shirt. “So that I could feel how soft your skin is.” He left his hand there, his other still buried deep in her hair. “Then I would remove your bra. Get a good look at those beautiful breasts. They are beautiful. You are beautiful. I have said it many times to you now, but I need you to understand how true it is. It is the deepest truth I know, Gabriella. Your beauty. As real as the night sky.”

Tears filled her eyes and she made no move to wipe them away.

“I would trace your breasts with my tongue,” he continued, “before moving down to kiss your stomach. Then I would strip off your pants, your underwear. For a moment I would just...look at you. I would be afraid to blink for fear that I would miss a moment of that beauty. I would taste you, tease you, touch you, until you were sobbing in my arms.”

Gabriella closed her eyes, going still beneath his touch, focusing all of her attention on the pressure of his hand against her stomach, on the erotic words that were flowing from his mouth and over her like heated oil. “What then?” she asked.

“Oh, my darling, I would send you to the moon and back. I would make you scream with pleasure. Then, and only then, I would enter your body, slowly. I would be as careful with you as possible. But I fear it would not be as careful as I ought to be. Because by then...then I would be desperate for you. Beyond thought. It is important that I make you scream before that, because I will not last long once I’m buried deep within you.”

She let her lips fall open, her head drawn backward. “Yes,” she said, the word a sigh.

“It would be heaven,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “To feel you all around me. You would be so tight, so hot and wet. For me. Only for me, Gabby. It would only be for me.”

“Of course,” she said. “It would only ever be for you, Alex.”

She found herself swaying forward, her heart beating so quickly she thought she might faint.

Suddenly, Alex released his hold on her, standing up and putting as much distance between them as possible in one fluid movement. He was breathing hard, and she could see the press of his arousal against the front of his slacks. Could see that what he said was true. That he wanted her with a ferocity that he could not deny. That he would in fact love nothing more than to do everything he had just said.

And she wanted it. So badly that it echoed inside of her. An empty, aching need that only he could ever fill.

“We cannot, Gabby,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, the word torture.

“Because I have committed so many grave sins already. I have hurt so many people. Gabriella, I will do nothing but hurt you. And it is the last thing on earth I want to do.”

That was why she let him go. That was why she didn’t press. Because of the desperation in his voice. Because of how much he wanted to turn away from this. Because of how difficult it was for him. She would not add to his torture. Not after what she knew about him. Not after what he had told her about his parents, about his brother.

So she did nothing but nod slowly. Did nothing but watch him turn and walk out of the room all the while she sat there, shaking.

She felt cold suddenly. Where before she had only been hot.

She thought back to an earlier conversation they’d had as she sat there on the floor of her library, shivering. She had told him that one was much less likely to get scarred if they stayed in here. She almost laughed. Because she would never forget this. His words, his touch, was branded into her, a scar that would never heal. One that she had acquired—of all places—on the library floor.

It had been her place. The place she had always felt safe. Her refuge.

But it was his now. Irrevocably.

She was afraid it was the same for her.