Читать книгу Androletti's Mistress - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 12

IT WAS a stunningly beautiful house. It was decorated throughout in subtle tones of cream and taupe and white, offset superbly by the black wrought-iron of the balustrade on the magnificent staircase leading to the upper floor. The marbled floor of the elegant foyer led into ankle-deep caramel-brown carpet in the living areas, the large windows offering wonderful views of the lush and very private gardens outside.

It was a house built for entertaining and pleasure, every room ideally appointed for large numbers with maximum comfort.

The furniture as well as the artworks on the walls spoke of unlimited wealth and dignified taste. It was nothing like the ostentatious layout Joseph had insisted on in his house in South Yarra, and certainly nothing like the variety of rundown trailer parks where Nikki had spent most of her childhood.

‘I have taken the liberty of organising someone to collect your belongings from your previous residence.’ Massimo’s deep voice broke the silence. ‘They will be delivered here tomorrow. All you will need to do is pack your personal things. They will do the rest.’

Nikki turned to look at him. ‘Aren’t you rushing things a bit?’ she asked. ‘I have been a widow only a week, now I am supposedly your mistress. What will people think?’

He gave an indifferent shrug. ‘I do not care for what people think. This is between you and me. The press will no doubt begin to speculate, which brings me to the issue of what we will tell other people.’

‘How about the truth?’ she said with an arch look. ‘That you are blackmailing me for revenge.’

His dark eyes glinted warningly as they held hers. ‘It would be in your interests to refrain from revealing the real motivations behind our relationship—both your own and mine.’

‘I’m not going to pretend to be in love with you,’ she said with a resentful scowl.

He gave her a cynical smile. ‘That would indeed be a rather tall order, eh, Nikki? Although you did it quite convincingly in the past, I seem to recall.’

‘You’re never going to let it go, are you?’ she asked with a flash of ire in her grey-blue eyes. ‘Your stupid male pride got dented, and now five years later you’re still harping on about it.’

He came up close and took her chin between his finger and thumb, his eyes blazing with hatred as he ground out savagely, ‘I told you the day you married my stepfather that one day I would have you begging for my mercy. Do not tempt me to make it this day, the very day you buried him.’

Nikki swallowed back her fear, her heart chugging like an old engine going uphill. ‘L-let me go,’ she croaked.

His fingers tightened momentarily, the fire of his gaze raking her face for endless seconds, before he dropped his hand and stepped back from her.

Nikki felt her breath leave her chest in a ragged whoosh, her chin still tingling where his fingers had lain. She wanted to reach up and touch her skin, but knew it would give away her vulnerability, so she clenched her hands into hard little fists by her sides.

‘I will send a car for you at 10 a.m. tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The house you have been living in is going to be redecorated and sold.’

‘Removing every last trace of him, are you?’ she sniped at him bitterly. ‘Isn’t that a bit melodramatic even for someone as stuck in the Middle Ages as you?’

Twin spots of white-tipped anger were visible at both sides of his tightened mouth. ‘You will have to learn to curb that tongue of yours, Nikki. You might have wound my stepfather around your little finger, but you will not achieve the same success with me. I expect you to be polite and charming at all times, most particularly when we are entertaining guests. I have important clients, corporate investors, who will expect you to be the perfect hostess.’

‘So you’re expecting me to cook for you, are you?’

‘My stepfather informed me of your many talents, both in and out of the kitchen,’ he said with another searing look over her heaving form. ‘I am sure you will be able to handle the challenge of rustling up a few ingredients from time to time.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t made me audition for the part,’ she said. ‘How do you know Joseph wasn’t lying about my capabilities?’

His eyes were steady on hers. ‘My stepfather was an inveterate liar and a cheat, but the one thing he had no reason to lie about was his relationship with you. He made no secret of how you gave him pleasure, catering to his every physical need in spite of the difference in your age.’

Nikki felt ill at what he was implying. Surely Joseph hadn’t taken things to that extreme in a last-ditch attempt to maintain his male pride?

‘I will leave you for a few minutes to wander around the house, to get acquainted with its layout.’ Massimo filled the silence. ‘You can choose any room you like, but it might be preferable to keep it well away from mine.’

‘Why?’ she asked with a deliberately taunting look. ‘Are you worried you might be tempted to go back on your promise?’

His gaze ran over her indolently. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I am not. For, if you recall, I did not promise anything of that nature.’

Nikki felt her face suffuse with red-hot heat as the significance of his statement began to sink in. ‘You’re surely not expecting me to sleep with you, are you? You said I was to be a trophy mistress.’

His expression was difficult to read. ‘And that is what you will be, unless one or both of us changes our mind.’

She turned away, pretending an avid interest in the view from the window overlooking the garden, her head pounding with uncertainty and fear.

He had control of everything.

How could she have not anticipated this? She had seen the hatred in his look five years ago but had foolishly deluded herself into thinking he would get over it.

He had not done so.

‘You…you have a lovely garden,’ she said, for the want of something to fill the uncomfortable silence.

‘You are at liberty to enjoy it at your leisure,’ he said. ‘I do not expect you to slave your fingers to the bone.’

She turned back to face him, cynicism sharpening her features. ‘So I won’t be chained to the house?’ she asked.

‘Not at all. You can come and go as you please, but there are some ground rules.’

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Which are?’

‘No men.’

She twisted her mouth at him. ‘Please allow me some measure of decency. In case you have forgotten, I have just buried my husband.’

‘Good, for I will not tolerate you entertaining any of your lovers in my house.’

She straightened her spine and glared at him. ‘Anything else?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I expect you to be polite at all times to the young woman who will be replacing you as the face of Ferliani Fashions—Abriana Cavello. She may on occasion come to the house. I will try to keep such visits to a minimum, but if she should be here, I will expect you to treat her just like any other guest.’

Nikki felt her anger towards him skyrocket. She knew how this was going to work; she could feel it in her bones. No doubt this Cavello woman had slept with him to gain his favour and was now going to flounce around the house, acting like a prima donna just to needle her into breaking one of his stupid rules.

‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ she said, grinding her teeth. ‘I am sure we will get along just fine.’

‘That will be all for now,’ he said, turning away to leaf through some papers he’d picked up from the hall table. ‘I will be in my study when you have finished looking over the house.’

‘And then?’

He put the papers to one side and met her arched-brow look. ‘And then, Nikki, we will have dinner together.’

‘Dinner?’

He smiled wryly at her anxious expression. ‘Do not worry. I do not expect you to cook tonight. We will go out this evening.’

‘Thank you for being so considerate,’ she said with heavy sarcasm. ‘But if it’s all the same to you, I would prefer to go straight home.’

His black-diamond stare clashed with hers. ‘You no longer have a home, and if I say we will have dinner together then that is what we will do, do you understand?’

Nikki felt like she was standing in front of a stranger. Gone was the gentle and loving Massimo Androletti of five years ago, and in his place was a hard, cold, determined man intent on exacting every gram of revenge he could.

She hated having to bow to his command, but there was nothing else she could do short of telling him about her reasons for marrying his stepfather. But it wasn’t just her pride that wouldn’t allow her to do it. If she told him who she really was—the daughter of a man who had committed the most heinous of crimes—how could she be sure it wouldn’t be all over the papers within hours? Massimo was after revenge, and what better revenge could he have than to bring her past to light?