Innocent Wife, Baby Of Shame

His mouth tightened into a thin white line. ‘How long have you been in love with him?’

Keira had dug herself in so deeply she decided she might as well go for broke. ‘I have loved him all my life,’ she said. ‘I’m going to him now.’

Something seemed to snap in him at her words. He pulled her towards him, his mouth slamming down on hers, his arms like steel bands around her. The sheer animal intensity of it caught her off guard. Instead of pushing him away, she got swept away in the rough urgency of it. She kissed him back with blazing passionate heat, her teeth biting at him. She wanted him, needed him. He spun her around, her hands flat against the door, her skirt hitched up around her waist, the tiny barrier of her lacy knickers shoved to one side as he drove into her slick moistness with fast-paced deep thrusts that had her whimpering in pleasure within seconds.

She was still trying to get her breathing back in order when he withdrew from her. She slowly turned around, hot colour coursing through her at her own wanton weakness.

‘That should give you something to remember me by,’ he said in a flinty tone as he re-zipped his trousers.

And, with one last raking look, he left her standing there with the scent of her shame lingering in the air.

CHAPTER FOUR

KEIRA was jerked back to the present when Patrizio got up from the bed. She watched as he paced the room, his hand going through the black silk of his hair, leaving it ruffled and disordered and devastatingly sexy.

‘My alleged affair,’ he repeated, his tone full of derision. ‘I thought you of all people had more sense than to be fooled by someone using computer Photoshop techniques that even a child could use.’

Keira felt herself cringing in shame. She had been so stupid, so blind with jealousy, she hadn’t taken the time to think things through rationally. ‘I’m sorry…’ she said, biting her lip until she could taste blood. ‘I wouldn’t have fallen for it if it hadn’t been for the messages as well. She rang the whole time you were away. I couldn’t help thinking the worst…’

He turned around to glare at her. ‘How could you do it to us, Keira?’ he asked. ‘I loved you so much. I would have given my life for you.’

Tears sprang from her eyes, her chest feeling far too tight to breathe. The knife of guilt twisting even further.

‘You were away so much,’ she said in a desperate attempt to justify her unjustifiable actions. ‘I couldn’t help being suspicious.’

‘You were suspicious because you were looking for a way out,’ he said. ‘You were in love with Merrick all the time.’

‘No!’ She got to her feet unsteadily. ‘I was lying when I said that to you. I didn’t love him…or at least not in that way.’

‘But you still slept with him.’

She had to look away. ‘Yes…’

‘We could have sorted it out,’ he said, his voice hoarse with held-back emotion. ‘Within twenty-four hours we could have sorted it out.’

She gulped back a sob and nodded. ‘I know…’

She heard him release a ragged sigh. ‘I cannot forgive you for what you did, Keira,’ he said. ‘I have tried to, but I just cannot do it.’

‘I understand…’ Keira bowed her head in shame. Pain racked her being; every joint seemed to ache with it.

‘You were intent on paying me back for an affair I did not have,’ he went on. ‘You did not stop to think of the consequences, you just went right ahead and ripped my heart out of my chest.’

‘I only did it the once,’ she said in her defence. ‘And, if it’s any comfort to you, I don’t even remember a lot of that night.’

He gave her a scathing look. ‘What sort of twisted mind do you have that you think that would somehow make it less offensive?’ he asked. ‘For God’s sake, Keira, you gave your body to another man. Do you really expect me to forgive and forget? I cannot do it. Every time I look at you I think of that creep’s hands on you and his body inside yours.’

‘He’s not a creep…’ she said with a tiny spark of defiance in her gaze.

The ensuing silence stretched and stretched to snapping point, every single beat of it like a hammer blow to her heart as his dark eyes bored like twin drills into the tender flesh of her soul.

She closed her eyes. This was too much. She couldn’t cope with this avalanche of feeling.

‘I loved you, Keira,’ he said, the slight break in his voice making guilt assail her all over again. ‘You killed that love.’

‘I know…I don’t blame you…what I did was unforgivable. I can’t even forgive myself…’

Patrizio moved to the other side of the room and stared sightlessly out of the window. He had prepared himself for her defiance, not her despair. She looked pale and vulnerable, as if her world had collapsed around her. It reawakened every protective instinct he had felt for her from the first moment he had met her. Her beguiling mix of wild child and sensual woman had been a devastatingly attractive package. He had broken all his rules and married her within weeks of meeting her. But it didn’t matter what desire still leapt between them now—the reminder of how she had given herself to someone else would stay with him for ever.

He had never been able to remove the vision of her lying naked in Garth Merrick’s bed. The morning after their heated argument, he had felt a little ashamed of how he had reacted to her request for a divorce, realising with hindsight that it was probably just a knee-jerk response. When he’d cooled down at bit he conceded she had been justifiably upset. The photos were very well done, and given the context of Keira’s deep-seated insecurity, which he knew stemmed from her difficult relationship with her father, it would be all too easy for her to think she had been betrayed. He wanted to find her and apologise for not taking her concerns more seriously, but instead of finding her taking shelter with her friend, she had done the very last thing he had expected her to do.

It still made nausea rise like a thick hot tide in his stomach when he thought of the gloating pride on Merrick’s face as he’d greeted him at the door of his flat…

‘Where is my wife?’ Patrizio ground out.

‘She’s in bed,’ Garth said with a combative look. ‘She doesn’t want to see you, Trelini.’

‘But I want to see her,’ Patrizio said, pushing the door back against the wall with a vicious slap of wood on plaster.

He had found the bedroom without any trouble as it was the only one in the flat. And inside it he found his wife lying totally naked on the bed, her body sprawled like a whore’s, her eyes closed in blissful unawareness of his presence.

‘Don’t wake her,’ Garth said from behind him, his voice low. ‘She had a migraine. She was sick for hours.’

Patrizio clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to shake her awake, to drag her by the hair out of her lover’s bed, but he knew it would be pointless. Hatred burned like a forest fire in his belly and he swore he would never set eyes on her again.

And he hadn’t.

Until today.

Patrizio slowly turned around to find her sitting with her head bowed, the bitten nails of one hand picking at the skin near her cuticles on the other. She looked pale and fragile, like a bird that had had its wings clipped and was struggling to fly again.

She lifted her head as if she had sensed his gaze on her and her pale cheeks slowly filled with delicate colour. He saw the up and down movement of her throat and the way the tip of her tongue came out to brush a film of moisture over her lips.

He had to harden his resolve all over again. He had known it would be hard, but not this hard. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much to see her. It physically hurt to look at her. Pain knifed through him, like a thousand scalpels reopening old wounds that had taken every single day of the two months of their separation to start to heal over.

‘Patrizio…’ Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but he saw her mouth moving and suddenly realised she was speaking. ‘I—I want to thank you for doing this to help the boys…I know it’s not what either of us wants. I just want you to know I’ll try and do my best to make sure it works.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, surprised that his voice sounded so even when he’d had to drag it past a golf ball–sized lump in his throat. ‘It was all I could think of to resolve the situation.’

‘It’s only for six weeks…’

‘Yes.’

He looked away, unable to hold her wounded violet-blue gaze any longer. ‘If you are not feeling well enough to eat out this evening we can postpone it until tomorrow evening,’ he said. ‘One day will not make much difference either way.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I’m feeling much better now. Besides, I need to eat something.’

He moved to the other side of the room and, taking a small envelope off the coffee table, came back across and handed it to her.

Keira looked at it warily. ‘What is it?’

His eyes were steady on hers. ‘Your wedding and engagement rings,’ he said.

She took the envelope with fingers that felt numb and useless. ‘You kept them?’

He gave an indolent shrug. ‘I hadn’t got around to selling them after you sent them back to me. I was waiting until the divorce was finalised.’

She bit her lip and slowly took them out of the envelope, the crackle of the stiff paper sounding like someone stepping on bubble wrap. The rings lay in her palm, shining up at her with glittering eyes of accusation.

‘You had better put them on and keep them on while we are acting out this charade,’ he said into the silence. ‘Once it is over, you can keep them or send them back to me as you did the last time. I do not care either way.’

He turned to pick up his keys from the coffee table, the noise of them jangling against each other more like the sound of clanging bells in the thick silence.

Keira got to her feet, her legs still feeling shaky, but somehow she managed to follow him from the room and out to the car.

He didn’t talk on the way to the restaurant he had booked on Toorak Road. She glanced at him once or twice, her heart contracting as she saw his clenched jaw and tight mouth and the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

She let out a tiny sigh and wished she could turn back the clock. How different things might have been if that night had never happened. But it had and she had no way of undoing the damage. Even Garth had drifted away from her; their lifelong friendship had never quite recovered from that stolen night of passion.

Patrizio parked the car and came around to open her door, the cooler night air lifting the bare skin of her arms into tiny goose-bumps. ‘Are you cold?’ he asked, sliding his hand down the length of her arm to capture one of her hands in his.

Keira felt the latent strength in his fingers, her blood thrumming in her veins at the thought of feeling his touch all over her body once more. Her most secret place moistened and pulsed with longing to feel his hard presence plunging inside her again.

‘N-no…’ she said, shivering as his thumb moved back and forth over the leaping pulse under the translucent skin of her wrist.

He held her gaze for a moment, his expression hard to read. She felt his thumb come to a standstill, as if he were measuring the thud, thud, thud of her blood racing beneath her skin.

‘You are nervous, cara?’ he asked.

Keira wished he wouldn’t keep using those wonderful Italian terms of endearment he had used so often in the past. It didn’t seem right now when he hated her so much. ‘A bit,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I can do this now it comes to the crunch.’

‘We have eaten together many times in the past, Keira,’ he reminded her. ‘Let us pretend the last two months did not happen. It will be much better that way.’

He led her into the restaurant, where they were greeted by the maître d’. ‘Mr Trelini and Mrs Trelini!’ His eyes lit up. ‘What is this? I cannot believe my very own eyes. You are having dinner together?’

‘Yes,’ Patrizio said. ‘We are celebrating our reconciliation.’

‘Congratulations!’ the maître d’ gushed. ‘That is wonderful, eh? No nasty divorce and no greedy lawyers.’

‘Right,’ Patrizio said with a smile and expression that spoke volumes.

Keira felt herself mentally recoiling at how obstructive she had been over the divorce. The female lawyer representing her had encouraged her to push for a fifty-fifty settlement and, although she hated doing so, she had agreed. It had been a desperate measure on her part as she knew Patrizio would fight it every inch of the way, but at least their divorce wouldn’t be finalised until they reached some sort of agreement. She’d rationalised that it would give her a few extra weeks to try and get him to reconsider his refusal to forgive her. It wasn’t as if she wanted Patrizio’s money; she had wanted his love and forgiveness much more than any amount of wealth.

They were shown to their table and left with the wine list. ‘Do you want red or white wine?’ Patrizio asked as he began to peruse the list.

‘I’d better stick to mineral water,’ she said, fidgeting with her purse. ‘I don’t want to trigger a headache.’

He lowered the list to look at her, a shadow of concern in his dark gaze. ‘Have you had more migraines than usual lately?’

She found it hard to keep her emotions in check with his coal-black eyes on hers. ‘Yes…’ she said, dropping her gaze from his. ‘It’s stress related mostly. I’ve got some pills to take now…they help a lot…’

Just then a man approached with a camera, a woman at his side with a notebook and pen.

‘Mr Trelini—’ the young woman spoke first ‘—we’ve heard a rumour today that you and Mrs Trelini are resuming your marriage.’

‘Yes, that is true,’ Patrizio said with an urbane smile. ‘We are indeed resuming our marriage and are both very happy to be together again.’

‘So does this mean you’ve forgiven your wife for her affair with Garth Merrick?’ she asked with a meaningful glance in Keira’s direction.

Keira felt her face fill with colour as if her shame had overflowed from deep inside to find a more public place to showcase itself.

‘But of course,’ Patrizio said. ‘We are all entitled to one mistake, no? Many men have strayed in the past and their wives have been expected to not only forgive but to turn a blind eye. What is sauce for the goose and all that, right?’

‘Er…right,’ the journalist said, madly scribbling.

The man with the camera came closer and asked them to pose. Keira stretched her mouth into a semblance of a smile, the tiny fine hairs on the back of her neck lifting one by one as Patrizio’s hand cupped her nape.

‘Thank you both,’ the journalist said. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

‘We will,’ Patrizio said with another charming smile.

Keira blew out a ragged little sigh once they had left. ‘I’m not very good at this…’

‘You did fine,’ he said. ‘Now, what are you going to eat?’

Keira had never felt less like eating in her life. She stared at the menu for endless minutes, chewing at her bottom lip, wondering if he had any idea of how much this was affecting her.

He reached across the table and lifted her chin with his hand, the pad of his thumb moving over her savaged bottom lip. ‘You will draw blood if you keep doing that, cara,’ he said.

Tears shone in her eyes as she held his dark fathomless gaze. ‘I c-can’t help it…’ She choked back a tiny sob.

She heard him draw in a sharp breath, his fingers moving to cup her cheek in a touch so gentle and tender that the tears she was desperately trying to hold back began to spill from her eyes.

‘Please do not cry, Keira,’ he said. ‘Does my presence upset you this much?’

She nodded as another little broken sob escaped. ‘Sorry…I’ll be fine in a minute…’

‘You need feeding,’ he said, signalling for the waiter.

Keira mopped at her eyes as she heard Patrizio order her favourite dish for her, the fragile hold she had on her emotions threatening to slip away again. He might not love her but he hadn’t forgotten what she liked and disliked. Somehow she found that comforting.

‘How are your studies going?’ he asked once the waiter had left. ‘You must be close to finishing.’

‘Yes…’ she said, conscious of the steadiness of his dark gaze. ‘I’ve finished my thesis and it’s been assessed. I’m working on my final portfolio. There’s an exhibition for Masters students held at one of the galleries. It’s a chance to get noticed by the art world.’

‘You have enjoyed the course?’ he asked.

‘Yes, very much,’ she answered. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.’

‘Are your parents a little more resigned to your career choice?’

She gave him a grim look. ‘I think you know enough about my parents to know they would have preferred me to be doing something a little less controversial.’

‘Controversial?’ His brow creased slightly. ‘What is controversial about being an artist?’

‘You obviously haven’t seen any of my recent work,’ she said with a wry grimace.

His dark eyes twinkled. ‘So you have been milking some very sacred cows have you, cara?’

‘That’s not quite the expression I would have chosen but I guess it will do,’ she conceded. ‘I painted a rather subversive political work. It caused a bit of furore.’

‘With your father or the public?’

‘Both,’ she said. ‘I was at a demonstration and took it with me. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it in the press.’

‘I must have been interstate or overseas at the time,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘Were you arrested?’

‘Not this time,’ she said. ‘But my father threatened to disinherit me if it happened again.’

Patrizio examined her features for a lengthy moment. ‘Our separation has not helped your relationship with your parents, has it?’ he asked.

She shook her head and began toying with the meal the waiter had set before her moments earlier. ‘No…but then that’s my fault and I accept total responsibility for it.’

Patrizio wondered if she really had. She seemed intent on sticking to her story of not remembering that night, which annoyed him immensely. She had wilfully gone to Merrick’s flat with the intention of resuming her relationship with him. There was no point in pretending she didn’t know how she’d ended up in bed with him. She couldn’t have chosen a more lethal blow to their marriage than that.

‘You do not look like you are enjoying your meal,’ he remarked. ‘Did I choose the wrong thing for you?’

She shook her head and put her cutlery down. ‘No, I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought. My appetite is still not back to normal since I had that bug.’

‘Come,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘We have achieved what we set out to achieve. The press has got their statement from us. We will go home.’

‘But what about your meal?’ Keira asked. ‘Aren’t you going to finish it?’

He handed her his handkerchief, his expression wry. ‘I seem to have lost my appetite as well,’ he said. ‘Besides, it has been a long day. I am ready for bed.’

Bed.

One word.

Three letters.

Keira shivered as his arm came around her waist as he led her from the restaurant.

If trying to get through a meal with him had been hard, what on earth was it going to be like spending the next six weeks lying in his bed beside him?

CHAPTER FIVE

‘I HAVE some emails to see to on the computer in my office,’ Patrizio informed Keira once they had returned to his house. ‘I will leave you to prepare for bed. I will try not to disturb you when I join you later.’

She swallowed. ‘Which side do you want me to sleep on?’

His eyes hardened slightly as they meshed with hers. ‘What is your preference these days?’ he asked. ‘Right or left, or do you still lie right in the middle?’ Sprawled like a whore, he added silently, his gut twisting all over again with the venomous vipers of jealousy.

‘I don’t have a preference.’

His top lip lifted sardonically. ‘Then perhaps we should toss a coin.’ He took one out of his trouser pocket and started turning it over in his hand. ‘Your call. Heads is the right side, tails is left.’

‘Heads,’ she said, feeling her stomach trip over itself in apprehension.

He tossed the coin and, deftly catching it, turned over his hand to show her. ‘You lose.’

Yet again, Keira thought. She had never won anything when it came to a contest with Patrizio. He had an innate ability to turn things to his advantage. Even their bitter break up—splashed all over the newspapers as it had been—had generated a huge groundswell of public support for him, taking his business to the heights of success. Shares in the company had doubled overnight, investors had clamoured to get on board, property developers wanted his and only his luxury home designs for their new estates. He had made millions out of her betrayal and, in spite of his obvious bitterness and anger towards her, she couldn’t help feeling he had probably been laughing all the way to the bank ever since.

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