‘I HAVE TO attend a meeting on the Central Coast,’ Stefano declared as he rose from the breakfast table. ‘I doubt I’ll be home before seven.’
‘Angelica is naturally one of the associates accompanying you.’ It wasn’t a question, and he shot her a dark encompassing glance.
‘She is on the board of a number of family companies,’ he informed coolly. ‘And a dedicated businesswoman.’
‘Very dedicated,’ Carly mocked, and was unable to resist adding, ‘Have fun.’
After he left she finished her coffee, then moved quickly upstairs to change into a white cotton button-through dress, slipped her feet into flat sandals, then collected the keys to the BMW, informed Sylvana she’d be home in the late afternoon, and drove into the city.
There were a few things she wanted to pick up for Ann-Marie, and she’d fill in time between hospital visits by browsing the shops in the hope of gaining some inspiration for Christmas gifts.
Carly returned home at five, and after a leisurely shower she changed into a cool sage-green silk shift, wound her hair up into a casually contrived knot, then went downstairs to check on dinner with Sylvana.
The portable television was on in the kitchen, and highlighted on the screen was an area of dense bush-covered gorge and a hovering rescue helicopter. The presenter’s modulated voice was relaying information regarding a light plane crash just south of the Central Coast. There were no survivors, and names had not yet been released of the pilot and two passengers.
Carly went cold. It was as if her limbs were frozen, for she couldn’t move, and she gazed sightlessly at the flashing screen without comprehending a single thing.
Then she began to shake, and she clutched her arms together in an effort to contain her trembling limbs.
It couldn’t be the plane carrying Stefano and Angelica—could it? A silent agonised scream rose in her throat. Dear God—no.
The thought of his strong body lying broken and burned in dense undergrowth almost destroyed her. His image was a vivid entity, and she saw his strongly etched features, the dark gleaming eyes, almost as if he were in the same room.
The phone rang, but the sound barely registered, nor did Sylvana’s voice as she answered the call, until it seemed to change in tone and Carly realised that Sylvana was attempting to gain her attention.
‘Stefano rang to say he’ll be home in twenty minutes.’
The words penetrated her brain, barely registering in those initial few seconds, then she turned slowly, her eyes impossibly large. ‘What did you say?’
Sylvana repeated the message, then added in puzzlement, ‘Are you all right?’
Carly inclined her head, then murmured something indistinguishable as her stomach began to churn, and she only just made it upstairs to the main suite before she was violently ill.
Afterwards she clenched her teeth, then she sluiced warm water over her face in an effort to dispel the chilled feeling that seemed to invade her bones.
Attempting to repair the ravages with make-up moved her to despair, for she looked incredibly vulnerable—haunted, she amended silently as she examined her mirrored image with critical deliberation.
How could you love someone you professed to hate? Yet an inner voice taunted that love and hate were intense emotions and closely entwined. Legend had it that they were inseparable.
Stefano’s arrival home was afforded a restrained greeting. If she’d listened to her heart she would have flown into his arms and expressed a profound relief that he was alive. Yet then he couldn’t fail to be aware of her true feelings, and that would never do.
Consequently dinner was strained, and Carly failed to do any justice to Sylvana’s beautifully prepared food, and throughout the meal she was conscious of his veiled scrutiny, so much so that she felt close to screaming with angry vexation.
‘Did it bother you that it might have been my body lying lifeless in some rocky gorge?’
The blood drained from her face at his drawled query, and she got to her feet, wanting only to get away from his ill-disguised mockery.
She hadn’t moved more than two paces when hard hands closed over her shoulders, and she struggled in vain, hot, angry tears clouding her eyes as she fought to be free of him.
One hand slid to hold her nape fast, tilting her head, and her lashes swept down to form a protective veil, only to fly open as his mouth closed over hers in a hard open-mouthed kiss that was impossibly, erotically demanding.
It seemed to go on forever, and when it was over she lifted shaking fingers to her lips.
His eyes were dark with brooding savagery, their depths filled with latent passion and an emotion she didn’t even attempt to define. Carly glanced past him and fixed her eyes on a distant wall in an attempt to regain her composure. If she looked at him she knew she’d disgrace herself with stupid ignominious tears.
‘I rang through the instant we touched base,’ he enlightened quietly. ‘Our helicopter pilot sighted the crash, radioed for help, then circled the area until a rescue unit arrived.’ He raised a hand and trailed gentle fingers along the edge of her cheek.
She lifted her shoulders in a faint shrugging gesture. Somehow she had to inject an element of normality, otherwise she was doomed. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
A forefinger probed the softness of her swollen lower lip, then conducted a leisurely tracery of its outline. ‘I’d like you,’ Stefano drawled in mocking tones, and watched the expressive play of emotions chase each other across her mobile features.
‘It’s early,’ she stalled, hating the way her body was reacting to the proximity of his.
‘Since when did time have anything to do with making love?’ His head lowered and he touched his mouth to the thudding pulse at the edge of her neck, then traced a path to her temple. His lips pressed closed one eyelid, then the other, and his hands shifted as he caught her up in his arms.
‘What are you doing?’ The cry was torn from her lips as he calmly strode from the room, and headed for the stairs.
‘Taking you to bed,’ Stefano declared in a husky undertone, ‘in an attempt to remove the look of shadowed anguish lurking in your beautiful eyes.’
She struggled in helplessness against him, aware of an elemental quality that was infinitely awesome. No one man deserved so much power, or quite such a degree of latent sensuality.
‘Must you be so—physical?’ she protested as he entered their suite and closed the door.
He lowered her down to stand within the circle of his arms, and her limbs seemed weightless as he caught her close. Then he kissed her, slowly and with such evocative mastery that she didn’t have the energy to voice any further protest as he carefully removed her clothes, then released the pins holding her hair before beginning on his own.
‘Tell me to stop,’ he murmured seconds before his mouth closed over hers, and the flame that burned deep within them flared into vibrant life, consuming them both in a passionate storm that lasted far into the night.
The following days settled into a relatively normal routine. The nights were something else as Carly fought a silent battle with herself and invariably lost.
Their lovemaking scaled hitherto unreached heights, transcending mere pleasure, and it was almost as if some inner song were demanding to be heard, yet the music was indistinct, the words just beyond her reach.
Introspection became an increasing trap in which she found herself caught, in the insidious recognition that love was inextricably interwoven with physical desire—which inevitably led to the agonising question of Angelica, and the degree of Stefano’s personal involvement. Were they still on intimate terms? Had they ever been? Dear God, could she have been wrong all these years?
One day in particular she couldn’t bear the tension any more, and she moved restlessly through the house, unsure how to fill the few hours until it was time to visit Ann-Marie.
Making a split-second decision, she changed clothes, stroked a clear gloss over her lips, then caught up her sunglasses and bag, and made her way down to the car, intent on spending a few more hours in the city looking for suitable Christmas gifts. She might even do lunch.
Two hours later Carly wasn’t sure shopping was such a good idea. It was hot, there were crowds of people all intent on doing the same thing, and it took ages to be served. All she’d achieved was a bottle of Sarah’s favourite French perfume, a book and an educational game for Ann-Marie, and nothing for Stefano. What did you buy a man who had everything? she queried with scepticism. Another silk tie? A silk shirt? Something as mundane as aftershave, when she didn’t even recognise what brand he preferred?
A glance at her watch revealed that it was after one. Something to eat and a cool drink would provide a welcome break, and ten minutes later she was seated in a pleasant air-conditioned restaurant eating a succulent chicken salad.
‘Mind if I join you?’
Carly glanced up and endeavoured to contain her surprise. Coincidence was a fine thing, and the chance of choosing the same restaurant as Angelica Agnelli had to run at a thousand to one. ‘If you must,’ she responded with bare civility. The restaurant was crowded, after all, and short of being rude there wasn’t much she could do except accept the situation with as much grace as possible.
‘Shopping?’ Angelica queried, arching an elegantly shaped eyebrow as she caught sight of the brightly designed bags.
‘Yes.’ As if an explanation was needed, she added, ‘Christmas.’
‘Stefano is caught up in a conference, so I came on ahead.’ She allowed the information to sink in, then added with deadly timing, ‘This is a charmingly secluded place, don’t you agree?’ For furtive assignations. The implication was there for anyone but the most obtuse, but just in case there was any doubt she added smoothly, ‘You don’t normally lunch here, do you?’
‘No. I preferred to eat a packed lunch at my desk,’ Carly explained with considerable calm, and tempered the words with a seemingly sweet smile.
Angelica deliberately allowed her eyes to widen. ‘Rather clever of you to present Stefano with a child conveniently the right age to be his own.’ Her mouth curled fractionally. ‘I almost advised him to insist on a DNA test.’ She lifted a hand and appeared to study her immaculately manicured nails. ‘But of course, I wouldn’t presume to interfere in his…’ She trailed off deliberately, then added with barbed innuendo, ‘Private affairs.’
‘You’ve obviously changed your strategy,’ Carly returned with considerable fortitude, when inside she felt like screaming.
‘Whatever do you mean?’
Carly had quite suddenly had enough. ‘You had no such compunction about interfering in his private life seven years ago. You deliberately set out to destroy me. Like a fool, I ran.’ Her eyes sparked gold-flecked fire that caused the other woman’s expression to narrow. ‘I realise your association with Stefano goes back a long time, but perhaps you should understand it was he who did the chasing in our relationship, and he who insisted on a reconciliation.’ She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘Stefano has had seven years to instigate divorce proceedings.’ Her voice assumed a quietly fierce intensity. ‘I would suggest you ask yourself why he never did.’
‘Brava,’ a deep voice drawled quietly from behind, and Carly closed her eyes in vexation, only to open them again.
Stefano stood indolently at ease, his expression strangely watchful as he took in Carly’s pale features. All of her pent-up emotion was visible in the expressive brilliance of her eyes, their gold-flecked depths ringed in black.
‘Stefano.’ Angelica’s tone held a conciliatory purr, yet his eyes never moved from Carly’s features.
‘If you’ll excuse me?’ She had to get out of here before she erupted with volatile rage—with Angelica for being a bitch, and Stefano simply because he was here.
Rising to her feet, she collected her bag and assorted carriers. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’
His hand closed on her arm, bringing her to a halt, and she just looked at him, then her lashes swept down in a bid to hide the pain that gnawed deep inside.
‘Please. Let me go.’ Her voice was softly pitched, yet filled with aching intensity, and there was nothing she could do to prevent the descent of his mouth or the brief, hard open-mouthed kiss he bestowed.
Then he released her, and it took all her reserve of strength to walk calmly from the restaurant.
By the time she reached the street her lips were quivering with pent-up emotion, and she fumbled for her sunglasses, glad of their protective lenses as they hid the well of tears that blurred her vision.
Tonight there would be no respite, for Sarah and James were coming to dinner. To present anything approaching a normal façade would take every ounce of acting ability, and Carly wished fervently for the day to be done, and the night.
Only a matter of weeks ago everything had seemed so uncomplicated. Ann-Marie and work had been the total focus of her life. Now she was in turmoil, her emotions as wild and uncontrollable as a storm-tossed sea.
At the hospital, Ann-Marie’s exuberant greeting, the loving hug and beautiful smile acted to diffuse Carly’s inner tension, and she listened to her daughter’s excited chatter about a new patient who had been admitted that morning.
As Carly left the hospital and drove home she couldn’t help wishing her life were clear-cut, and there were no tensions, no subtle game-playing that ate at the heartstrings and destroyed one’s self-esteem.
Perhaps she should stop fighting this conflict within herself and just accept the status quo, be content with her existence as Stefano’s wife, and condone the pleasure they shared each night. To hunger for anything more was madness.
After garaging the car, Carly consulted with Sylvana, made suitably appreciative comments, then opted to cool off with a leisurely swim in the pool.
Stefano arrived home as Carly was putting the finishing touches to her make-up, and she turned as he entered their suite, her expression deliberately bland as she registered his tall, dark-suited frame before lifting her head to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dark, probing hers, and after a fleeting glance her own skittered towards the vicinity of his left shoulder. The last thing she needed was a confrontation. Not with Sarah and James due within minutes.
‘I’ll go down and check with Sylvana,’ Carly said evenly. ‘I’ll wait for you in the lounge.’
It was a relief to escape his presence, and she was grateful for Sarah’s punctuality, immensely glad of her friend’s warm personality.
The meal was a gourmet’s delight, and although conversation flowed with ease Carly merely operated on automatic pilot as she forked food intermittently into her mouth, then toyed with the remainder on her plate.
She laughed, genuinely enjoying Sarah’s anecdotes intermingled with those of James, but all the while she felt like a disembodied spectator.
It was almost ten when they rose from the table.
‘I’ll make the coffee,’ Carly declared, and smiled when Sarah rose to her feet.
‘I’ll help you.’
Sylvana had set everything ready in the kitchen, so that all Carly had to do was percolate the coffee.
‘How are things going—?’ Carly broke off with a laugh in the realisation that Sarah was asking the same question simultaneously with her own. ‘You go first,’ she bade her, shooting her friend a smiling glance.
‘Where shall I start?’ Sarah returned with a grin as she crossed to the servery, and cast the stylish kitchen an appreciative glance. ‘Lucky you,’ she smiled without a trace of envy. ‘All this, and Stefano, too.’
‘Sarah…’ Carly warned with a low growl, and Sarah grinned unrepentantly.
‘James and Stefano seem to have a lot in common,’ Sarah offered innocuously, her eyes sparkling as Carly shot her a speaking glance. ‘James is nice,’ she admitted quietly. ‘I like him.’
‘And?’ Carly prompted.
‘Sometimes I think I could get used to the idea of a relationship with him, then I’m not sure I want to make that sort of change to my life.’ Her eyes sought Carly’s, and her voice softened. ‘How about you?’
‘Ann-Marie is improving daily.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ Sarah admonished teasingly, and Carly’s expression became faintly pensive.
‘I seem to swing like a pendulum between resentment and acceptance.’
‘You look…’ Sarah paused, her eyes narrowing with thoughtful speculation. ‘Pregnant. Are you?’
Carly opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again as her mind rapidly calculated dates. Her eyes became an expressive host to a number of varying fleeting emotions.
‘You have that certain look a woman possesses in the initial few weeks,’ Sarah observed gently. ‘A subtle tiredness as the body refocuses its energy. You had the same look the day we met moving into neighbouring apartments,’ she added softly.
‘It could be stress from juggling twice-daily hospital visits, marriage,’ Carly offered in strangled tones as the implications of a possible pregnancy began to sink in. She couldn’t be, surely? Yet the symptoms were all there, added to facts she’d been too busy to notice.
She lifted a shaking hand, then let it fall again, and for one heartfelt second her eyes filled with naked pain before she successfully masked their expression.
‘The coffee is perking,’ Sarah reminded gently, and Carly crossed to turn down the heat, then when it was ready she placed it on the tray.
The men were deep in conversation when Carly and Sarah re-entered the lounge, and if either detected that the girls’ smiles were a little too bright they gave no sign.
It was almost eleven when Sarah indicated the need to leave, explaining, ‘I’m due to go on duty tomorrow morning at seven.’ She rose to her feet, thanked both Stefano and Carly for a delightful evening, and at the door she gave Carly a quick hug in farewell. ‘Ring me when you can.’
Carly turned back towards the lobby the instant the car headlights disappeared down the drive, moving into the lounge to collect coffee-cups together prior to carrying them through to the kitchen.
‘Leave them,’ Stefano instructed as he saw what she was doing. ‘Sylvana can take care of it in the morning.’
‘It will only take a minute.’ In the kitchen, she rinsed and stacked them in the dishwasher, then turned to find him leaning against the edge of the table, watching her with narrowed scrutiny.
She stood perfectly still, despite every nerve-end screaming at fever pitch, and her chin lifted fractionally as he took the necessary steps towards her.
‘What now, Stefano?’ Carly queried with a touch of defiance. ‘A post-mortem on lunch?’
One eyebrow slanted in mocking query. ‘What part of lunch would you particularly like to refer to?’
‘I disliked being publicly labelled as your possession,’ she insisted, stung by his cynicism.
‘Yet you are,’ he declared silkily. ‘My feelings where you’re concerned verge on the primitive.’
A tiny pulse quickened at the base of her throat, then began to hammer in palpable confusion as she absorbed the essence of his words. ‘Is that meant to frighten me?’
Tension filled the air, lending a highly volatile quality that was impossible to ignore. ‘Only if you choose to allow it,’ he mocked, and she stood perfectly still as he conducted a slow, all-encompassing appraisal, lingering on the deepness of her eyes, and her soft, trembling mouth.
He lifted a hand to brush gentle fingers across her cheek, and she reared back as if from a lick of flame.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Whyever not, cara?’
‘Because that’s where it starts and ends,’ she asserted with a mixture of despair and wretchedness.
‘You find my lovemaking so distasteful?’
His musing indulgence was the living end, and she lashed out at him with expressive anger. ‘Lust, damn you!’ she corrected heatedly, so incensed that she balled both hands into fists and punched him, uncaring that she connected with the hard, muscular wall of his chest.
‘Lust is a bartered commodity. What would you like me to give you?’ His voice was a low-pitched drawl that cut right through to the heart. ‘An item of jewellery, perhaps?’
For several long seconds she just looked at him, filled with an aching pain so acute that it took all her effort to breathe evenly. What was the use, she agonised silently, of aiming for something that didn’t exist?
‘In return for which I reward you in bed?’ The words were out before she had time to give them much thought, and afterwards it was too late to retract them.
His dark brooding glance narrowed fractionally, then his mouth curved in mocking amusement. ‘Ah, cara,’ he taunted softly. ‘You reward me so well.’
The need to get away from him, even temporarily, was paramount, and she turned towards the door, only to be brought to a halt as hard hands caught hold of each shoulder and spun her round.
Her eyes blazed with anger through a mist of tears as she tilted her head in silent apathy, hating him more at that precise moment than she thought it possible to hate anyone.
‘Stop making fun of me! I won’t have it, do you hear?’ Angry, frustrated tears filled her eyes as he restrained her with galling ease, and she shook her head helplessly as he drew her inextricably close.
‘Don’t—’ Carly begged, feeling the familiar pull of her senses. It would be so easy to succumb, simply to close her eyes and become transported by the special magic of their shared sexual alchemy.
‘When have I ever made fun of you?’ he teased gently, and she shivered slightly as one hand slid down over the soft roundness of her bottom, pressing her close against the unmistakable force of his arousal, while the other slid up to cup her nape.
‘Every time I oppose you,’ she began shakily, then, gathering the scattered threads of her courage, she continued with strengthened resolve. ‘You resolve it by sweeeping me off to bed.’ Lifting her hands, she attempted to put some distance between them, only to fail miserably.
‘Am I to be damned forever for finding you desirable?’
The thread of amusement in his voice hurt unbearably. ‘I’m not a sex object you can use merely to satisfy a need for revenge.’
His eyes searched hers, dark and unfathomable as he held her immobile.
‘Let me go, damn you!’
He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, his eyes darkening until they resembled the deepest slate—hard and equally obdurate.
‘Does it feel like revenge every time I take you in my arms?’ he queried with dangerous silkiness.
It was heaven and the entire universe rolled into one, ecstasy at its zenith. She looked at him for what seemed an age, unable to utter so much as a word.
Dared she take the chance? All the pent-up anger, her so-called resentment, dissipated as if it had never existed.
‘No,’ Carly voiced quietly, and he shook her gently, sliding his hands from her shoulders up to cup her face.
‘From the moment I first met you I wanted to lock you in a gilded prison and throw away the key. Except such a primitive action wouldn’t have been condoned in this day and age.’ His eyes were level, and she was unable to drag her own away from the darkness or the pain evident. ‘You were a prime target…young, and incredibly susceptible,’ he enlightened her softly.
‘If I had been able to get my hands on you during those first few weeks after you left Perth I think I would have strangled you,’ he continued slowly. ‘Your mother disavowed any knowledge of your whereabouts, and I soon realised you had no intention of contacting me.’ His voice hardened measurably, and assumed a degree of cynicism. ‘The letter dispatched from your solicitor merely confirmed it.’
He was silent for so long that she wondered if he intended to continue.
‘A marriage has no foundation without trust, and as you professed to have lost your trust in me I let you go. Fully expecting,’ he added with a trace of mockery, ‘to be officially notified of an impending divorce.’
He hadn’t been able to instigate such proceedings any more than she had. Her heart set up a quickened beat.
‘Not long after shifting base to Sydney I attended an accounting seminar with a fellow associate at which Clive Mathorpe was a guest speaker. I was impressed. Sufficiently so to utilise his services.’ He proffered a faint smile. ‘Coincidence, fate perhaps, that Carly Taylor Alessi should be a respected member of his firm. The night I met you at Clive’s home I was intrigued by your maturity and self-determination. And very much aware that the intense sexual magic we once shared was still in evidence.’ His eyes held hers, and his voice was deliberate as he continued, ‘For both of us.’
Carly looked at him carefully, seeing his innate strength, the power in evidence, and knew that she would never willingly want to be apart from him. It was always easy, with hindsight, to rationalise—to indulge in a series of ‘what if’s, and ‘if only’s. Maturity had taught her there could only be now.
‘Angelica’s ammunition was pretty powerful,’ she offered quietly. ‘I found it emotionally damaging at the time.’
There was a mesmeric silence, intensifying until she became conscious of every breath she took.
‘I have known Angelica from birth,’ Stefano revealed with deceptive mildness, and a muscle tensed along the edge of his jaw. ‘Our affiliation owes itself to two sets of parents who immigrated to Australia more than forty years ago. They prospered in one business venture after another, achieving phenomenal success. So much so that hope was fostered that the only Alessi son might marry an Agnelli daughter and thus form a dynasty.’ He paused fractionally, and searched her pale features, seeing the faint shadows evident beneath her eyes. ‘It was a game I chose not to play,’ he added gently.
Carly swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. ‘The way Angelica told it,’ she informed him shakily, ‘you were unofficially betrothed when you met me. If our engagement surprised her, our wedding threw her into a rage,’ she continued, unwilling to expound too graphically on just how much she’d been hurt by a woman who refused to face reality. ‘It appeared I was merely a temporary diversion, and there was little doubt she intended to be there to pick up the pieces.’ She effected a deprecatory shrug that hid a measure of pain.
‘Angelica,’ Stefano declared hardly, ‘possesses a vivid imagination. After today,’ he grained out with chilling inflexibility, ‘she has no doubt whom I love, or why.’ His expression softened as he watched the expressive play of emotions chasing each other across her features. ‘You, Carly,’ he elaborated gently. ‘Always. Only you.’
Stefano shifted his hold, catching both her hands together in one of his, feeling her body quiver slightly as he traced a gentle pattern over the slim curve of her stomach before resting possessively at her trim waist. When his gaze met hers, she nearly died at the lambent warmth revealed in those dark depths.
‘There is nothing else you want to tell me?’
Carly stood hesitantly unsure, and at the last moment courage failed her. Slowly she shook her head.
Tomorrow, she’d visit the doctor and undergo a pregnancy test. Then she’d tell him.