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rom him—that she would, in a moment. ‘How could I feel anything else for you?’
His laugh was pure, sensual cynicism. ‘Careful, cara. You and I both know how easy it would be for me to prove you a liar.’ He rolled his hips, bringing his arousal into intimate contact with her body, and Skye felt a groan tear through her. Need, unmistakable and urgent, grew within her soul.
‘That’s just physical,’ she hissed, her eyes locked to the top button of his crisp, pale blue shirt. ‘And I’m sure you’ve had enough experience to know it doesn’t mean a damned thing.’
‘But you haven’t,’ he reminded her mercilessly, his eyes glowing with intensity. ‘You were all mine.’
More memories. Their first time together—her first time with any man. She bit down on her lip, hating the way her nerves jerked in response. He’d taken hold of her that night, body and soul. He’d unlocked parts of her she hadn’t even been aware of, and it had all been a part of his game. His plan for revenge. How easy she’d been to con into this marriage—into his bed!
‘And I think you still are.’
A garbled sound escaped from Skye’s throat. But it wasn’t a denial. Was it a sound of surrender? Because he was right. She was desperate to feel his body once more. To be with him one last time.
He would probably always have that power over her, but everything hinged on her being able to stay strong. To remember the reason she had to get the papers signed and get the heck away from him. There was no future for them. There couldn’t be. How could she stay married to a man she loved with all her heart, raise a baby with him, knowing that he’d used her in the most cynical of ways?
Her only hope was never to see him again. To go far from where he could find her. And that was her plan. Once he’d signed the papers she was going to disappear again. She thought of the ticket in her purse, a flight to Australia for later that night, where she planned to find her way to a remote corner of the country, somewhere with a view of the beach, and set about healing her broken heart.
‘You’re wrong.’ She pulled away from him with determination, moving back to the window and staring out at Venice.
‘Am I?’
‘Oh, fine.’ She shrugged her shoulders, not turning around. ‘Apparently, I still...desire you. So what? You were my first lover. I dare say my body won’t ever completely forget the lessons you taught me.’ Fragments of their nights cut through her determination. The way he’d kissed her for hours; the way his mouth had owned her body. The way they’d swum naked in the moonlit ocean off the coast of Sicily or in the rooftop pool at his Venetian mansion. The sensual massages he’d given her. She pushed those thoughts aside. ‘But nor will my heart.’
‘And what did I teach your heart, cara?’
‘Not to trust handsome strangers,’ she said, the humour of the comment sucked away by the desperation in her voice. ‘Sign the papers, Matteo. This marriage is over.’
‘And if I won’t?’ The words were thick with emotion. And for a second hope scorched her. But it was a foolish hope, the same blind love that had led her into the marriage.
‘You wanted revenge. You got it.’
‘I wanted the hotel,’ he said with a dangerous softness to his voice. ‘You were...a silver lining.’
‘A silver lining?’ she returned angrily. ‘For God’s sake, Matteo. I loved you! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
He stared at her long and hard. ‘That wasn’t love you felt. It was infatuation. Sex.’
She swallowed past a lump of bitterness in her throat. He was wrong. She’d loved him with her whole heart. She wouldn’t tell him that now, but somehow knowing that their baby had been conceived with goodness in her heart, at least, mattered a whole lot to her.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s all academic now. Our marriage is over. There’s obviously no way on earth I could ever forget what you’ve done. Nor forgive you for it.’ She sucked in a breath and stared at him headlong. ‘You can have the hotel.’
He was instantly still, every nerve ending in his body in a state of stasis. ‘You’re saying you’ll sell me Il Grande Fortuna?’
‘On one condition,’ she said frostily, devastation at this final, damning proof seeping into her blood, turning it to ice. ‘Sign the damned papers and stay the hell out of my life.’
* * *
When Skye had walked out on their marriage, having learned the truth behind his motivations for pursuing her, he’d had to reconcile himself to the reality that he might never recover his grandfather’s beloved Il Grande Fortuna.
He’d put all his chips on the one square, gambling on marriage to the rich heiress as the best way to get what he wanted. And to have a little fun along the way.
His plan had been simple enough—seduce her and blind her with the passion they shared, making her willing to do, say or sign anything he asked of her. And he’d come so close. She had been eating out of the palm of his hand. Until she wasn’t.
Their marriage had always been about the hotel.
About returning his family’s property to its rightful owner—him.
It had been about righting a wrong of the past.
