Mistresses: Lethal Attraction: Uncovering the Silveri Secret / If You Can't Stand the Heat... / Sizzle

She raised her hand so quickly he almost didn’t block it in time. He captured it within a hair’s breadth of his cheek, his fingers clamping around her wrist with bruising force. ‘I can do rough if you want, princess,’ he said. ‘I can do it any way you want it.’

‘I do not want you,’ she said, spitting the words out like bullets.

He felt her thighs bump against his. He felt the softness of her breasts where they brushed against his chest. He felt the drum beat of her pulse against his fingers. He felt his need race through his blood with an almighty primal roar.

It would be so easy to slam his mouth down on hers like he had done before. To taste her, to tempt her with the pleasure he could feel building like a dam inside him. She would go off like a firecracker. He knew they would be dynamite together. She needed someone strong enough to control her wild impulses and reckless behaviour. The men she dated danced around her like moths around a bright light.

He would have her. He knew it in his bones. He would have his fill of her, purging her from his system once and for all.

And she would enjoy every pulse-racing second of it.

Edoardo slowly released her wrist. ‘Got that nasty little temper of yours under control?’ he asked.

She gave him a fulminating look as she rubbed at her wrist. ‘I pity the women you take to bed,’ she said. ‘They probably leave it bruised from head to foot.’

‘They leave it panting for more,’ he said with a smouldering smile.

She made a scornful sound. ‘Why? Because you don’t know how to properly satisfy a woman?’

His eyes mated with hers. ‘Why don’t you try me and see?’

She gave him a withering look. ‘I’m about to become engaged, remember?’

‘So you say,’ he said. ‘Has he asked you, or are you just clearing it with me in case he does?’

She gave him a reaction that reminded him of a bantam hen ruffling its feathers. ‘The man doesn’t always have to do the proposing,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with a woman asking a man?’

‘That could work every four years, but this year isn’t a leap year, so you’ve either got to buck the trend or wait.’ Edoardo picked up her left hand. ‘So where’s the ring?’

She snatched her hand away. ‘I’m having one designed specially.’

‘Who’s paying for it?’

She frowned at him. ‘What sort of question is that?’

‘So you’re paying,’ he said with a mocking look.

‘I don’t have to discuss this with you,’ she said. ‘It’s none of your damn business.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s where you’re wrong, Bella,’ he said. ‘It is my business to see that you don’t get ripped off by some gold-digging sleazebag. That’s why your father appointed me as your financial guardian. He didn’t want you to be taken advantage of until you were old enough to understand how the world works.’

‘I’m twenty-four years old!’ she said. ‘Of course I know how the world works. My father was old-fashioned. He was two generations older than my friends’ fathers. You had no right to agree to this stupid scheme. You should’ve talked him out of it. I should’ve been given control when I turned twenty-one.’

‘You were too young at twenty-one,’ he said. ‘I think you’re still too young even now. You don’t know what you want.’

Her hands were in tight little fists by her sides. ‘I know I don’t want you messing up my life,’ she said. ‘I love Julian. I want to be his wife. I want a family with him. You can’t stop me marrying him. I’ll fight you every step of the way.’

‘Fight me,’ he said. ‘I’ll look forward to it. But you won’t win this, Bella. I will not allow your father’s life’s work to be frittered away by your impulsive choice of a partner. I’ll put a hold on your allowance. I’ll freeze your assets. You won’t have a penny to buy a cup of coffee, much less pay for a wedding.’

‘You can’t do this!’

‘How long have you known this man?’

Her cheeks blushed like a rose. ‘Long enough to know he’s my soulmate.’

He nailed her with his gaze. ‘How long?’

‘Three months,’ she mumbled.

‘What the—?’

‘Don’t say it.’ She cut him off before he could let out his forceful expletive. ‘It was love at first sight.’

‘That’s a load of crap,’ he said. ‘You haven’t even slept with this guy. How do you know if you’re compatible?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ she said. ‘You don’t even have a soul.’

Edoardo was inclined to agree with her. His childhood had bludgeoned his heart until he had hidden it away for ever. He had taught himself not to feel anything but the most basic of feelings. He hadn’t loved anyone since he was five years old. He wasn’t sure he could love any more. It was a language he had forgotten, along with most of his native tongue. He had taught himself not to need people. Needing people left you vulnerable, and the one thing he would never allow himself to be again was vulnerable.

‘Let’s leave me out of this,’ he said. ‘What I’m concerned about is you. You’re doing exactly what your father was afraid you would do—you’re letting your heart rule your head. It should be the other way around.’

‘You can’t choose who you fall in love with,’ she said. ‘It just … happens.’

‘You’re not in love with him,’ he said. ‘You’re in love with the idea of marriage and family, of security and respectability.’

She flounced to the other side of the kitchen, taking her wine with her. ‘I’m not going to talk about this any more,’ she said. ‘I’m marrying Julian, and you can’t stop me.’

‘Will he wait a whole year for you?’ Edoardo asked.

She lowered her glass and sent him a furious scowl. ‘You heartless, controlling bastard.’

‘Sticks and stones,’ he said, picking up his own wine and raising it in a toast.

She slammed her glass down so hard the stem broke and wine swirled in a red arc like a splash of blood. She yelped and jumped backwards, clutching her right hand.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, stepping towards her.

‘I’m fine.’ She bit down on her lip.

He took her hand and unpeeled her fingers to find a little gash in the pad of her thumb. ‘You silly little fool,’ he said. ‘You could’ve severed a tendon.’

‘It’s nothing.’ She tried to pull her hand away but he didn’t let go. She glared up at him. ‘Do you mind?’

‘You need a plaster on that,’ he said. ‘There’s a first-aid kit in the downstairs bathroom. Come with me.’

She looked as if she was going to defy him but then she gave a frustrated sigh and allowed him to lead her to the bathroom next to the conservatory. ‘I can sort it out myself,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m not a little child.’

‘So stop acting like one.’

She flashed him a furious scowl. ‘Why don’t you stop acting like an overbearing ogre?’

‘Sit on the bath stool,’ Edoardo instructed as he pulled out the drawer where the first-aid kit was stored.

She sat and held out her hand with a recalcitrant look on her face. ‘It’s just a scratch.’

‘It’s just shy of needing a stitch,’ he said as he checked the wound for traces of glass.

‘Ouch!’

‘Sorry,’ he said.

She glowered at him. ‘I bet you’re not.’

‘You know me so well.’

She gave him a lengthy look. ‘Does anyone know you, Edoardo?’ she asked.

He shifted his gaze to her thumb as he carefully placed a plaster over the wound. She had switched from spitting cat to gentle dove within a heartbeat. He had seen her work her lethal charm on others. He had seen grown men fall over like ninepins when she gave them that misty, doe-eyed look. She knew the feminine power she had and exploited it whenever she could.

But he was not going to let her manipulate him.

‘What makes you ask that?’ he asked casually.

‘You don’t seem to have a lot of friends,’ she said.

‘You don’t seem to need people like other people do.’

‘I have what I need in terms of companionship,’ he said.

‘Who is your best friend?’

He released her hand and moved to the basin to wash his hands. ‘You should take care of that thumb,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to get it infected.’

‘Edoardo?’

He dried his hands on the nearest towel and then shoved it back on the rail. ‘I’d better go clean up that glass before Fergus steps on it,’ he said.

She bit her lip again. ‘I’m sorry …’

He gave her a brief glance before he shouldered open the door. ‘We all have our limits, Bella.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Bella came back from the bathroom, there was no sign of the spill of red wine or any shards of glass. Fergus was still lying on his padded bed near the cooker. Edoardo was dishing up a delicious-looking chicken and tomato dish that smelt absolutely divine.

‘Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?’ he asked without looking up from what he was doing.

‘Here’s fine,’ she said. ‘Fergus looks like he’s settled in for the night.’

‘He’s getting on,’ he said as he set a plate in front of her. ‘He’s slowed down a lot just lately.’

‘How old is he now?’ Bella asked, screwing up her forehead as she tried to remember. ‘Seven?’

‘Eight,’ he said. ‘Your father bought him when you decided you weren’t coming home for Christmas that year.’

Bella frowned when she thought of how she had behaved back then by choosing her social life over her father. It wasn’t just an attempt on her part to avoid Edoardo after that kiss. Her relationship with her father had never really been the same after her mother had left. He had thrown himself into work, spending long hours in the study or going on business trips and leaving her with babysitters.

When he was at home he’d hardly seemed aware she was there. She had felt frustrated that she couldn’t get close to him. She had been frightened he might leave her too and had perversely done everything she could to drive him away. She had blamed him for her mother leaving and had acted out dreadfully. She had thrown terrible tantrums. She had screamed, railed and deliberately made things difficult for him. The various nannies he had employed hadn’t stayed long. In the end she had agreed to go to boarding school even though she hadn’t really wanted to go. ‘Was he lonely, do you think?’ she asked. ‘Did he miss me?’

‘Of course he did,’ he said, frowning slightly.

‘He never said.’

‘It wasn’t his way,’ he said.

Bella toyed with the edge of her plate. ‘After my mother left … it was difficult to get close to him,’ she said. ‘He seemed to shut himself away. Work became his entire focus. I didn’t think he cared what happened to me. I think I reminded him too much of Mum.’

‘He was hurt,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s affair totally gutted him.’

Guilt felt like a yoke around her shoulders. She had made it so much worse. Why had she been so selfish? Why couldn’t she have comforted her father instead of pushing him away? She had ended up hurting him just as much as her mother. She looked at Edoardo again. ‘You really cared about him, didn’t you?’ she asked.

‘He had his faults,’ he said. ‘But basically he was a good man. I had a lot of respect for him.’

‘I think he saw you as the son he never had,’ she said. ‘I was jealous about that. I never felt good enough.’

He frowned again. ‘He loved you more than life itself.’

Bella gave a shrug. ‘I was just a girl,’ she said. ‘He was of the generation where sons were everything to a man. He loved me, but I always knew that deep down he thought I was just like my mother. I suspect that’s why he orchestrated things the way he did. He didn’t think I had the sense to make my own decisions.’

‘He was concerned you would be too trusting,’ he said. ‘He didn’t want you to be hoodwinked by shallow charm or empty compliments.’

‘So he appointed you as gatekeeper,’ Bella said with more than a little hint of wryness. ‘A man who never wastes time on charm or compliments.’

He took a contemplative sip of his wine. ‘I can be charming when I need to be.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I’d like to see that.’

There was a little silence.

‘You look stunningly beautiful tonight,’ he said.

She shifted restively in her seat. ‘Stop it, Edoardo.’

‘I sometimes fantasise about you being in bed with me.’

She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘You’re not being charming,’ she said. ‘You’re being lewd.’

He leaned forward with his forearms resting on the table, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I feel you in my arms,’ he said. ‘I feel your body wrap itself tightly around me. You feel it too, don’t you, Bella? You feel me driving into you. You feel it right now: hard. Thick. Strong.’

She swallowed tightly. ‘Why are you doing this?’

He leaned back in his chair and picked up his wine. ‘I want you.’

She gave him a haughty glare. ‘I’m not yours to have.’

His eyes challenged hers in a hot little tussle that had her spine tingling like high-voltage electricity. ‘You’ve always been mine, Bella,’ he said. ‘That’s why you hate me so much. You don’t want to admit how much you want me. It shames you to think you lust after a bad boy with no pedigree. It’s not done in your highbrow circles, is it? You’re not supposed to slum it with the ill-bred. You’re supposed to mingle your blood with the high flyers, but you just can’t help yourself, can you? You want me.’

‘I would rather boil in oil,’ she said looking down her nose at him. ‘You have no right to speak to me this way. I’ve done nothing to encourage you to think I … I fancy you.’ Or at least not since I was a silly little sixteen-year-old. ‘You have no place in my life. You never have and you never will.’

He leaned back in his chair with an indolent look. ‘I’m at the centre of your life, baby girl,’ he said. ‘You can’t do a thing without me. I could cut off your allowance right here and now if I thought it was warranted.’

Bella felt her heart slam against her ribcage. ‘You can’t do that.’ Please God, you can’t do that.

‘You need to have another look at the fine print on your father’s will,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you check it out? I have the number of the lawyer in my phone.’

Bella looked at the mobile phone he was holding up. She swallowed once, twice. She suspected he wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. Her father’s will was incredibly complicated. She had read it years ago but it had been full of the sort of legalese that made it almost indecipherable. The financial-guardianship arrangement with Edoardo only made it a thousand times worse. ‘What do I have to do to prove I’m old enough to make my own decisions, including choosing the man I want to marry?’ she asked.

He studied her features for a moment, his gaze unnervingly steady on hers. ‘I have no problem with you marrying,’ he said. ‘I just want to be sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.’

She frowned at him. ‘What other reason could there be other than I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him?’

‘People get married for lots of reasons,’ he said. ‘Mutual convenience, sharing familial wealth, arrangements between families—to name just a few.’

‘Why is it so hard for you to accept that I’m truly in love?’ she asked.

‘What do you love about him?’

Bella found his direct look rather confronting. It made her feel as if he was seeing right inside her to where she kept her insecurities stashed away. She didn’t want to be questioned on her love for Julian. She just loved him. He was perfect for her; he made her feel special.

He made her feel safe.

She shifted her gaze to the left of Edoardo’s and answered, ‘I love that he devotes so much of his time and energy to people less fortunate. He cares about people. All people. He can talk to anyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re rich or poor. He makes no distinction.’

There was a ticking silence.

‘Anything else?’ he asked.

She moistened her dry lips. ‘I love that he loves me and he’s not afraid to say it.’

‘Words are cheap,’ he said. ‘Anyone can say them. The point is whether there’s any truth in them in their actions.’

Bella gave him a direct look of her own. ‘Have you ever been in love?’

His mouth cocked up at one side as if he found the notion amusing. ‘No.’

‘You seem very certain about that.’

‘I am.’

‘Not even a teensy, weensy little crush?’

‘No.’

‘So you just have sex for the physical release it offers?’ she asked.

His eyes seemed to heat and smoulder the longer they held hers. ‘It’s the only reason I have sex.’ He paused for a beat as his gaze continued to stoke hers. ‘What about you?’

Bella felt a tremor of unruly forbidden desire roll through her like a bowling ball pitched down a steep descent. Her body shook and sizzled with it, every sensitive nerve suddenly awake and alert. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs under the table, but if anything it concentrated the wicked sensations in the secret heart of her. It was as if he had a direct line to her womanhood by just looking at her. He was stroking her with his gaze, making love to her with his mind. She could see it in his expression—the knowing curve of his sensual lips and the slightly hooded gaze as it focused on her mouth.

She felt his kiss as surely as if he had closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips buzzed and tingled. Her tongue grew restless inside her mouth in its hunger to feel his mate with it. Her breasts felt full and sensitive behind the lace of her bra. Her knickers were damp. She could feel the moisture seeping from her and wondered if he had any idea of how much sensual power he had over her.

Of course he did.

‘You haven’t answered my question.’

Bella felt a blush steal across her cheeks. ‘That’s because it’s none of your business.’

‘You asked me first,’ he pointed out. ‘Fair’s fair, and all that.’

She pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘Sex is an important part of an intimate relationship,’ she said. ‘It’s a chance to connect on both a physical and emotional level. It builds a stronger bond between two people who care about each other.’

‘You sound like you just read that from a textbook,’ he said, his mouth still cocked mockingly. ‘How about you tell me what you really think?’

Bella felt her flush deepen. It seemed to spread all over her body. She felt hot. Scorching hot. She had never had a conversation like this with anyone, not even with one of her girlfriends.

Sex was something she’d had to work at. She had never felt all that comfortable with her body. She had spent most of the time during sex worrying if the cellulite on her thighs was showing or whether her partner was comparing her breasts to other women’s.

As for her pleasure, well, that was another thing she wasn’t too confident about. She had never been able to have an orgasm with a partner. She just wasn’t able to relax or feel comfortable enough to let herself go.

That was why Julian had been such a refreshing change from her previous dates. He had never pressured her for sex. He had told her he was celibate and intended to stay that way until he was married. He had made a promise to God, and he was going to keep it. She had found that so endearing, so admirable, she had decided he would be the perfect husband for her.

‘I think sex means different things to different people,’ she finally said. ‘What’s right for one person might not be right for another. It’s all a matter of feeling comfortable enough to express yourself in a … sexual way.’

‘How do you know if you’ll be comfortable with this Julian fellow?’ he asked.

Bella picked up her wine glass for something to do with her hands. ‘Because I know he’ll always treat me with the utmost respect,’ she said. ‘He believes sex is God’s gift to be treasured, not something to be dishonoured by selfish demands.’

He gave a little snort. ‘You mean he’ll pray before he peels back the sheets on your wedding night.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You are such a heathen.’

‘And you are a silly little fool,’ he threw back. ‘You haven’t got a clue what you’re getting yourself into. What if he’s hiding who he really is? What if this celibacy thing is just a ruse to get his hands on your money?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’

‘I mean it, Bella,’ he said, his blue-green gaze suddenly intense and serious. ‘You are one of the richest young women in Britain. It’s no wonder men are beating a steady path to your door.’

Bella froze him with her stare. ‘I don’t suppose it has ever occurred to you that it might be because of my dazzling beauty and vivacious personality?’

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but then closed it. He let out a long breath and pushed back a thick lock of his hair that had fallen forward on his forehead. ‘Your beauty and personality are without question,’ he said. ‘I just think you need to be a little more objective about this.’

She sat back in her chair with a thump. ‘Thus speaks the man who measures everything by checks and balances,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t you do things sometimes just because it feels right?’

His eyes remained steady on hers. ‘Gut feeling doesn’t cut it with me,’ he said. ‘It’s too easy to allow your emotional investment in something or someone to cloud your judgement. The heavier the investment, the harder it is to see things and people for what or who they are.’

‘How did you get so cynical?’ Bella asked.

His eyes moved away from hers as he reached to top up their wine glasses. The sound of the wine making a glock-glock-glock noise as it poured out of the bottle was deafening in the silence. ‘Born that way,’ he said.

‘I don’t believe that.’

He met her gaze, his mocking half-smile back in place. ‘Still trying to save my sorry soul, Bella?’ he asked. ‘I thought you gave up on that little mission years ago.’

‘Have you told anyone about your childhood? About where you came from?’ she asked.

A mask slipped over his features like a dust sheet over a piece of furniture. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘You must have had parents,’ she said. ‘A mother, at least. Who was she?’

‘Leave it, Bella.’

‘You must remember something about your childhood,’ Bella pressed on. ‘You can’t have blocked everything out. You weren’t born a teenager with authority issues. You were once a baby, a toddler, a young child.’

He let out a short, impatient-sounding breath and reached for his glass. ‘I don’t remember much of my childhood at all,’ he said and drank a deep mouthful of his wine.

Bella watched his Adam’s apple go up and down. Even though his expression was masked, there was anger in the action as he swallowed the liquid—anger and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. ‘Tell me what you do remember,’ she said.

The silence was long and brooding, the air so thick it felt like the ceiling had slowly lowered, compressing all the oxygen.

Bella continued to search his features. The stony mask had slipped just a fraction. She could see the flicker of a blood vessel in his temple. The grooves beside his mouth deepened as if he was holding back a lifetime of suppressed emotion. His nostrils flared as he took a breath. His eyes hardened to granite. His fingers around his glass tightened until she could see the whitening of his knuckles.

‘Why did you get kicked out of all those foster homes?’ she asked.

His eyes collided with hers. They were dark with a glitter that made the backs of her knees go fizzy again. ‘Why do you think I was kicked out?’ he asked with a tilt of his lips that looked more like a snarl than a smile. ‘I was a rebel. A lost cause. Bad to the core. Beyond salvation.’

Bella swallowed a thick knot in her throat. He was so intimidating when he was in this mood but she was determined to find out more about him. His enigmatic nature intrigued her. She had always found his aloof, keep-away-from-me manner compellingly attractive. ‘What happened to your parents?’ she asked.