The Convenient Bride Read online

  ‘No.’ His voice was heavy with lust.

  She tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he held her in an iron grip. ‘Put me down.’

  ‘No, you wanted me back there. Don’t deny it.’

  ‘No,’ she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her lie. She couldn’t want this man. The man who forced her into marriage, forced her into deceit. ‘It was just for the cameras,’ she said, stiffening in his arms. ‘A fight on our wedding night wasn’t going to convince anyone this marriage is real.’

  He placed her feet on the floor and held her steady until she found her balance on the ten-centimetre heels. ‘Just an act?’ he asked, his black eyes searching hers as the lift doors opened.

  She looked at him squarely. ‘Of course.’ If he touched her now, she’d agree to anything. She walked to the penthouse door.

  He unlocked it and pulled her in behind him.

  ‘Antonio. Stop,’ she said, holding up her hand in defence.

  A darkness marred his perfect features. He turned away and walked to the bar.

  ‘You had me fooled,’ he said, pouring himself a scotch. He swept the glass to his lips and drained the amber fluid in one motion. ‘And here I was thinking I wasn’t dating an actress for once.’ He banged the glass down hard and turned to stare out at the twinkling lights of Venice. The rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed a man trying to tame his emotions.

  She didn’t know what to do, what to say. She’d lost herself in that kiss and it had been a mistake. A huge mistake.

  ‘We’d better get down there and finish the charade,’ he said finally, walking to the penthouse door and holding it open.

  But she hadn’t been pretending. Whatever he was, Antonio had opened her eyes to a world of passion.

  She wanted the world.

  She wanted him.

  Chapter Eight

  Sienna struggled through the final minutes of the reception. Antonio gave a short speech of thanks and the guests cheered and clapped as they left the ballroom.

  Photographers grappled for every possible shot before Sienna and Antonio slipped once again into the protection of the lift. Antonio dropped her hand the moment the door closed. The passion that had fired the small space a short time earlier had vanished. Sienna felt as though she were suffocating.

  ‘You did well,’ Antonio said in a formal voice. ‘I think Sergio and Rosa liked you. The invitation to stay at the Villa Paradiso is more than I expected.’

  ‘Good,’ Sienna said, staring at the numbers illuminating one by one as they ascended.

  The lift opened and they walked into the penthouse in silence. Sienna couldn’t imagine a worse start to a marriage, even a fake one.

  Once back in the suite, Antonio fired up his laptop. ‘You’re probably tired,’ he said, pouring himself another scotch and taking a seat in front of the screen. ‘Why don’t you sleep? We’ll head to Lake Como in the morning.’

  ‘I can’t sleep when . . .’

  ‘When?’ His eyes didn’t leave the screen.

  ‘When things are like this.’

  ‘Like what?’ he said, typing while he spoke.

  ‘Antonio,’ she said desperately. ‘Look at me.’

  He took his time, but slowly his eyes settled on hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘Then don’t apologise.’

  ‘It’s just that I feel we’d crossed a line and now things are —’

  ‘Don’t worry, Sienna. I won’t touch you again except for show,’ he said and turned to his computer and began typing again.

  Waves of confusion swept over her. That’s not what she wanted to hear. She shook her head. What was she thinking? She’d been the one to insist on all the no-intimacy clauses. He was only doing what he thought she wanted. But what if she’d changed her mind?

  She walked into the bedroom. The beaded dress weighed her down and she wanted it off. Now.

  Reaching over her shoulder, she attempted to unhook the first pearl of the line that stretched down her back from her neck to her bottom. She could touch it but just couldn’t unhook it. She tried from another angle. Still the hook eluded her. She took a shot from the other side, struggling with the fabric to haul the pearl within easier reach. But nothing she did would persuade the hook to free the little white pearl.

  She walked into the bathroom, turned her back to the mirror and tried again. Her fingers couldn’t lever the pearl from its tight satin hold. She banged her foot on the hard tile floor and used a word her mother had always hated.

  Leaning on the vanity, she stared at herself in the mirror. What were her options? Sleep in a heavy shroud of silk, pearls and satin. The thought made the dress feel even tighter. Call Carmela for help? Good idea, but Carmela would be a little more than curious as to why she’d been called to help a bride when surely her husband could fix the problem.

  She searched desperately for another solution, but she knew she there was only one possibility.

  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Just get it over with. ‘Antonio,’ she called, opening her eyes.

  When he didn’t respond, she walked to the bedroom door. ‘Antonio,’ she said with an edge of annoyance in her voice.

  He looked up. Dark eyes swept her body and settled deliberately on her mouth before meeting her eyes. ‘Hmm?’

  She swallowed. ‘Ah . . . I need a little help.’ She turned and pointed to the buttons holding her prisoner.

  He leant back in his chair. ‘I knew that kiss wasn’t an act,’ he said, running a finger over his bottom lip. ‘If you want to sleep with me, you only have to ask. There’s no need for these little games.’

  Heat burst from her cheeks. Fury and indignation mingled in her blood, the toxic mix making her shake. Only her good upbringing prevented her from marching across the room and slapping his face.

  ‘Forget it,’ she said, storming back into the bedroom. She shut the door, only just managing not to slam it. Arrogant, self-absorbed pig . . .

  Marching to the phone, she dialled.

  ‘Housekeeping,’ a bright voice answered.

  The bedroom door opened. Damn, why hadn’t she locked it? Antonio strode into the room. She turned her back on him.

  ‘It’s Sienna De —’

  ‘Moretti,’ his smooth voice whispered in her ear.

  Sienna Moretti.

  ‘I’d like —’ She couldn’t quite remember why she’d called.

  Antonio took the phone from her hand and dropped it back in its cradle.

  ‘What do you think —’ she demanded, her harsh words and icy glare having no effect.

  Without a word, he took her by the shoulders and spun her around. His fingers quickly flicked free four pearls of her gown.

  She opened her mouth to give Antonio a serve, but instead, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. She hadn’t realised how constricting the dress had been. She breathed deeply for what seemed the first time that day.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly over her shoulder. She reached around, hoping now to be able to finish the job herself, but fate was not on her side.

  ‘Let me.’ Antonio languidly undid another couple of pearls, his fingers gentle as he slowly released the pressure of her cream confinement.

  ‘Antonio —’

  ‘Ssh,’ he whispered in her ear. His lips brushed her bare shoulder.

  The air rushed from her lungs and she made to pull away. She couldn’t control her body’s response to his touch. His arms wound about her, preventing her escape, and drew her back against his chest. Her bottom settled against his hard thighs. He kissed the nape of her neck.

  ‘This is our wedding night,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Let’s not fight.’ He freed another couple of pearls.

  ‘I wasn’t the one —’

  He kissed the skin between her shoulder blades and her body shuddered in response.

  ‘D-don’t . . .’ She
closed her eyes as he trailed kisses down her spine as he exposed her body inch by inch. She forced herself not to gasp each time he touched her. Breathing proved more and more difficult as desire pumped through every cell in her body. Rationally she knew she mustn’t want this. But a deep longing possessed her. She’d been fighting alone for so long.

  No love.

  No passion.

  No life.

  Making love with her husband – that would be the most natural thing in the world.

  The few remaining pearls came free quickly under his deft hands. He ran his hands up her back to her shoulders and turned her. All her defences collapsed as she yearned for his lips on hers. His body crushing hers.

  Now. Now. Now.

  She wanted him to take her before reason drove sense into her lust-filled body.

  He cupped her face in both hands.

  ‘I want you to say it,’ he rasped, his dark eyes flashing with molten heat.

  ‘What?’ she breathed, almost blind with longing.

  ‘You want me,’ he ground out. ‘Say it.’

  She hesitated for a heartbeat. ‘I want you.’

  His lips crushed hers and her world exploded as desire and aching escaped the tight control she’d imposed. He tasted of chocolate and whisky. She wound her arms about him and ran her hands over his muscular back. His tongue probed and thrust, exploring deeply. The kiss became frantic as need drove her to want more and more. She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew him closer.

  ‘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. Thought
s 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.