Читать книгу The Wedding Charade - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 8

THEY had barely stepped outside the hotel on the Grand Canal when the paparazzi swarmed upon them. A journalist pushed a microphone towards Nic and asked, ‘Signor Sabbatini, the news of your engagement and impending marriage to Ms Sommerville has taken everyone by surprise. You must have been conducting a very secret liaison. Do you have any comment to make about your romance? ‘

Nic smiled charmingly but Jade could tell he was grinding his teeth behind it. ‘Ms Sommerville and I have been family friends for years. We finally decided to become more than friends. We are very much looking forward to our wedding next month. Now, if you’ll allow us to celebrate our engagement in private, please move on.’

One of the older journalists pushed forward a microphone in Jade’s direction before Nic could do anything to block it. ‘Ms Sommerville, you were involved some months ago with Richard McCormack, the husband of one of your best friends. Do you think the news of your engagement to Nic Sabbatini will finally repair your relationship with Julianne McCormack?’

Jade felt the subtle tightening of Nic’s fingers around hers. ‘I have no comment to make on any issue to do with my private life, apart from being very happy about my engagement to Nic. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I am so—’

‘Excuse us.’ Nic took command and led her through the crowd of tourists who had gathered.

‘I thought I told you to leave the questions to me,’ he said in an undertone as they weaved through the knot of people.

‘Everyone will think it strange if I don’t say something,’ Jade argued. ‘This is a momentous occasion, after all.’

He gave her a quelling look before heading for a restaurant on one of the canals.

They were led to a table in a lavishly appointed private room. Crystal chandeliers twinkled from the ceiling, plush velvet covered the chairs and hung from the windows in thick curtains in a rich shade of scarlet. There were Venetian masks on the wall, each one a work of art. The atmosphere was one of intimacy and privacy, and again Jade wondered how many women Nic had entertained here, wining and dining them before taking them back to his penthouse apartment to pleasure them. Strangely, she felt a jagged spike of jealousy poke at her and she shifted in her chair. Why would she be jealous? There would always be other women with Nic. It was the way he was made. He was not cut out for commitment and continuity in his love life. He was a playboy with a PhD in seductive charm. He could have anyone he wanted. He had had anyone he wanted.

The menus were placed in front of them and within minutes a bottle of champagne arrived in a silver ice bucket. Jade looked at it with wariness. She had already had one more glass than usual. Being with Nic had the same effect as alcohol. It had made her head spin to see him dressed in nothing but his black underwear back there at the hotel. She had set out to be as brazen as she could—getting dressed in front of him to show him she was just as the press reported her—but it was completely different when he had done the same to her. She had tried not to look at his carved to perfection body. She had seen plenty of male bodies on the beach or at the gym, and some of them had been downright gorgeous. But something about Nic’s always made her heart race and her senses tingle in a way they never did with anyone else. It made her feel deeply unsettled. She was the one who played the cat and mouse game with men, not the other way around. She didn’t like the thought of Nic having that much power over her, in fact any power over her.

The attentive waiter filled both of their glasses before moving away to leave them in privacy.

Nic picked up his glass and raised it to hers. ‘Let’s drink to our first year of marriage.’

Jade gave him an ironic glance. ‘Don’t you mean the only year of our marriage? Don’t the terms of the will state we have to be married by the first of next month and stay married for exactly a year?’

He drank from his glass before he answered. ‘Yes, but what if we enjoy being married to each other? What if it turns out to be more convenient than we first thought? We could make it last as long as we like.’

Jade sat back in her seat as if he had pushed her backwards with one of his strong hands against her chest. ‘You can’t mean that!’ she gasped.

He gave her one of his white-toothed smiles. ‘Only teasing,’ he said, his hazel eyes twinkling. ‘Once the year is up next May, we can both take the money and run.’

Jade worked hard at squashing her sense of pique. She knew his motive for marrying her was only to get the money he felt entitled to; after all, she was doing it for the very same reason. She could hardly blame him for going ahead with his grandfather’s stipulations. His two older brothers had had no such conditions placed upon them, but then Giorgio and Luca were both happily married with children. Giorgio and Maya had separated for a time, but had reconciled just before the old man’s death. It had been Salvatore’s desire to see all of his three grandsons settled before he died, but when he became ill so suddenly he had obviously decided to take matters into his own hands and make sure Nic bowed to pressure to settle down instead of playing the field for too much longer. Why Salvatore had chosen her as Nic’s bride was a mystery. He could not have been unaware of the enmity between them. For the last decade they had snarled and sniped at each other when they had to be together at Sabbatini or Sommerville functions.

Jade knew a lot about the history of the Sabbatinis, having been a part of their circle for so many years. Her Australian-born father had befriended Salvatore when he was just starting out as an accountant and, with his Italian friend’s help, his small accounting firm had become one of the most prestigious in Europe.

Like Nic and his brothers, Jade had grown up brushing shoulders with the rich and famous. Celebrities were not idols from afar; they were friends and acquaintances who regularly attended the same parties and social gatherings.

Jade’s mother, Harriet, had been a London socialite herself until her untimely death from an overdose when Jade was five. Whether it had been suicide, a cry for help or an accident was something Jade and her brother Jonathan had never been told. There had always been speculation regarding Jade’s parents’ marriage. Throughout their childhood, it had been a case of don’t-mention-your-mother-in-your-father’s-presence by all the nannies and au pairs that had come and gone. Whether it would upset their father because of unresolved grief or anger was another mystery that had never been solved.

Jade looked at the menu and chewed her bottom lip in concentration. She hated eating out; it was something she usually avoided, but not for the reasons everyone assumed. It had been splashed all over the papers enough times—how she had been admitted to a special clinic when she was fifteen and then again at eighteen when she had skirted with death as her weight had dropped to a dangerously low level during the months following Jonathan’s death. She was well and truly over all that now, but eating out still threw up the problem of how to choose when she had no idea what was written on the menu.

She felt Nic’s gaze on her now, the weight of it like a stone. She looked up and closed the menu. ‘What are you thinking of having?’ she asked.

‘The crab fettuccine to start with and maybe the veal Marsala for mains,’ he said. ‘What about you?’

Jade ran her tongue over her sand-dry lips. ‘Why don’t you choose for me?’ she said, pushing the menu to one side. ‘You seem to know the place pretty well. I’m not fussy.’

He cocked one of his eyebrows at her. ‘No?’

‘I’ve dealt with a lot of stuff over the years, Nic,’ she said, giving him a hard look. ‘I’m not going to embarrass you by dispensing with my meal in the bathroom as soon as your back is turned.’

A frown appeared between his brows. ‘I wasn’t suggesting any such thing,’ he said. ‘It was a tough time for you growing up, losing your mother so young and then your brother like that.’

Jade had perfected her back-off look over the years and yet, as she used it now, it was with shaky confidence that it would work. ‘I’d rather not talk about it. They died. Life goes on.’

The waiter arrived to take their order, and when he left Nic shifted his mouth in a musing pose and continued to study her. She began to feel like a specimen under a powerful microscope. Nic always made her feel like that. He saw things that other people didn’t see. His eyes were too all-seeing, too penetrating. It made her feel vulnerable and exposed—something she avoided strenuously at all times and in all places.

‘Do you see much of your father?’ Nic asked.

She toyed with the stem of her champagne flute, her eyes averted from his. ‘Before this latest blow up, yes. He called in occasionally with his latest girlfriend,’ she said tonelessly. ‘The last one is only a year or two older than me. I think they might eventually marry. He wants a son—to replace Jonathan. He’s been talking about it for years.’

Nic heard the pain behind the coolly delivered statement. ‘You’ve never been close to him, have you? ‘

She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. ‘I think I remind him too much of my mother.’

‘Do you remember her?’ he asked.

Her jade-green eyes met his, instantly lighting up as if he had pressed a switch. ‘She was so beautiful,’ she said in a dreamy tone. She picked up her glass and twirled it gently, the bubbles rising in a series of vertical lines, each one delicately exploding on the surface. ‘She was so glamorous and always smelt so divine—like honeysuckle and jasmine after a long hot day in the sun.’

She put the glass down, and ran her finger around the rim, around and around as she spoke. ‘She was affectionate. She couldn’t walk past Jon or me without encompassing one or both of us in a crushing hug. She used to read to me. I loved that. I could listen to her voice for hours … ‘

A little silence settled like dust motes in the space between them.

She gave a little sigh and picked up her glass again, twirling it before she took a tentative sip. She put it back down, her mouth pursing as if the taste of the very expensive champagne had not been to her taste. ‘She loved us. She really loved us. I never doubted it. Not for a moment.’

Nic knew a little of the rumours surrounding Harriet Sommerville’s death. There was some talk of an illicit affair that had gone wrong and Harriet had decided to end it all when the other man involved refused to leave his wife. Other rumours suggested Jade’s father had not been the best husband and father he could have been at the time, but it was hard to know what was true and what had been fiction.

The press had a way of working it to their advantage: the bigger the scandal, the better the sale of the papers. Nic had experienced it himself, along with his brothers. But there was something about Jade that intrigued him. At regular intervals over the years she appeared at all the right functions, dressed to the nines, playing to the cameras, flirting with the paparazzi, but still he wondered if anyone really knew who the real Jade Sommerville was. Not the slim, beautiful and elegantly dressed and perfectly made-up young woman who sat before him now, twirling her champagne flute without drinking any more than a sip or two, who refused to speak of her dead brother, who spoke of her father with thinly disguised disgust.

Who was she?

Who was she really?

Was she the woman who had broken up the marriage of her best friend, as the papers had reported?

Or was she someone else entirely?

‘Losing a parent is a big deal,’ Nic said to fill the cavernous silence. ‘I was knocked sideways by my father’s accident. Seeing him like that … ‘ he winced as he recalled it ‘ …one minute so vitally alive, the next in a coma.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘It was a relief when he died. No one wanted to say it but it was true. He would have hated being left with brain damage.’

She looked up at him with empathy in her eyes. ‘You are a lot like him,’ she said gently. ‘I suppose lots of people have said that to you before. He hated being tied down.’

Nic smiled wryly as he picked up his glass. ‘My parents’ marriage was an arranged one. Not a lot of people know that. My mother loved him from the start but he was not so keen on being shackled to one woman. They muddled along as best they could until Chiara came along. My father loved having a daughter. He had three sons but his daughter was everything to him.’

He put his glass down with a clunk on the table, his eyes moving away from hers. ‘Losing her was like the bottom of his world falling out from under him. He felt he was being punished by God for not loving his wife and sons enough. He went through a tumultuous time. As young as you were, I am sure you heard of it: numerous affairs with shallow gold-diggers until he finally realised the only woman he could love was the mother of his still living children who had loved him the whole time.’

‘Everyone reacts to grief in their own way,’ she said softly.

Nic picked up his glass but not with any intention of drinking from it, more for something to do with his hands. ‘I am like my father in that I do not like to be told what to do,’ he said. ‘He always had issues with my grandfather over that. I guess that is why Salvatore’s will was written the way it was.’

‘But you are doing what he wanted now and that is all that matters,’ she said in the same emotionless voice. ‘In a year you will be free. You will have your inheritance and you can be with whoever you want.’

‘So what about you?’ Nic asked, raising his glass to his lips. ‘What will you do once the year is up?’

She looked down at her hardly touched champagne. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead.’ She looked back at him and gave him a forced-looking smile. ‘I guess we will divorce amicably and get on with our lives.’

Nic wondered who she would want to spend her life with or if she wanted to settle down at all. If it hadn’t been for his grandfather’s machinations, at some stage she would have had to marry and to marry well. She had never worked a day in her life. She was a full-time socialite, born to it like others were born to poverty and neglect.

Until the withdrawal of her father’s support, she certainly hadn’t given Nic any indication that she was going to abide by the stipulations set down in the will. Nic had wanted to talk to her about it at length after the funeral, but when he had mentioned it during the service she had glared at him and then later slipped out before he could corner her. He certainly didn’t see himself as qualifying for husband of the year or anything, but as long as she behaved herself he would put up with the twelve months of matrimony to secure his inheritance and thus keep his brothers’ interests in the Sabbatini Corporation secure.

There were certain compensations in marrying Jade, of course. She was certainly a pleasure to look at. She had the most beautiful piercing green eyes, large and almond-shaped and darkly lashed, as thick as the silky, wavy hair that cascaded halfway down her back. With cheekbones you could ski off and a mouth that promised sensuality in every plump curve, she could have modelled if she’d put her mind to it, but for some reason had rejected an offer from a top agency when she was nineteen. Apparently she had been more than content to continue to live off her father’s fortune, no doubt expecting it all to land in her lap on his demise some time in the future.

Yes, she was a gold-digger in her own way, Nic thought. She just did it a little more openly and shamelessly than most. It would be exciting having her in his bed. The more he thought of it, the more he longed to get down to it. She played it so cool but he could feel the heat of her passionate nature simmering underneath the surface. She was a born tease. She was deliberately ramping up his desire for her. She was a wildcat, a tigress that needed to be tamed and he would gladly be the one to do it and sooner rather than later, no matter what silly little hands-off-the-goods deals she insisted on making. He saw it for the ruse it was. She had wanted him since she was a hormone-charged sixteen-year-old and, because he had rejected her, she had played hard to get ever since.

‘You do realise we will have to live together in Rome for most of the year, don’t you?’ he said after a pause. ‘Apart from the times we travel.’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘Travel? You expect me to travel with you?’

‘That is what loving wives do, is it not?’ he asked.

Her neatly groomed brows moved close together. ‘But surely that’s not necessary in our case. You’re a busy man. You don’t need a wife hanging off your arm in every city you travel to. Besides, I have things of my own to do.’

He hooked one brow upwards. ‘Like what? Lime and vodka mornings and getting your hair and nails done?’

Her fingers tightened around her glass so hard Nic wondered if the fragile stem might crack. ‘It’s not that at all. I just like sleeping in my own bed.’

‘Not according to what I read in the papers a few months ago,’ he pointed out wryly. ‘You were in and out of Richard McCormack’s bed day in and day out while his wife’s back was turned.’

She gave him a hateful glare. ‘So you believe there is truth in everything written about you and your brothers in the papers, do you?’

He studied her for a moment. ‘Not everything, no, but you didn’t deny it. You could have slapped a defamation case on the paper if there was absolutely no truth in anything that was reported.’

‘I have no interest in suing anyone,’ she said. ‘It’s not worth the bother. They would just read it as defensive-ness which, in my opinion, reeks of guilt. I’ve always felt it better to ignore it all and hope it eventually dies down.’

‘It hopefully will now that we are about to be married,’ he said. ‘Have you a preference for a church wedding? ‘

She averted her gaze. ‘No preference at all.’

‘Then you won’t mind if we have the ceremony and honeymoon in Bellagio?’ he asked.

Her eyes came back to his. ‘That’s where your family has a villa, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ He refilled their glasses before he added, ‘It’s also where my baby sister died all those years ago.’

Jade picked up her glass again. ‘Well, then, it seems rather fitting to conduct a dead marriage there, doesn’t it?’

His hazel eyes bored into hers for a tense moment. ‘Your tongue is razor-sharp this evening,’ he observed. ‘You are the one who insists the marriage is to be in name only.’

‘I don’t love you, Nic, and you don’t care a fig for me,’ she said. ‘We’re only marrying each other to access a rather large fortune. That’s about as dead as a marriage can be, is it not?’

‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ he said. ‘We can work things to the advantage of both of us.’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I can see how your mind works, Nic. You’re already straining at the leash of imposed fidelity, aren’t you? I told you: have your affairs if you must but keep them private. I don’t want to be made a fool of in the press.’

‘Same goes,’ he said, leaning forward menacingly. ‘I am warning you, Jade. If I hear one whisper of a scandal of you with another man, money or no money, our marriage will be terminated immediately, irrespective of what’s written in the will. I am going to have it written into the prenuptial agreement.’

‘Don’t you mean our marriage will be annulled rather than terminated?’ she asked with an arch look.

His eyes held hers like high-beam searchlights for so long Jade felt her skin break out in tiny goosebumps of apprehension. There was a steely purpose to his expression. He was not a man to be pushed around. Somehow he had turned the tables on her. She was not the one calling the tune here now, he was, and he was not going to allow her forget it. He had made it clear he desired her but she couldn’t help feeling she was just going to be a convenient fill-in while he waited for his inheritance to be secure. Although she had tried her very best to disguise her response to him, it had clearly been to no avail. But then maybe he was like a lot of men even in these more enlightened times who still thought it their right to sleep with a woman who took their fancy: an expensive dinner, an even more expensive bottle of champagne and the transaction was settled.

Jade had determined she would not allow herself to be intimate with Nic. But somehow in the last couple of hours her resolve had been challenged in a way it had never been before. She saw the heat of desire in his eyes, the way his sexy mouth tilted in a lazy smile, as if he could already taste the victory of having her mouth plundered by his so very experienced one. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair, aware of her body in a way that made her feel distinctly uneasy about her ability to be immune to his sensual power. Her breasts felt full and tingly, her legs trembling and sensitive, as if they longed to be entwined with the length and strength of his in an erotic embrace.

He reached out and unpeeled her rigid fingers from around the stem of her glass. He brought those very same fingers up to his mouth, where suddenly they loosened and trembled, as if his breath contained a magic potion that unlocked every stiff joint, making them like putty in his hold. She sat transfixed, locked in a stasis that felt so strange to her and yet totally, inexplicably irresistible. She didn’t want to break the spell. His eyes were holding hers in a lockdown that was unbreakable. She couldn’t look away if she wanted to. Something was drawing her to him, like a silly little unsuspecting moth heading towards a bright hot light. She was going to get burned, but it was as if she didn’t care. She drew in an uneven little breath as his lips brushed against the tips of her fingers, a barely touching movement that made her instantly ache for more.

‘Why are you still fighting what has always been between us, Jade?’ he asked in a low husky tone.

‘I don’t want to complicate things, Nic,’ she said in a voice that sounded like someone else’s, breathy, excited, anticipatory and expectant.

‘You wanted me when you were sixteen,’ he reminded her, nibbling on her fingertips again, a feather-touch of temptation—a lighted taper to her simmering need.

‘I …I was young and you were—’

‘Lusting after you but old enough to realise you were far too young to know what you were doing,’ he said, smiling in a self-deprecating way. ‘Jailbait Jade. That’s what I nicknamed you. Did you know that? I daren’t touch you for years after that. Not even a kiss on the cheek at any of the family gatherings. I didn’t trust myself to take what had been on offer. I was seven years older than you. At twenty-three I had to be the adult, even though I wanted you like a raging fever in my blood.’

Jade pulled her hand away from his mouth, tucking it safely away in her lap. ‘I wish you would stop reminding me of how stupid I was back then,’ she said, her eyes downcast.

‘It’s still there, isn’t it, Jade?’ he said in a smouldering tone. ‘The hint of the forbidden, the lust, the longing, the need that won’t go away. I see it in your eyes; I feel it in your body. I feel it like a pulse in my flesh when you look at me. We won’t last the year without consummating this marriage and you damn well know it.’

She dared to look at him then, her heart giving a little pony kick in her chest. He meant it. He wanted her and he was going to do what he could to have her. She would have to be so strong, so very strong. Falling in love with Nic was the one thing she must not do. She had done it once before and look where that had taken her. It had set her life on a completely different course. She only had herself to blame, deep down she knew that. She had wilfully thrown away her innocence to get back at Nic and it had backfired on her terribly.