‘GOOD, you’re awake.’
Charlie shot up in bed, her gaze winging to the door, her eyes widening in shock as Jake, barefoot and wearing a maroon silk robe, entered the room. In his hands was a tray set with breakfast with a vase containing a single red rose as a centrepiece. ‘Not quite the conventional honeymoon breakfast of champagne, due to your condition. But I have made you tea and scrambled eggs on toast.’ He smiled, approaching the bed.
Jake looked so pleased with himself, Charlie had to fight back a reciprocal smile and consequently she said more harshly than she intended, ‘You needn’t have bothered.’
‘Hostilities resumed, I see,’ Jake mocked, his eyes darkening, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he placed the tray down on the bedside table.
For a fleeting moment she regretted ignoring what was obviously an olive branch from Jake, but only for a moment. The hurt had gone too deep for Charlie to forgive or forget. ‘I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I could have made my own breakfast.’
‘You don’t need to; that’s Marta’s job. But I gave her the day off for some reason that escapes me now,’ he said sardonically. He filled a cup with tea and handed it to her and, careful to avoid touching his hand, she took it.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, slanting a glance at his handsome face.
A cynical light gleamed in the dark eyes that met hers. ‘Prego. Eat, enjoy, and we will talk.’
‘I don’t see we have much to talk about. You said it all last night.’ She drank the tea, and replaced the cup on the tray. She didn’t want to talk; she didn’t want to look at him. Charlie felt as though a veil had been torn from her eyes last night and for the first time since she had met Jake she had seen him in his true colours. He was a ruthless, hard-hearted bastard who hit back at anyone who crossed him, as he perceived her father had—and her as well.
‘Last night I said too damn much.’ Jake snorted disgustedly. ‘But the past is dead and buried with your father and Anna. Surely you can see that?’ he asked seriously. ‘We were married yesterday. Forget last night and let us start again.’ Sitting down on the side of the bed, he covered her hand where it lay on the coverlet with his much larger one.
The sensual warmth of his touch triggered an immediate response in Charlie that filled her with dismay and a rising anger. Hastily she jerked her hand away, and, taking a deep calming breath, she raised her head. Blue eyes clashed with black and for a moment she was stunned by the tenderness in Jake’s expression—but then, he was a great deceiver, she reminded herself.
‘You might find it convenient to forget last night, but I never will. I must have been stark raving mad to marry you. You are a devious, rotten liar.’ She had behaved like the world’s biggest fool, and it hurt, it hurt like hell to know she had fallen so completely for Jake while he had a totally different agenda. But no way was she compounding her folly by continuing with this sham. ‘And I want out of this fiasco of a marriage.’ The smile left his handsome face and if she hadn’t known him better she would have thought he was in pain, but then his dark brown eyes narrowed to angry slits and the air between them was suddenly electric with tension.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte. I—’
She cut him off sharply. ‘I’m not being ridiculous, just stating a fact. I want out.’
Nobody called Jake a liar and got away with it, not even Charlotte. ‘Never. You are my wife,’ he sliced back, his gaze roaming over her beautiful but mutinous face and lower to where the creamy mounds of her breast were temptingly revealed by the slip of blue satin that passed as a nightgown. Jake’s control was stretched to the limit. He felt bad about throwing the dress at her last night, but it had been either that or throwing himself on her. He had had such high hopes this morning when he had made breakfast that she would put the unpleasantness of last night behind her and act like a reasonable adult. But if anything she was more determined to defy him than ever, while he was getting more frustrated by the second, as the ache in his groin reminded him. ‘You will stay in my home,’ he commanded in a dangerously quiet voice. ‘And in my bed. Understand?’
Charlie shivered, her flesh chilled at the deadly certainty with which he voiced his intentions. But she refused to be cowed. She had been a doormat for far too long.
‘In your dreams. I’m out of here tomorrow.’
‘No.’ He shook his head.
Succinct and clearly unmovable. She realised it had not been the most sensible time to tell him when she was still in bed. He was staring at her, his chiselled features as hard as stone while a savage, sensual smile played around his mouth. She tore her gaze from his, but a strong hand cupped her chin and turned her back to face him. Her pulse beat a frantic rhythm through her whole body at his touch, and she was horrified at her own weakness.
‘I am not staying here with you. Not now.’
His smile was softly derisive. ‘You have no choice in the matter. The security around here is superb. You don’t leave without my say-so.’
‘You can’t force me to stay here. You wouldn’t dare,’ Charlie flung back at him, but she saw the implacable gleam in his dark eyes and knew he would dare anything to get what he wanted.
‘I won’t have to. I know you, Charlotte. You want the best for our child and you know that is both parents living together in harmony.’ Sliding his hand around the nape of her neck, he urged her head forward, and brushed his lips against her cheek. ‘I also know you are too proud to return to England and admit failure,’ he added and, dipping his head, captured her mouth in a deeply provocative kiss.
In direct opposition to her will, a slow fire began to course though her veins, bringing every nerve in her body to tingling life. The seductive pressure of his mouth and her own heated response was totally humiliating and yet when he broke the kiss she felt bereft. Then she noticed where his gaze had fixed and, grasping the sheet, she raised it up over her chest, suddenly aware of the brevity of the nightgown she had donned unthinkingly last night.
The dark eyes narrowed knowingly on her flushed face. ‘It is allowable, Charlotte,’ he mocked. ‘You’re my wife, the soon-to-be mother of my child. Concentrate on that and we will get along fine.’
Charlie saw the arrogance, the supreme masculine confidence in his gaze and her eyes closed against the pain she felt deep inside. She wanted to cry, but her pride would not let her, and pride was all she had left. She opened her eyes. ‘Given that according to you I am trapped in this place, it would seem I don’t have much of a choice,’ she said scathingly. ‘What do you intend to do, lock me up?’
Jake’s expression changed to one of frustrated fury. ‘Dio, no! But the way you are behaving could drive a man to it,’ he snarled. ‘Damn it to hell, Charlotte. How do you expect me to react when you declare you want to end our marriage before it has even begun? Over a damned painting—and not a very good one at that!’ he added with biting sarcasm.
‘A painting you lied to me about the night we met,’ she said bitterly. ‘You said you wanted it for an investment, dead artist and all that. I believed you because you looked that hard-headed. But I should have guessed you had a deeper purpose, when I saw the mesmerised way you looked at it. I should have left.’
Jake stared at her, and remained silent for what seemed an age. His voice when he finally spoke was menacingly soft. ‘Not much of a lie. For any other purchaser it could be the truth. As for being mesmerised—I blanked it out because it felt incestuous to see it. I only looked at it because it was expected of me, as I had just bought the damn thing. I bought it to destroy it before Anna’s parents discovered its existence. They have suffered enough pain losing their daughter, without the added pain of seeing her naked body displayed to the world. And you, Charlotte, might have thought of that before you blithely exposed your father’s private collection to the public without having the decency to ask those concerned, simply to make money.’
Charlie found it difficult to swallow the lump that rose in her throat at his reason for buying the painting. It had been a noble gesture to prevent the people he cared about being hurt. But his last comment had confirmed yet again what she already knew: he did see her as a selfish, greedy bitch. Not a good basis for marriage.
Suddenly her pain gave way to angry resentment. She could explain the money was for charity, but the arrogant swine did not deserve to know. Jake was so damned sure of himself—so confident he was right about everything. Not two minutes ago he had been telling her he knew her well. What a joke! ‘You assume I am a money-grubber, but you don’t really know me at all,’ she said bitterly. He could think what the hell he liked for all she cared.
Jake shook his head in disgust at himself. His image of Charlotte as a calculating woman who had been lucky enough to inherit a business and exploited her father’s inheritance had mellowed in the two weeks they had spent together. Being brutally honest, he would probably have seen the art exhibition as a wise business decision, if it hadn’t contained the picture of Anna. And Charlotte’s refusal of a designer wardrobe and her delight in a soft toy, plus Dave’s revelation about her rescue work, had blasted any doubts he had had into oblivion.
‘Maybe I don’t, but I want to. Which is why we need to talk,’ he said quietly, his long, lean fingers tightening the belt of his robe around his waist. Watching him, Charlie had the oddest notion he was nervous. Glancing at his face, her blue eyes met guarded black, and, intrigued, she bit back the denial that hovered on her lips.
‘My fault, if you could call it that, was in not revealing the intimate details of people I cared about when we met. And let’s be honest, you are as guilty of concealing aspects of your life as I. It took a wedding guest to tell me you were in the mountain rescue team, and Dave’s revelation that you worked for him with the International Rapid Rescue Team was a hell of a shock.’
‘The subject never came up,’ Charlie said defensively, watching him with wary eyes, not sure where he was leading.
‘Perhaps we have both been less than open with each other, Charlotte. But as of now it has to stop—along, I might add, with any notion in that crazy head of yours that you will ever risk your life and limb with a rescue team of any kind again.’ His eyes were narrowed intently on her face as he paused for a moment. ‘We owe it to our unborn child to try and make this marriage a success, and with that in mind the first rule is we forget about the past, and move on from here. We have a lot going for us. We are great in bed together—you can’t deny the chemistry is there—and I am a wealthy man. I can provide you with everything you need. Neither you nor our child will ever want for anything. What more could a wife want?’ he demanded, and had the barefaced nerve to smile at her.
Love, she thought, but could not say it, as her throat ached with the effort to hold back the tears that threatened for her lost dreams. ‘Nothing, you’re right,’ she agreed, not believing him for a second. His concept of marriage horrified her. It was nothing more than a business deal: he paid the money and got the wife and child. But what were her options?
She couldn’t think and the pressure of trying to retain her composure instead of bawling her eyes out stopped her from arguing with him. She lifted a hand and rubbed her temple in an attempt to ease the dull throbbing there.
‘Here, let me do that.’ Jake reached out and cupped her head in his hands.
For a moment Charlie stiffened, but only for a moment as his thumbs gently massaged her temples, soothing and unthreatening. Charlie’s eyelids drifted shut in helpless response to the incredible sensitivity of his touch. The pressure in her temple eased and she breathed in deeply and sighed.
‘Better?’ Jake asked.
‘Much,’ she murmured, slowly opening her eyes. His face was only inches from her own, and the hands that had been holding her head dropped to her shoulders as his wide, sensual mouth closed over hers. Taking advantage of her open-mouthed surprise, he slid his tongue between her parted lips.
She raised her hands to push him away, but they met with the hard, hot wall of his chest and lingered as he deepened the kiss with a skilful, persuasive expertise. Her passionate response was humiliating but undeniable, and when his mouth moved from her lips to suck the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, a low moan escaped her.
‘I want you,’ Jake rasped. His dark eyes, black with barely controlled desire, seared into hers as his hands on her shoulders eased her back against the pillows, his body following her down. ‘You’re mine, Charlotte. Forget the rest and let our marriage start here.’
The intensity of his gaze thrilled even as it threatened her, and she willed herself not to respond, but it was hopeless. The husky sound of his voice alone seduced her even as his sensual mouth claimed hers once more. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, and then soothed with a lick of his tongue, before probing the soft inner tissue of her mouth.
A low moan escaped her as he broke the kiss and reared up over her. Shrugging off his robe, Jake grasped the straps of blue satin at her shoulders and stripped the nightgown from her. His hot dark eyes studied her naked body with hungry pleasure. ‘You are so beautiful.’ His gaze lingered on her full breasts before lifting to her flushed face.
Charlie felt her whole body blush, heat racing through her. Her eyes skated helplessly over his handsome face, noting the sensuous curve to his full lips, and on down to the broad expanse of his muscular chest, the curling black body hair, down past his navel, and back to his face. She was totally mesmerised by the sheer masculine perfection of him, as she had always been.
Jake lifted one long finger and, with a feather-light touch, traced the curve of her cheek, her lips, her throat, and lower to her breast. ‘Exquisite,’ he said huskily. ‘I want to taste you.’
His dark head lowered, his firm lips following the trail his finger had taken, lingering on her lips, more tempting than demanding, and then lower, to draw the aching peak of her breast into the heat of his mouth.
Her slender body arched involuntarily to the source of its pleasure, even as his fingers slid tantalisingly between her thighs. The musky male scent of him, his exquisite touch, had ignited a fire inside her only his full possession could douse.
‘Dio, I need you, Charlotte,’ he groaned, his sensuous mouth claiming hers once more. She felt it in the hunger of his kiss, and the pressure of his fiercely aroused flesh against her thigh. The fact he had said need rather than want somehow inflamed her senses to fever pitch. Her fingers tangled in the silken hair of his head as he broke the kiss to trail a tongue of flame down her throat and lave the rigid peaks of her breast with tongue and teeth. And all the while his hands continued to caress her quivering flesh.
‘You want me, Charlotte.’ His dark head lifted from her breast, his glittering gaze seeking hers. ‘And, Dio, I want you. I always have,’ he groaned.
He was right. There was no point in denial. She loved him and her body ached for his, while he only lusted after hers, she knew. But she no longer cared as, driven by an unstoppable passion, she pressed her mouth to his throat. She bit his satin-smooth skin, felt his body tighten, and exulted in his husky groan. Her hands roamed feverishly over his powerful muscled body. She caressed and teased with mouth and teeth, using all the skills he had taught her, and he returned the favour. Pacing her pleasure with his own, he led her with a skilful, erotic ease to the very brink of ecstasy over and over again, until she almost wept from the sheer wonder of it.
He raised himself away from her, his night-black eyes molten with desire burning down into hers as he lifted her hips and surged into her, and the cry that rose in her throat was stilled as his mouth closed over hers.
She felt the quivering tension in his great frame as he thrust deeper and faster, her body instinctively picking up his rhythm. Her fingers dug into his bronzed skin and she was conscious only of Jake and the incredible joy of his possession, until the pleasure was almost too exquisite to bear. The fusion of their two bodies was mystical in its intensity, and she bit her lip to stop from screaming his name even as her body convulsed in a shattering climax that met and absorbed Jake’s pulsating release.
His head fell to her shoulder, his harsh groan of masculine satisfaction echoing in her ears. She felt the heavy pounding of his heart against her own, their sweat-slicked bodies still shuddering in the aftershock of passion. She let her hands rove possessively over his damp skin, knowing that Jake had proved once again on a physical level they were in perfect accord.
Had it ever been that profound before? she thought dazedly. Her own aggression had sparked a fierce reaction in Jake, raw in its intensity, but with a phenomenal control he had excited her almost to the edge of oblivion and the final incredible climax had been the deepest, most potent fulfilment of all.
Maybe their marriage could work after all…
‘Now you are truly my wife, mia amore,’ Jake said huskily, burying his face in her mass of hair. But his last words struck a jarring note in her mind.
‘Don’t call me that,’ Charlotte said sharply.
‘Why not? You are my wife.’ Jake raised his head, his dark eyes smiling lazily down at her. ‘I seem to remember we got married yesterday.’
She saw the amusement in his gaze and the sense of betrayal came flooding back. ‘As if I could forget.’ She turned her head away. It was not the wife she was objecting to, but the mia amore—my love. But she had no intention of telling him so. That he should use the term of endearment now, when he never had before, was like a knife to the heart. Their lovemaking had been so perfect, but remembering what he had revealed earlier made her want to weep.
She was not his love, never had been, and never would be. She meant no more to Jake than any of the other women who had shared his bed. Less! Because he had as good as admitted he thought she was a greedy bitch, and he had only taken her out to get revenge.
‘Charlotte.’ He lifted up on one elbow, and looked down at her, his dark eyes gleaming with gentle amusement. ‘I know what is the matter. You never ate your breakfast.’ He reached out and smoothed the tangled mass of blonde hair from her brow in a gentle gesture. ‘My fault again. In your condition you need food at regular intervals.’
‘And who made you a doctor?’ Charlie sniped back, his tenderness more than she could bear right now. But his reaction stunned her.
‘Oh, hell!’ He glanced at his watch, the only thing he was wearing, and leapt off the bed. ‘I have a meeting later this morning, but first you and I have an appointment with a doctor in exactly forty-five minutes. It won’t take me ten minutes to get ready next door, and I’ll make you a sandwich—you can eat it in the car, because allowing for travelling time, you only have thirty minutes to get ready.’
‘You have some nerve!’ He was standing there, unashamedly naked, ordering her around, and Charlie was incensed. ‘I am not going anywhere with you.’ Her blue eyes blazed defiance. ‘Just because we had sex, it does not mean you can tell me what to do.’
‘We did not just have sex, and we do not have time to argue yet again. And you are going to the doctor if I have to carry you there.’
A naked man should not be able to look arrogant and threatening, but somehow Jake managed it, Charlie thought helplessly. ‘What on earth for? I’m fine,’ she asked, curbing her temper.
Jake gave her a hard look, and lashed out, ‘What do you think? To confirm the state of your pregnancy, of course. After all, that is why I married you.’ He knew he was speaking in a moment of anger, but he had thought everything was back on track between them. Now, looking at Charlotte, he doubted it. ‘You have twenty-five minutes,’ he flung over his shoulder as he left the room.
He could not have spelt out more clearly why he had married her if he had carved it in stone. And with that knowledge Charlie’s heart turned to ice in her breast.
Twenty minutes later, wearing a blue and white patterned chiffon slip dress that effectively skimmed the slight thickening of her waistline and ended just above her knee, teamed with kitten-heeled white pumps and a matching purse, she descended the glass staircase into the hall, where Jake was waiting.
‘A punctual woman.’ Jake walked towards her and stopped at her side. ‘And a very attractive one,’ he complimented, subjecting her to a blatant masculine appraisal that made her tummy knot with tension. She hoped it was tension and nothing more primitive.
‘If I have to see your doctor, can we go?’ she said edgily.
‘Sure. Take this.’ He handed her a baguette stuffed full of meat and wrapped in cling film. Then a strong hand spread across her back and ushered her out into the brilliant morning sun.
A black limousine was waiting, and a man she had never seen before was holding open the rear door. Jake said something in rapid-fire Italian and the driver responded, and gave Charlie a long assessing look.
‘Charlotte, cara, this is Marco.’ Jake made the introduction, and Charlie politely shook the man’s hand—a hand that was the size of a gorilla’s. ‘He will take care of you when Tomas is not available.’
‘I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need a minder.’ She shot Jake a fulminating glance.
‘Humour me, hmm?’ His hand at her waist urged her into the rear seat of the car and he slid in beside her. ‘And eat.’
At least it gave her something to do instead of having to talk to Jake, and surprisingly the sandwich was quite good.
The consultant gynaecologist, Dr Bruno, whom Jake took her to see was a small, friendly old man with twinkling eyes. He spoke fluent English and Charlie liked him on sight. He told her he had known Jake for years, from the time his son Paulo and Jake were at school together. Jake was the godfather to Paulo’s son and daughter, his much-loved only grandchildren.
But she did not like him quite so much when the examination was over and Jake proceeded to question him on her and the baby’s state of health, and he answered in a great deal of detail Charlie could have done without.
‘Will you shut up?’ Charlie hissed in exasperation and embarrassment as the older man turned to his desk to extract some booklets on pregnancy. ‘It has nothing to do with you.’
‘The child has everything to do with me,’ Jake commented with a sardonic lift of an ebony brow, and continued his conversation with Dr Bruno in Italian, which did nothing for Charlie’s temper. At least before she’d known what they were saying, but now she had no idea.
She heaved a sigh of relief when she finally stepped onto the pavement again, but her relief was short-lived as Jake caught her hand and led her towards the limousine waiting by the kerb.
‘I know you have a meeting, so I think I’ll have a look around the town, do some shopping,’ she said lightly, banking on the fact Jake would not argue with her on the busy pavement. She pulled her hand free.
A muscular arm wrapped around her shoulders and Jake, his strong face taut, studied her with dark serious eyes. ‘My home is not your prison, Charlotte, and I don’t believe you will leave. Dave was right—you are an all-or-nothing kind of woman, and with you and I it cannot be nothing, as we will always have our child between us. So I am banking on the all when you get over the argument we had last night. Go shopping if you like.’ His dark head bent and he brushed his lips against her hair. ‘Marco will take you—and before you object, it’s to make sure you don’t get lost. This is a big city and you don’t know your way around.’
‘That sounds like a jailer to me,’ she said stiffly, but in her heart she knew Jake was right.
Scornful dark eyes skimmed over her mutinous face. ‘I thought we had reached an understanding this morning, but obviously I was wrong. Think what you like, you will anyway. But Marco stays.’ Turning, he walked down the street.
Charlie inwardly cringed at the scorn in his expression. It was painful to have to admit, but she no longer wanted to leave Jake. Knowing he had only married her because she was pregnant did not stop her loving him and she watched his departing figure with a mixture of anger and sorrow in her suddenly moist eyes.
She didn’t go shopping. She went back to the house—whether she would one day think of it as home, she didn’t know.