One Night: Sizzling Attraction: Married for Amari's Heir / Damaso Claims His Heir / Her Secret, His Duty

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHARITY ROLLED ONTO her back and stretched, raising her hands above her head, her knuckles cracking against the hardwood headboard. A headboard she did not have at her apartment in Brooklyn.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Late-afternoon sunlight was filtering through gauzy white curtains. Because she wasn’t in Brooklyn, she was in Rocco’s villa. Though, the late-afternoon sunlight was a little bit more confusing.

She sat upright, the sheet falling down to her waist. She was naked. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

Then a host of images filtered through her mind, memories of the way they had spent the majority of the day. And she knew she shouldn’t be surprised by her nudity.

Just then, Rocco came walking into the room from the bathroom, as naked as she was. And clearly a lot less self-conscious about it.

“So, all of that...happened.” She reached down and gripped the edge of the sheet, drawing it back up over her breasts.

A smile curved his lips. “Yes. More than once.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly six.”

So they had been in bed all day. Which was one way to while away the hours when she felt wretched. Have orgasms instead. Really, it was kind of a no-brainer. Climaxes were better than vomiting.

She didn’t feel sick at all right now. In fact, she felt hungry. Starving.

“Dinner will be sent up shortly.” It was as if he could read her mind. Disconcerting, but handy in this particular situation. And in others.

When it came to what she wanted in bed he seemed to be able to read her mind better than she could. She was so inexperienced that until him she hadn’t really known what she might want. But he was showing her. With great skill.

He was every bit as commanding between the sheets as he was out of them. And it turned out she quite liked it.

Less so when they were vertical than when they were horizontal, but they would work on that.

She had no idea what this arrangement between the two of them was supposed to be. They were having a baby. They were, as of a few hours ago, sleeping together. But she was still the woman who had stolen his money, and she doubted that he had forgotten that along the way.

He was still the man who had forced her to come to Italy with him. Still the man who had held the threat of prison over her head, who had sent her that note, and the lingerie.

That hadn’t changed. But for some reason, it felt as if the air between them had. Which was silly. People didn’t change, not really. They only put on new masks. New costumes. She knew that better than anyone. She had spent her entire life doing it. She had proven it when she’d hopped right back into the con ring the moment her father had shown up and offered her a chance at taking the easy road again.

She’d shed her waitress uniform quickly enough and fallen back into old patterns. She couldn’t imagine a future where she wouldn’t do it again. No matter how settled she thought she might be.

If she hadn’t managed to change before, why would she be able to do it now?

“What sort of dinner?” she asked, because it was an innocuous question, which felt necessary right now. And because she was interested in food.

“I didn’t specify. Beyond that it be easy to eat in bed.” He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the mattress, and her stomach turned over, her heart rate increasing. Being close to him again made her want things. Already. Again.

“You don’t think we should get up for a while?” she asked.

“I think that sounds like a terrible idea. I would rather stay in here all day.” He looked at her, and for once his dark eyes weren’t flat. They weren’t filled with anger or mockery of any kind. They were warm. And it made her feel warm. A flame that started at the center of her stomach and radiated outward.

He adjusted his position and moved toward her, placing his hands on either side of her as he leaned in for a kiss. It was a brief meeting of their mouths, nothing to get too excited about. And yet, for all that it was so brief it was that much more exciting.

“That seems...decadent.”

He arched a brow. “Decadent? An interesting choice of words for a woman such as yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I had imagined you had tasted your share of real decadence. Given that...”

She shifted uncomfortably, her throat tightening. “That we stole money.”

He slid his thumb over her cheekbone. “I did not mean it like that.”

She wasn’t sure if she should deflect or opt for a little bit of honesty. Which seemed silly in a lot of ways, as they were sitting here naked with each other. And a certain degree of honesty should be implied by that. But while they had shared their bodies, she wasn’t certain they had shared anything deeper than that.

“Sometimes it was like that.” The words came out rusty, rough. “When my dad ran a con and things went well, there was a lot of sitting back and enjoying the spoils. Of course I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. But you know, we would have weeks of going out to dinner every night. And they sort of made up for the weeks where we hadn’t had food at all. Weeks spent with my dad smiling and laughing and...being with me. Yes, that was decadent to me.” She looked down at her hands. “As I got older I realized exactly what we were doing. And I struggled with it. But my father is a con man. And he does a good job of spinning a story. He did a good job of spinning one about us. About what we were doing. About how we were just working like anyone else. The people we stole things from were too rich to notice what was missing. And if they did notice, then they deserved it for being stupid enough to let us get hold of it.” She repeated her father’s words, almost verbatim. He always said them with a smile. As though he were partly joking. As though none of it were real.

Just make-believe. A game. A game that happened to be a crime. A game that happened to be immoral. But a game nonetheless.

“I see,” he said, a strange light in his eyes.

“Like I told you. He’s small-time. What he did to you is the biggest job he’s ever pulled. At least as far as I know. If he has money like that, other than yours of course, stashed anywhere he certainly never told me about it. And considering he seemed more than willing to let me take the fall for this and leave me without money...”

“You truly do not have it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I never did. I helped him get it but...I don’t have it.”

“I believe you,” he said.

Her stomach twisted. “So much for family. So much for decadence, too.”

“So would you say I’m your first taste of decadence?” he asked, his voice positively wicked now.

Heat speared her stomach, blooming outward, flooding her cheeks. “You know you’re the first man I’ve been with.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough and gentle at the same time. “And I am intrigued about that. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Well, I had never had sex before. Then I met you. And I had sex with you.”

He angled his head and leaned in, biting her lower lip. The sharp shock of pain faded quickly, ending on a sizzling burst of pleasure that flowed through her entire body. “That is not what I meant.” There was something that looked a lot like humor in his eyes, and she wasn’t really sure what to do with that.

But she liked it.

“Sex seems like an awful lot of stripping. A good con woman doesn’t like to remove her masks. I know I don’t. So I was never in a hurry to get that close to anyone. I mean, I could have been with someone if I’d wanted to. But I would’ve been playing a role. And that never sat well with me.”

“And with me? With me in the hotel room, back in New York. And with me now? Are you yourself?” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her jawline. “Or are you still wearing a mask?”

His gaze met hers, his dark eyes boring into hers, and she had to look away. “I don’t know. I have no idea who I am. I’ve spent every day of my life playing a part. Even the waitress...the version of myself that was supposed to be good. Supposed to be honest—that was a role. I was only pretending to be normal. Slipping on the costume. But at the end of the day I would take it off and...I just felt like me again. I didn’t feel different. I’m always pretending.”

“And with me?”

She took a deep breath, her heart thundering hard. “That’s what terrifies me most.” It was the truth. And she didn’t know why she was admitting it. Didn’t know why she felt compelled to offer him the kind of honesty she’d rarely even given to herself.

“What? What terrifies you, cara mia?”

“That the day we made love in New York was the most honest I’ve ever been. With myself. With anyone.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I liked her.” She said the last part slowly, heat assaulting her cheeks.

“And why didn’t you like her?”

“Because she...” She was starting to feel stupid talking about herself in the third person. “I...I slept with you. And I didn’t even know you. And I liked it.”

“And that’s a problem?”

She looked down, her voice muted. “For a lot of people, yes, it would be.”

“It isn’t for me.” He shifted his position so that he was sitting next to her. “I spent too many years wanting things. So I don’t now. I take. I have. I don’t want.”

“I do. That’s pretty much all I do.” That was true, too. Another thing she wasn’t certain she should’ve shared.

“Not anymore. Not with me. I can give you anything you want. I can give our child anything they might want. Anything they might need. And I will do the same for you. I promise, with me it will only ever be feast, Charity. You will never have to live through famine again. I swear it.” His voice was fierce, his dark eyes intent on hers. “I can give you decadence. You will never want for it again.”

She wanted to take him up on that promise. She wanted to sink into it. To sink into him, to cling to him and make him promise never to let her go.

It was then she remembered that he’d never promised her fidelity. And he had never promised a relationship. He was only promising things.

And he had gone out last night.

He might have slept with someone else less than twenty-four hours ago.

The idea made her skin crawl.

“You went out last night,” she said, conscious of the insecurity in her tone.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes flat. “Yes, I did.”

“Did you sleep with someone else?” Her chest tightened painfully.

“No,” he said, his tone definitive.

The knot loosened slightly, her heart pounding hard. “Don’t lie to me. Not about that.”

“I have no reason to. You know that.”

“Don’t,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t sleep with anyone else.”

He put his palm on her cheek, his dark brows drawing together. “Forever, cara mia? That’s an awfully long time. I doubt either of us can predict the future quite that well.”

She couldn’t imagine ever wanting another man. But then...she was inexperienced. He was not. She couldn’t fathom it now—but maybe someday.

But she doubted it. “Then at least not while you’re sleeping with me.”

“I promise,” he said, his tone grave.

It was enough for her. It was enough for now. So she leaned in and kissed him, leaning in to his lips, to his promises, to his decadence. Because she was tired of wanting.

And in Rocco there was satisfaction. So she was determined to seize it.

For as long as possible.

* * *

Rocco was certain he had left some of his sanity back in that bed. Back beneath the covers with Charity. And for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to be disturbed by that.

He had promised her fidelity.

Granted, he didn’t think he could make his body respond to another woman even if his brain wanted him to. Hell, he knew he couldn’t. He had tried. He had failed.

Even so, he didn’t promise such things to women. Because he knew they might start thinking that they had a more permanent place in his life than they did. Though, if any woman had a permanent place in his life it was Charity. Not as his lover, certainly, but as the mother of his child.

As his lover... She was incredibly beautiful. Incredibly responsive. And right now he couldn’t imagine preferring anyone over her. But sex was all about satisfying the immediate need. And he had no idea how his immediate needs might shift over the course of the next few weeks. He had never practiced long-term commitment. And he didn’t intend to start now.

But he would honor his promise. His promise not to take anyone else to bed, as long as she was in it.

He didn’t want to hurt her. Which brought him back to his missing sanity.

He couldn’t even regret it. She was too beautiful. But it was more than beauty. There were many beautiful women in the world, and he had been with a good percentage of them.

It was everything she was. Her inexperience, combined with her enthusiasm. The smooth perfection of her coffee-colored skin, a confection so sweet he could lick every inch of it and never be satisfied.

He wanted to buy her something. A necklace. He could envision it now. Something with a heavy pendant that would settle in the valley between her breasts. He could picture her wearing that and nothing else.

Damn, he was obsessed.

And he was beginning to think he might want to bring her to the gala he was attending this weekend. He never brought dates to such events. It was a chance to find a woman for a night of fun, not come shackled.

But he was well and truly shackled, so he might as well embrace it. He had always enjoyed showing off his new things, after all.

A new car, a new villa, new suit and tie even. He liked those outward shows of power. Those claims to his new life that couldn’t be taken from him. And he liked others to see them.

Perhaps it would do him well to show Charity off, as well. His newest acquisition.

For some reason the idea of it sent a wave of satisfaction through him, a sharp adrenaline rush that always came from adding another thing to his collection. The kind of rush he never experienced over a woman, because sex, while enormously satisfying, was cheap and easy to come by. The woman never mattered, only that he got what he wanted.

Though, Charity mattered. If only because she was the mother of his child. Really, he could not come up with another reason why she should. Unbidden, his thoughts flashed back to the afternoon he’d spent in bed with her. It was difficult to pretend that didn’t matter. The taste of her, the scent of her. Every damn thing about her. The way her black curls tumbled over his pillow, as untamed and wild as she was.

Just thinking about her got him hard.

He shifted, adjusting his position at his desk. She had him acting like a schoolboy. It was disturbing. But delicious in its way. If only because he couldn’t remember enjoying anything quite so much at any other point in his life.

Yes, he would bring her to the gala. And he would take her out today to find a dress. She said she had had a lack of decadence in her life, and he would see to it that it was rectified.

He would mourn the lost time with her in the bedroom. But she had scarcely been out of the villa since they’d arrived in Italy, and he wanted her to have a chance to experience the beauty of his home country. A smile curved his lips. He would make a private appointment at a boutique in town. That way if he had a desire to remove every gown after she tried them on, they would not be disturbed.

He reached toward his phone, his decision made.

Adrenaline fired through his blood as he thought of what it would be like to walk into the gala with Charity on his arm. A clear and outward sign of his possession. And yes, he did want to possess her. There were a few things he was uncertain about these days, but at the moment that wasn’t one of them.

She would be his. On that score there was no uncertainty.

* * *

Charity had been surprised by Rocco’s abrupt announcement that they were going out. Mainly because every time he had walked into the room over the past couple of days it had ended, not in them going out, but in them getting naked and satisfying their need for each other on the nearest available surface. Not that she was complaining.

It was a strange thing, to have shared so much physically with someone while exchanging so few words. To exchange such deep, intense intimacies without the common intimacies you could simply speak.

Even so, it was more than she had with anyone else in her life. More than she had ever had. And he was doing strange things to her heart, twisting it around, cinching it in tight, making her feel as though she couldn’t breathe.

She was surprised when today he hadn’t taken her clothes off. He had ushered her into his car instead. And now he was driving them into the heart of the village that was down the mountain from the villa. She had done absolutely no exploring of their surroundings, not since he had driven her up to his home at the beginning of the week.

He maneuvered the car effortlessly through the narrow cobblestone streets, coming to a stop in front of a shop with an unassuming facade. Red brick and the wooden trim all painted in black with a round sign hanging above the door.

“We have an appointment,” he said, putting the car in Park and killing the engine before getting out. He rounded to her side of the car and held the door open for her, the show of chivalry unexpected and dangerous to her already-vulnerable heart. A sense of warmth joined the squeezing feeling.

“To do what? You realize that you have been very cagey. Possibly more cagey than I am on a daily basis. And that’s saying something.”

He smiled, something he was doing with more and more frequency these days. “It’s a surprise.”

Her stomach tightened, hope mingling with fear. Because things just didn’t come through in her life. Surprises had never been anything good. And she was afraid to hope now that they might be.

She didn’t understand this relationship she’d found herself in. Didn’t understand what was happening to her at this moment in time. But she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. She just wanted to close out the world, the future, the reality, and keep living in it.

“Trust me,” he said, extending his hand.

“You know I don’t trust anyone,” she said, her voice breathless even to her own ears.

“Okay then, right now. Trust me right now.”

She reached out and took his hand, and his fingers closed around hers, his grip strong. “I can do that.”

He tugged her forward, leading her into the shop. Inside they were greeted by a petite Italian woman dressed all in black, her hair pulled back into a severe bun, her lips painted a bright red.

“Mr. Amari,” she said, inclining her head, “I have set aside a few selections based upon your description of both the event and your friend here,” she said, gesturing to Charity. Charity was not sure how she felt about being called Rocco’s friend in quite that tone. She was not his friend. She was his lover. Though, she imagined the woman meant escort or something. But Charity wasn’t that, either.

Are you really his lover, though? What are you really?

She gritted her teeth and met the other woman’s eyes, forcing a smile. She was not a shrinking violet. That much she was sure of. If she had one legacy from her father that she would claim and use, it was the ability to shine in any situation, at least outwardly.

“Charity Wyatt,” Charity said, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The shopkeeper was clearly surprised by the introduction, but she took Charity’s offered hand and shook it, and Charity could tell she had won a bit of grudging respect.

“If you don’t mind,” Rocco said, “we will continue to the back to begin trying things on. Now that you have seen Charity, perhaps you have a few other selections to recommend?”

The woman could tell she had been dismissed, but because Rocco was so darn rich and powerful, it was also clear that she wouldn’t argue, even though she wanted to. “Of course, Mr. Amari. Everything is set up in the back, and if you need anything at all just let me know.”

“We will,” Rocco said, tightening his hold on Charity’s hand and leading her toward the back of the store, into an alcove that was furnished with plush chairs, a three-way mirror and a little changing area that was partitioned off from the rest of the room by a thick velvet curtain.

“And are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” she asked, abruptly realizing that she had no idea what she was doing here.

“I have a gala to attend tomorrow night. I thought you would like to be my guest,” he said, sitting down in the chair and sprawling out, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his elbows positioned on the armrest, fingers tented beneath his chin, his gaze watchful.

She blinked. “You’ve only just decided you want to take me?”

“I never bring women to such events. This is some sort of charity thing—I’m not sure for what. I don’t really care. I’ll throw money in the box, and it’s good for my name.”

“Why do you want to bring me?”

He frowned. “What sort of question is that?”

“You don’t normally take women to these sorts of things, you just said. Now you want to take me. And I’m wondering what changed.”

“I decided I didn’t want to meet a woman at the event and take her home with me. That is the beginning and end of why I don’t bring dates to these sorts of things. But you are the only woman I want to go home with, so it stands to reason you should come with me.”

Some of the warmth in her chest was squashed by his words. “Oh.”

He looked away, as he often did when she started getting personal or emotional. “Were you expecting something else? I am not a sentimental man, cara mia. You should have realized that by now. Honest, yes. Sentimental? No. I can fully satisfy your carnal desires, but your finer feelings will have to be dealt with elsewhere. Perhaps watching romantic movies?”

It made her angry that he did that. That he minimized then what had, for a brief, shining moment, become such a large thing in her mind.

A chance to be brought into his world. A chance to be part of it. A part of him.

So she didn’t feel so alone.

“You’re assuming I have any finer feelings,” she said, turning and walking into the dressing room, shutting the velvet curtain behind her. “I’m only a con woman after all. It’s very likely I don’t have them.”

She turned and saw an array of dresses hung there, waiting for her. She was having a flashback to that moment in her apartment, when she had realized that she was caught. When she was staring at a lingerie bag, a dress and a demand.

But this was different. This time, she had her choice of dress.

She reached out and touched the hem of one of the gowns, the fabric soft, finer than anything she could have afforded under normal circumstances. She touched each one of them, settling on the one in emerald green, the softest to the touch.