Читать книгу Modern Romance November Books 1-4 - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 16
ОглавлениеSHE WISHED HE would stop staring at her.
Liar. Molly shivered as she picked up an empty wine glass and put it on her tray. Admit it. You like it when he stares at you. Even though his face looks all dark and savage, as if he hates himself for doing it.
And how much more savage will he look when he discovers the truth? she wondered.
It was the end of a long evening and only a few die-hard guests remained. Contrary to predictions the snow had stopped falling, allowing the chauffeur-driven cars to take the giggling London guests safely back to the capital. Vintage champagne had flowed, delicious food had been eaten and there hadn’t been a single crisis in the kitchen, much to Molly’s relief. A group of local singers had trudged through the snow and treated the partygoers to an emotional medley of Christmas carols, before being given mulled wine and hot mince pies and sent on their way with a huge donation to rebuild the roof of the village hall. And now Salvio was standing talking to a dark-suited man in the far corner of the huge drawing room—someone had whispered that he was a sheikh—but every time she looked up, Molly could see the hooded black eyes of the Neapolitan trained on her.
She hurried down to the kitchen where at least she was safe from that devastating gaze and the ongoing concern of how exactly she was going to break her momentous news. At least when you were helping stack clean plates and showing the hired help where to put all the silver cutlery, it was easy to forget your own problems, if only for a while. But at twenty past midnight the last of the staff departed and only the sheikh who had dominated Salvio’s company for much of the evening was left, the two men deep in conversation as they sat by the fireside.
Molly was in the basement kitchen drying the final crystal glass when she heard a deafening chatter outside and peered out to see a helicopter alighting on the snowy lawn. Moments later the sheikh, now swathed in a dark overcoat, his black head bent against the flattening wind, began to run towards it. She could see the glint of a royal crest on the side of the craft as the door closed and it began its swaying ascent into the sky. Her hands were shaking as she suddenly realised she was alone in the house with Salvio and she wondered what she should do. She put the glass down. She should behave as she normally would in these circumstances—even if this felt anything like normal.
Taking off her damp apron and smoothing down her black dress, she went upstairs to find Salvio still sitting beside the fire, his stance fixed and unmoving as he gazed into the flickering flames. His long legs were stretched out before him and the rugged perfection of his profile looked coppery in the firelight. Never had he seemed more devastating or more remote and never had she felt so humble and disconnected. How crazy was it that this man had briefly been her lover and would soon be the father of her child?
Molly cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me.’
He looked up then, his eyes narrowing as if he couldn’t quite remember who she was, or why she was here.
‘Sì, what is it?’ he questioned abruptly.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I wondered if there was anything else you’d like?’
Salvio felt his heart slam hard against his chest. If it had been any other former lover asking that question, it would have been coated in innuendo. But Molly’s words weren’t delivered suggestively, or provocatively. Her big grey eyes weren’t slanting out an unspoken invitation. She simply looked anxious to please, which only reinforced the differences between them. Once again he cursed his hot-headedness in taking the curvy housekeeper to his bed.
Even though he could understand exactly why he’d done it.
He’d spent this evening watching her, despite his best intentions. He’d told himself she was strictly off-limits and he should concentrate on his guests, but it had been Molly’s wide-hipped sway which had captured his gaze and Molly’s determined face as she had scurried around with trays of drinks and food which had captivated his imagination. He had seen the natural sparkle of her grey eyes and had remembered the healthy glow of her cheeks when she had romped enthusiastically in his arms. But her face was pale now, he noted. Deathly pale—as if all the colour had been leeched from it.
‘No, I don’t think there is,’ he said slowly, forcing himself to treat her as he would any other member of staff. ‘Thank you for all your hard work tonight, Molly. The party went very well. Even the Sheikh of Razrastan stayed far longer than he intended.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ she said.
‘I’m sure we can think about a generous bonus for you.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ she said stiffly.
‘I think I’ll be the judge of that.’ He gave her a benign smile. ‘And I haven’t forgotten my promise to try to find you some work. Or, rather, to ask Gina to help.’ His words were tantamount to dismissal but she didn’t move. Salvio saw the faint criss-crossing of a frown over the smooth expanse of her brow and something—he never knew what it was—compelled him to ask a question he usually avoided like the plague. ‘Is everything okay?’
Her hands began twisting at the plain fabric of her work dress and he could see the indecision which made her frown deepen.
‘Y-yes.’
‘You don’t sound very sure.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell you until tomorrow,’ she said, her knuckles whitening.
Instinct made Salvio sit upright, his body tensing. ‘Tell me what?’ he questioned dangerously.
Molly licked her lips. She’d thought that a good night’s sleep and the addition of daylight might take some of the emotional sting out of her disclosure. But now she could see that any idea of sleep was a non-starter, especially with the thought of Salvio in bed nearby and the heavy realisation that he’d only ever wanted her that one time. But more than that, the news was bubbling inside her, wanting to get out. She needed to tell someone—and who else was she going to confide in?
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said bluntly.
There was a moment of silence—a weird and intense kind of silence. It was as if every sound in the room had been amplified to an almost deafening level. The crackle and spit of the fire. The loud thunder of her heart. The sudden intake of her own shuddered breath. And now there was shadow too, as Salvio rose from his chair—tall and intimidating—his powerful frame blocking out the firelight and seeming to fill the room with darkness.
‘You can’t be,’ he said flatly. ‘That is, if you’re trying to tell me it’s mine?’
She met the unyielding expression which had hardened his face and Molly’s heart contracted with pain. Did he really think she’d lost her virginity to him and then rushed out to find herself another lover—as if trying to make up for lost time? Or was he just trying to run from his own responsibility? She stared at him reproachfully. ‘You know it is.’
‘I used contraception,’ he bit out. ‘You know I did.’
She felt blood rush into her cheeks. ‘Maybe you weren’t—’
‘Careful?’ He cut across her words with a bitter laugh. ‘I think that’s a given, don’t you? Reckless might be closer to the mark. On all counts.’
‘Don’t,’ she said quickly.
His eyebrows shot up imperiously, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was telling him what to do. ‘What?’
‘Please don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t make it any worse than it already is by saying things which will be difficult to forget afterwards.’
His eyes narrowed but he nodded, as if acknowledging the sense of her words. ‘Are you sure?’ he demanded. ‘Or is it just a fear?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m certain. I did a test.’
Another silence. ‘I see.’
Molly’s lips were dry and her heart was racing. ‘I just want to make it clear that I’m only telling you because I feel duty-bound to tell you.’
‘And not because you’re after a slice of my fortune?’
Hurt now, she stared at him. ‘You think that’s what this is all about?’
His lips curved. ‘Is it such a bizarre conclusion? Think about it, mia bedda. I’m rich and you’re poor. What is it they say in the States?’ He flicked the fingers of both hands, miming the sudden spill of money from a cash register. ‘Ker-ching!’
Molly made to move away but his reflexes were lightning-fast and quicker than hers. He reached out to curl his fingers around her arm before pulling her towards him, like an expert angler reeling in their catch of the day. The movement made her breathless but it also made her hungry for him in a way she didn’t want to be. Just one touch and her senses had started jangling, as she felt that now familiar desire washing over her. Meeting the gleam of his black eyes, she prayed she would find the strength to pull away from him and resist him. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
‘I’m doing about the only thing which could possibly make me feel good right now,’ he grated and brought his mouth down hard on hers.
Molly willed herself not to respond. She didn’t have to do this—especially not after those insults he’d just hurled her way, making out she was some kind of gold-digger. But the trouble was that she wanted to kiss him. She wanted that more than anything else in the world right then. It was as if the beauty of his touch was making her realise how she’d got herself into this predicament in the first place. His kiss had been the first step to seduction and even now she found it irresistible. Closing her eyes, she let him plunder her lips until there was no oxygen left in her lungs and she had to draw back to suck in a breath of air. She shook her head distractedly. ‘Salvio,’ she whispered, but he shook his head.
‘Don’t say anything,’ he warned, before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the room.
Molly blinked in confusion because his hands were underneath her bottom and they were caressing it in a way which was making her want to squirm. As if in some kind of unbelievable dream he was carrying her up that sweeping staircase as if she were Scarlett O’Hara and he were Rhett Butler. And she was letting him.
So stop him. Make him put you down.
But she couldn’t. Because this was powerlessness, she realised—this feeling of breathy expectation bubbling up inside her as he kicked open the door of the master bedroom. The heavy oak door swung open as if it had been made of matchsticks as he carried her effortlessly across silken Persian rugs before depositing her on the huge bed.
And even though Molly could see no real affection on his proud Neapolitan features—nothing but sexual hunger glittering from his dark eyes—that didn’t stop her from reciprocating. Was it the delicious memory of his lovemaking which made her open her arms to him and close them around him tightly? Or was it more basic than that? As he peeled her dress, shoes and underclothes from her body before impatiently removing his own clothes she began to wonder if there was some deep-rooted need to connect physically with the man whose seed was multiplying inside her.
Or at least, that was her excuse for what was about to happen.
‘Salvio,’ she gasped as his finger stroked a slow circle around the exquisitely aroused peak of her now bare nipple. ‘Oh!’
His naked body was warm against hers. ‘Shh...’
It was more of a command than an entreaty but Molly heeded it all the same, terrified that words might break the spell and let reality flood in and destroy what she was feeling. His eyes were hooded as they surveyed her body, seeming to drink in every centimetre. Was she imagining his gaze lingering longest on her belly? With her notorious curves, she probably looked pregnant already. But now he was kissing her neck and her eyelids were fluttering to a close so that it became all about sensation rather than thought and that was so much better.
Encouraged by the hand now sliding from breast to thigh, Molly flickered her fingertips over the taut dip of his belly, her touch as delicate as if she were making pastry. And didn’t his groan thrill her and fill her with a sense of pride that she—inexperienced Molly Miller—could make a man like Salvio react this way? Emboldened by his response, she drifted her hand over his rocky thighs, feeling the hair-roughened flesh turn instantly to goosebumps, and something about that galvanised him into action, because suddenly he was on top of her. He was kissing her with a hunger which was almost ferocious and, oh, it felt good. Better than anything had a right to feel. She could feel the graze of his jaw and his lips felt hard on hers, though his tongue was sinuous as it slipped inside her mouth.
She gave a little cry as she twisted restlessly beneath him and he gave a low laugh which was tinged with mockery.
‘How quickly my little innocent becomes greedy,’ he murmured. ‘How quickly she has learnt what it is she wants.’
His words sounded more like insults than observations but by then he was stroking her wet and urgent heat and Molly was writhing beneath his fingers. She moaned as the sensation built and built and she realised what was about to happen. He was going to make her have an orgasm with his...finger.
‘Salvio,’ she cried out in disbelief, but just as she went tumbling over the top he thrust deep inside her. She gasped as he filled her completely—even bigger than she remembered—and he gave a loud moan in response. And so did she. It felt as if her world were imploding. As if a jet-black sky had suddenly been punctured by a million stars. As if the two of them were locked and mingled for all time. Molly clung to him as she felt him momentarily stiffen before thrusting out his own shuddering pleasure.
He stayed inside her for countless minutes and Molly revelled in that sticky closeness because, in a funny sort of way, it felt as intimate as the act of sex had done. Maybe even more so, because now neither of them were chasing the satisfaction which had somehow left her feeling empty and satisfied, all at the same time.
But eventually he withdrew from her and rolled to the other side of the bed. Molly was careful to hide her disappointment as he threw the duvet over them both, quickly covering her up, as if the sight of her naked body offended him. She licked her lips as she waited for him to speak, planning to take her lead from him. It was the habit of a lifetime—of allowing her employer to dictate the conversation—because, technically, Salvio was still her employer, wasn’t he? And it seemed vital that she stay quiet for long enough to hear his thoughts. Because what was said between them now was going to determine the rest of her baby’s life, wasn’t it? His attitude towards her unplanned pregnancy was of vital importance if they wanted to have any kind of amicable future. Not that she was expecting much from him. Not now. She’d thought she could rely on kindness until she’d realised she didn’t really know him at all. And now her heart began to pound with anxiety as she wondered whether she should have given herself so easily to him. Could she really hope for respect in the circumstances?
She found herself studying him from between her lashes as she met the hard glitter of his eyes.
‘So now what?’ he questioned slowly.
She took him literally, because wasn’t it simpler all round if she remained practical and continued to do her job? ‘I ought to go down and turn off all the lights—especially the tree lights.’
His face was incredulous. ‘Excuse me?’
She pushed her hair away from her face and wriggled into a sitting-up position, though she was careful to keep the top of the duvet modestly covering her breasts. ‘I haven’t switched off the lights on the Christmas tree—and there’s also the fire, which we’ve left unguarded,’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly go to sleep until all that is in place.’
‘The fireguard?’ he echoed disbelievingly, looking momentarily bemused before nodding. ‘Wait here,’ he said, and climbed out of bed.
Quite honestly, Molly didn’t feel as if she had the strength or inclination to go anywhere—especially not when an unclothed Salvio was walking towards the door, seemingly unaware of the fact that it was the middle of winter and the snow was thick on the ground outside. She gazed at him as if hypnotised—her eyes drinking in the pale globes of his buttocks, which contrasted so vividly with the burnished olive of his thighs. And then he turned round, frowning with faint concern as he surveyed her, as if he had suddenly remembered that she’d just announced her pregnancy and wasn’t quite sure how to deal with her any more.
‘Can I get you anything?’
She guessed he was being literal too and that it would have been pointless to have asked for a crystal ball to reassure her about her baby’s future. And pointless to have asked for some affirmation that he wasn’t planning on deserting his unplanned child, even if he wanted nothing more to do with her. But unlike her brother, Molly had never been a fantasist. She cleared her throat and nodded. ‘A drink of water would be nice.’
She waited for him to say something like, I’ll bring it to your room, but he didn’t. Which presumably meant it was okay to stay here.
Of course it was okay to stay here—they’d just had sex, hadn’t they?
But it wasn’t easy to shrug off a lifetime of being deferential and Molly even felt slightly guilty about rushing into the luxurious en-suite bathroom and availing herself of the upmarket facilities. She splashed her face with water and smoothed down her mussed hair before returning to the bed and burrowing down beneath the duvet.
And then he was back and Molly quickly averted her eyes because the front view of the naked Neapolitan was much more daunting than the back had been—particularly as he seemed to be getting aroused again.
Did he read something in her expression? Was that why he gave a savage kind of laugh as he handed her the glass of water? ‘Don’t worry,’ he grated. ‘I’ll endeavour to keep my appetite in check while we discuss how we’re going to handle this.’
The large gulp of water she’d been taking nearly choked her and Molly put the glass down on the bedside table with a hand which was trembling. ‘There’s nothing to handle,’ she said shakily. ‘I’m having this baby, no matter what you say.’
‘You think I would want anything other than that?’ he demanded savagely.
‘I wasn’t... I wasn’t sure.’
Salvio climbed into bed, disappointed yet strangely relieved that her magnificent breasts weren’t on show, meaning he’d be able to concentrate on what he needed to say and not on how much he would like to lose himself in her sweet tightness again. He pulled the cover over the inconvenient hardening of his groin. Was she really as innocent as she seemed? Physically, yes—he had discovered that for himself. But was she really so unschooled in the ways of the world that she didn’t realise that she was now in possession of what so many women strived for?
A billionaire father for her baby.
A meal ticket for life.
And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Fate had thrown him a curveball and he was just going to have to deal with it.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said suddenly.
She blinked. ‘Me?’
The sigh he gave wasn’t exaggerated. ‘Look, Molly—I think you’re in danger of overplaying the wide-eyed innocent, don’t you? We’ve had sex on a number of occasions and you’ve just informed me you’re pregnant. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be interested in hearing about your past, but you’ll probably agree that this is no ordinary situation.’
Molly’s heart clenched as his cruel words rained down on her. Wouldn’t another man at least have pretended to be interested in what had made her the person she was today? Gone through some kind of polite ritual of getting to know her. Maybe she should be grateful that he hadn’t. He might be cruel, but at least he wasn’t a hypocrite. He wasn’t pretending to feel stuff about her and building up her hopes to smash them down again. At least she knew where she stood.
‘I was born in a little cottage—’
‘Please. Spare me the violins. Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?’ he interrupted coolly. ‘Parents?’
Molly shrugged. ‘My father left my mother when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis,’ she said flatly.
She saw a flare of something she didn’t recognise in his black eyes.
‘That must have been hard,’ he said softly.
‘It was,’ she conceded. ‘Less so for me than for my little brother, Robbie. He...well, he adored our mother. So did I, obviously—but I was busy keeping on top of everything so that social services were happy to let me run the home.’
‘And then?’ he prompted, when her words died away.
Molly swallowed. ‘Mum died when Robbie was twelve, but they let us carry on living together. Just me and him. I fought like crazy not to have him taken into care and I succeeded.’
His dark brows knitted together. ‘And what was that like?’
She thought she detected a note of sympathy in his voice, or was that simply wishful thinking? Of course it was. He was cruel and ruthless, she reminded herself. He was only asking her these questions because he felt he needed to—not because he wanted to. For a moment Molly was tempted to gloss over the facts. To tell him that Robbie had turned out fine. But what if he found out the truth and then accused her of lying? Wouldn’t that make this already difficult situation even worse than it already was?
‘Robbie went off the rails a bit,’ she admitted. ‘He did what a lot of troubled teenagers do. Got in with the wrong crowd. Got into trouble with the police. And then he started...’
Her voice tailed off again, knowing this was something she couldn’t just consign to the past. Because the counsellor had told her that addictions never really went away. They just sat there, brooding and waiting for someone to feed them. And wasn’t she scared stiff that they were being fed right now—that someone was busy dealing cards across a light-washed table in the centre of a darkened room somewhere in the Outback?
‘What did he start, Molly?’ prompted Salvio softly.
‘Gambling.’ She stared down at her short, sensible fingernails before glancing up again to meet the ebony gleam of his eyes. ‘It started off with fruit machines and then he met someone in the arcade who said a bright boy like him would probably be good at cards. That he could win enough money to buy the kind of things he’d never had. And that’s when it all started.’
‘It?’
Molly shrugged. ‘I think Robbie was still missing Mum. I know he’d been frustrated and unhappy that we’d been so poor while she was alive. Whatever it was, he started playing poker and he was good at it. At first. He started winning money but he spent it just as quickly. More quickly than it was coming in. And the trouble with cards is that the more you want to win—the worse you become. They say that your opponent can smell desperation and Robbie was as desperate as hell. He started getting into debt. Big debt. But the banks didn’t want to know and so he borrowed from some pay-day lenders and they...they...’
‘They came after him?’ Salvio finished grimly.
Molly nodded. ‘I managed to use most of my savings to pay them off, though there’s still an outstanding debt which never seems to go down because the interest rates they charge are astronomical. I wanted Robbie to have a fresh start. To get away from all the bad influences in his life. So he went to Australia to get the whole gambling bug out of his system and promised to attend Gamblers Anonymous. That’s why I was working for the Averys. They were hardly ever in the house so I got to live there rent-free. Plus they paid me a lot of money to look after all their valuable artefacts. They said their insurance was lower if they had someone living permanently on the premises.’
‘And then I came along,’ he mused softly.
Molly’s head jerked back as something in his tone alerted her to danger. ‘I’m sorry?’
His bare shoulders gleamed like gold in the soft light from the lamp. ‘A young attractive woman like you must have found it incredibly limiting to be shut away in that huge house in the middle of nowhere working for people who only appeared intermittently,’ he observed. ‘It must have seemed like a gilded prison.’
‘I was grateful for a roof over my head and the chance to save,’ she said.
‘And the opportunity to meet a rich man who might make a useful lover?’
Molly’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘I don’t think so, mia bedda,’ he contradicted silkily. ‘I base my opinions on experience. It’s one of the drawbacks of being wealthy and single—that women come at you from all angles. You must have acknowledged that I was attracted to you, and I can’t help wondering whether you saw me as an easy way out of your dilemma. Were the bitter tears you cried real, or manufactured, I wonder? Did you intend those sobs to stir my conscience?’
Molly sat up in bed, her skin icy with goosebumps, despite the duvet which covered most of her naked body. ‘You think I pretended to cry? That I deliberately got myself pregnant to get you to pay off my brother’s debts? That I would cold-bloodedly use my baby as a bargaining tool?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. But I do think that fate has played right into your hardworking little hands,’ he said slowly. ‘Don’t you?’
Her voice was shaking as she shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ Pushing the duvet away, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, acutely conscious of her wobbly bottom as she bent down and started pulling on her discarded clothes with fingers which were trembling, telling herself she would manage. Somehow. Because she had always managed before, hadn’t she? Fully dressed now, Molly turned round, steeling herself not to react to his muscular olive body outlined so starkly against the snowy white bedding. ‘There’s nothing more to be said, is there?’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Oh, I think there’s plenty which needs to be said, but not tonight, not when emotions are running high. I need to think first before I come to any decision.’
Molly was tempted to tell him that maybe he should have done that before he had taken her to bed and then come out with a stream of unreasonable accusations, but what was the point in inflaming an already inflamed situation? And she couldn’t really blame him for the sex, could she? Not when she had been complicit every step of the way. Not when she had desperately wanted him to touch her.
And the awful thing was that she still did.
Tilting her chin upwards and adopting the most dignified stance possible—which wasn’t easy in the circumstances—she walked out of Salvio’s bedroom without another word.
