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Bianca swallowed. “I won’t do it,” she said stonily. “You can’t make me sleep with you.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to make you sleep with me, cara. You weren’t here for five minutes tonight before you were coming in my arms.”
She reached down and picked up her jeans, but her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t even attempt pulling them on.
“You arrogant bastard,” she stammered, turning away from him, the pain inside her so raw she quivered.
“It’s your choice, Bianca. If you want me to fool your family, you should know what you’re getting into.”
* * *
“Jesus, are you kidding me?”
Niko grimaced. Marcos’s reaction had been pretty much what he’d expected.
“She caught me by surprise. It never occurred to me that our marriage breakdown wasn’t public knowledge.”
Marcos swore in his own tongue. “I saw what you were like, Nik. I don’t want you to go through that again. I’m sorry to say it, but you were hanging on by a thread after she left you.”
“That won’t happen this time. We’re both on the same page.”
“This is why I don’t get involved with women,” Marcos said cynically into the phone. “You’re a smart guy, Nik, but where Bianca is concerned, you’re an idiot.”
“Not anymore,” Nik swore through gritted teeth. “Let’s just say that having had the wool pulled from my eyes once is a protection against future idiocy.”
“So what? You’re really going to go through with this elaborate deception?”
“It’s not such a deception. We are, as a point of fact, still married.”
“In the process of a divorce after she cheated on you. For years.”
Nik compressed his lips. He had told Marcos, and Marcos alone, the full story behind his abrupt marriage failure. He found now that he didn’t like having the salient fact forced back in his face.
“I am well aware of that.”
Marcos’s short laugh was silent. “Okay, okay. Touchy subject, I take the hint. Just watch yourself, Niko. She might have the body of a goddess and the face of an angel, but Bianca Casacelli’s heart is pure poison apple. Don’t bite into it.”
CHAPTER THREE
The wedding photo was back in the hallway. It was the first thing she noticed when two months later, she returned to the home they’d once shared. With a throat that was almost fully constricted with tension, she walked quietly towards it, unable to pull her eyes away from the evidence of their love.
It wasn’t one of the professional photographs. They had been stunning, but too like a magazine photo shoot for Bianca’s liking. The one and only picture they’d had printed had been taken by Sarah, during their first dance. Bianca was whispering into Niko’s ear, standing on tiptoe to be heard above the music, and his handsome face was filled with love, contentment and pride. She remembered the moment as clearly as if it were yesterday. Except it was a lifetime ago, now.
That love was gone. Dead and buried. Unfortunately, she had to spend the next two weeks picking through the detritus of the graveyard, and the whole pretence felt like an exercise in agony, now.
The December weather had turned arctic, and the flurry of snow that had fallen as she’d emerged from the cab was turning to w
ater droplets on her coat. Distracted from the wedding photo, she slipped out of her jacket and scarf and draped them over the hall stand.
She wouldn’t have been human if she weren’t curious. It had been a long time since she’d lived with Niko. What had changed in his life? Apart from the hardening of his heart to resemble stone.
With the house to herself, she slipped upstairs, to the room that had been their bedroom. Stepping inside was like being sucked through a strange temporal vortex. With a deep breath, she moved around the edges, running her hands over the furniture she’d lovingly chosen. Her picture was on his side of the bed; he’d taken it one of the first nights they’d met, when she had thought him simply the most devastatingly charming man alive. Something to remember me by? She’d said with a goofy grin as he’d snapped the image. I won’t need to remember you, cara mia, Niko had said smoothly. Bianca hadn’t understood, but later, he’d told her that he’d simply meant he was never going to let her out of his sight.
She ran a finger across the glass front, trying to remember what it was like to smile like that. She looked so happy. As though the whole world was an endless playing field designed for her pleasure and enjoyment. She hadn’t known then that past decisions would haunt her bright future, making that happiness simply the shadow of a dream. An unattainable hoax.
“Welcome home.”
She spun on her heel, feeling like a toddler caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. “I didn’t think you’d be here. You’re not supposed to be home.”
