Sweet Seduction (14 page)

‘I want to see you,’ he growled against her mouth as he slid his hands up her body past her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his fleeting touch. He gripped the shoulders of her dress and slid it from her body.

She stood in her cream silk bra, lace knickers, stockings and sky-high heels. When he stepped back from her, she felt exposed and crossed her arms across her chest.

‘No,’ he commanded. He took her hands and held them wide, feasting on her body with passion-glazed eyes. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

Pulses of desire pierced her core. She grew hot and wet under the hunger of his gaze.

He scooped her into his arms and lay her on the bed. Without taking his eyes from her, he stripped his suit from his body. The sound of her breathing roared louder in her ears as each garment hit the floor. His hardness strained against his black boxers. From the drawer of his bedside table he pulled out a condom.

‘You planned this,’ she said. Uncertainty undermined what little rationality remained.

‘No – hoped,’ he said, expertly sheathing his manhood. He climbed onto the bed and straddled her. He leant over and kissed her gently.

‘One of us is overdressed,’ he said, reaching around to unclasp her bra and throwing it aside. She arched back as he pulled one nipple into his mouth while circling the other with his fingers. He kissed his way down her stomach.

‘No,’ she rasped, pulling him back. ‘I can’t wait.’

He needed no more invitation. He tugged the knickers from her body and parted her thighs with his knee. He searched her eyes as he positioned himself.

She couldn’t bear it any longer. Gripping his buttocks, she pulled him close. He surged into her in one ecstatic thrust. She arched her head back on the pillow, blinded by electric shocks as he drove inside her again and again. Her fingers clawed at the sheets and his back as the pleasure mounted inside her.

The scent of Venice and sex-salted air assaulted her senses as the world blurred around her in an exquisite frenzy of carnal pleasure. Climbing higher and higher until she thought it impossible to feel more, take more. Crying out, she climaxed, shattering into a million pieces. Her muscles tightened possessively around him. Antonio shuddered over her, every inch of his body tensed.

He lowered himself onto her chest, his skin hot and wet as his weight crushed her into the soft mattress. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair and breathing heavily. His heart drummed against her breast as she held him. She stroked his back, following the contours of his muscles. He roused himself and rolled from her body. He propped himself up on his elbow, resting his chin in his hand.

‘Well, Mrs Moretti,’ he said breathlessly, ‘I think we just broke every one of your carefully worded rules.’

She laughed, covering her face with her hands in mock shame. ‘Obviously I wasn’t specific enough.’

He drew her hands aside.

‘I like breaking rules with you.’ He kissed her softly and moulded his body around hers, pulling her back into his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

She listened as sleep quickly claimed him, his breathing deep and regular.

But I love breaking rules with you.

She lay still, loving Antonio’s arms tight about her. The sounds of Venice floating through the open terrace doors. Everything about the moment felt perfect. She closed her eyes and drifted, overcome with a contentment she’d never felt before.

It seemed just a moment later when Antonio gently drew his arms from her body and climbed out of bed.

‘Antonio?’ she whispered, half asleep.

He came around to her side of the bed and sat. ‘Ssh,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘What —’

‘I’ve a couple of things I need to do.’ He stood and went into the bathroom. She heard the shower, then a few minutes later, he walked into the living room, fully dressed.

She propped herself up on her elbow and glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. Did the man never sleep? She watched as Antonio sat at the antique desk and fired up his computer. Within minutes, he looked engrossed. She dropped back on to the pillow. Grabbing another one, she pummelled it into submission and hugged it to her chest.

Work dominated his whole life.

Had the consummation of their marriage just been part of a well-ordered schedule?

Sienna’s eyes fluttered open. She stretched leisurely and then smiled as the images of last night floated through her mind. Parts of her body felt deliciously tender. She rolled over quickly, wondering if this morning she could treat him to a repeat performance.

Empty.

Antonio’s side of the bed presented a ruffled mess, but the man himself was absent. She bit her lip, trying hard not to let disappointment touch her heart.

‘Antonio,’ she called, sitting up and looking around. She spied a note on his pillow. Snatching it up, she tore open the envelope.

Dear Sienna, early meeting. See you at eleven. We’ll leave for Lake Como at midday. Antonio.

She stared at the letter written with such economy. Last night had changed her life forever, but Antonio didn’t even mention it. She blinked hard. Obviously their time together meant nothing to him. She screwed up the letter and hurled it into the bin.

The twisted bodies of a Picasso taunted her from the opposite wall. Damn Antonio. The man thought he could have anything he wanted. He probably laughed when he read the clauses she’d inserted into the contract. Probably took last night for granted.

His words drifted back to her.

Hoped
, he’d said. Liar.

She threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. No way would she cry over this. She wiped her eyes roughly as she walked into the bathroom. Flicking on the shower, she turned it to hot. Stepping under the burning spray, she vowed to wash away every trace of Antonio Moretti.

Winning back the Plaza would clearly require every ounce of her strength and resolve. As she scrubbed her body raw with a citrus wash, tears mingled with the steaming flow cascading down her body.

Antonio strode to the penthouse door and pushed the key into the lock. He’d tried to walk off the anger of his meeting with Amy, but still fury thumped at his temples.

Amy pregnant with his child. Impossible.

He walked into the living room.

Sienna sat on the sofa, looking gorgeous in a soft green summer dress. The nightmare of the morning’s meeting slipped from his mind instantly.

‘Morning,’ he said, smiling. Thoughts of their entwined bodies . . . Perhaps they had time . . .

He stopped. Her beautiful face looked pinched and her eyes stared at him with a coldness he’d never seen before. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ she said, standing. ‘I’m ready.’

He stepped towards her. He wanted to touch her. Hold her. She backed away.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his anger seeping accidentally into his voice.

‘Nothing,’ she said, obviously surprised by the harshness of his tone. She put more distance between them. ‘We have a long drive, don’t we? Shouldn’t we get going?’

He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand. ‘We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the problem is.’ Just touching her sent his pulse racing.

She pulled her hand from his grasp. ‘Where were you this morning?’

‘I had a meeting,’ he said stiffly.

‘What was so important?’ she demanded.

‘Amy insisted we meet to discuss our . . . situation.’

Sienna’s eyes widened. ‘Amy? You were with Amy. This morning?’

He frowned. ‘I had to see her before we left for Lake Como. I didn’t want her turning up there to talk things through.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you did.’ Sienna turned her back on him and walked away to the terrace.

He watched her move to the balustrade and gaze out over to St Mark’s. Her dress became slightly see-through in the bright sunshine, her long lean legs silhouetted against the green fabric. Damn it if he would allow this icy atmosphere to continue. All he could think about while talking to Amy was getting back to Sienna.

He cursed under his breath. How had he allowed this situation with Amy to occur? The baby couldn’t be his. He’d insisted on a paternity test, but Amy had just talked about how they needed to be together – for the sake of the baby.

Thoughts of his little brother laughing and playing invaded his mind. The image crumbled into a horrible tangle of smashed timber and frothing water. His brother’s screams echoed in his ears. Acute pain stabbed his heart as though he’d been stabbed with splinters of wood.

He slammed his hand into the doorjamb. No way was that child his.

Sienna jumped at the sound. ‘Antonio?’ She stared at him. Alarm shadowed her beautiful face.

Her concern stirred feelings he thought he’d buried years ago. He wanted to tell her everything. Share the pain, the shame and guilt. He clenched his hands into fists and slammed the door on his heart.

‘We’ll leave in five minutes.’ He turned away from the beautiful face that threatened to unravel everything.

He walked to the bathroom and shut the door. He leant on the basin and stared into his eyes in the mirror. Sienna made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. She kept drawing him back to the world he’d held at a distance for years. A world of family, relationships . . .

He straightened. He’d go to Lake Como, secure the hotel and then Sienna had to go.

Forever.

Sienna stared out at the countryside as the road wended its way towards Lake Como. The magnificent scenery should have secured her undivided attention. What could be more wonderful than driving through vineyards and historic Italian towns in a convertible with the wind in her hair? But the man next to her invaded every synapse in her mind.

They’d barely spoken since leaving the hotel. She should be furious. He’d left her alone after what could only be described as the best night of her life. Why? To see his pregnant ex-lover. She’d tried to work herself up into an angry fury, but she couldn’t. The tortured look on Antonio’s face back at the hotel had seared her heart. If someone had died he couldn’t have looked more anguished.

It mustn’t just be the situation with Amy. He’d spoken about that in such a matter-of-fact way. Such an Antonio way. Without emotions, without feeling. It had to be something else.

‘We’ll stop at Verona for lunch,’ Antonio said suddenly.

She whipped her gaze to his face, hoping to read his mood. What was he thinking? ‘Sounds lovely,’ she said.

‘We won’t stay long as we need to get to the Villa Paradiso for dinner.’

‘Okay,’ she said. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she knew he wouldn’t answer. Saying the man played his cards close to his chest was a ridiculous understatement. ‘Verona has some wonderful Roman architecture.’ She knew the comment sounded lame, but she couldn’t sit in silence any more.

‘Medieval as well,’ he said.

‘Well, well. You do know some history after all,’ she said, amused. ‘I thought you were just a rich philistine.’

‘I’m not completely devoid of the ability to appreciate culture,’ he said, flicking her a glance before concentrating again on the road. ‘I just don’t have time to indulge in frivolous pursuits.’

They entered the town of Verona. The burnt orange-coloured buildings with their tiled roofs blazed in the afternoon sun.

‘Work really does dominate your life, doesn’t it?’

‘And yours,’ he countered.

‘Yes, but I’m forced into that position. You have the luxury of choice. You choose to work instead of enjoying all the world has to offer.’

‘Typical man. I like to focus on one thing at a time,’ he said, navigating the winding streets.

‘But your focus is work all the time.’ How was that possible when he could visit all the wonders of Italy? Europe? The world?

‘Work is simple and straightforward. No complications,’ he said, parking the car.

He walked around and opened the passenger door. Taking her hand, he helped her to her feet.

‘But don’t you ever yearn to just let go? Immerse yourself in the culture, the beauty and the history that’s all around you,’ she asked, gazing at the lovely buildings surrounding them. Everywhere she looked she felt overwhelmed by what she saw. Antonio seemed not to notice any of it. He took her arm and led her down the picturesque cobblestone street.

‘I think you’ll like the restaurant we’re going to,’ he said, clearly changing the subject. ‘It’s one of the oldest in Verona and is regarded as having one of the best wine cellars in Italy.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘They’ve opened especially for us.’

She smiled and shook her head. ‘Your influence knows no bounds.’

‘That’s not entirely true, but I can usually book a good table,’ he said.

She smiled, glad Antonio’s desolate mood of the morning seemed to have lifted.

Antonio led her into a small square and knocked on a green door. A man dressed in smart black and white opened the door.

‘
Buongiorno
, Signor Moretti.’ The man bobbed his head towards her. ‘And Signora Moretti.’ He led them to a small candle-lit table in a private area of the dining room. It was dark but cosy.

‘I hope this is satisfactory, signor,’ he said, holding a chair for Sienna.

‘Yes,’ Antonio said, seating himself across from her.

The maitre d’ waited until they were settled. ‘Today I would recommend starting with the sea bream ravioli, with a mint-pesto sauce, followed by medium baked loin of lamb aromatised with three peppers,’ he said.

Antonio looked at her questioningly.

‘Sounds delicious,’ Sienna said.

‘For two,’ Antonio said.

As Antonio and the maitre d’ discussed wine, Sienna glanced about the room. Leadlight lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a low glow. The wooden tables were covered in starched white linen. Bottles of Italian red wine lined the muted-gold walls, which were punctuated by faded prints. So typically Italian.

‘Good choice,’ the maitre d’ said as Antonio named a wine, then left them alone.

‘I should have been the one angry this morning,’ Sienna said.

Antonio frowned. ‘Sorry.’

‘On the first day of our marriage you leave to see another woman.’ She injected a forced lightness into her tone.