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‘I’m nothing if not enterprising, Rocco. And I’ve been running my own shop for the past year so I’m pretty much up to speed with running a small business.’
Reluctantly, Rocco smiled. He’d forgotten that her very different upbringing gave her a sometimes irreverent take on his world, and how it had once enchanted him. Just as he’d forgotten how fresh and vibrant she could look, without even trying. He narrowed his eyes. Compared to the manufactured glamour of most of the women he mixed with, her natural beauty seemed to shine through—and the suddenly powerful throb of his groin was an indication of just how instinctively his body responded to that.
‘Did Michele show you where everything was?’ he questioned unevenly.
‘She did.’ She put the glass down. ‘Though I thought you might have turned up at the airport to meet me.’
‘And were you disappointed?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know that I would describe it as disappointment. I just thought that after all the fuss you made about me coming out here, you might have made the effort to meet me from the plane. If you’re supposed to be playing the spouse eager to get his marriage back on track, ignoring my arrival isn’t really the way to go about it.’
‘I’d planned to be there but I’m afraid it didn’t work out that way,’ he said smoothly. ‘I was snowed under with work.’
‘So I gather.’
Her thick curls were gleaming darkly in the bright sunshine and suddenly Rocco found himself wanting to tangle his fingers in them, the way he used to do. ‘What can I say?’ he said, with a shrug. ‘It was a call I needed to take.’
‘But mightn’t it have occurred to you to postpone it?’ she continued coolly. ‘Rather than dumping me on your assistant, who clearly isn’t quite sure what to do with me?’
‘Nobody was dumping you, Nicole. It was urgent.’
‘It’s always urgent with you, isn’t it, Rocco? Work always takes precedence.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You think organisations like the Barberi Foundation just run themselves?’
‘No, I don’t think that. But I do think work can become an addiction and a substitute.’
‘A substitute for what?’
‘You tell me. When was the last time you had a holiday?’
‘You know I don’t like holidays.’ He frowned. ‘Anyway, what difference does it make who shows you around?’
And that was the trouble, Nicole reminded herself. He really couldn’t see it. He had no understanding of the way he treated the people in his life—as if they were mere accessories, to be brought out if and when it suited him. Wasn’t it time someone told him? Pointed out a few home-truths which were long overdue? She pushed back her curls, aware that she might be about to become the cliché of a nagging wife—but also aware there were things she’d never dared say to him while they’d been together and maybe she had nothing to lose now. ‘Didn’t you think it might have been awkward for me when your assistant mistakenly assumed we’d be sharing a bedroom?’
‘That was no mistake, tesoro,’ he said softly. ‘We’re supposed to be giving our marriage another go and naturally we will need to share a bedroom.’
She shook her head. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong. It’s only a game, Rocco,’ she reminded him. ‘Remember?’
It was only a game, Rocco repeated to himself silently—but right then it was hard to think of anything other than how much he desired her, despite the cheap jewellery and faded jeans. She was far more assertive than she’d ever been in the past and this unaccustomed display of spirit from his once passive wife was doing peculiar things to his pulse-rate. He swallowed. He thought about other women he had dated before his marriage. Classy women, who wore designer clothes instead of jeans and a shirt. With subtle diamonds glinting in their earlobes, not big silver hoops which dangled amid the wild tangle of curls.
Yet Nicole was the one who did it for him. Still did, if he was being honest. Who powered his heart so that it hammered against his chest like a piston. Who made him feel about sixteen again. Rocco felt a sudden rush of lust which wiped out every thought other than the blindingly obvious. He thought about the way her body convulsed and spasmed around him when she was coming—and the erection which was currently throbbing hotly at his groin became almost unbearable.
Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to assert the self-control which had become his default at the age of fourteen, when he had been forced to grow up overnight, but for once it was proving elusive. Was she feeling it too—this attraction which was almost tangible as it sizzled in the air around them? He looked into her eyes as all kinds of new possibilities began to open up in his mind. ‘It may only be a game,’ he stated softly, ‘but I think we need to make it as convincing a game as possible, don’t you?’
‘Not by sharing a space,’ she argued. ‘And before you try telling me that your staff will notice we’re not in the same room—I don’t care. I’m assuming everyone who works for you is loyal, since loyalty is something you’ve always demanded from the people around you.’
‘And were you loyal to me, Nicole?’ he said suddenly.
The question took her by surprise. ‘Yes, I was. Completely. More than you’ll ever know. ‘She gave a short laugh. ‘Or maybe you aren’t aware of the offers I got to tell my story when our marriage broke down?’
He leaned back against the railing and studied her, his blue eyes thoughtful. ‘What kind of offers?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. Big ones. Journalists who tracked me down wondering why a Barberi ex-wife was living such a shabby existence when she’d been married to one of the richest men on the planet. Why I was working in a puny little art shop instead of living in a luxury flat and giving your credit card a battering. I don’t know why you’re looking so surprised, Rocco—you can see how much they might have wanted the story. Isn’t that what newspaper readers love to read about? The fairy-tale marriage which came to such an abrupt ending.’
His sapphire eyes had become shuttered by the thick curtain of his dark lashes. ‘But you didn’t talk to them?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’ Frustratedly, Nicole shook her head. How could he even ask that? The raw pain of losing their baby had been replaced by a kind of numbness that her marriage was over—they had pushed each other so far away that there was nothing left between them. She’d forced herself into a zombified state of acceptance as she had stumbled through the days without realising what was going on, only knowing she needed to start over. She’d convinced herself that Sicily had been nothing but a strange interlude and she needed to reconnect with England, but it hadn’t been easy. She’d felt like a tiny craft thrown into a raging sea, not knowing which direction life would take her. One minute she’d been a cleaner and then a billionaire’s wife. One minute a mother-to-be and the next...nothing. There was no word in the English language to describe a mother who had lost her child, was there? Nicole swallowed. Only someone who was seriously deluded would have wanted to relive that pain and disruption and see it printed in a newspaper. ‘Did you really think I would ever talk to a journalist?’ she demanded. ‘Did you?’
He shrugged as his mouth flattened into its habitual uncompromising line. ‘The financial rewards might have tempted some people.’
‘But I’m not some people, Rocco! When will you ever believe that I was never interested in the money? That wasn’t what attracted me to you. What you’ve never had—you never miss.’
He was still studying her, still with that same intense scrutiny. ‘Is that why you left without taking anything?’
Nicole hesitated. Maybe this was what it all boiled down to for him. Because for Rocco, everyone had their price, didn’t they? He’d told her about the women who had been bewitched by the Barberi fortune and were eager to get themselves a slice of it for themselves. Just as he’d told her about the people who tried to muscle in when they found out who he was. He didn’t really trust people and never let them close. Much easier for him to believe that everyone had an ulterior motive where he was concerned because that gave him a legitimate reason to keep people at a distance. She wondered how honest she could afford to be—yet surely it was a waste of time trying to conceal the truth from him now, in these dying days of their relationship. Because her answers were academic. Whatever Rocco wanted, it wasn’t her.
She stared at him. ‘I didn’t take anything because I wanted to cut all ties between us. In fact, I never wanted to see you again.’
She met his eyes with a steady challenge and Rocco stilled. How dared she be so dismissive? It was an insult to his pride, yes—but it struck at something darker, too. Something deep inside which made him want to lash out at her blatant rejection. Yet there was no need to fight, not when there were different ways for him to vent his frustration or show her just what a mistake she had made. Things which had been on his mind all day—all week—ever since he’d walked into her little art shop in Cornwall and seen her bite her lip so that it took on a deep, rosy glow. And despite having told himself this was not going to happen, he found himself taking a step towards her.
‘So you never wanted to see me again?’ he mused silkily. ‘In which case it didn’t work very well for you, did it? Seeing as you’re here with me now.’
She continued to hold his gaze with a look of pure defiance. ‘And I can walk away whenever I choose,’ she said. ‘Divorce or no divorce. Either you accept that I’m not sharing a room with you, or I’m out of here. Because I’m not interested in you that way, Rocco, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘You’re saying you don’t want to have sex with me?’
She nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
He saw her green eyes widen as he reached out to pull her into his arms, her luscious curves instantly pliable beneath his fingers. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to put that to the test, my defiant wife,’ he murmured as he lowered his head towards hers.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u07d525c5-4f9b-5944-9875-4e6b2973d1d6)
HE WAS GOING to kiss her and after everything she’d just said, Nicole knew she needed to stop him. But suddenly she found herself governed by a much deeper need than preserving her sanity, or her pride. A need and a hunger which swept over her with the speed of a bush fire. As Rocco’s shadowed face lowered towards her she found past and present fusing, so that for a disconcerting moment she forgot everything except the urgent hunger in her body. Because hadn’t her Sicilian husband always been able to do this—to captivate her with the lightest touch and to tantalise her with that smouldering look of promise? And hadn’t there been many nights since they’d separated when she’d woken up, still half fuddled with sleep, and found herself yearning for the taste of his lips on hers just one more time? And now she had it.
One more time.
She opened her mouth and Rocco used the opportunity to fasten his mouth over hers in the most perfects of fits. And instantly Nicole felt helpless—caught up in the powerful snare of a sexual mastery which wiped out everything else. She gave a moan of pleasure because it had been so long since she had done this. She’d forgotten what it was like to kiss him because kissing was one of the first casualties of a failing marriage. You stopped kissing and touching and all too soon it was difficult to contemplate anything other than the icy barrier you had created between you.
And Nicole had felt like a living statue since they’d been apart. As if she were made from marble. As if the flesh and blood part of her were some kind of half-forgotten dream. Slowly but surely she had withdrawn from the sensual side of her nature until she’d convinced herself she was dead and unfeeling inside. But here came Rocco to wake her dormant sexuality with nothing more than a single kiss. It was like some stupid fairy story. It was scary and powerful. She didn’t want to want him, and yet...
She wanted him.
Her lips opened wider as his tongue slid inside her mouth—eagerly granting him that early intimacy as if preparing the way for another. She began to shiver as his hands started to explore her—rediscovering her body with an impatient hunger, as if it were the first time he’d ever touched her. His fingers skated over her breasts, palms massaging the swollen contours until each taut and aching nipple was in an exquisite state of arousal. Instinctively she writhed against him and felt the hard cradle of his desire. And now the moaning sound she could hear was his as he deepened the kiss—underpinning it with a sudden sense of urgency.
‘Nicole,’ he said unevenly and she’d never heard him say her name like that before.
Her arms were locked behind his neck as again he circled his hips against hers in unmistakable invitation and, somewhere in the back of her mind, Nicole could hear the small voice of reason imploring her to take control of the situation. It was urging her to call a halt to what they were doing and to do it now, before it was too late. But once again she ignored it. Against the powerful tide of passion, that little voice was drowned out and she allowed pleasure to shimmer over her skin.
She drew back a little to pull some air into her lungs—and the expression on his face both shocked and thrilled her. Because she’d never seen Rocco look like this before. The tension had turned his features into a taut mask. His eyes were blackened with lust, their sapphire brilliance almost concealed by the dilated pupils. Two lines of colour flared along the edges of his high cheekbones and contrasted with the hue of his olive skin.
‘So, tesoro.’ His murmured words were provocative as his circling groin gave yet another candid demonstration of just how aroused he was. ‘Is this what you’ve been missing?’
Nicole swallowed. She should tell him not to be so arrogant. She should tell him a lot of things which were long overdue. But she was in no fit state to give a coherent answer because he was idly whispering his middle finger down over her midriff and somehow the barrier of her filmy shirt was making what was happening doubly provocative. So that instead of telling him to stop, she found herself whispering, ‘Yes.’
He gave a little groan of satisfaction as he slid his hand up beneath her shirt to cup the breast which was straining madly against her bra. So close to the skin, she thought frustratedly—and yet much too far away. Her mouth dried as he began to circle a nipple with his thumb and her eyelids fluttered to a close as she felt it puckering beneath the lace. How could a touch which was barely there feel so incredible? ‘Oh,’ she said, her voice sounding slurred against the seeking pressure of his kiss.
He gave a low laugh as his hand moved from her breast down to the waistband of her jeans and Nicole held her breath. Would he dare go further? Surely she shouldn’t allow this? She knew she ought to break the spell yet she was so in thrall to what was happening that she was powerless to move. She heard the rasp of her zip as he began to slide it down and she held her breath, praying he would continue even though she knew he ought to stop. And now he was slipping his hand into the space provided by the open denim, and was easing one finger on a downward path over the warm surface of her belly. She swallowed.
‘Is there something else you would prefer me to do?’ he murmured. ‘In which case, you’d better tell me, because although I have many skills where women are concerned, I’m afraid mind-reading isn’t one of them.’
His teasing incited her—it made the heat raging inside her intensify to such a pitch that the idea of calling a halt to this madness seemed unbearable. Yet it angered her, too. How dared he bring up the subject of other women at a time like this? Did he think she didn’t care about stuff like that? With a yelp of rage she kissed him hard and she could feel his mouth curving into a smile, because by now he was slipping his fingers inside her panties. And didn’t the molten wetness he encountered there seem like a kind of betrayal? A physical demonstration of just how much she still wanted him, no matter how much she wished she didn’t. Her head fell back as he began to circle the tip of her clitoris with a feather-light touch.
‘Oh, my,’ he said softly as she quivered uncontrollably beneath the rhythmic caress of his finger. He gave a soft laugh. ‘Oh, Nicole. Just like old times. So wet and so hot. I think we’d better do something about this, hadn’t we, mio tesoro?’
She opened her mouth to tell him he’d got it all wrong but her desire was so great that she couldn’t speak. And even if she could, what the hell could she say?
Stop what you’re doing because it’s wrong. It’s making me feel weak and vulnerable and I vowed never to let myself feel that way again.
Because right now she didn’t care about any of that. All she cared about was the way he was making her feel. So she stayed silent as layer upon layer of pleasure began to build—so sweet and so achingly familiar. It took her to such a pitch of sexual hunger that she found herself wanting to whisper his name over and over again, like some life-affirming mantra. She was going to come—she knew she was—when the sudden memory of his mocking words crashed into her mind and shattered the magic spell he was weaving.
Just like old times, he’d said.
But it wasn’t, was it? It was nothing like old times, when she’d still been naïve and foolish enough to think there was some connection between them, which could get deeper if they worked on it. They weren’t those star-crossed lovers she’d imagined them to be and nor were they the unlikely newlyweds with no idea how to communicate with each other. The past was gone and this was not how she intended her future to be.
Nicole clamped her hand over Rocco’s wrist, halting the finger still poised with tantalising precision over the engorged bud as she summoned up all the willpower she possessed. And although her body was screaming out its objections, she blocked them. Because she’d been through a lot to get to where she was today. She’d worked hard and built her little business up from scratch—and it might not be very much, but it was all hers. She was beginning to establish herself as the artist she’d always wanted to be before life and Rocco had sucked her up and wrung her out to dry. She’d even started to convince herself that one day she would be properly over him. Was she really prepared to jeopardise everything—including her precious self-respect—just because her hormones had been reactivated by Rocco Barberi’s overt sexuality?
Heart pounding, she yanked his hand out of her panties and stepped away to turn her back on him while she readjusted her clothing. Her cheeks were burning as she zipped up her jeans and smoothed down her white shirt while the silver chains around her neck jangled like wind chimes. Slowly she came back to reality, blinking as she took in her surroundings to realise that they’d been making out on a penthouse terrace not far from Monaco’s picture-book harbour. And while they weren’t exactly being overlooked, what was to stop someone on one of those fancy yachts from peering through a pair of binoculars and seeing them? Some paparazzi photographer taking a few candid snaps to earn himself some unexpected money? Or one of Rocco’s staff turning up with papers for him to sign? She gave a violent shudder of remorse as she turned on him.
‘How dare you try to have sex with me?’ she hissed.
Unabashed, he shrugged. ‘That isn’t the message I was just getting. And isn’t it a little late in the day for such an outraged reaction? I thought only teenagers played games like that.’
‘I wasn’t playing games!’
‘Letting me go only so far and no further?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t consider that an adolescent game?’
‘Not in the circumstances, no. You were making me feel like...like an object.’
‘I was making you feel pleasure,’ he corrected. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
She shook her head. ‘And now you’re insulting me by asking such a dumb question. Having sex with you would complicate an already complicated situation—we both know that. And that’s not the reason I’m here.’
‘But you wanted me,’ he said slowly, his bright sapphire gaze taking in the breasts which were still heaving beneath her filmy shirt. ‘You want me now. Your body is crying out for me to touch you again. Surely even you wouldn’t deny that, Nicole.’
Nicole bit her lip, angry that he could look so cool and controlled when she felt so hot and bothered. Hating the fact that if she denied his accusation, she could rightly be accused of hypocrisy. And she didn’t have to answer him. She could flounce off this terrace any time she wanted except that wouldn’t be a very mature response, and she was supposed to be all about maturity these days. Wasn’t that one of the benefits of getting older, that you learnt from the knocks you experienced along the way? You learnt that what didn’t kill you made you stronger, even if at the time you wanted to just curl up and die.
She smoothed her hands down over her ruffled curls in a vain attempt to smooth them. ‘Of course I want you,’ she said carefully. ‘Or rather, my body does. You are a very charismatic man, as I’m sure many women must have told you in the past—’
‘You were always one of the most vociferous advocates,’ he reminded her softly.
‘I know. But I was young. And I don’t think talking about the way we felt back then is particularly helpful,’ she said. Because she was starting to realise how dangerous it could be. It was feeding those feelings she’d forced herself to repress. Dangerous feelings about love and longing, which had been pointless then and were even more pointless now.
‘Let’s just chalk it up to experience,’ she continued, swallowing down the lump in her throat. ‘We were just two people trying to do the right thing. It just didn’t work out.’
A thoughtful look shadowed his face. ‘But there’s no reason why that should stop us having sex right now, since it’s what we both want,’ he murmured. ‘Isn’t that so?’
Nicole shook her head, trying to fight the sudden desire provoked by the velvety caress of his words. ‘That’s not going to happen, Rocco.’
‘Do you want to tell me why?’
‘You know why. Because it would feel...wrong. And I’m pretty certain it would invalidate our two years of separation and take even longer to get a divorce.’
‘Ah, yes. Your precious divorce,’ he mused.
‘My ticket to freedom, you mean? Yours, too.’
His smile was mocking. ‘At least you’ve answered one question for me,’ he observed.
She looked at him. ‘Oh? What question is that?’
‘Back in England, I asked if there was another man waiting in the wings and you didn’t give me a satisfactory answer. But now I’d be prepared to bet my entire fortune there isn’t.’
‘I thought you said mind-reading wasn’t one of your skills.’
‘It’s not. It doesn’t need to be. It’s written all over your face, Nicole.’
‘What is?’ she said, even though on some level she was aware she might be walking straight into a trap.
‘You’re so horny,’ he answered throatily. ‘Hornier than any woman would be if she’d been having sex on a regular basis. Yet you were able to pull back, despite being so close to coming. Such steely resolve.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘And I admire that quality in you, Nicole—even if I’m the one who ultimately missed out.’
His words wrong-footed her because they sounded like a compliment and just like the next woman, Nicole was a sucker for a compliment. Had he said it to lull her into a false sense of complacency before moving in for the big seduction? She wondered how many other women had stood here, like this, their clothes all rumpled and their blood pulsing as they went willingly to the Sicilian billionaire’s bed. Well, she wasn’t going to be one of them.
‘I’m ending this conversation as of now,’ she said. ‘And now I need to find myself a separate bedroom because this is a pretend reconciliation, not a real one. We don’t share rooms and we don’t make out.’
Rocco saw the determined way she pulled back her shoulders and recognised she was serious. A flicker of disquiet edged his growing frustration. If it had been any other woman he could have persuaded her with a kiss. A kiss which this time she would find impossible to stop, because if Rocco Barberi was hell-bent on something, or someone, he always got it. But the steadfast expression flattening his estranged wife’s soft lips was unfamiliar and suddenly he realised he didn’t know this new Nicole at all.
When he’d gone to see her in England sex had been the last thing on his mind. He’d gone there to punish her and to use her, not to make love to her, yet something had changed his mind. That kiss they’d just shared had started out as nothing more than a challenge—a demonstration of his own power in the light of her resistance—and yet she had responded in a way which had sent his desire soaring.
And yet she had pushed him away.
His heart pounded, because now he was determined to have her one last time and nothing was going to stop him. But for once he realised that he was going to have to work for it. Maybe he should give her enough space to realise what she was missing, instead of pushing his own agenda. How long before she decided that denying her hunger for him was simply not sustainable—and slipped into his arms again?
So he nodded his head and gave her a cool smile. ‘If that’s what you want, then that’s what you shall have. Take any bedroom you want—there are plenty to choose from,’ he said, enjoying the confusion which had suddenly clouded her emerald eyes. ‘Just make sure you’re ready for the screening and dinner tonight. The car will be here just before eight.’
He ran his gaze over the unruly dark curls and the mismatched silver necklaces and a rogue glimmer of amusement found its way into his voice. ‘No doubt you’ve brought something deeply unsuitable to wear?’
Unexpectedly, her eyes danced in response. ‘You think I’m going to turn up looking like this?’
