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‘That’s the only reason I said yes,’ Catherine said firmly.
‘You wanted me that night,’ he insisted, but though his voice was resolute there was flicker of doubt in his eyes.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure, Rico.’ As she turned Catherine smiled softly at him, but it was a smile laced with danger, a curious cocktail of seduction and menace.
The gentle, sweet woman was gone now; instead a bewitching temptress smiled back at him. He stood frozen, watching transfixed as she loosened her hair from its confines, pulled off her jacket and worked the buttons of her black lace blouse, undressing slowly, but utterly ignoring him at the same time, absolutely refusing to let him see the effect he was having on her, determined not to be intimidated.
For the first time in their strange relationship Catherine knew the power of being a woman, learnt the lessons her mother and Janey had unwittingly imparted.
Knew for once she had the valuable upper hand.
‘What proud Sicilian would like his lack of sexual prowess played out in court? What proud Sicilian would want the world to know that one night with a woman was enough to make her ensure it was the last?’
Unzipping her skirt, she let it fall around her ankles. Under any other circumstances she would have felt stupid, utterly stupid, standing in stockings and high heels, her creamy breasts spilling out of black lace. But his well-cut suit wasn’t enough to hide his furious arousal, and Catherine flicked a superior eye downwards before turning her triumphant gaze back to him as she discarded her bra.
‘You lie.’ He cursed the words at her, but she deliberately didn’t flinch. ‘You enjoyed every moment.’
‘Did I?’ Slowly she walked over to the bath, and slowly she lowered herself in—grateful for the heated water as an excuse for her flaming skin, grateful for the bubbles that covered her jutting nipples. ‘I’m sure Marco was equally convinced when Janey called out his name.’
His eyes found hers then.
‘You bitch.’
‘Why act so surprised, Rico? All along you’ve accused me of being a gold-digger, all along you’ve insisted I’m only here for the money, and yet now you’ve finally got me to admit it you don’t seem very pleased all of a sudden.’ Dragging her eyes away, she concentrated for an age on the bottles, before selecting one and massaging its contents into her hair. He stood rigid beside the bathtub, his face livid, anger blazing in every taut muscle.
‘Lily is my sole priority, Rico. Not this marriage and definitely not you. And if you think you can use me as some sort of pawn in your game and I’ll just comply—’
‘You believe Antonia?’ Rico demanded. ‘After everything I said, still you choose to believe her?’
‘I believe no one,’ Catherine said resolutely. ‘But believe this, Rico. If you think you can brush me off like some smudge on your suit when it all dies down, that I’ll walk away without a fight, then you’d better think again. Catherine Masters has long gone now, I’m Catherine Mancini, with everything the name entails.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE waited for morning.
Lying in the massive bed, feeling the bristling hatred emanating from him, she ached, literally ached to go over to him, to lay her head on his chest and to feel his arms around her, to take back all she had said. But there was too much at stake, too much to lose in a weak moment. So instead she lay there, the room as light as day as the full moon drifted past the massive wind
ows, listening to the creaking house, every nerve taut as finally his breathing evened out.
One heavy arm moved towards her, almost instinctive in its directness, caressing the curve of her waist until she turned towards him. She’d never seen him asleep before, never witnessed the beauty of his face without tension. The taut mouth was relaxed, full, sensual lips slightly parted, dark eyelashes fanning his haughty cheeks, and he looked younger, softer, but so desirable she had to bite back the urge to kiss him, to place her lips on his. Instead she adored him with her eyes, stealing this time away from his accusing glare to absorb his beauty, to capture the delicious image of a husband who was hers in name only.
Her eyes drifted down to the rumpled sheet that lay precariously over his manhood, and she had to clench her fists, such was her desire to move it, to unwrap the parcel and claim the prize. And what terrified her most was that she knew, just knew, he would respond. There was an undeniable attraction that overrode all else. In sleep, his body would yield to her, that tumid length would harden, would awake in her hands. But what then…?
Could a marriage survive on sex alone? Was attraction enough to carry them through whatever lay ahead? Oh, she had love—but was it enough for both of them?
Such was her pain that for a moment she thought the piercing cry that filled her ears had come from her own lips. It took a moment to register it was Lily.
Quietly she slipped from Rico’s embrace. Wrapping her bath towel around her, she crept down the passage, arriving at the nursery door just as Jessica did.
‘I’m sorry she woke you, Mrs Mancini. I was just warming a bottle. I’ll take care of her now.’
‘I’ll do it, Jessica. I don’t mind getting up to her at night.’
‘Oh!’ Jessica gave her a slightly startled look. ‘Janey always…’ Her voice trailed off and Catherine did nothing to resurrect the conversation, the words hanging in the air as she opened the nursery door and padded in. She was curiously nervous about what exactly it was she was supposed do, and smiled awkwardly at Lily, who had her arms outstretched, tears streaming down her angry red cheeks as she sobbed in anguish.
‘Hush,’ Catherine begged, picking her up and trying to cuddle her. But despite her best efforts she simply refused to take the bottle, refused to be comforted. It was almost a relief when a hesitant Jessica reappeared at the door.
‘I think she wants you,’ Catherine admitted, curiously defeated by Lily’s rejection, tears glittering dangerously in her eyes as Jessica came over.
