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Hehadseduced her for his own pleasure. He’d revelled in the unravelling of her sexuality because he was the lucky recipient of it. He’d done all that while pushing her back and back every time she got too close, clinging stubbornly to those damned rules, believing himself immune to human emotion—no, call it true as Elsbeth had done: believing himselfsuperiorto it.
The agony suffocating him meant he could deny it no more.
He wasn’t superior to or immune to emotion.
The woman whose defences he’d been so intent on breaking down had silently seeped under the defences of his own skin and embedded herself into his heart.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘HOWAREYOUfinding marriage to my cousin?’ King Pig asked, having just squeezed his obese body to the front of the barrier to stand beside Amadeo. Loath though Amadeo had been to offer Dominic a seat in the royal enclosure of the Ceres National Racetrack, protocol—and his mother—demanded it. He’d filled the enclosure with dignitaries and trustees of a number of the charities he patronised, partly in the hope of diluting his presence, but Dominic had stuck close to him like a bad smell until Amadeo had excused himself on a made-up pretext. Now he’d been hunted down again.
He gripped the top of the barrier. The race was almost over. Only two more laps. ‘Very well,’ he lied.
‘She is a good wife to you?’
‘Yes.’
King Pig leaned in closer and dropped his voice. ‘My sources tell me she’s pregnant.’
Gritting his teeth both at the question and the foulness of Dominic’s breath, Amadeo gave a tight nod and received a hearty slap on the back.
‘My congratulations. A new Berruti heir. You must be relieved your virility has proved itself. You are hoping for a boy?’
Glad he was wearing shades against the autumn sun, Amadeo kept his tone neutral. ‘A healthy child is all I hope for.’
‘Sure, sure.’ He dropped his voice again. ‘That’s what we all have to say in this age of equality, eh? I take it the pregnancy means my cousin is to your liking.’ His eyebrows waggled leeringly.
‘Elsbeth is a credit to your nation.’
‘She is a real lady, the jewel of my nation.’ He waggled his eyebrows again, his expression somehow managing to become even more lecherous. ‘There’s something about virgins, isn’t there? You can break them in and mould them into what you want them to be.’ He leaned in even closer, his mouth practically touching Amadeo’s ear to whisper, ‘When the baby comes and she can’t service you any more, let me know. I can arrange another virgin to warm your bed.’
Something inside him snapped. The malignant, bitter coil suddenly unleashed in a ricochet of disgust and loathing. Turning abruptly to face him, Amadeo looked Dominic up and down with a sneer. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I will race you. Three laps.’
Dominic’s piggy eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, so youareman enough.’
Now Amadeo was the one to lean into the shorter man and savagely whisper, ‘Man enough not to abuse virgins for my own pleasure, you sick bastard.’
Even though Dominic’s face turned puce, it didn’t give even a modicum of satisfaction.
‘Three laps. I will see you on the start line in one hour...that’s if you can fit in the seat. I’ll make sure they have a vat of grease to help you in.’
The first driver crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted, shouts and cheers ringing so loudly that any retort Dominic might have found would have been drowned out.
Leaving him gawping like an outraged goldfish, Amadeo turned his back on King Pig and, his bodyguards making the heaving crowd part for him, found his father and informed him that he would be making the trophy presentation instead. Not explaining himself, he left the enclosure to find Sébastien and demanded the use of his test car. He wouldn’t be able to refuse, not when Amadeo owned sixty percent of the team.
He would race Dominic. Race him, beat him and humiliate him. And then he would put all his energy, and all his money if necessary, into bringing this vile monster down.
Elsbeth was planting climbing roses in the garden when Clara came flying out through her patio door, shouting her name.
Abandoning her plants, she hurried over to her. ‘What’s wrong?’
But the run Clara had made from her quarters to Elsbeth’s had winded her and she bent over, gasping, ‘Amadeo.’
A prickle of ice nudged at her heart. Trying to swallow it away, Elsbeth rubbed Clara’s back. ‘What about him?’
She lifted her pale face. ‘He’s going to race King Pig.’
‘Don’t do this,’ Sébastien begged for the tenth time since he’d finally comprehended that Amadeo was serious. Hovering behind him stood Amadeo’s father, his stricken face ashen.
