Mistress To a Latin Lover: The Sicilian's Defiant Mistress / The Italian's Pregnant Mistress / The Italian's Mistress

CHAPTER THREE

CASS stared at the door until her eyes burned, stared so long she thought she’d frozen, turned to stone.

The closing of the door reminded her of all the times Maximos had left her, all the times he’d made love to her then dressed and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance.

She’d sat on her bed more than once watching Maximos leave, feeling sick inside, feeling that she’d agreed to the impossible.

Not that she’d thought it would be impossible when she first accepted the terms of the relationship with Maximos: No commitments. No promises. No guilt trips.

But that wasn’t all. There were the unsaid terms, the fine print that didn’t get read the first time around. But she’d been with Maximos long enough to know the fine print by heart now.

No scenes.

No emotions.

No needs.

Nothing stated, nothing implied, nothing demanded equaled nothing denied.

It was a bitter relationship, one so one-sided that it had hurt her night and day.

She realized in the first couple of months that with Maximos there’d be no marriage, no children, no family get-togethers. No attending functions as a couple, no traveling with others.

No, their relationship was based on the idea that they saw each other when it was convenient for him, that they had what they had, that they were satisfied with what they had.

But Cass had known for over a year before she confronted Maximos that she couldn’t bear to continue living with so little, or living as though she meant so little. It had quickly become unbearable being the woman on the side, the woman who was an ornament. A bit of fluff. A bit of fancy. She wasn’t even his woman. She was just his mistress.

Worse, he could go weeks without seeing her. He could go weeks without needing to speak to her. She wondered if he was even aware of the passage of time. Even aware that two weeks sometimes became four weeks without a phone call. And she couldn’t call. At least, she had to ration her calls.

She could call once every two months.

It was her rule, not his, but it worked. It gave her a sense of control, a way to ensure self-control. When she missed him the most she’d reach for the phone and she’d hold it against her chest. If you call now, she’d tell herself, you won’t be able to call again for weeks. Months. Are you sure you want to call now? You can’t sound desperate. He hates desperate. He loves the calm, strong you. He loves the gorgeous, sophisticated independent you.

Not the real you.

Not the you that is on fire with emptiness. Loneliness.

God, if he only knew the truth! If he only knew how you’ve changed.

Had he—this relationship—done it to her? Or had she had her own midlife crisis? You know, hitting her thirties, still single, still slim, attractive but even more alone than when she’d first started out in life.

Desperate to escape her thoughts, Cass pushed off the bed and opened her suitcase, drawing out her turquoise gown for the dinner reception that night. She hung the gown on a hanger, hooking the hanger over the bathroom door. After making sure the bathroom door was locked, she stripped and took a long soak in the tub before washing her hair.

Wrapped in her towel, she perched on the edge of the chair in the bedroom applying lotion to her arms and legs. She was nervous about tonight, worried about attending the family dinner. If she were smart, she’d just leave. She’d go now before things got even messier.

The door suddenly opened and Emilio entered the room. “Nearly naked,” he said with a lecherous smile. “Nice.”

She frowned at Emilio, bemused how someone like Emilio Sobato could have ever been Maximos’s best friend and business partner. She knew the two had started Italia Motors together, designing and building some of the sleekest, fastest sports cars in the world before their falling-out a number of years ago. And maybe the young Emilio might have been a savvy designer, but she couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t also been dangerous.

“What happened between you and Maximos?” she asked, suddenly wanting to understand what had prompted this huge rift between the two. “You were once best friends.”

Emilio shrugged as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “He couldn’t handle my success.”

“But Italia Motors was both your success.”

“The engineering was all mine. Max just supplied the capital.”

“Brainpower, too, I’m sure.”

“He’s not as smart as he thinks.”

Cass studied Emilio coolly as he discarded his shirt. It sounded as if Emilio had a sizable chip on his shoulder, too. “If you’re going to continue undressing, can you please go into the bathroom?”

“It’s just a body.”

“A body I don’t want to see.”

He made an exasperated sound. “We’re supposed to be engaged.”

He was really going to try to milk that one for as much as he could, wasn’t he?

Irritably she stood, pointed to the bathroom, refusing to be drawn into another verbal skirmish. “Go, now, or I’m leaving. You choose.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.” But he disappeared into the bathroom and with relief she heard the shower turn on.

Cass was just stepping into her turquoise gown when a knock sounded at the door. She managed to get the zipper in the back halfway up when the knock sounded again, harder, louder.

Clutching the gaping dress to her breasts, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. Maximos. “Ciao,” she said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“Ciao.” He mocked her casual greeting.

Silence fell. She stared at him. He’d also showered and changed, dressed now in a dark suit with a stunning charcoal shirt and matching tie. He looked elegant, powerful, untouchable.

“I’ve come to apologize,” he said stiffly.

She nodded once, her body growing hot, heat rising, flooding her face and for a moment there was just silence, but the silence wasn’t quiet. She could feel his intensity, feel his tension.

There was something about him, something about his size, his stillness, his intentness that made her hopelessly aware of him, as well as herself. He made her too aware of her feelings, and her attraction.

She shouldn’t be attracted. She shouldn’t still feel so much and the danger was—she felt everything. Felt even more than she had before: hurt, anger, fear, need, desire. Love was gone but somehow the absence of love didn’t dim the physical craving.

She wanted him.

Craved his skin, hands, mouth, body.

Needed him against her.

Taking her.

The desire whipped through her, a torment of the senses.

The sex had always been hot, explosive. Maximos’s hunger had a raw edge, a primitive desire that thrilled her.

She hated him now but wanted relief.

From the memories.

From the pain.

From the impossible need.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated stiffly, curtly. “That shouldn’t have happened. It was wrong. Please accept my apology.”

Was an apology the same thing as asking for forgiveness? No. And he knew it. Because he didn’t need or want forgiveness—he was too detached, too powerful, to care what another thought, or felt.

Her eyes searched his, trying to see past the rigid shield he kept before him, but his mask was too strong, the habit of hiding himself too engrained.

“Of course,” she answered just as stiffly.

His dark head inclined, the inky strands neatly combed back from the strong planes of his face, his jaw freshly shaven smooth, and just like that she felt a strange flutter in her middle, the wings of fear and need, hope and desire and the intense emotions made her hate herself, hate him.

She wished she didn’t feel so much around him.

Desperately wished she didn’t still feel so much for him.

Maximos abruptly turned his head, listening to something. The shower had just turned off. Maximos glanced past her, to the closed bathroom. “He’s here?” he guessed.

“In the bathroom.”

“In the bathroom,” he repeated tightly, disapprovingly.

“We’re sharing a room.”

His brow lowered, his expression dark. “Not in my house.”

“Maximos—”

“Not in my house,” he repeated, standing in the hallway thinking the worst sort of thoughts.

Cassandra here. Cassandra engaged to Emilio. Cassandra sleeping with Emilio.

He saw red, blood-red, and happily contemplated murder. Emilio would pay. Emilio should pay. Finally. He’d committed inexcusable crimes and he’d never even been punished.

But Cassandra wasn’t intimidated and she wasn’t backing down. Instead she tilted her head, met his gaze squarely. “It was the room given to me. The room given to us,” she said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world for her and Sobato to be together.

“I’m changing your room,” he said tersely. “Sobato will stay here.”

“That’s silly. I’ve already unpacked.”

“Repack.”

She gave him a disdainful look, one that said he might be Sicilian and he might be the don of this castle, but she wasn’t accustomed to begging, and she wasn’t going to start groveling now. “No.”

And that, he thought was a most interesting answer. She’d never refused him anything before. She was a changed woman now.

“Turn around,” he said, distracted by her gaping gown, which gave him a glimpse of her full breasts. He knew her body so well, knew the shape and satin texture of the breast, the even silkier texture of the aureole and nipple. “Let me get your zipper.”

She shot him a mistrustful glance and reluctantly turned around.

Cass felt every muscle tighten and freeze as Maximos stepped close to her.

Closing her eyes, she held her breath as his hands settled on the zipper on the small of her back. She shivered as his fingers brushed her bare skin. Shivered again as he slowly drew the small zipper up. His hand followed the line of her spine, from the small of her back to the base of her neck.

“I think you got it,” she said hoarsely as his hands lingered a moment too long at her nape.

“The dress looks beautiful on you.”

Even his voice sounded deeper and the rough pitch was nothing if not sexy. The roughness strummed her nerves and desire coiled tightly in her belly. “Thank you.”

“Is it new?”

“No.” She turned, glanced up into his face, her gaze locking with his. “I’d had it for a while…just never had the chance to wear it before.”

“Because I never took you out?”

She flushed. “Because you preferred to keep me naked in bed.”

The corner of his mouth pulled but it wasn’t a smile, rather a bitter acknowledgment of truth. Their relationship had been nothing if not sexual, and Cass felt the old fierce hunger fill her now. But it made no sense. How could she still want him after all that had happened between them? How could she still want him this much?

The bathroom door abruptly opened and Emilio emerged. Cass took a guilty step backward even though she knew she’d done nothing wrong but everything was getting complicated, far more complicated than she could handle.

“I thought I heard voices,” Emilio said, one towel wrapped around his hips as he towel-dried his hair with another. “Is there a problem?”

“Possibly,” Maximos answered tonelessly. “Depends on how you look at it.”

“So what’s the situation?” Emilio draped the towel across his bare shoulder.

“Cass is moving to another room.”

Emilio shot her a suspicious look. “Why?”

“It’s out of respect for my mother. As you aren’t married yet—”

“She’s not leaving me,” Emilio interrupted. “We came together. We stay together.”

The hard mask slipped across Maximos’s features again. “Don’t worry. You’ll still see each other in the public rooms.”

“No,” Emilio stubbornly repeated. “I want her with me. She needs to be with me, too.” He turned and looked at her. “Don’t you, Cassandra?”

She opened her mouth to answer. “I—”

“She does,” Emilio finished. “Trust me.”

“I wish I could,” Maximos answered regretfully, and he sounded almost sympathetic until he crossed his arms over his chest and stared Emilio down. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

For a moment the two men engaged in a tense standoff while Cass let the word trust echo inside her head. There was that word again, trust, and it was obvious that broken trust was the fundamental issue here.

So what exactly had happened? And when?

“So what is it going to be?” Maximos prompted, arms still crossed and he looked like the Maximos of old—unflappable, immovable, the man in charge. “Does Cass get her own room, or do you both leave now?”

Emilio’s expression was still belligerent. “You wouldn’t throw Cass out.”

Maximos nearly smiled. “Try me.”

This was a new Maximos, Cass thought, one she’d never seen before. Until this weekend she’d only known the lover, not the dictator, although she’d sensed he lurked beneath the sophisticated veneer.

But then, of course, until this afternoon she’d never challenged his authority or provoked him. She’d blindly allowed him to make the decisions, trusting that he’d do what was right for her…for them.

Fool. She’d been such a fool in love.

Pained, Cass stirred. “I’ll pack,” she said. “I don’t have much.”

“I’ll carry your bag,” Maximos said.

“Is her room far?” Emilio asked sulkily.

“Not that far,” Maximos answered as Cass quickly slipped her shoes on and gathered her remaining personal items, tucking them back inside her small suitcase. “It’s close to my room,” he added. “Remember where that is?”

Emilio’s gray eyes narrowed. “She’s my fiancée.”

“So you’ve said.” Maximos smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned toward Cass as she finished zipping her suitcase closed. “Ready?” She nodded. He reached for her case. “Then let’s go.”

As they walked along the upstairs hall, crossing from one wing of the palazzo to another, Maximos studied Cass’s profile.

She’d changed, he thought, changes someone else might not notice but he did. It had only been six months since he last saw her but she looked different. She was still sexy, still provocatively beautiful with her amber-gold eyes and her thick tawny hair that fell past her shoulders, but her mouth was different. Harder. More brittle. And her eyes were like that, too.

“How is everything at work?” he asked, stopping before the room that would now be hers.

“Fine.” But her lips compressed and she didn’t sound fine.

“And at home?”

“Fine.”

“Cass—”

“Everything’s all right, Maximos,” she interrupted, her voice dropping, the pitch huskier than normal. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

He pushed open the door to a softly lit room, the ceiling high, arched, the dark beams stenciled in the palest shimmering gold.

Cass stepped past Maximos to enter the luxurious bedroom. White lace-edged pillows looked plump and inviting on the bed while the coverlet was a rich apricot velvet embroidered with green and gold thread. The curtains at the three enormous windows matched the apricot coverlet and fragrant pink and apricot roses filled two silver vases, one on the nightstand and the other on the antique dresser against the wall.

The beauty of it was almost unfair, she thought, watching Maximos place her suitcase on a painted trunk at the foot of the sleigh bed.

The bedroom represented beauty and romance…love…and wasn’t it amazing how Maximos could afford to give her all kinds of material possessions, but not the one thing she craved most? “It’s a lovely room,” she said, aware that she had to say something, that the silence had gone too long.