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He watched as she swallowed and moved towards him, the peacock skirt swaying as she walked.

‘Could you do the zip up for me, please?’ Her voice was terse, her features hard.

‘Of course.’

In her room, for all of a minute, he’d thought he had found his old Grace, the woman whose mocking was never malicious, intended only to amuse, never to sting.

This woman before him was not that Grace.

He wanted to find his old Grace again. She was in there, somewhere. He wanted to reach in and pull her out permanently.

She turned her back to him. She’d managed to zip it three quarters of the way up. He imagined her fighting it, contorting herself into all different positions in an attempt to zip it fully, anything rather than have to ask him for help.

Standing closer than was necessary, close enough to hear the shallowness of her breaths, he placed a hand on her shoulder, bare except for the thin strap of her dress. Her skin held none of the ruddiness her compatriots were famed for. Grace’s skin was a light honey tone and satin to the touch.

He pulled the zip up to where it ended just below her shoulder blades. Instead of stopping and stepping back, he trailed his fingers along that soft skin to the base of her neck.

She stood rigid, like the very mannequin that had worn this same dress, no longer breathing. He brushed his hands down her long, supple arms then snaked them around her waist and pressed against her. She would have to be a corpse not to feel the length of his hardness.

‘What are you doing?’ she rasped, stepping out of his hold.

‘Enjoying my wife.’

‘You buy me a dress you know I like and think you can enjoy me?’

‘Stop twisting things.’ He raked his fingers through his freshly styled hair, uncaring that he mussed it. Every time he took a step forward she jumped a mile back.

‘Then why did you buy it? What happened to me wearing the punishment dress? Did you buy this as a way of softening me up so I’d fall into bed with you? Or was it an attack of the guilts?’

‘I do not need to soften you up to get you back into my bed.’ Ignoring her mention of guilt, he took in her heightened colour, the anger in her eyes that fought with the desire also residing there. ‘All I would have to do is kiss you and you would be begging for me to take you.’

‘Bull—’

‘Would you like to put it to the test?’ he interrupted. ‘One kiss and see where it leads, see whether it leads to you begging for more?’

She fixed her hazel eyes on him, her throat working frantically. ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before I kiss you or go anywhere near a bed with you in it.’

‘If being in hell means sharing a bed with you, I’ll take that over heaven.’

Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ before she snapped it shut and grabbed her clutch bag from the bureau. ‘Shouldn’t we be making a move?’

‘Yes, my good Sicilian wife,’ he agreed, fighting to keep his tone amiable. Tonight would likely be awkward enough for them both—he wanted her to at least relax enough to enjoy some of it, but, by God, she was making it hard.

He extended his arm to her. ‘It is time for us to be sociable and party with Florence’s finest.’

‘If they’re friends of yours, I expect the party will be full of gangsters with guns.’

The good humour he had been clinging on to by the skin of his teeth vanished, her testiness clearly contagious. ‘You push my tolerance too far. I might want you back in my bed, bella, but do not think it means I am disregarding our agreement. If you want to stay in Lily’s life you had damn well better behave yourself tonight.’

* * *

As they were in Florence, in Grace’s eyes the art capital of the world, she expected the party to be a refined affair with soft background music and plenty of canapés. And a few machine guns discreetly tucked away in full view.

Francesco Calvetti’s party was located in his new hotel, which was as opulent and plush as the hotel she and Luca were staying in, and seeped with as much architectural history. Yet she could give it only cursory appreciation, her exchange with Luca leaving her feeling all wrung out. It was so hard having to keep up the fight of her responses towards him. When it came to Luca, her head and her body were poles apart. It was a fight she feared her body was winning.

The drive to the hotel had been a game in ignoring each other: Grace looking out of her window, Luca emailing and conducting whatever cyber business was necessary on a Saturday evening.

However hard she ignored him, her body remained painfully aware.

They entered the lobby flanked by four bodyguards. Luca hooked a muscular arm around her waist. ‘Smile and act happy,’ he said into her ear, the menacing undertow audible.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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