Mistress To a Latin Lover
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Cass stepped past Maximos to enter the luxurious bedroom. White lace-edged pillows looked plump and inviting on the bed while the coverlet was a rich apricot velvet embroidered with green and gold thread. The curtains at the three enormous windows matched the apricot coverlet and fragrant pink and apricot roses filled two silver vases, one on the nightstand and the other on the antique dresser against the wall.
The beauty of it was almost unfair, she thought, watching Maximos place her suitcase on a painted trunk at the foot of the sleigh bed.
The bedroom represented beauty and romance…love…and wasn’t it amazing how Maximos could afford to give her all kinds of material possessions, but not the one thing she craved most? “It’s a lovely room,” she said, aware that she had to say something, that the silence had gone too long.
“Good. Then you shouldn’t mind me locking you in it.”
She spun around, not at all certain if he was serious or joking. But his expression gave nothing away. His face was blank. His eyes shuttered. Suddenly she felt her lips curl up in a faintly amused smile. “As long as we weren’t locked in here together.”
His eyes creased. “And your fiancé? You wouldn’t miss him?”
Her chin lifted. “He’d find a way to rescue me.”
Maximos had the gall to laugh. “Emilio only knows how to save his own skin. I wouldn’t count on him playing hero now.”
“But he’s already a hero.” Their gazes locked, emotions hot, stakes high. “He adores me. Wants me. Unlike you.”
“I wanted you.”
“Naked. Compliant. Uncomplicated.” It was getting harder to keep her cool, mocking smile in place. “Sounds awfully superficial, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps. But I also think you’re deluding yourself if you think Sobato truly loves you. Sobato cares only about himself. I’ve known him since primary school. I’ve worked with him. Socialized with him—”
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes.” His dark eyes glittered. “I am jealous. I hate that you’re together, I hate the idea of him touching you, but I’m also afraid for you.” He was walking toward her, closing the distance between them. “Emilio is using you to get to me.”
Maximos stared down at her from his imposing height, everything about him strong, dark, taut. He had so much power, so much sheer physical strength he made other men look puny in comparison.
“Then his plan is working,” she whispered, heart thudding too hard inside her rib cage.
“And your plan? What is that?”
“I don’t have a plan.”
“You must. Or you wouldn’t be here with him now.” He took a step toward her, captured her chin, lifted her face to his. With the pad of his thumb he stroked the warm softness of her cheek gently, almost reverently. “You’re going to get hurt, carissima.”
Her heart ached. “I won’t.”
“You will.” He looked pained, the expression in his dark eyes one of anger. Suffering. “And you’ve no idea what hurt is.”
She couldn’t look away from his dark eyes, from the sorrow he’d known, from the things he’d experienced but wouldn’t share.
She didn’t know Emilio, she thought. But she also didn’t know Maximos. In many ways, Maximos was just as much a stranger as Emilio. Maximos had always been so private, so careful in what he said, and did.
The few details she knew about his personal life were details learned three years ago when she’d first acquired the Italia Motors account. Curious about Maximos the Great, she’d gone online one night and typed Maximos’s name into various search engines to see what information she could get, but the articles and references were surprisingly limited.
As she already knew, Maximos was cofounder and President and CEO of Italia Motors. He’d been educated in Rome but still called Sicily home. And that was it.
No mention of family, one way or another. No gossip. Nothing even about Emilio other than the fact that the founding partners of Italia Motors had decided to end their partnership and go their separate ways.
“And you know what hurt is?” she asked, unable to look away from his brooding gaze.
“Yes.”
The muscles in his face were so hard and tight that he reminded her of sleek polished marble unearthed from an ancient civilization.
How easy it had been to love him.
How impossible to lose him.
Looking back, she didn’t have to lose him. If she’d kept silent, kept her needs buried, hidden, secret, he would have never known she wanted—needed—more. He would have never known she ached for all that she’d never had. Love. Family. Children.
But she couldn’t stay quiet, couldn’t continue to deny what she craved most. And in the end she’d done the unthinkable and asked for more.
Cass Gardner, taunted at work for being Invincible Gardner, had finally admitted to someone else she needed more. And admitting that she had needs, unmet needs, had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done, the most difficult thing she could imagine doing.
Maximos was proud, but he had nothing on her in that department. She was fiercely proud, too, proud of her independence, proud of her strength, proud that she had never needed anything from anyone.
But Maximos had changed that. Maximos taught her what it was to feel…what it was to dream…
Only it had been just a dream because Maximos couldn’t, wouldn’t, give more. Maximos had liked sex, convenient sex, and she’d watched him go even as her heart shattered.
Just remembering made her eyes sting and Cass pulled free, retreating several steps, undone by the memory of needing and losing and learning to stop feeling, stop wanting, stop dreaming.
“Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?” Maximos’s voice followed her, his voice deep and bitter. “I know why you’re here. Sobato knows I’m working on a new design and he’s tried to get a set of plans twice now. He’s brought you here to distract me, to keep me occupied so he can sneak into my office—”
“No.”
“He was caught attempting to enter my office an hour ago, Cass.”
“I know nothing about that.”
“You were sharing a room with him. You had to know he’d left your room, gone downstairs—”
“He said he needed a drink.”
Maximos’s expression openly mocked her. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“But it’s the truth.”
“The truth,” he echoed softly, head tilting as he studied her. “Tell me the truth, then. Are you really engaged? Is there going to be an April wedding?”
Everything was happening too fast. Things had gotten wildly out of control. Cass reached behind her for the edge of the bed and sat down.
“Well?” he prompted.
She promised Emilio she’d play the part for the weekend, it was just the weekend, but right now Sunday was still so far away, two and a half days away, two endless days away…
But she’d promised, promised. Cass put a hand to her stomach, nauseous, hating the charade, wanting to come clean. She’d always been honest with Maximos. Or at least as honest as he’d allowed her to be… “Of course there’s a wedding,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.
“His family isn’t from Padua.”
Her shoulders lifted, fell.
“Why are you marrying in Padua?”
She swallowed. “He thought it was romantic—”
“That’s not why.”
She looked up at him. His features were granite hard, his dark eyes fierce and fixed on her face. “Then I don’t know why, Maximos. Okay?”
He was walking around her, a strange stalking that left her deeply uneasy. “It’s not okay. You say you’re marrying him. That means you must love him. So why don’t you know him better?” He stopped in front of her, towering over her. “And why did you agree to marry in Padua? He’s not from there. He doesn’t have a home there and I’m quite sure you’ve never been there.”
“It sounded romantic—”
“That’s not it.” Maximos suddenly crouched before her, his arms on either side of her, hands against her hips locking her in place. “You’re lying, Cass. And I don’t know if you’re lying to yourself, or lying to me, but I won’t let you do it. This isn’t you, isn’t like you—”
She tried to pull back but there was no escape. “You don’t know me!”
“Not know you?” He laughed, his dark features twisting with disbelief. “I know everything about you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
CASS was dangerously close to tears but she wouldn’t give in to them, wouldn’t give in to him. He’d made their lives a living hell by playing her…using her…letting her hope, dream…
“Wrong!” she choked, hands knotted, fingers fisted. “You know what you wanted to know. You believed what you wanted to believe. But one thing is truth, the other is fantasy, and I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not the girl I was.” She threw her head back, her face flushed, her skin so hot she thought it would peel off. “And I’m not playing nice anymore.”
“Obviously not. If he can convince you to play along with his little charade—”
“It’s not a charade.”
“Well, bella, I’d be willing to bet you one hundred thousand dollars there’s no wedding, and that if I called the churches in Padua, there’s nothing on the books, and if I pressed you harder, you’d tell me there’s no ring, no engagement, nothing of substance here.” He stared into her face, his body close, too close, heat and power emanating from him in waves. “Care to make that bet?”
For a moment she couldn’t answer, the air bottled in her lungs and all she could do was remember the way he’d taken her against the wall, taken advantage of her body, her senses, the way he played her then even as he did now.
Maximos did know her. He knew her too well. “No,” she whispered.
“No,” he echoed, a half smile shaping his lips. “I didn’t think so.”
He abruptly rose and she scooted back on the bed, watching him take several steps back. His jaw jutted, his anger was palpable. “So how much is Sobato paying you?”
“He’s not paying me anything!”
“So what then was your price? Because you must have been damn expensive. Did he offer cash? Stocks? Ownership in the company?”
“You make me sound like a prostitute!”
“Close enough in my mind. First you’re my mistress and now you’re his.”
“I’m not his mistress.” She jumped from the bed, marched on him. “I’m not his mistress. He’s paid me nothing, offered me nothing. He knew I wanted to see you, knew I needed to see you—”
“Why?”
She was angry, so angry she could hardly see straight. Her hands clenched, her chest rose and fell. “Because I thought I still cared about you. I thought there was something between us—” she broke off, shook her head, livid “—obviously I was wrong.”
“If you wanted to talk to me, you could have called me.”
“You wouldn’t have talked.” Her eyes felt hot with tears. “You never talk on the phone. You hardly say anything even when we’re together. You communicate with sex—”
“Maximos?” A young woman stood hesitantly in the doorway. Dark hair, medium height, she was very slender, almost ethereal in her pale pink slip dress, the delicate straps of the dress highlighting her perfect shoulders tanned a honey-bronze and the hint of high full breasts molded by the delicate pink fabric. “I’ve been sent to find you.”
Maximos glanced at his watch. “I’m late,” he said with a sigh.
“You are,” she agreed, smiling a little, less nervous than she’d been moments ago. “And your mother is already in the car.”
Maximos understood. He headed toward the door, and approaching the young woman, he kissed her on both cheeks. “My mother’s fretting.”
The woman’s expression was mischievous. “She is your mother after all.”
Cass’s tummy flipped at the playful, and yet intimate, exchange. They were close, Cass realized, and it crossed her mind that they might just be more than friends…
Cass looked away as Maximos dropped a kiss on the woman’s forehead. “Tell Mother I’ll be right down.”
“Okay,” she answered, before whispering something in his ear that made him laugh and then disappearing again down the hall.
But Maximos’s laugher died as he turned to face Cass. For a long moment he stared at her, his dark brows heavy, his gaze speculative. “I hope you know what you’re doing, carissima.”
His dark gaze held hers and for one second she let herself get lost in his dark eyes, in the stillness that set him apart, in the silence where he didn’t share what he thought, or wanted. At least not with her. “I hope so, too,” she answered.
A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes. “Be careful that Sobato doesn’t hurt you,” Maximos added after a moment.
“He can’t.” She struggled to smile. “My heart’s already broken.”
“Since when?”
“February.” When you left me. But she didn’t have to add the last part. He knew. She saw the realization register in his eyes and then he’d shuttered the emotion and his expression was blank again.
“I’ll see you at the dinner,” he said, before walking out.
And God, he was good at that, she thought, awash in pain, alive with feeling. No one was as good as Maximos at walking out.
For several minutes after Maximos left, Cass stood at the mirror in the ensuite bath and tried to finish getting ready for the party but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do her hair or apply makeup.
Hair and makeup seemed so pointless. No matter how much she dressed up the outside, she’d still feel the same on the inside. And on the inside she felt old, and tired, and very sad.
Losing Maximos in February had been awful, but the miscarriage had been the final blow, the one she couldn’t seem to recover from.
And looking at her face bare of makeup she could see her age in her face, see the small creases near her eyes, the two faint grooves near her mouth. She was thirty. Single. And very much alone.
People at work called her invincible. They believed she was unemotional, unsentimental, married to her job. And maybe once upon a time she had been that tough career woman. But losing Maximos and the baby had changed all that. For the first time in twentysomething years Cass wanted something that wasn’t tied to work, achievement or material success.
She wanted to feel loved. She longed to be part of something bigger than herself, something warmer and stronger.
She craved a family.
With a self-conscious gesture, Cass touched her hair, the strands still a natural amber-gold, a color close to the shade of her eyes. In the early days of her advertising career, she’d learned to play up her rich coloring by wearing black—in leather, satin, silk—or exotic animal prints like faux leopard spots and tiger stripes. She’d always worn incredibly high heels, her boots and shoes dangerous, toes pointed, aggressively sexual. She’d liked keeping people at arm’s length, had enjoyed keeping others guessing.
Now looking at her bare face and loose wavy hair she knew she’d changed. Permanently changed. She’d finally understood—internalized—that success was a cold bedfellow, that achievement meant nothing if she wasn’t happy, and she’d never be happy if she couldn’t love and be loved in return.
Her mouth lifted in a wry, dry smile. Maybe her broken heart had actually done her some good.
Cass combed her hair, pinning it up in a sophisticated twist at the back of her head, applied her usual makeup and fastened delicate diamond drop earrings to her earlobes before slipping her feet into pale satin heels and heading downstairs.
The house was virtually empty but the butler appeared in the hall and indicated that Emilio was already outside in the car waiting.
Emilio was indeed in the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel.
She saw his face as she approached, his gray eyes narrowing, his expression critical. “What’s wrong?” she asked, opening the passenger door.
“I don’t like it,” he said flatly, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as he looked her up and down.
His petulant tone irritated her. “Don’t like what?”
He gestured to her dress, and then her face and hair. “Any of it. You look…too smart, too together. It’s not right. Not the image I’m looking for.”
“That’s too bad,” she said calmly, barely able to keep her irritation from showing. This man was telling her about image? Image is what she did for a living, image paid her bills. But beyond the issue of expertise, no one told her how to dress, or how to behave. Not Maximos. And certainly not Emilio Sobato. “You can change if you want to. I’m certainly not. I like this dress. I like the way I look—”
“And so does Maximos.” Emilio’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I heard him compliment you. When I was in the bathroom. And it’s obvious you’re dressed to please him.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out the truth—that Maximos knew the truth about her and Emilio’s charade. She pictured Emilio’s outrage and for a split second she enjoyed the idea of popping his horrible little bubble, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Not before the Guiliano reception—it was Adriana’s special night after all. For another, she didn’t want to be alone with Emilio once he did know.
He would be angry. And outraged. And God knew what he’d do then.
“I brought this dress because I like it,” she answered coolly, shrugging off his criticism, “and I’m not changing. So can we just go, please?”
But Emilio wasn’t starting the car. Instead he climbed out the driver’s side and walked around the sports car. “We have an agreement,” he said softly, his tone almost menacing. “This weekend you’re with me.”
Cass didn’t like his tone, or the way he attempted to intimidate her. She put her finger against his chest and firmly pushed him back. “Don’t crowd me, Emilio, and don’t attempt to threaten me. I know why I came here this weekend. But I don’t know why you did. Do you?”
“I love weddings.”
“Especially ones where you’re not wanted.”
He smiled. “Call me cruel, but I like to watch people suffer.”
“You mean, Maximos suffer.”
“Yes. I get a great deal of pleasure from watching my good friend Max Guiliano suffer.” He leaned past her, reached into the car and pulled out a white shopping bag and thrust it at her. “Now please go and change so I can continue enjoying myself this weekend.”
Cass opened the tiny glossy shopping bag, pushed aside the lavender tissue paper and stared at a puddle of white. “What is this? Lingerie?”
“No. It’s a dress.”
“This isn’t a dress.” She lifted the fabric and the puddle of white became a long sheer lace and chiffon gown. “This is a slip. Something one wears under a dress, not instead of a dress.”
“Whatever. The point is, I want you to wear it.”
“No.”
“You made a deal with me—”
“I might as well have made a deal with the devil.” She shook her head, feeling the gold diamond earrings swing from her earlobes. “Because this isn’t what I agreed to do. I said I’d pretend to be your fiancée, I even agreed to a phony wedding in Padua, but I’m not going to humiliate Maximos, his sister and the entire Guiliano family by showing up at Adriana’s rehearsal dinner in a slip.”
“You will.” Emilio chucked her under the chin. “Because I know something you don’t want Maximos to know.”
“I’ve no secrets.”
“Are you sure?” Emilio took the paper bag and shoved it at her middle and leaned close to her, very close. He dropped his voice, cocked his head and mouthed in her ear, “I know about the baby, Cass.”
Cass stiffened, froze. Everything within her froze. Her eyes, her mouth, her heart, her brain…
“I know all about it,” Emilio continued. “I know what you did—”
“You know nothing!”
“Temper, temper,” he taunted. “But unfortunately for you, I do know. I know you terminated the pregnancy. And trust me, if Maximos discovers what you did to his child…he’ll never forgive you.”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t move. It was impossible. How did he know about the baby? How could he know?
And what did he know?
She’d told no one. No one knew. She hadn’t even taken time off of work when she’d been morning sick. Hadn’t even missed work the day after she’d checked out of the hospital.
“Are you blackmailing me?” she asked, voice unnaturally low. She hadn’t terminated her pregnancy. It’d been a horrible miscarriage and yes, there had been procedures done afterward, but everything done had been necessary. She’d been hemorrhaging so badly…not that any of that was Emilio’s business. It was nothing to do with him. It was her secret shame.
“Yes, actually, I am.” He smiled. “You’re going to finish this weekend, finish what we started—”
“He knows why you’re here, Emilio. He knows you’re interested in his new design—”
“Fine, he can’t prove anything. And he’ll still hate seeing us together. He’ll hate it every time you touch me. He’ll be sick each time you turn your adoring eyes on me, insane with jealousy every time I get a fondle, or sneak a kiss. And you better make it believable or I’ll tell him everything.”
Cass took her courage, her last bit of strength and wrapped it around her like a much needed cloak. She’d been hurt by Maximos, gravely hurt. Emilio could do nothing to her. “Then tell him. I’m not scared.”
He chuckled. “Good girl. You keep pretending to be tough, and I’ll pretend I’m a sensitive guy.” His laugh faded and his face hardened. “But it’s just a shame, you know, about the pregnancy, because the one thing Maximos has always wanted was to be a father. He’s longed for a child.” His gaze met hers and held. “Especially a daughter.” Emilio hesitated. “In fact, you’d find this is quite a sensitive subject with him. Explosive, even.”
There was more to this than Emilio was telling her and Cass wanted to know the facts…the truth…but she doubted she’d get the truth from Emilio. Anything he said had to be twisted. Just the way he twisted the facts about her miscarriage. “How did you find out?”
“I was at the hospital that night you checked yourself in. The woman I was dating happened to be your doctor.” He looked at her, his expression speculative. “I have a copy of your medical records. It says plain as can be—D & C.”
She felt the ground shift beneath her. Cass reached out, touched the car door to steady herself. “Go to hell.”
“That’s all it says, Cass. Nothing else. Maximos will think you ordered the D & C.”
She ground her teeth together. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yes, well, you don’t know Maximos very well if you think he’ll find that an acceptable excuse.” Emilio pushed the dress toward her again. “Now go change because there’s fashionably late, and then there’s just very late and I prefer to be the former, not the latter.”
Back in her bedroom, Cass woodenly unzipped her turquoise designer gown, slowly stepping out of the soft fabric and laying it flat on the bed.
Even more slowly she unhooked her delicate lace bra and with trembling hands drew the sheer white gown toward her.
Even if Emilio was dating her doctor, how could he get a copy of her records? That was illegal. Patient records were confidential.
But Emilio doesn’t play by the rules, does he?
No, she answered herself, and now her secret was out. She had been pregnant. And she’d suffered a horrible miscarriage—the pain had been unbelievable and even that awful pain had been nothing compared to the heartbreak. She’d wanted the baby. Wanted the baby desperately.
It didn’t matter anymore, did it?
Wearily Cass pulled the slip dress over her head, down on her shoulders, smoothing the sheer fabric over her hips.
Stepping into the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror.
It was the most indecent thing she’d ever seen. Nearly completely sheer in the front, the slip dress left nothing to the imagination. You could see everything. Her breasts, the nipples, the dark rosy aureoles. Her belly button. The shadow of her sex.
Cass drew a slow shallow breath. What was she doing? Why was she here, playing this game? It had seemed so simple in Rome when Emilio had first invited her.