Revelations of the Night Before Page 8

  Always this one.

  He looked up then and caught her watching him. She didn’t jerk her gaze away, didn’t try to hide that she’d been looking. What was the point? He closed the laptop and put it away.

  “I know this isn’t the way you expected this to happen,” he said. “But it’s for the best.”

  “The best for whom?” she asked automatically.

  His silver gaze didn’t waver. “For us. For the baby.”

  “I don’t think waiting a month would have hurt.”

  He shrugged. “When I decide to do a thing, I do it. I see no point in waiting.”

  When he decided.

  “What about your mother? Don’t you think she might like to see her son get married?”

  His laugh was unexpected. It also sent a shiver over her. “The only thing she cares about right now is the fact I’m forcing her to live on her allowance. I doubt she’d trouble herself to bring me water if I were dying of thirst on her doorstep.”

  Sadness jolted her at that statement. She knew he was an only child, and of course she knew that his father had recently died, but she’d had no idea his relationship with his mother was that bad. “Perhaps she’s still upset over your father’s death. Grief does unexpected things to people.”

  She felt a little foolish for saying such a thing considering how his father had died, but stranger things had happened than a wife still being in love with her philandering husband.

  He stared at her disbelievingly. “She is not sad, tesoro. Or, if she is sad, it’s not because he died, but because I’m now in charge of the money.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Not all families enjoy each other’s company the way yours does.”

  Tina dropped her gaze from his. Yes, her family loved one another, there was no doubt about it. But she also thought perhaps they failed to understand one another, as well. They would absolutely not understand, for instance, why she’d agreed to marry Nico.

  No, they would be furious. Renzo would pop a gasket when she told him.

  Nico’s phone rang and he took the call, ending their conversation. A short while later, the plane landed at Gibraltar airport. It was dark when they stepped off the plane. She couldn’t see the ocean, but she could smell the tang of the salt air.

  They climbed into a waiting car and were whisked to an exclusive hotel high above the city. They checked into the penthouse suite, which the staff assured them came with breathtaking views of the Bay of Gibraltar and the Spanish mainland—as well as the Rif Mountains of Morocco—though it would be morning before they would see the view.

  But once they entered the suite, Tina was more concerned about the room. Room, as in singular.

  “We need another room,” she said to Nico when she realized there was only the one.

  She wasn’t ready to spend the night with him, not like this. Not when everything was spiraling out of control and she felt as if her life was no longer her own. If he’d kissed her earlier beneath the pergola, she might have yielded to him like a flower bending in a storm.

  But he had not, and she’d had several hours now to fret about what was happening. From the moment she’d agreed to marry him, he’d shifted into high gear. She should have realized that he would. He was a businessman, and he had every intention of closing the deal before anything could happen to derail his plans.

  To him, she was another acquisition. A bit of land, a factory, an exclusive source of some necessary component for his motorcycles.

  What did you expect?

  Nico crossed the main living area and opened the balcony doors. The bay spread like spilled ink below, and the lights of ships lit up the harbor. Across the bay, the Spanish town of Algeciras glowed in the night.

  “There is only this room, cara,” he said when she came to stand in the open doorway.

  Tina crossed her arms over her chest, her heart thrumming along like she’d just had a caffeine injection.

  “It’s happening too fast for me, Nico. I only said yes this afternoon, and now we’re here, and we’re in the same room together, and my head is spinning.”

  He turned his head to look at her. She couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell what was in that enigmatic gaze of his, and her pulse skipped. He was probably annoyed she was giving him trouble.

  “There is only one room because it’s all they have available, Tina. We’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

  He sounded cool and guarded, and so very reasonable. Her cheeks felt hot. Sex seemed to be the last thing on his mind, though she couldn’t seem to move it from the front of hers. Because she couldn’t help but remember the last time they’d been alone in a hotel room overnight.

  This one might be sleek and modern, furnished with chrome-and-glass tables, flokati rugs and leather couches, nothing at all like the elegant Hotel Daniele, but her mind didn’t know the difference. It kept replaying images of their last night together—cotton sheets so fine they felt like silk, twining bodies, sleek skin and that one perfect moment when she’d discovered how very addictive good sex could be.

  “There is a couch,” she said, resisting the urge to fan herself.

  His expression did not change. “I am aware of it.”

  She hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I’ll sleep on it. I’m smaller than you.”

  He left the railing and stalked toward her. She dropped her arms to her sides, took a step backward. He was so very big, so near, as he stopped only inches away from her. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him, and she wished that she’d put the stilettos back on. At least she wouldn’t feel as if he loomed over her if she had.

  He reached out and caught a lock of her hair in his hand, twined it gently around his fist. “Is this really what you want?”

  She nodded once, quickly.

  He lifted her hair to his fine, aristocratic nose. “Do you not think, cara, that perhaps the modesty is a bit misplaced?”

  The heat threatened to incinerate her from the inside out. “I—I agreed to marry you. So you would not harm my family,” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

  He laughed softly, wrapped her hair once more around his fist until she had to move closer. “Ah, I see. You have given yourself to me as a sacrificial lamb, is that it?”

  “No—”

  “You think that because you’ve agreed to the marriage, sex is off the table?” His voice was slightly harder this time.

  She swallowed. “I didn’t say that. But they are two different things, are they not? We hardly know one another.”

  “And we knew each other not at all in Venice. I seem to remember this made the entire evening more exciting, not less. Shall I procure a couple of masks to make it easier for you?”

  She dropped her chin, hiding her eyes from his. Not because she was embarrassed or ashamed, but because if she did not he would see the flare of excitement that even now dripped into her bloodstream, drugging her with need.

  “That was different. And there were consequences neither of us expected.”

  His playful tone disappeared. “I fail to see how these consequences affect the topic at hand. Or how sex on one night is different than sex on another. Unless, of course, it’s the man you object to and not the sex.”

  That wasn’t it at all, and yet she couldn’t tell him that. She’d already lost so much of herself to him—if they spent the night together, how much more would she lose?

  “I—I’m not ready,” she said, still keeping her eyes downcast. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  She felt him go completely still. “How … amusing,” he murmured, before he dropped her hair and stepped around her, into the room and away from the currents swirling between them.

  Tina’s throat was thick with words that would not come, with feelings and emotions she did not fully understand. She’d blundered, and yet she’d only been trying to preserve her sense of self for a little while longer.


  He prowled across the carpet, his shoulders tight as he opened the liquor cabinet and poured a finger of Scotch into a glass before turning back to her, the drink cradled in his hand.

  “No matter what you might think, cara, I am in full control of my libido. You waste your time imagining that I intend to take you to my bed and have my wicked way with you. We have one bed because one bed is all that was available. You may sleep in it unmolested, I assure you.”

  He downed the Scotch and grabbed his briefcase. “I have work to do, and no inclination to coerce you into doing something which is obviously distasteful to you.”

  Tina awoke the next morning in the bed, though she’d started the evening on the couch. She sat up groggily and swung her head toward the direction of the bathroom. The sound of the running shower came through the closed door. A few minutes later it stopped, and then Nico strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel slung low over his hips.

  Tina bit off a gasp as she grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin. Nico stopped in his tracks, his expression wry.

  “You’re wearing the same thing you wore when you went to sleep on the couch, Tina.”

  She glanced beneath the sheet. So she was, though her attire hadn’t quite been the foremost thing on her mind. She let the fabric fall again as hot embarrassment crept through her. He had to be laughing at her on the inside for acting like a startled virgin—though that was not why she’d gasped.

  No, she’d gasped because seeing him nearly naked like that was an assault on her senses.

  And she wanted more.

  “I was fine on the couch,” she said, pushing those thoughts away. “You didn’t have to bring me in here.”

  “You didn’t look fine. You looked cramped. And cold.” He reached into the closet and took out a pair of khaki trousers. Tina jerked her gaze away automatically when he dropped the towel—and then swung it back with a sense of glee. He stood with his back to her so that she could look to her heart’s content without him being the wiser. And what a view it was: muscled shoulders, narrow waist, tight buttocks and long, strong legs.

  Something flared to life in her belly, something hot and dark and hungry. She gripped the sheet in her fists. Oh, my …

  She didn’t remember him carrying her into the bedroom last night—and yet she did remember one detail. She remembered shivering and curling up tight under the blanket, and then something warm and solid had cradled her until she forgot she’d been cold.

  But had it only been him carrying her, or had he lain down in the bed and held her tight? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask.

  He slid into a pair of briefs before pulling on the khakis and flipping through the closet for a shirt. When he turned back to her, the dark shirt hung open to the waist, affording her a view of sculpted chest and abs that made her mouth water. Tina bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

  Nico’s gaze was sharp as he looked over and caught her staring at him. “Never fear, cara, you slept unmolested. I prefer that my bed partners participate in the activities. It is much more fun that way.”

  Tina let her gaze drop. “I did not doubt it,” she said, because she knew that if he had tried to make love to her, she wouldn’t have slept through it. “Thank you for making sure I was warm again.”

  He shrugged as he began to button the shirt. “You are the mother of my child, Tina. Regardless of how this began between us, I will take care of you. Nothing is more important than this baby.”

  Her stomach hollowed. Of course the baby was the most important thing—and yet it hurt to hear him say it. To him, she was a possession, a vessel carrying a precious cargo. The thought made her ache inside. What would it be like to marry a man who loved her? To have him be excited about the baby instead of resigned?

  “I have business to take care of,” he told her when he finished dressing. “The wedding will be this evening, so try to amuse yourself for a few hours.”

  Tina sat in the middle of the big bed once he was gone, feeling dejected. Amuse herself. So typical. He went off to run his company and expected her to entertain herself until he returned.

  He was exactly like her brother in that respect—except that Faith had kept working for Renzo until she’d hired her own replacement. There was no way Renzo would dare to tell Faith she couldn’t do what she wanted to do.

  Even now, Faith oversaw his calendar of appointments and basically ran his entire life while taking care of a newborn. Faith was loved and valued and, though Tina would have never thought it possible with her macho brother, she was very much his equal. His other half.

  It was his attitude toward his wife that had given Tina the hope he would eventually cave to her desire to work in the D’Angeli accounting department. She knew he’d been worried she couldn’t handle the pressure, the people, or that her innate shyness would somehow stop her from fitting in. He was wrong, though she didn’t suppose she would get the chance to show him that now.

  Tina showered and breakfasted, then decided to go for a swim in the hotel pool. The exercise would do her good and it would make the time pass until evening. But first she checked her phone for messages.

  There was an email from her mother, who was having the time of her life in Bora-Bora, and a quick text from Faith with a picture of baby Domenico and Renzo.

  Tina’s throat hurt as she swallowed tears. Renzo and Faith were so happy, while she and Nico were merely going through the motions. What would it be like to be so overwhelmingly happy? So in love?

  She pushed those thoughts down deep and went down to the pool. She swam laps for a while, and then sat in the shade of an umbrella and stared at the harbor below. Her thoughts kept going around and around. She almost called Lucia, just to have someone to talk to, but she didn’t know what to say. How could you tell anyone that you were pregnant and about to marry the baby’s father even though he did not love you?

  It was too pitiful, and so she sat and stared at the blue water until she finally gave up and returned to the penthouse suite.

  The last thing she expected to find as she opened the door was a seamstress and a selection of wedding dresses. Shock rooted her to the spot as she stood in the entry with the key card in her hand and the door wide-open.

  There were racks of gowns—gorgeous, expensive gowns with lace and silk and pearls—that must each have cost a small fortune.

  He’d ordered them without her knowledge. Without her input. He’d made the choice for her, just as he’d made so many other choices since barging back into her life in the Pantheon.

  It hurt in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. She was already feeling sorry for herself, feeling like a burden and a possession rather than a cherished companion and equal after seeing Faith’s text earlier, and her hurt feelings bubbled over until she had to act or burst with the effort not to.

  She spun on her heel and marched into the office, uncaring that she was still in her bikini and flimsy cover-up.

  Nico was not alone. Three men looked up in surprise when she entered the room. Nico’s expression could have stopped a bear in its tracks—but she refused to be intimidated. The two men with him excused themselves, slipping out of the office and leaving them alone.

  She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. It was only when his gaze dropped down her body that she realized the pose thrust her breasts forward. It was all she could do not to hug herself, but she refused to shrink beneath his simmering gaze.

  He met her eyes again, a flicker of interest kindling in his. “What is this about, Tina?”

  She took a step toward him, her heart thundering in her chest. “Wedding dresses? You picked out wedding dresses for me?” She was so angry that she could barely get the words out without them tripping over each other.

  His brows drew down. “No, I did not,” he said evenly. “You may pick what you want. I only asked for several for you to choose from.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides, clenching her fists together rhythmically. Violent emoti
on swept through her. He was no different from her brother in the way he viewed her. No, he was different. Renzo might view her as an accessory, but he loved her. This man did not.

  At least Renzo didn’t think so little of her that he would pick out her clothes for her.

  No, but he picked your schools. And when you wanted to major in finance, you had to convince him he should approve.

  She was so damn tired of men making decisions for her. It was going to stop. Now.

  “I don’t want any of them,” she said tightly. Angry tears threatened to spill over as she worked to control her temper. She knew he thought she was being unreasonable, but she didn’t expect him to understand. How could he?

  He waved his hand as if it were nothing. As if she were a bothersome mosquito flitting around his head. “Then send them away. It’s nothing to get upset about.”

  “You have no idea, do you?” she flung at him. “Women are taught from the time they’re little girls to look forward to their wedding day. There are entire magazines dedicated to weddings—to gowns! You don’t pick a woman’s dress, or pick a selection of dresses, and tell her to choose one. It’s arrogant, unfeeling—what are you doing?”

  He’d stepped around the desk and started moving toward her, stalking her, until she backed into the closed door with a gasp.

  He looked angry—and so very handsome he stole the breath from her lungs. When he reached out and hooked an arm around her, she could only squeak in surprise. Then he hauled her against his hard body until she was pressed to him, breast to belly to hip.

  “How is this for unfeeling?” he growled before his mouth came down on hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FOR a moment, Tina was stunned into immobility. But only for a moment.

  Though her brain told her to resist his kiss, she wound her fists into his shirt instead and arched her body into his. He threaded one hand in her hair and tilted her head back, his other hand sliding down to cup her bottom.

  Excitement shot through her in a chain reaction of sparks and sizzle and longing so sharp it made her moan.