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The sun had disappeared. Lights strung through the trees flickered on and he nodded to the member of staff who hovered nearby, ready to pack up their picnic.
He caught the glazed, flushed look on his wife’s face and came to a sudden, extremely pleasing decision.
‘Tonight, il mio angelo, we’ll have an early night.’
* * *
The first week flew by in a dizzy haze of sun, sea, exquisite food, and making love. Lots and lots of making love.
Zaccheo was a fierce and demanding lover, but he gave so much more in return. And Eva was so greedy for everything he had to give, she wondered whether she was turning into a sex addict. She’d certainly acted like one this morning, when she’d initiated sex while Zaccheo had been barely awake. That her initiative had seemed to please him had been beside the point.
She’d examined her behaviour afterwards when Zaccheo had been summoned to an urgent phone call by Romeo.
This was supposed to be a moment out of time, a brief dalliance, which would end the moment she spilled her secret to him. And yet with each surrender of her body, she slid down a steeper slope, one she suspected would be difficult to climb back up. Because it turned out that, for her, sex wasn’t a simple exchange of physical pleasure. With each act, she handed over a piece of herself to him that she feared she’d never reclaim.
And that more than anything made her fear for herself when this was over.
A breeze blew through an open window and Eva clutched the thin sarong she’d thrown over her bikini. Dark clouds were forming ominously over the island. Shivering, she watched the storm gather, wondering if it was a premonition for her own situation.
Lightning flashed, and she jumped.
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Eva.’ Zaccheo’s housekeeper smiled as she entered and turned on table lamps around the living room. ‘The storm passes very quickly. The sun will be back out in no time.’
Eva smiled and nodded, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her storm wouldn’t pass so quickly.
As intense rain pounded the roof she went in search of Zaccheo. Not finding him in his study, she climbed the stairs, her pulse already racing in anticipation as she went down the hallway.
She entered their dressing room and froze.
‘What are you doing?’ she blurted.
‘I would’ve thought it was obvious, dolcezza.’ He held clippers inches from his face.
‘I can see what you’re doing but...why?’ she snapped. ‘You already got rid of most of it for the wedding.’ Her voice was clipped, a feeling she couldn’t decipher moving through her.
Zaccheo raised an eyebrow, amusement mingled with something else as he watched her. ‘I take it this look works for you?’
She swallowed twice before she could speak. When she finally deciphered the feeling coursing through her, she was so shocked and so afraid he would read her feelings, she glanced over his head.
‘Yes. I prefer it,’ she replied.
For several seconds he didn’t speak. Her skin burned at his compelling stare. Schooling her features, she glanced into his eyes.
‘Then it will remain untouched.’ He set the clippers down and faced her.
Neither of them moved for several minutes. The storm raged outside, beating against the windows and causing the timber to creak.
‘Come here, Eva.’ Softly spoken, but a command nonetheless.
‘I’m beginning to think those are your three favourite words.’
‘They are only when you comply.’
She rolled her eyes, but moved towards him. He swivelled in his chair and pulled her closer, parting his thighs to situate her between them.
‘Was that very hard to admit?’ he rasped.
Her skin grew tight, awareness that she stood on a precipice whose depths she couldn’t quite fathom shivering over her. ‘No.’
He laughed. ‘You’re a pathetic liar. But I appreciate you finding the courage to ask for what you want.’
‘An insult and a compliment?’ she said lightly.
‘I wouldn’t want you to think me soft.’ He caught her hands and placed them on his shoulders. ‘You realise that I’ll require a reward for keeping myself this way for your pleasure?’
The way he mouthed pleasure made hot need sting between her thighs. Several weeks ago, she would’ve fought it. But Eva was fast learning it was no use. Her body was his slave to command as and when he wished. ‘You got your stylists to prod and primp me into the image you wanted. I’ve earned the right to do the same to you.’ Her fingers curled into the hair she would’ve wept to see shorn.
