Latin Lovers: A Convenient Bridegroom / In the Spaniard's Bed / The Martinez Marriage Revenge
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‘It happens to be the truth.’ His voice was inflexible, and Aysha’s eyes were fearless as she met his.
‘I’m fully aware our impending marriage has its base in mutual convenience,’ she stated with restrained anger. ‘But I insist on your fidelity.’
Carlo’s eyes narrowed and became chillingly calm. There was a leashed stillness apparent she knew she’d be wise to heed.
Except she was past wisdom, beyond any form of rationale. Did he have any conception of what she’d felt like when she’d sighted those photos? It was as if the tip of a sword pierced her heart, poised there, then thrust in to the hilt.
‘My fidelity isn’t in question.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Would you care to rephrase that?’
‘Why?’ Aysha countered baldly. ‘What part didn’t you understand?’
‘I heard the words. It’s the motive I find difficult to comprehend.’
With admirable detachment she raked his large frame from head to toe, and back again. ‘It’s simple. In this marriage, there’s only room for two of us.’ She was so angry, she felt she might self-destruct. ‘There’s no way I’ll turn a blind eye to you having a mistress on the side.’
‘Why would I want a mistress?’ Carlo queried with icy calm.
Her eyes flashed, a brilliant translucent grey that had the clarity and purity of a rare pearl. ‘To complement my presence in the marital bed?’
His gaze didn’t waver, and she fought against being trapped by the depth, the intensity. It was almost hypnotic, and she had the most uncanny sensation he was intent on dispensing with the layers that guarded her soul, like a surgeon using a scalpel with delicate precision.
‘Nina has done a hatchet job, hasn’t she?’ Carlo offered in a voice that sounded like silk being razed by tempered steel. ‘Sufficiently damaging, that any assurance I give you to the contrary will be viewed with scepticism?’ He reached out a hand and caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger. ‘What we share together,’ he prompted. ‘What would you call that?’
She was breaking up inside, slowly shattering into a thousand pieces. Special, a tiny voice taunted. So special, the mere thought of him sharing his body with someone else caused her physical pain.
‘Good sex?’ Carlo persisted dangerously.
Her stance altered slightly, and her eyes assumed a new depth and intensity. ‘Presumably not good enough.’ she declared bravely.
It was possible to see the anger build, and she watched with detached fascination as the fingers of each hand clenched into fists, watched the muscles bunch at the edge of his jaw, the slight flaring of nostrils, and the darkening of his eyes.
He uttered a husky oath, and she said with deliberate facetiousness, ‘Flattery isn’t appropriate.’
Something moved in the depths of his eyes. An emotion she didn’t care to define.
‘Nina,’ Carlo vented emotively, ‘has a lot to answer for.’
Didn’t she just! ‘On that, at least, we agree.’
‘Let’s get this quite clear,’ he said with dangerous quietness. ‘You have my vow of fidelity, just as I have yours. Understood?’
She wanted to lash out, then pick up something and smash it. The satisfaction would be immensely gratifying.
‘Aysha?’ he prompted with deadly quietness, and she forced herself to respond.
‘Even given that Nina is a first-class bitch, I find it a bit too much of a coincidence for you both to be in Melbourne at the same time, staying in the same hotel, the same floor.’ Aysha drew in a deep breath. ‘Photographic proof bears considerable weight, don’t you think?’
He could have shaken her within an inch of her life. For having so little faith in him. So little trust.
‘Did it not occur to you to consider it strange that a photographer just happened to be in the hotel lobby at the time Nina and I entered it... coincidentally together? Or that her suite and mine were very conveniently sited opposite each other?’ It hadn’t taken much pressure to discover Nina had bribed the booking receptionist to reshuffle bookings. ‘Perhaps a little too convenient the same photographer was perfectly positioned to take a shot Nina had very carefully orchestrated?’
‘You were kissing her!’
‘Correction,’ he drawled with deliberate cynicism. ‘She was kissing me.’
Nina’s words rose to the forefront of Aysha’s mind. Vicious, damaging, and incredibly pervasive. ‘Really? There didn’t seem a marked degree of distinction to me.’
He extended his hands as if to catch hold of her shoulders, only to let them fall to his sides. ‘A few seconds either way of that perfectly timed shot, and the truth would have been clearly evident.’
‘According to Nina,’ Aysha relayed bitterly, ‘you represent the ultimate prize in the most suitable husband quest. Rich, handsome, and, as reputation has it...a lover to die for.’ Her smile was a mere facsimile. ‘Her words, not mine.’
Something fleeting darkened his eyes. A quality that was infinitely ruthless.
‘An empty compliment, considering it’s completely false.’
The celluloid print of that kiss rose up to haunt her. ‘A willing, voluptuous female well-versed in every sexual trick in the book.’ Her eyes swept his features, then focused on the unwavering depth of those dark eyes. ‘You mean to say you refused what was so blatantly offered?’ It took considerable effort to keep her voice steady. ‘How noble.’
Carlo reached forward and caught hold of her chin, increasing the pressure as she attempted to twist out of his grasp.
‘Why would I participate in a quick sexual coupling with a woman who means nothing to me?’
He was almost hurting her, and her eyes widened as he slid a hand to her nape and held it fast.
‘A moment’s aberration when your libido took precedence?’ she sallied, hating the way his cologne teased her nostrils and began playing havoc with her equilibrium.
Oh, God, she didn’t know anything any more. There were conflicting emotions warring inside her head, some of which hardly made any sense.
‘Aysha?’
Her eyes searched his, wide, angry, and incredibly hurt. ‘How would you feel if the situation were reversed?’
A muscle bunched at the side of his jaw, and something hot and terrifyingly ruthless darkened his eyes.
‘I’d kill him.’
His voice was deadly quiet, yet it held the quality of tempered steel, and she felt as if a hand took hold of her throat and squeezed until it choked off her breath.
Her chest tightened and her heart seemed to beat loud, the sound a heavy, distant thud that seemed to reverberate inside her ears.
‘A little extreme, surely?’ Aysha managed after several long seconds.
‘You think so?’
‘That sort of action would get you long service, perhaps even life, in gaol.’
‘Not for the sort of death I have in mind.’ His features assumed a pitiless mask.
He had the power, the influence, to financially ruin an adversary. And he would do it without the slightest qualm.
A light shivery sensation feathered over the surface of her skin. She needed time out from all the madness that surrounded her. Somewhere she could gain solitude in which to think. A place where she had an element of choice.
‘I’m going to move into the house for a few days.’ The words emerged almost of their own accord, and she saw his eyes narrow fractionally.
‘It’s the house, or a hotel,’ Aysha insisted, meaning every word.
He wanted to shake her. Paramount was the desire to wring Nina’s neck. Anger, frustration, irritation... each rose to the fore, and he banked them all down in an effort to conciliate.
‘If that’s what it takes.’
‘Thank you.’
She was so icily polite, so remote. Pain twisted his gut, and he swore beneath his breath.
‘We’re due at the ballet in an hour.’
‘Go alone, or don’t go at all, Carlo. I really don’t care.’
Aysha walked into the bedroom and caught up a few essentials from drawers, the wardrobe, aware that Carlo stood watching her every move from the doorway.
For one tragic second she felt adrift, homeless. Which was ridiculous. The thought made her angry, and she closed the holdall, then slung the strap over one shoulder.
‘Aysha.’
She’d taken only a token assortment of clothing. That fact should have been reassuring, yet he’d never felt less assured in his life.
Clear grey eyes met his, unwavering in their clarity. ‘Right now, there isn’t a word you can say that will make a difference.’
She walked to the doorway, stepped past him, and made her way through the apartment to the front door. She half expected him to stop her, but he didn’t.
The lift arrived swiftly, and she rode it down to the car park, unlocked her car, then drove it up onto the road.
Carlo leaned his back against the wall and stared sightlessly out of the wide plate-glass window. After a few tense minutes, he picked up the receiver, keyed in a series of digits, then waited for it to connect.
The private detective was one of the best, and with modern technology he should have the answer Carlo needed within days.
He made three more calls, offered an obscene amount of money to ensure that his requests... orders, he amended with grim cynicism, were met within a specified time-frame.
Now, he had to wait. And continue to endure Aysha’s farcical pretence for a few days. Then there would be no more room for confusion.
He moved away from the wall, prowled the lounge, then in a restless movement he lifted a hand and raked fingers through his hair.
Yet strength wasn’t the answer. Only proof, irrefutable proof.
In business, it was essential to cover all the bases, and provide back-up. He saw no reason why it wouldn’t work in his personal life.
CHAPTER SIX
AYSHA was hardly aware of the night, the flash of headlights from nearby vehicles, as she traversed the streets and negotiated the Harbour Bridge. She handled the car with the movements of an automaton, and it was something of a minor miracle she reached suburban Clontarf.
Celestial guidance, she decided wryly as she activated the wrought-iron gates guarding. entrance to the architectural masterpiece Carlo had built
Remote-controlled lights sprang on as she reached the garage doors, and she checked the alarm system before entering the house.
It was so quiet, so still, and she crossed into the lounge to switch on the television, then cast a glance around the perfectly furnished room.
Beautiful home, luxuriously appointed, every detail perfect, she reflected; except for the relationship of the man and woman who were to due to inhabit it.
A weary sigh escaped her lips. Was she being foolish seeking a temporary escape? What, after all, was it going to achieve?
Damn. Damn Nina and the seeds she’d deliberately planted.
A slight shiver shook her slender frame, and she resolutely made her way to the linen closet. It was late, she was tired, and all she had to do was fetch fresh linen, make up the bed, and slip between the sheets.
She looked at the array of linen in their neat piles, and her fingers hovered, then shifted to a nearby stack.
Not the main bedroom. The bed was too large, and she couldn’t face the thought of sleeping in it alone.
A guest bedroom? Heaven knew there were enough of them! She determinedly made her way towards the first of four, and within minutes she’d completed the task.
In a bid to court sleep she opted for a leisurely warm shower. Towelled dry, she caught up a cotton nightshirt and slid into bed to lie staring into the darkness as her mind swayed every which way but loose.
Carlo. Was he in bed, unable to sleep? Or had he opted to attend the ballet, after all?
What if Nina was also there? The wretched woman would be in her element when she discovered Carlo alone. Oh, for heaven’s sake! Be sensible.
Except she didn’t feel sensible. And sleep was never more distant.
Perhaps she did fall into a fitful doze, although it seemed as if she’d been awake all night when dawn filtered through the drapes and gradually lightened the room.
She lifted her left wrist and checked the time. A few minutes past six. There was no reason for her to rise this early, but she couldn’t just lie in bed.
Aysha thrust aside the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The refrigerator held a half-empty bottle of fruit juice, a partly eaten sandwich, and an apple.
Not exactly required sustenance to jump-start the day, she decided wryly. So, she’d go shopping, stop off at a café for breakfast, then come back, change, and prepare to meet Teresa at ten. Meantime she’d try out the pool.
It was almost seven when she emerged, and she blotted off the excess moisture, then wrapped the towel sarong-wise and re-entered the house.
Within minutes the phone rang, and she reached for it automatically.
‘You slept well?’
Aysha drew in a deep breath at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Did you expect me not to?’
There was a faint pause. ‘Don’t push it too far, cara,’ Carlo drawled in husky warning.
‘I’m trembling,’ she evinced sweetly.
‘So you should be.’ His voice tightened, and acquired a depth that sent goosebumps scudding over the surface of her skin.
‘Intimidation isn’t on my list.’
‘Nor is false accusation on mine.’
With just the slightest lack of care, this could easily digress into something they both might regret.
With considerable effort she banked down the anger, and aimed for politeness. ‘Is there a purpose to your call, other than to enquire if I got any sleep?’ She thought she managed quite well. ‘I have a host of things to do.’
‘Grazie.’
She winced at the intended sarcasm. ‘Prego,’ she concluded graciously, and disconnected the phone.
On reflection, it wasn’t the best of days, but nor was it the worst. Teresa was in fine form, and so consumed with her list of Things to Do, Aysha doubted her own preoccupation was even noticed. Which was just as well, for she couldn’t have borne the string of inevitable questions her mother would deem it necessary to ask.
‘You’re looking a little peaky, darling. You’re not coming down with something, are you?’
‘A headache, Mamma.’ It wasn’t too far from the truth.
Teresa frowned with concern. ‘Take some tablets, and get some rest.’
As if rest was the panacea for everything! ‘Carlo and I are attending the sculpture exhibition at the Gallery tonight.’
‘It’s just as well Carlo is whisking you away to the Coast for the weekend. The break will do you good.’
Somehow Aysha doubted it.
The Gallery held a diverse mix of invited guests, some of whom attended solely to be seen and hopefully make the social pages. Others came to admire, with a view to adding to their collection.
Carlo and Aysha fell into a separate category. A close friend was one of the exhibiting artists and they wanted to add their support.
‘Ciao, bella,’ a male voice greeted, and Aysha turned to face the extraordinarily handsome young man who’d sent his personal invitation.
‘Bruno!’ She flung her arms wide and gave him an enthusiastic hug. ‘How are you?’
‘The better for seeing you.’ He lowered his head and bestowed a kiss to each cheek in turn. ‘Damn Carlo for snaring you first.’ He withdrew gently and looked deeply into those smoky grey eyes, then he turned towards Carlo and lifted one eyebrow in silent query. ‘Carlo, amici. Come stai?’
Something passed between both men. Aysha glimpsed it, and sought to avert any swing in the territorial parameters by tucking one hand through Carlo’s arm.
‘Come show us your exhibits.’
For the next half-hour they wandered the large room, pausing to examine and comment, or converse with a few of the fellow guests.
Aysha moved towards a neighbouring exhibit as Carlo was temporarily waylaid by a business acquaintance.
‘Your lips curve wide with a generous smile, yet your eyes are sad,’ said Bruno. ‘Why?’
The wedding is a week tomorrow.’ She gave a graceful shrug. ‘Teresa and I have been shopping together every day, and nearly every night Carlo and I have been out.’
‘Sad, cara,’ Bruno reiterated. ‘I didn’t say tired. If Carlo isn’t taking care of you, he will answer to me.’
She summoned a wicked smile and her eyes sparkled with hidden laughter. ‘Swords at dawn? Or should that be pistols?’
‘I would take pleasure in breaking his nose.’
She turned to check on the subject of their discussion, and stiffened. Bruno, acutely perceptive, shifted his head and followed her gaze. ‘Ah, the infamous Nina.’
The statuesque brunette looked stunning in red, the soft material hugging every curve like a well-fitting glove.
Bruno leant down and said close to Aysha’s ear, ‘Shall we go break it up?’
‘Let’s do that.’ The smile she proffered didn’t reach her eyes, and her heart hammered a little in her chest as she drew close.
Nina’s tapered red-lacquered nails rested on Carlo’s forearm, and Aysha watched those nails conduct a gentle caressing movement back and forth over a small area of his tailored jacket.
Nina’s make-up was superb, her mouth a perfect glossy red bow.
‘Want me to charm her?’ Bruno murmured, and Aysha responded equally quietly.
‘Thanks, but I can fight my own battles.’
‘Take care, cara. You’re dealing with a dangerous cat.’ He paused as they reached Carlo’s side. ‘Your most precious possession,’ Bruno said lightly, and inclined his head with deliberate mockery, ‘Nina.’ Then he smiled, and moved through the crowd.
Wise man, Aysha accorded silently, wishing she could do the same.
‘Darling, do get me a drink. You know what I like.’
Aysha began a mental countdown the moment Carlo left to find a waitress.
‘I imagine you’ve checked the photographs?’ Nina raised one eyebrow and raked Aysha’s slender frame. ‘Caused a little grief, did they?’
‘Wasn’t that your purpose?’ Aysha was cold, despite the warmth of the summer evening.
‘How clever of you,’ Nina approved. ‘Have you decided to condone his transgressions? I do hope so.’ Her smile was seductively sultry. ‘I would hate to have to give him up.’
Her heart felt as if it was encased in ice. ‘You’ve missed your vocation,’ she said steadily.
‘What makes you say that, darling?’
She needed the might of a sword, but a verbal punch-line was better than nothing. ‘You should have been an actress.’ A smile cost her almost every resource she had, but she managed one beautifully, then she turned and threaded her way towards one of Bruno’s sculptures.
‘Who won?’
Bruno could always be counted on, and she cast him a wry smile. ‘You noticed.’
‘Ah, but I was looking out for you.’ He curved an arm around the back of her waist. ‘Now, tell me what you think about this piece.’
She examined it carefully. ‘Interesting,’ she conceded. ‘If I say it resembles my idea of an African fertility god, would it offend you?’
‘Not at all, because that’s exactly what it is.’
‘You’re just saying that to make me feel good.’
He placed a hand over his heart. ‘I swear.’
She began to laugh, and he smiled down at her. ‘Why not me, cara?’ he queried softly, and hugged her close. ‘I’d treat you like the finest porcelain.’
‘I know,’ she said gently, and with a degree of very real regret.
‘You love him, don’t you?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me,’ he assured her quietly. ‘I just hope Carlo knows how fortunate he is to have you.’
‘He does.’
Aysha heard that deep musing drawl, glimpsed the latent darkness in his eyes, and gently extricated herself from Bruno’s grasp. ‘I was admiring Bruno’s sculpture.’
Carlo cast her a glittering look that set her nerves on edge. How dared he look at her like that when he’d been playing up close and personal with Nina?
‘Don’t play games, cara,’ Carlo warned as soon as Bruno was out of earshot.
‘Practise what you preach, darling,’ she said sweetly. ‘And please get me a drink. It’ll give Nina another opportunity to waylay you.’
He bit off a husky oath. ‘We can leave peaceably, or not,’ he said with deceptive quietness. ‘Your choice.’ He meant every word.
‘Bruno will be disappointed.’
‘He’ll get over it.’
‘I could make a scene,’ Aysha threatened, and his expression hardened.
‘It wouldn’t make any difference.’
It would, however, give Nina the utmost pleasure to witness their dissension. ‘I guess we get to say goodnight,’ she capitulated with minimum grace.
Ten minutes later she was seated in the Mercedes as it purred across the Harbour Bridge towards suburban Clontarf.
She didn’t utter a word during the drive, and she reached for the door-clasp the instant Carlo drew the car to a halt. It would be fruitless to tell him not to follow her indoors, so she didn’t even try.
‘Bruno is a friend A good friend,’ she qualified, enraged at his high-handedness. ‘Which is more than I can say for Nina.’
‘Neither Bruno nor Nina are an issue.’
Her chin tilted as she glared up at him. ‘Then what the hell is the issue?’
‘We are,’ he vouchsafed succinctly.
‘Well, now,’ Aysha declared. ‘There’s the thing. Nina is quite happy for you to marry me, just as long as she gets to remain your mistress.’
His eyes filled with chilling intensity. ‘Nina has one hell of an imagination.’
She’d had enough. ‘Go home, Carlo.’ Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘If you don’t, I’ll be tempted to do something I might regret.’
She wasn’t prepared for the restrained savagery evident as his mouth fastened on hers, forcing it open and controlling it as his tongue pillaged the inner sweetness. It was a deliberate ravishment of her senses. Claim-staking, punishing. She lost all sensation of time as one hand slid through her hair to hold fast her head, while the other curved low down her back.
Then the pressure eased, and the punishing quality changed to passion, gradually dissipating to a sensuous gentleness that curled round her inner core and tugged at her emotions, seducing until she was weak-willed and malleable.
From somewhere deep inside she dredged sufficient strength to tear her mouth free, and her body trembled as he traced the edge of his thumb across the swollen contours of her lips.
‘Nina is nothing to me, do you understand? She never has been. Never will be.’
She didn’t say a word. She just looked at him, glimpsed the faint edge of regret, and was incapable of moving.
He pulled her close and buried her head in the curve of his shoulder, then he pressed his lips to her hair.
Aysha could feel the power in that large body, the strength, and she felt strangely ambivalent. ‘I don’t want you to stay.’
‘Because you’ll only hate me in the morning?’
She drew a shaky breath. ‘I’ll hate myself even more.’
All he had to do was kiss her, and she’d change her mind. Part of her wanted him so much it was an impossible ache. Yet if she succumbed she’d be lost, and that wouldn’t achieve a thing.
He held her for what seemed an age, then he turned her face to his and brushed his lips across her own, lingered at one corner and angled his mouth into hers in a kiss that was so incredibly evocative it dispensed with almost all her doubts.
Almost, but not quite. He sensed die faint barrier, and gently put her at arm’s length.
‘I’ll pick you up at seven, OK?’
It was easy to simply nod her head, and she watched as he turned and walked to the door. Seconds later she heard his car’s engine start, and she checked the lock, then activated security before crossing to her room.
Sleep seemed a distant entity, and she switched on the television in the hope of discovering something which would occupy her interest Except channel-hopping provided nothing she wanted to watch, and she retired to her bedroom, then lay staring at the ceiling for what seemed hours before finally slipping into a restless slumber in which vivid dreams assumed nightmarish proportion as Nina took the role of vamp.