Mistress To a Latin Lover: The Sicilian's Defiant Mistress / The Italian's Pregnant Mistress / The Italian's Mistress
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“I trust you. And respect you.”
“One where both people give.” This was killing her, making all her frustrations and needs known. She hated being vulnerable like this, hated having to ask for anything. “You didn’t give, Maximos, you took.”
He shrugged. “I gave you what I could.”
She gritted her teeth at his tone, hating his calm indifference, that insufferable arrogance which set him above her, making him the mature, rational one and she the emotional, needy female.
It seemed almost inconceivable now that she’d given herself to him so freely, that she’d allowed him such access to her body, as well as her heart, because she’d given him her heart, too, and it was the one thing he hadn’t wanted.
Cass drew a rough breath. “Maybe I need to be completely honest. Maybe what I should say is that I don’t understand how you could make my body feel so good, but care so little about the rest of me? What was so special about my body?”
“Cass.”
“Don’t Cass me. Don’t make me feel bad for wanting more. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make love instead of just screwing.” She felt so exposed now, so needy and vulnerable but she couldn’t help it. It had all been pent up for too long. The wants. The needs. The fear.
Why couldn’t he give her what she needed? Why couldn’t he love her?
She was asking for love, not money, not power, not fame, nor success. Love.
“Maybe all I need is to screw.” Maximos’s deep voice, pitched low and hard, echoed in the hall.
“Great,” she choked, grabbing her suitcase and heading down the stairs rapidly, one quick step at a time. “Get laid. Go screw. Just stay away from me.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said, following her down the staircase. “Or you wouldn’t have traveled all this way to see me again.”
“I told you. I needed closure.”
“Or another mind-blowing orgasm.”
And then he laughed, and Cass stopped midstep, turned to face him. “You’re making me hate you.”
“Good. You should hate me. You shouldn’t have ever accepted what I gave you.” And he pulled her into his arms, pulled her against him so she felt the hard press of his body from his chest to his hips to the thigh he pushed between her legs even as his head descended and his mouth covered hers.
His kiss stole her breath, his mouth forcing her lips open, forcing her surrender. He knew what he wanted and he was determined to have it.
Cass shuddered at the flick of his tongue against her sensitive inner lip, shuddered again as he reached up to clasp the swell of her breast, his palm hard against her nipple, pressing, bearing down even as need coiled in her belly, fierce, sharp insistent.
Her legs trembled and helplessly she arched against him as he strummed her nipple, a pinching, squeezing sensation that tormented her nerves, heightening pleasure to almost pain.
She wanted him.
Now. Here. In her.
She wanted him. Hard. Fast. Furious.
She wanted him and she felt mindless, helpless, his. And he knew, he knew.
She’d give him anything he asked. She’d beg him to take her, fill her, beg him to give her release.
The pressure on her mouth eased and she drank in air as his head briefly lifted.
“You should have demanded more,” he said, his voice rough, raspy with passion. “You should have insisted on more from the very beginning.”
Her head was swimming, spinning, her senses stretched, teased, dazed. She felt empty, achy between her legs. And her heart felt just as empty, and achy in her chest. There would never be true release. Not from him, not with him. He was put on earth to torture her. “Why are you doing this?” she choked.
“Because you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. And it needed to be done. I was never any good for you, bella.”
Her eyes stung. He was being awful, making the ending of this—whatever it was, whatever it had been—excruciating.
She couldn’t bear for it to be awful. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to make everything okay. Closure for her meant making everything okay, but maybe this time there wouldn’t be real closure. At least there wasn’t going to be peace.
Because beyond the discomfort of the moment, beyond the pain, there was pride. And self-respect. As well as something called self-preservation.
If he wasn’t going to help her, protect her, then she had to protect herself.
And if he couldn’t respect her, she had to do that for herself, too.
Tears welled in her eyes and for a moment she felt lost. Abandoned. And it wasn’t something she ever wanted to feel, not again.
No, she had to make sure she was safe. Valued. Treated well. She deserved to be treated well.
And those thoughts, those elusive rational thoughts allowed her to stand on tiptoe and kiss him, kiss him gently, tenderly, kiss him with pain and heartbreak before she broke away, descended the rest of the staircase and exited through the front door.
Maximos stood frozen on the step and watched her go.
He saw her walk through the door and shut it and as the door shut he felt a rush of emotion—mostly rage—before telling himself not to think.
Don’t care.
Quickly he began to climb the stairs again, heading back to his room to change for the excursion Adriana had planned, and as he climbed the stairs he kept chanting don’t think, don’t care, don’t feel. There was no point thinking or feeling now. What was, was. Period.
But Maximos knew he’d hurt her. Knew he’d leveled her, hitting her far harder than was fair, and it made him sick.
He didn’t want her hurt. He didn’t even know why he said what he’d said to her. He was angry, yes. And lashing out. But she wasn’t the one he was angry with. No, his anger was directed at Sobato and Lorna, at the courts…at himself. But not Cass and yet now Cass was standing on the front steps of his house…
He should go to her. Apologize. Explain.
Reaching the top of the staircase, he drew a breath. But explain what? That he’d betrayed her? That he’d knowingly betrayed her for years? How could he explain? That he’d been as unfair to her as Lorna had been to him?
But Cass didn’t know any of that yet. She didn’t know about his real life, the life he’d kept hidden, private, the life that would crush her if she found out.
And she’d soon find out. He had to tell her. Last night he’d determined he’d tell her this weekend, as soon as the wedding was over and Adriana had set off for her honeymoon. It was time. But until the wedding he wanted to keep the drama low…for his family’s sake if nothing else.
Inside his bedroom, Maximos stripped off his shirt and searched through his bureau for another.
His bedroom door opened abruptly. “Maximos.” It was his mother.
“You don’t knock?” he asked, turning to face her.
“I’m your mother.”
“Which is why you should knock. You never know what you might find.”
“Oh, I don’t worry about you doing anything in your bedroom.” His mother’s face was impassive. “You do it on the stairs.”
He shot her a dark glance, resignation tinged with humor. “You shouldn’t be watching.”
“Some things, Maximos, are hard to miss.” His mother remained in the doorway, slim, elegant, very contained. She wasn’t particularly tall and yet she exuded authority. Control. She hadn’t been married to a Guiliano for nearly forty years for nothing. “Now your…guest…is outside with her suitcase. Does she have a ride?”
He slipped on a white linen shirt and began rolling the cuffs back. “I don’t know.”
“Why is she leaving now?”
“I’m not sure—”
“You are sure. You’ve just been fighting with her for the past ten minutes.”
Maximos’s brow lifted. “She needed to go back to Rome. Business.”
“On a Saturday?”
“She’s an advertising executive—”
“On a Saturday?”
“Mama.” His voice dropped, the tone low, a warning.
“Adriana said she was Emilio’s girlfriend,” his mother continued unabashed. “But she’s not, is she? She’s yours.”
“She couldn’t be my girlfriend—”
“I’m not stupid, Maximos. I’m your mother, and I’ve known you longer than two or three years. I know what I heard, and I know what I saw. She doesn’t know the truth, does she?”
He said nothing, his jaw tight.
Signora Guiliano took a step forward, her expression just as fierce as her son’s. “At least tell her the truth. Maybe she’ll think you’re selfish, instead of simply cruel.”
“Thanks.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.
She shot him a piercing look before heading to the door. “At least get her a ride back to Rome. No taxi will take her back today.” And she walked out without looking back or saying goodbye.
Maximos stood a moment listening to his mother’s footsteps echo down the hall. Nothing like an overbearing Sicilian mother, he thought, but the corner of his mouth quirked. He loved her. Strong women had never intimidated him.
Cass was standing next to her suitcase on the palazzo’s broad stone steps when the front door opened and Maximos appeared. He’d changed into a casual white linen shirt and khaki shorts.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, standing next to her.
“Yes.”
His expression was quizzical. “How do you intend to get there?”
Cass felt sick on the inside, sick and shaky and she wished she’d never come here, wished she were in Rome where she belonged but she’d leave soon. As soon as she had transportation. “A taxi.”
“No taxi will drive you back to Rome on a Saturday. It’s an all day trip. You’ll need a hire car. Have you reserved one?”
He knew she hadn’t. “No.”
“That poses a problem.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but refused to look at him. What did he want her to do? Beg? “You could loan me one of your cars.”
“I couldn’t. Insurance issues and all.”
“I’m a good driver. Accident free for over ten years.”
“It’s nothing personal, Cass—”
“Nothing personal? You will sleep with me, but not loan me a car?”
“I’ve had difficulties with car insurance due to an accident a number of years ago. You can ask my mother, or my sisters if you don’t believe—”
“I don’t want to ask them. I just want to go.” Her fingers gripped the suitcase handle tightly.
She’d been so impulsive coming here. But then she’d been a gambler her whole life, a player in the game, confident, bold, aggressive. She’d taken risks in her personal life just the way she’d taken risks in business, but this time, she’d failed.
Failed. Cass blinked back tears thinking that until Maximos entered her life, she’d never failed at anything. “I don’t know what I was thinking…don’t know what I thought would really happen.”
“Maybe you thought I’d see you and remember how much I enjoyed being with you and we’d get back together.”
The tears grew hotter, filling her eyes completely. “Please stop.”
“You came for answers, Cass.”
She had to turn her face away, not wanting him to see the tear sliding down her cheek. “I think I got them.”
“Are you sure you got the right answers?”
There was the strangest note in his voice, a tone akin to suffering but it couldn’t be. This was Maximos after all. And he didn’t feel, and he certainly didn’t suffer. But before she could answer the front door was flung open and Adriana came racing out of the house in a short skirt and bathing suit top.
“Maximos!” Adriana cried, hugely vexed. “What are you doing? We’re all waiting on you and you know we can’t set sail without you. What’s the problem?”
Then Adriana spotted Cass and her expression changed. The look she gave Cass was pure malice. “Are you waiting for Emilio to pick her up?” Adriana asked tersely.
Maximos shook his head. “Emilio’s gone.” He paused. “And Cass isn’t with Emilio. She’s with me.”
Cass’s head jerked up. Adriana looked equally stunned.
The corner of Maximos’s mouth tilted. “I’ve been seeing Cass for over two and a half years.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ADRIANA looked from Maximos to Cass and back again. “You’ve been seeing her?”
“Yes,” Maximos answered.
“Not Emilio?”
“No.”
Adriana’s forehead creased. “Then why did she arrive with him?”
Maximos’s jaw tightened. He hesitated for just a fraction of a second but Cass’s stomach knotted anyway. “To surprise me,” he answered smoothly.
Adriana looked suspiciously from one to the other. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. “You didn’t seem happy to see her yesterday.”
“You know how I feel about Sobato.”
“Mmm.” Adriana’s lips pursed and then with a glance at Cass and her suitcase, asked yet another question. “Why is she leaving now then? Why before the wedding?”
“Something came up.” He saw his sister’s expression and he shook his head. “It’s complicated—”
“Then uncomplicate it,” Adriana retorted impatiently. “Because everyone’s already on board and if we don’t leave soon we won’t be back in time to get ready for the ceremony.”
Cass opened her mouth to speak but Adriana wagged her finger. “No. This is my day. I want you both to come now on the boat and share the picnic and make my wedding day happy.” She looked at her brother. “Maximos cannot upset me today and I know him. If there is a problem, it’s his problem. He’s a typical man. He has too much pride.”
Adriana tapped her watch. “Five minutes. You must be on the boat in five minutes.” And with a fierce nod she marched away.
“You better go,” Cass said quietly. “It is her day and she shouldn’t be upset.”
“Then you better come, too, because she said she wanted us both to go on the picnic.”
“I’m not in a picnic mood,” she answered, unable to hide her bitterness.
“Neither am I.” His voice was brusque, forceful. “But there’s no car coming for you, and unless Sobato is waiting somewhere for you, you’re not leaving Ortygia anytime today. So you might as well join the outing and make the best of it.”
“Is Sophia going to be there?”
He sighed, a long drawn-out exasperated sigh. “Sophia is not my girlfriend, and I have now publicly declared you my girlfriend in front of my family.”
Cass lifted her chin. “But have you told your family you only want me for sex?”
His brow furrowed, his dark gaze brooding. “Cass—”
“I want to go.”
“I’m sorry, Cass—”
“Fine. Apology accepted. Can I leave now?”
“No.” But he said it softly, so softly it forced her to look at him, really look at him, and his expression surprised her because he looked lost. Confused. And despite her anger and hurt she couldn’t walk out, not like this. “We need to talk. There are things we ought to discuss. Things you should know.”
“Then tell me now.”
“I don’t want a scene before Adriana’s wedding.”
“What you’re going to tell me will cause a scene?”
He hesitated. “It will be upsetting.”
His tone scared her. “What? You’re married?” She attempted to joke, needing to lighten the mood, needing laughter. But when she saw his shocked expression her laughter subsided. “I’m sorry. I was trying to add a little humor. But that’s not funny. I know it’s not funny.”
His expression changed yet again, shifting, hardening, his features becoming closed and unreadable. For a moment there was just silence then he muttered something, shook his head.
“Stay for the rest of the weekend,” he said. “Join us on the picnic, attend the wedding with me tonight and we’ll talk in the morning once everyone departs.” He paused, his gaze searching her face. “And you know we need to talk. We both need understanding… or whatever you think closure is.”
Closure. Her favorite word. And she didn’t want closure, she hated the very word, but she did need to understand what it was tearing them—and her—apart. She needed to do it for her. “Okay.”
He smiled, but she didn’t see relief in his eyes. If anything he seemed…resigned.
A few minutes later with shorts, swimsuit and sunscreen jammed into a woven bag, Cass walked with Maximos from the palazzo through town to the harbor where the boat waited.
But it wasn’t just a boat, Cass discovered, as they reached the small port dominated by one luxurious yacht. The sleek, stylish Guiliano yacht was a ninety footer, built in Viareggio, Italy, its sophisticated design practically an art form.
As Adriana had said, all the wedding party and guests had already boarded the yacht by the time Maximos and Cass arrived at Ortygia’s harbor. A lavish breakfast buffet had been prepared for the guests and the upper deck was a lively hub of activity as everyone milled about sipping champagne and balancing plates piled high with fresh fruits, sliced meats, cheeses and warm fragrant breads.
Maximos assisted Cass in boarding. “There’s coffee, juice, plenty to eat,” he said. “You’ll want to have a good breakfast now as it’ll be a number of hours before we arrive in Catania where we’ll disembark.”
“Is that where we’ll have lunch?”
“At the castle at Aci Castello.” Maximos signaled to the captain that they were ready to go. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I should greet the others.”
He left her but he hadn’t forgotten her. A ship steward appeared shortly at her side with a cup of coffee laced heavily with milk and a small plate with a croissant and cheese. Her favorite breakfast.
She glanced toward Maximos who was making the rounds, playing the cordial host, and her lips curved ruefully. He confounded her. She honestly didn’t know what to make of him. Even here with his family he was so contained, so detached, essentially a closed book.
But why?
What made him mistrust so much? What made him want sex, but not love? Convenience, not commitment?
Why would a man as strong, as wealthy, as powerful as Maximos be so…afraid?
Now the yacht was pushing back from the harbor, motoring slowly past ancient Ortygia’s striking stone buildings, and Cass’s attention was caught by the buildings gleaming ivory and yellow in the wash of morning light.
She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful as the dazzling displays of architecture set against the brilliant turquoise water. Gold and sapphire, lapis and silver. Breathtaking.
The yacht reached open water and picked up speed and Cass remained at the ship’s railing, watching the land recede.
“Would you like more coffee?” Maximos asked, joining her.
“Your steward’s very conscientious. He’s been by three times with fresh cups.”
“That’s what he’s paid to do.” Maximos rested his forearms on the railing, and he stared out at the bright blue water surrounding them. The morning was already quite warm and yet the breeze cut the heat.
Cass glanced at him over her shoulder. “Your sisters have been whispering and staring at me.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She made a face. “That’s not why they’re staring at me.”
He laughed, lifted his hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You are beautiful but that’s not why they’re looking at you. They’re curious.”
“About…?”
“You. I’ve never…brought anyone here before.”
“Never?”
“Not since I was a kid.”
Maximos saw the way she looked at him, and he knew she didn’t believe him, or maybe it’s that she didn’t understand him. Well, he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t understand himself.
All his life he’d thought he was one person and then he’d discovered he was someone else.
He’d always been strong, fair, just. But ever since meeting Cass…
He’d done nothing but play dirty. Break every rule.
“I’m glad you didn’t go,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t want you to leave like that.”
“But you know I’m going to leave. I have to.”
He heard the cool note in her voice. She was still upset with him. She should be.
“Eventually, yes,” he answered.
He saw her throat work and he felt a rush of inexplicable emotion—need, pain, anger, again, so much anger—and it was just a matter of days…hours…now before he told her the truth.
His gut churned knowing she’d be devastated. She’d never forgive him. Why would she forgive him? He couldn’t forgive himself.
And this is why he’d ended it six months ago, he reminded himself. This is why he’d let her go. It was better for her. Cleaner. Smarter. Safer.
For her. And him. But mainly her.
How could she move on if she were still so emotionally tied to him?
Her hands balled on the railing. “You make me crazy,” she whispered. “You pull away when I need you, come to me when I don’t. You hurt me, and confuse me, and I don’t know why I still care for you so much when you’ve made my life a living hell.” Her voice broke and she dipped her head, hiding her face and Maximos knew she was trying not to cry.
If she were really his, he’d pull her to him and comfort her. But she wasn’t his. Couldn’t be his.
Cass knew Maximos was watching her, felt his ambivalence and his ambivalence just cut even deeper.
You have to be hard, she told herself, tough.
But she didn’t feel hard inside, she felt like glass. She felt fragile… ethereal. Her strength and resolve were gone. It was as if the warrior had broken, leaving her crumpled. Leaving her so damn small.
She couldn’t bear Maximos’s anger or indifference any longer. She could take the brutality from anyone but him. She’d been his…how could he hurt her like this? How could he continue to be so cold, so hard, so removed?
What she needed most was tenderness. Now. Right now. She needed his arms around her, holding her, needed his lips against her neck, her cheek, her mouth, warming her, soothing her. Loving her.
But he didn’t love her. And he felt no tenderness for her. He’d break her the same way he broke all his competition.
She pictured the luxury auto industry he’d so completely dominated these past ten years, recalled the sleek fast dangerous cars he’d perfected and realized he’d already broken her.
She was like one of his beautiful cars caught in a pileup. Twisted, crumpled metal marked by gritty piles of shattered glass.
Her head spun with the truth. She’d once thought she was so tough, so together. And yet now look at her…
She was nothing. She’d become nothing. Love had reduced her to this.
“Why do you still care?” Maximos asked after a long silence.
She made a rough sound in the back of her throat. “I loved you.”
“Why?”
He wanted to discuss this here…now? He wanted a rational conversation now? He wanted to discuss love after six and a half months of torture?
Yes, she did love him but how could this be love? How could love hurt like fire? How could love level like this, smash, destroy?
She’d always been taught that love was patient, love was good. Love was kind. Love wasn’t selfish.
But that’s not how she felt. She felt angry. Fierce. And it was the waiting that had done this to her…to her heart.
The longing to hear from Maximos made every uncertainty roar to life, and when the silence stretched, when he didn’t call, when the days and weeks passed without a word she felt her security slip, her peace of mind crack.
His distance left the door open to fear and doubt.
Was waiting this hard for everyone? Did other women feel this way when alone…did they wonder like she did? Did they worry? Doubt?
Did other women approach love with more confidence, with less fear?
If she’d felt deeply and truly loved would she have been more grounded, less nervous?
What would life have been like if she’d been his true love instead of a warm body in his bed?
And every time he left her, she prayed he’d say, I’ll call you. And then she’d pray, let him call. Let him call soon. But he never did. He made her wait. And wait.
And slowly it broke her. It was the waiting for love that reduced her to this.
“Maybe it wasn’t love,” Maximos said, his shuttered gaze resting on her face. “Maybe it was lust and you thought it was love.”