Castellano's Mistress of Revenge (8 page)

But there were questions that required some answers first.

He reached for his towel on the sun lounger where he had left it earlier, and tied it roughly around his hips. ‘You never did give me a straight answer to my question. Why did you give your sister the bulk of the money Cole gave you?'

She elevated her chin in a haughty manner. ‘That is between Serena and me.'

Marc tightened his jaw as he held her fiery gaze. ‘Has she got some sort of drug or gambling problem?'

She glared at him for suggesting such a thing. ‘That is exactly the sort of thing you would think, isn't it, Marc?' she said. ‘Think the worst before any other possibility comes to mind.'

‘If there is nothing to hide then why not tell me what she has needed your financial help for?' he asked, fighting down his frustration. She was so wilful and defensive he couldn't get a straight answer out of her. He hated not knowing all the facts. It made him feel as if she had the power to tug the rug from under his feet. He was certainly not going to allow her the chance to do that again. Not in this lifetime.

She held his gaze for several taut seconds before
lowering hers, a whoosh of a sigh passing through her soft lips. ‘Serena can't have children,' she said, ‘or at least not naturally. I've been helping her and Richard pay for repeated IVF treatments.'

Marc absorbed the information for a moment. He wondered why Ava had been so determined to keep such a thing quiet. It was a wonderful gesture on her part and, given how she had been painted in the Press, he couldn't understand why she hadn't used her acts of goodwill to whitewash her reputation. Surely it would have gone a long way to turn the public's opinion around. But then her sister's privacy probably had a lot to do with it, if not Serena's husband, he thought. Marc had only met him once and only briefly at that, but Richard Holt had struck him as a rather conservative English gentleman who would no doubt be appalled at having such sensitive private issues hung out in public.

‘Thank you for telling me,' he said. ‘It will go no further than me if that is what you wish.'

Her grey-blue eyes came back to his, a shadow clouding them. ‘My sister has suffered a lot over the years,' she said. ‘Not just with the fertility issue, but long before that. Losing our mother was hard for both of us, but I think Serena, being that bit younger, felt it more, especially when our father remarried so quickly. I tried to protect her as much as I could but I didn't always succeed.'

Marc frowned as he took it all in. Ava seemed to be blaming herself for not doing a job she was far too young to be doing at that time. No one could replace someone's mother. He should know—the loss of his had deeply affected him, even though the circumstances
were totally different. It made him wonder how far Ava would go to protect her sister, if in fact her marriage to Cole had been for exactly that purpose and no other. It was an uncomfortable thought that Marc himself had acted no less ruthlessly by forcing her into a loveless union for his own ends. Ava had sacrificed herself all over again in order to bring about her sister's happiness. Marc had always known Douglas Cole was a shady character who thought nothing of the odd dodgy deal, but what he couldn't stomach or even bear to think about was how Ava had been used as a pawn and he had added to her suffering by insisting on her becoming his mistress again. He was so used to looking upon her as the guilty one: the betrayer, the harlot who had stomped all over his pride by leaving him for another man, he hadn't stopped to think what other motive she might have for acting as she had. No wonder she hated him with such vehemence. She might have capitulated to primal desire as he had done, but it didn't mean she cared anything for him. Why would she? He had judged her without mercy, blackmailed her and virtually stripped her of her freedom for the sake of his pride. How he would ever make it up to her was beyond him at that point. He needed time to think. He was not used to being flooded by such a tidal wave of emotion, guilt being the primary one. It made him feel defensive, as if he needed to build a wall around himself until he could navigate his way through the mess he had made, to make some sense of where to go to from here.

He watched in silence as Ava gnawed at her lip and continued, ‘I just want Serena to be happy. She had a terrible experience when she was a teenager. On her
very first date she was sexually assaulted. It took years for her to get over it. I was worried she was going to…to…end it all, but thankfully I finally managed to get her the help she needed. Throughout the whole time, our father was next to useless and our stepmother even worse. They thought she was making it up to get attention.'

Marc felt a gnarled hand clutch at his insides. ‘You are indeed a very devoted sister,' he said. ‘I hadn't realised how much you had done for her over the years. I am sorry.'

She gave him a fleeting look before turning away. ‘Serena wants a baby more than anything. She's finally found a man who absolutely adores her. Richard is so gentle and loving, so perfect for her. He would love her with or without having a family, but she is so very determined to give him a child.'

‘I would imagine it would be a big thing for a woman,' Marc said. ‘It's the sort of thing one takes for granted—fertility, I mean.'

She ran her tongue over her lips and glanced at him again before shifting her gaze. ‘Yes…yes, I suppose it is…'

There was a three-beat silence.

‘I know I asked you before, but in the light of what happened in the pool a few minutes ago…' Marc cleared his throat as he pushed back his hair with his fingers ‘you
are
currently taking the Pill, are you not? If you weren't sleeping with Cole then you wouldn't need to be on it, unless, of course, you had other lovers.'

Her face coloured, but Marc wasn't sure if it was anger at being reminded of the reckless passion they
had just shared, or whether she was embarrassed at discussing such personal issues. She had not exactly been prudish with him in the past, so he could only assume she was still furious with him for demonstrating she could still respond to him in spite of all her words to the contrary. He had to admit he was a little annoyed with himself for not holding back a little longer. It gave her power over him, the sort of power he didn't want her to have, to know she still had such an overwhelming effect on him. Given how he had treated her, what would stop her from using it against him? She could go to the Press and destroy him in a few choice paragraphs. Would she do it? Could he afford to trust her? Surely she had even more reason now to try and destroy him.

Marc set his mouth. ‘I understand you are angry at me and I don't blame you. I have got a lot of things wrong, some by my own arrogance, but also from you keeping secrets that had no need to be kept. But while you may not have had a sexual relationship with Cole, how am I to know if you have had other lovers unless you tell me?'

‘You have nothing to worry about as far as I am concerned,' she said in a self-righteous manner, pulling her towel tighter around her body. ‘I have not been sleeping around, but then you might choose not to believe me, of course.'

Marc knew he deserved that little swipe of hers, but he could not have rested until he'd asked. It was going to take him some time to process all she had told him. She had said nothing of her sister's situation in the past, but then he hadn't told her half of his own background. Their relationship back then had been based on lust and
very little else, or at least from his perspective. He knew Ava had wanted more from him, but he had sworn off marriage after seeing what happened to his father. It had been gut-wrenching to see a fully grown man totally shattered by the desertion of his wife. Marc had vowed from a young age he would never allow his heart to be engaged in any of his relationships with women. And he had been true to that vow. He had always kept things light and casual, or at least until Ava had come along. She was the first woman he had not been able to forget. It maddened and frustrated him that he had not been able to move on. If he had acted like a sensible adult none of this would have happened. He should have accepted her decision to end their relationship. The trouble was he had wanted her so much. He
still
wanted her. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he didn't.

‘I will use condoms in future, just to be sure there are no accidents,' he said with perhaps a little less finesse than was called for. ‘I don't want any nasty surprises.'

Ava stiffened in anger. ‘You think I would do something like that?'

He bent down to scoop his bathers out of the pool, wringing them out in his hands and then stepping into them with no hint of self-consciousness. ‘It has happened before,' he said. ‘I know of several men who've suddenly had their lives turned upside down by a paternity case thrown at them by an ex-lover.'

Ava clutched at the knot of her towel. ‘This is a totally hypothetical question, but if—and it's a big and very unlikely if—
if
I was to fall pregnant, what would you expect me to do?'

He finished retying the cord of his bathers before he answered. ‘First of all I would expect to be told about it as soon as possible.'

‘Why?' Ava shot back. ‘So you could make the decision for me?'

‘Don't put words in my mouth, Ava,' he said, frowning down at her. ‘I merely said I would like to know as soon as it is humanly possible. As to what you decide…well, I have always believed it is a woman's choice, since ultimately it is her body that is involved.'

Ava met his gaze, her chin at a combative height. ‘I wouldn't dream of having an abortion. I think you need to know that right from the start.'

‘I would not ask it of you,' he returned. ‘Especially given the trouble your sister is experiencing.'

Ava was surprised by the empathy in his voice as he spoke of her sister. She bit her lip and sank down to sit on the end of the sun lounger behind her. ‘At least Serena has Richard by her side,' she said to fill the stretching silence.

‘How many IVF attempts have they made?' Marc asked.

She shrugged. ‘I've kind of lost count…six…maybe seven.' She looked at her hands resting on her thighs. ‘The last miscarriage…the one she's just had has been the worst for her. Everything was going so well and then…' She bit down on her lip again, her eyes misting over.

Marc put a hand on her shoulder, his palm tingling at the contact with her soft, silky skin. ‘It is not your fault your sister cannot have children. It seems to me you are going out of your way to see that she gets every chance to have a family.'

She looked up at him. ‘Why have you always been so against having children?'

He dropped his hand from her shoulder and moved to the other side of the terrace, his gaze taking in the view without really seeing it. ‘I have seen what happens when children are shunted back and forth between warring parents. I don't want to be responsible for that sort of emotional damage.'

After a lengthy silence he heard her rise from the sun lounger behind him. ‘The sun is starting to burn me,' she said. ‘Do you mind if I go inside and take a shower?'

Marc turned and looked at her. ‘Ava, you don't have to ask my permission over every little thing.'

Her slim brows rose in twin arcs of cynicism. ‘Don't I?'

He held her challenging gaze. ‘You are not my slave, you are my current lover.'

‘Is there a difference I should be made aware of?' she asked with that haughty look she had perfected that made Marc's hands itch to reach for her and kiss her senseless.

‘What happened here a few minutes ago is not over,' he said. ‘Rather it is just beginning. If you are not careful,
ma petite
, I will demonstrate it right here and now.'

She turned and stalked across the terrace and back into the villa, leaving Marc with nothing but the afternoon breeze to tease him with her lingering fragrance.

A
VA
was surprised when she came downstairs for dinner to find Celeste had set the large formal dining table for only one. ‘Is—er—Signor Castellano not here for dinner this evening?' she asked the housekeeper.

Celeste smoothed a tiny crease out of the starched white tablecloth. ‘He said he had some business to attend to at his office,' she said.

‘I didn't realise he had an office in Monte Carlo,' Ava said, frowning as she took her seat.

Celeste gave her an unreadable look. ‘He does not yet have an office here, although I believe he is in the process of setting one up,' she said. ‘He flew to London an hour ago.'

Ava tried not to show how much the news affected her, but even so she felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. Marc's passionate attention this afternoon out at the pool had stirred her senses into a frenzy from which they had yet to recover. To hear from someone else he had left for London hurt far more than it ought to have. Was he deliberately showing her what he expected her position in his life
to be? She was nothing more than a chattel, a plaything he picked up and put down whenever he felt like it. Business came first, as it had in the past. She was a part-time lover, a position she had sworn she would never be in again.

He couldn't have chosen a more effective tool to make her uncertain of him, to stop her from feeling even the tiniest bit secure in his life: making mad, passionate love with her one minute, leaving her to fend for herself the next.

‘Did Signor Castellano tell you when he is expecting to return?' Ava asked as Celeste brought in a tray with the first course.

‘He said he would call you in a day or two,' Celeste answered. ‘He left his contact details near the telephone in the library if you should need to reach him.'

Ava drummed her fingers on the table once the housekeeper had left. She was determined
not
to call him. She was going to carry on with her life as if he had not barged back into it, issuing his commands right, left and off-centre as if she had no will and mind of her own.

 

The following morning Ava left the villa, taking her time over browsing in the shops, stopping for a coffee and a pastry before making her way to a beauty spa, where she treated herself to a wash and blow-dry of her hair as well as a manicure and pedicure. She was on her way out of the spa when she ran into the wife of Douglas's business manager, a woman in her early thirties who dressed—and on far too many occasions acted—as if she were half that age.

‘Ava!' Chantelle Watterson cooed as she air-kissed
Ava's cheeks. ‘You look absolutely marvellous. And no wonder, eh?'

‘Er—well, I just had my hair and nails done, so—'

Chantelle threw back her bottle-blonde head and laughed. ‘Droll, darling, very droll. I'm talking about your new lover. He is
gorgeous
and much younger than Dougie too, you lucky thing. I read about it in the paper. I am
so
envious, I just can't tell you. Hugh is starting to show his age, not just in appearance, if you know what I mean. Not that I mind really—I keep myself occupied.' She gave a meaningful wink.

Ava ground her teeth behind her forced smile. ‘Hugh always looks wonderful for his age.'

‘If it wasn't for his money I wouldn't stay with him, you know,' Chantelle said in a conspiratorial tone as she slipped a too thin, too tanned arm through one of Ava's. ‘But then, beggars can't be losers, right?' She cackled at her own joke before continuing, ‘I think it's time we had a drink to celebrate your new life.'

‘Actually, I have to get going,' Ava said, trying to extract herself from Chantelle's python-like hold. ‘Marc will be expecting me.'

Chantelle's green eyes glinted. ‘Liar,' she said. ‘He's in London right now with Hugh. It's something to do with the takeover of Dougie's company. Hugh was quite worried about it. But I suppose Marc doesn't talk to you about business, eh?'

Ava pressed her lips together. ‘There's hardly been time to talk about anything,' she said.

‘Yes, well, Hugh told me Marc Castellano moves quickly when he wants something,' Chantelle said. ‘But a word of advice, darling—men like Marc like things
their way and their way only. If I were you I wouldn't make a fuss if he plays around behind your back or indeed right under your nose. I know for a fact Hugh's had a few flings, but what's the point in rocking the boat when it's sailing in the direction you want it to go?'

Ava couldn't wait to get away from the woman's gold-digging cynicism. She felt tainted by just being in her presence. ‘Look, Chantelle, I really have to go,' she said, this time managing to get her arm out of the older woman's grip. ‘Things are not what you think with Marc and me. We were together in the past. We are trying to make a go of it this time. I wouldn't want you or anyone to get the wrong impression or anything. You know how the Press has always had it in for me.'

Chantelle smiled a bleached-white smile that fell a little short of genuine. ‘I understand perfectly, darling,' she purred. ‘Marc Castellano is super-rich and super-sexy. You'd be a fool to let him slip through your fingers. Get a ring on your finger though and quickly. The Press can say what they like, but once you're legally his wife they'll leave you alone. That's what happened with me, in any case.'

‘We have no intention of marrying at this point,' Ava said, even though for some reason it hurt to say it out loud.

Chantelle patted Ava's arm in a patronising manner. ‘Then see if you can get him to change his mind,' she said, winking suggestively.

Ava made good her escape when another acquaintance of Chantelle's came out of the spa and diverted her attention.

As she made her way back to the villa Ava felt sick
at the thought of being associated with someone as shallow and selfish as Chantelle Watterson. She had always hated the thought of people assuming she had hooked up with Douglas Cole for the very same reasons Chantelle had married Hugh Watterson. But for Serena's sake she had put up with it, being—back then—reasonably confident it wouldn't be long before she would move to the other side of the globe and put it all behind her.

Douglas had told her from the start about his diagnosis of bladder cancer; however, he had wanted no one else to know for the sake of his business. He had said he was worried about investors pulling out if they knew he was terminally ill. He had said he had been given less than two years to live, but he had made it to five. Ava often wondered if he had lied to her about his prognosis but she had no way of finding out now. Although the five years at times had felt like a prison sentence, she felt she had done the right thing in staying with him that final year so at least he was not left to die alone.

 

Another three days passed without any contact from Marc and Ava began to hover around the villa phone as well as keeping her mobile switched on and with her all the time. It annoyed her that he was able to keep her on such tenterhooks in spite of her determination to carry on as normal. The trouble was the villa seemed to have breathed in the very essence of him. Everywhere she went she felt his presence. Even swimming in the pool made her feel every sensation he had evoked in her, unsettling her to the point where she came in after only a couple of laps. She felt him on her
skin, she felt him in her body, even her inner muscles tweaked with the memory of him possessing her. The red patch on her back had almost faded, but she still found her fingers going to it, tracing over it as she pictured Marc thrusting into her so roughly, as if he couldn't contain his need of her. Her breasts, too, ached for the cup of his hands or the suck of his mouth. Day after lonely day she had to distract herself from thinking about him, holding her emotions in check in case they flooded out of control.

After giving up on a swim, Ava showered and changed and came downstairs to her favourite sitting room, which overlooked the port of Monte Carlo. She stood at the windows with her arms folded across her middle, and sighed with a combination of boredom and frustration.

‘Don't tell me you are missing me after only four days.' Marc's voice sounded from behind her.

Ava spun around so quickly she felt the room tilt. She put a hand to her throat where it felt as if her heart was going to beat its way out. ‘When did you get back?' she asked in a breathless gasp.

He reached up to loosen his tie. ‘Just then,' he said, his face cast in an expressionless mask. ‘Celeste told me on her way out that you were in here.'

Ava fixed him with an arch look, the anger she had felt at how he had left her dangling quickly replacing her shock at his sudden appearance. ‘So how was your trip to London?' she asked. ‘Was it business or pleasure or did you manage to squeeze in a bit of both?'

He closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of her, not touching her but close enough for
her to feel his body heat. ‘As my paid mistress, do you think you have got the right to question my movements when I am not with you?' he asked coolly and calmly.

Ava felt the anger swell in her veins until she thought she would explode with it. She raised her chin at him defiantly, her eyes throwing live wires of hatred at him. ‘If I am to remain faithful to you I want you to do the same for me. In fact, I insist on it.'

‘You sound rather adamant about it,' he said with that same mask-like expression. ‘Has my absence made you feel unsure of your position in my life,
cara
?'

Ava was not going to admit to it even though it was painfully true. ‘I am not going to share my body with you unless I am absolutely sure I am your only lover,' she said through lips pulled tight with determination.

He captured her chin, holding her gaze to his. ‘You want exclusivity?'

‘Yes. I won't settle for anything else.'

His eyes devoured hers as the silence beat like a tribal drum between them. Ava felt every one of her heartbeats; they seemed to be following a hectic syncopated rhythm instead of their usual slow and steady pace. Her breathing too was ragged and uneven, her lungs tight with the pressure of containing her spiralling emotions. She couldn't help dipping her gaze to his mouth, wondering if he was going to kiss her. If he did she would be lost. She could feel the pulse of need beating deep inside her. She had felt it the whole time he had been away and now he was here, touching her, she felt as if she would die without the pressure of his lips on hers.

‘All right, but I have a few conditions of my own,'
Marc said. ‘I forbid you to be seen with or speak to or make any contact whatsoever with Chantelle Watterson. Do I make myself clear?'

Ava frowned at the implacability of his tone. ‘She is not a close associate of mine. I hardly know her.'

‘You were seen talking to her for half an hour the day after I left.'

Her mouth dropped open. ‘You really are having me watched, aren't you? My God, but you've got some nerve, Marc. I have a right to my privacy.'

He released her chin and stepped away to shrug himself out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chesterfield before facing her again. ‘There are some things I am prepared to negotiate on in our relationship, but gossiping with that gold-digging cow of a woman Hugh Watterson was fool enough to marry is the very last thing I will allow.'

‘I don't gossip and I only met her by chance,' Ava insisted. ‘I had my hair done and ran into her as I came out of the salon.'

‘That is not the way she told it to Hugh,' he said.

‘So you'd rather believe what she said to him than what I am saying to you?' she asked bitterly.

His expression remained shuttered. ‘I am just asking you to keep away from her, that is all. I don't want the Press to get the wrong idea about your association with her. I know you won't believe it, but I am trying to protect you.'

Ava rolled her eyes. ‘You're right, I don't believe you. I thought the whole idea of this arrangement of yours was to cause as much damage to my reputation as you could.'

His brow darkened with a frown. ‘Look, Ava, I'm still working through some issues. It's become more and more apparent to me that I have not always acted with the sort of propriety I should have, given the circumstances. It's taking me some time to see things from your perspective.'

‘Take all the time you want,' she said with a scornful toss of her head. ‘But given your cynical take on life, I reckon it will take a decade or two before you begin to trust any woman, let alone me.'

‘I wasn't planning on continuing our affair quite that long.'

Ava felt as if he had just backhanded her. Her whole body stung with the aftershock of his clinically delivered statement, pain reverberating until she felt as if she was going to pass out.

‘Is something wrong?' Marc asked, reaching for her as she swayed in front of him. ‘You've gone completely white.'

‘I—I'm fine…' She brushed off his hand, her eyes falling away from his. ‘I haven't had much to eat today. It's been too hot.'

‘Celeste told me you haven't been eating properly for some weeks now,' he said, still frowning as he took in her pallid features. ‘Do you think you should see a doctor?'

‘No. I'm just not quite over a stomach bug I picked up when I visited my sister a couple of weeks ago.'

Marc waited a moment before he asked, ‘Are you missing him?'

She looked at him blankly. ‘Missing whom?'

Marc had brooded over it the whole time he was
away, wondering if, in spite of her platonic relationship with Cole, deep down she had come to love him. After all, she had lived with him for five long years and nursed him through to his death. All the people he had spoken to in the London branch of Cole's business had confirmed how much Ava had done for him. How committed she had been to seeing that every one of his needs was met no matter what the time of day. Marc had gone away in order to gain perspective, to regroup and yet he had ended up even more confused about her motives. Ava McGuire had married a dying man—a very rich, old dying man. What better odds for her than that? She might not have slept with Cole, but that didn't mean she wasn't a gold-digger. She had banked on a big pay-out at the end, but now Marc was standing in the way of it. ‘Your husband,' he said, jealousy rising like bile as he said those most hated of words.