Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘P HOEBE ?’ E DO STRODE towards his wife, his blood chilling. ‘What’s happened?’
The stunning woman who’d walked up the aisle towards him looking like something out of a dream only twenty minutes ago now looked atrocious. Her skin was the colour of chalk and there was a stressed sheen in her eyes. He wound one arm around her waist and pressed the backs of his fingers against her forehead. ‘Are you unwell?’
A tremor rippled through her. ‘Just a little tired.’
Guilt twisted into a rock-hard knot beneath his ribs. ‘I shouldn’t have kept you waiting, I—’
‘I’m fine.’
She didn’t look fine. She looked scarily ethereal. Was this a reaction to the wedding? Was she overwhelmed? Had she not slept at all last night? She couldn’t have, even though he’d deliberately left her alone to rest. Now he ushered her into the car and drove it himself up the track to the villa.
‘What about the photos?’ she asked.
‘We have enough already.’ He glanced and saw her confused expression. ‘Taken during the ceremony.’
‘Oh.’
She hadn’t noticed one of his assistants taking photos? Always efficient Phoebe was shaky. He’d have carried her inside but knew she’d resist if he tried. And maybe she needed to feel some modicum of control in this moment—control was important to her. And fair enough.
He led her to the lounge inside and fetched refreshments. He’d banished the staff from the villa, needing to be alone with her. But he couldn’t touch her now.
He’d been edgy all morning—hell, he’d cut himself shaving, been dressed hours ahead of time. In the end he’d been reduced to strewing flowers everywhere in that chapel just for something to do to pass the time. And then she’d finally arrived. She’d looked beautiful as she’d walked towards him—he’d not been able to take his eyes off her, not been able to breathe. He’d got what he wanted, but now he questioned the cost. Because the radiant flush in her cheeks had evaporated. He’d sapped her vitality. So he would stay away.
He should stay away—it was what he wanted, right?
He barely ate. Nor did she. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from nagging her about it. He needed to do better. The vibrant woman who’d walked into that meeting in London less than a fortnight ago was now a pale shadow of herself.
‘I might go rest for a bit,’ she murmured barely ten minutes later, pushing away the plate she’d barely touched.
‘Of course.’
He stood as she walked out but didn’t follow. He couldn’t trust himself to enter a bedroom with her and not succumb to temptation. He’d already made too many selfish demands on her and she obviously needed rest.
But she didn’t reappear in the evening. It took everything in him not to go to her. He paced in his room. Paced around the villa. Saw light beneath her door at some awful hour of the morning—but he still didn’t go in.
The next morning he paced around the patio—waiting for her to surface. Finally she appeared. His stomach curdled as he saw her pallor. Not to mention her reluctance to look him in the eyes.
‘Did you not sleep well?’ He poured himself a coffee to stop himself going to her.
She sat at the table and chose a piece of fruit. ‘I slept fine, thank you.’
A complete lie. His discomfort deepened.
‘What would you have me do today?’ She sliced a single piece from the apple and didn’t nibble.
‘I’m not your boss any more, Phoebe.’
She set the small paring knife on the edge of her plate. ‘You’re my husband. I’m your wife. So, anything you need me to do today?’
The words ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ provoked his unease and she knew it.
‘Rest,’ he muttered dryly. ‘It seems you need it.’
‘So I’m reduced to being an incubator…’
He dragged in a breath, refusing to fight with her when she was clearly still exhausted. ‘What would you like to do today? Tell me and I’ll arrange what I can.’
She was beautiful even with those shadowed eyes and drawn features. He just wanted to pick her up and take her to bed and pleasure her. Slake his lust. Ease his guilt. They would both sleep for hours then. But that method of relaxation was in his best interests, not hers, and he’d already been selfish enough.
‘I’ll have a think about it and let you know,’ she muttered tightly.
Edoardo nodded and left the table before he did something rash.
* * *
Wrapped in a robe, Phoebe curled up on her favourite sofa in the pool house and tried to suck up her intense disappointment. She should consider this as a holiday of her dreams. After all, she was back in Italy—her fantasy destination—ensconced in a stunning estate with a heated pool and privacy and an endless supply of amazing appetisers provided by the sweetly attentive Isabella. She didn’t even have to ask the housekeeper for anything, the kind, discreet woman just noticed and quietly delivered.
No doubt she also noticed that Phoebe’s new husband was hardly showering her with attention. In fact, he was fully MIA. Phoebe had no idea where he even was. It was mortifying to be such an obviously unwanted wife, especially when she ached for the hedonistic escape that sex with him brought. She didn’t know when or how the ache was ever going to ease. She’d waited awake for hours alone on her wedding night and he hadn’t come anywhere near her—not even checking in to see if she was okay.
It had taken her almost all the long, lonely night to work out that maybe he’d slept with her earlier only because she’d demanded it. Hell, she’d absolutely launched on him like a wild tigress in the hotel in Milan after discovering her pregnancy. Maybe he’d gone along with her because he’d wanted her to accept his plan. And now he had what he wanted—her married to him for the birth of the baby—he didn’t have to sleep with her any more. He didn’t have to tell her anything more about his life either. Because he didn’t really want her in it.
It was horrific. Worse, she was still extremely frustrated. Not that she’d let him know that. She wasn’t going to be accused of being needy . No, she was going to focus and fix her future. Immediately . The sooner she got herself independent, the better.
She’d brought her laptop from her bedroom and now she brainstormed. Given she could do a lot of her work remotely, she would set up a service as a virtual assistant. If she started now, she’d be well placed for when this sham marriage ended. By the time the baby was born, she could have clients and even an independent income. She wouldn’t need to be entirely dependent upon him. He could help with the baby’s needs but she could have her own income.
‘Have you had lunch?’ Edo interrupted.
Phoebe stiffened. He didn’t take the chair next to her this time.
‘I haven’t stopped eating all morning.’ She nodded towards the plate of crackers and cheese on the table beside her and didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’ve resigned from Scott Insurance,’ she added before he walked off. ‘I’ve let George know. It’s effective immediately. I’m keeping this laptop, consider it my outstanding holiday pay.’
She braved a glance up. He stood three feet from her. Rigid. Faint tiredness shadowed his eyes.
‘Okay,’ he said slowly.
‘I’m starting an online business.’ She maintained her cool bravado.
‘Great.’ He coughed. ‘Doing what?’
‘I’m going to be a virtual assistant.’
‘You don’t want to take a break before establishing a new venture?’
‘I’m not cut out to do nothing for weeks on end.’
His mouth pinched. ‘It hasn’t been weeks, it’s barely been a day. And you’re not doing nothing, you’re growing a baby.’
‘Are you taking time off?’ she queried before smiling glacially. ‘It’s something to distract me while I’m stuck here.’
Although yes, this was a stunning place to be stuck, and she wouldn’t mind it if he were to distract her. But he clearly didn’t want to do that.
He crossed his arms across his chest. ‘What can I do to help?’
Leave her alone. Let her salvage a little pride. But instead of staying polite, her anger started to seep out. ‘You’re not going to stop me?’
He met her gaze for a charged moment. ‘You’ll need a work space. I’ll have it arranged.’
Phoebe sucked back her self-control. ‘If you insist,’ she muttered.
He left the room with unseemly haste, apparently uninterested in discovering any further details of her plans. Great. At least now she knew where she stood and she wasn’t going to let it get to her. Much.
She nibbled on Isabella’s treats, sipped water, worked solidly on her business plan for several hours, forcing concentration with sheer will power. She even made a start on a web presence before realising she’d become totally stiff from sitting still. She’d stretch out with a swim. She shrugged off the robe and went to grab one of the large, fluffy beach towels.
She stopped just shy of the shelves, shaken by her own reflection in the large mirror on the back wall of the room. She’d not dared look at herself properly since learning of the baby—she’d half ignored those signs, those sensations. Now in only her bikini she moved nearer to her reflection, astounded by the rapidity of the changes in her body. The reason for her belly’s curve had somehow swiftly become utterly undeniable. She really was pregnant . Shyly fascinated she tugged on the string of her bikini top and let it fall to the floor. She stared—her nipples had a slightly darker blush and were unbearably sensitive. She cupped one breast, testing its weight—
She heard a rough drag of breath but it wasn’t her own. She glanced up and caught Edo’s gaze in the mirror. He was only a few feet behind her and she’d been so focused on her self-exploration, she’d not heard him arrive. Embarrassed, she slid her hands across her chest to hide her nipples.
‘Don’t stop,’ he muttered.
Her breath stalled. Did he think she was pleasuring herself? Her anger flared. Maybe she’d let him think that. Let him believe she wasn’t hurt by his distance. She let her hands drop to the band of her bikini bottoms and watched his tension ratchet. She studied his reflection then—saw the stark hunger in his eyes, his clenched fists, the bulge in his trousers—and her heat rose. He was undeniably aroused. And that made her even more angry.
‘Don’t you want to join in?’ she muttered.
Why was he holding back from touching her? What had happened after their wedding? Because she’d spent the last twenty-four hours with her ego destroyed believing he didn’t want her any more but it seemed he did. So why was he over there doing nothing?
‘I can’t.’ But he edged closer, tension now streaming from him.
‘Why?’
‘You look exhausted,’ he growled. ‘You have since the wedding. You don’t need me making extra demands on you.’
A rush of relief swept through her but it didn’t diminish her anger. Those ‘demands’ were the sole personal benefit to her of this arrangement.
‘Why don’t you try asking me what I need instead of assuming that you know best,’ she growled back.
‘Can you be trusted to know what’s best for yourself? You didn’t even know you were pregnant.’
She glared at him. ‘Yeah, well, maybe I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself.’ She widened her fingers, caressing her breasts, displaying her nipples to the air—and his fierce stare. ‘You didn’t have to sleep with me again just because you thought it would get me to agree to the wedding.’
‘What?’
‘It’s obviously all you wanted.’ she goaded. ‘You’ve kept your distance since easily enough.’
‘Because you’re exhausted ,’ he argued harshly. ‘And it’s only been one night. And it’s been anything but easy !’
The man was infuriating. He’d been thinking of her, but not communicating with her, and how could she be so pleased and so annoyed at the same time?
‘Well, it was a stupid idea,’ she flared. ‘I didn’t sleep at all last night and now I’m even more exhausted.’
His eyes widened but his mouth suddenly twitched. ‘You need orgasms to get to sleep, that’s what you’re saying?’
‘I can get them on my own,’ she shrugged sulkily. ‘Don’t trouble yourself.’
He took three paces and wrapped his arms around her. A tremor wracked her body as he pressed hot and hard and huge behind her. She didn’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool or treated with kid gloves. And, honestly, he could just please her.
‘Phoebe,’ he growled hotly, his teeth scraping her earlobe. ‘How could you—’
‘How could you ?’ She slammed her hands on the mirror and pushed back against him.
‘This bikini…’ He shoved her bikini bottoms down and swept his hand up her inner thigh, testing her slickness and heat.
He didn’t need to. She was on fire—so very ready for all he could give her.
‘ You —’ he growled, switching to Italian.
She didn’t know exactly what he said, but she knew to her bones it was dirty and hot . When she heard him unzip, she quivered—ridiculously close already. He nudged her feet further apart and slipped his fingers into her folds, intimately positioning her for his invasion.
‘How can you think I don’t want you?’ He thrust, burying deep inside her while not taking his gaze from hers in the mirror. ‘Never think I don’t want you. I can’t stop wanting you.’
But he wanted to. Frankly the physical need she felt for him was too much for her too only she couldn’t stop it either. She leveraged against the mirror and arched, locking him deeper, closing her eyes in the exquisite agony.
‘Eyes on me,’ he rasped. ‘Look at me . ’
Her eyelids fluttered. In the steamy reflection she saw his wildness—felt it in his fierce pumping, heard it in his throaty mutters of desire. It was insane . Pleasure wrung through her—wave after wave of untamed rapture.
‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he muttered, the admission almost desolate.
She was suspended somewhere between ecstasy and oblivion. He carried her to the sofa, kissed every curve of her body, filled her again—made her writhe and sigh and sweep her limbs around him. Desperately holding him closer and tighter, she sobbed, needing him nearer still. Until on the very edge of darkness she heard his gruff whisper.
‘Sleep, you need it.’
* * *
Phoebe stepped into the shower, hoping the steam might clear her fuzzy head. She soaped her sensitive body and as impossible as it ought to have been, lust flickered. She closed her eyes, willing herself to keep both arousal and tears at bay. But she’d never felt pleasure of the kind she did with Edo. She’d never wanted it— him —more. Which was dangerous. Wanting anything this much—be it someone or something—put her at risk. Extremes were unhealthy. She only had to think of her parents to know that. She had to take control of herself.
Ryan, her first husband, had been her only other lover and for him she’d dived headfirst into being the perfect wife. She’d tried so stupidly hard for months. Until the day she’d found out he was cheating. When she’d confronted him he’d said it was because she was boring—with no education, no hobbies of her own. She had no colour or vibrancy. So it wasn’t his fault he’d had to go elsewhere to find it.
His attack had crushed her because every word he’d said—up till that point—had been true. She’d changed herself for him. She’d given up the things she’d wanted because she’d put Ryan’s wishes before hers. She’d craved the emotional security she’d thought he offered, had been so desperate to hold onto it that she’d done everything to keep his attention. To keep him happy she’d agreed to whatever he wanted. She’d made it so easy for him to treat her like a door mat because she’d become one. Never arguing, never denying him. As she’d sensed his distance increasing, she’d become more desperate to please. Less like herself. So never, ever could she do that again.
Except the lust she felt with Edo was a billion times more powerful. She couldn’t let herself fall for him in other ways. Especially knowing he didn’t want to actually include her in his life. He kept so much of himself from her, it was obvious he didn’t want to deepen their intimacy beyond the physical. He didn’t want to be a husband, and not a father either. Ultimately he wanted their base to be far from him.
But part of her still wished for more for the baby. Maybe there would be magic when Edo met his child for the first time. Maybe then he might want to offer it more than physical and financial security. For that reason, she had to remain here. Her child deserved that chance. But she could claw back her emotional safety—protect herself. She would be careful and controlled, and not let Edoardo Benedetti sweep her off her feet. She would not agree to everything he asked. She would keep far enough away.
And at least, unlike Ryan, he was honest. He wasn’t pretending to be in love with her. Sex might be nothing more than a stress release for him, but she was now certain he enjoyed it as much as she. Maybe she would ask for just enough. Maybe that would help cure her of this desire—a little something for herself during these few months.
Because she would be true to herself . She would build her business. She would have what she wanted. Ask for it. Take it.
Even from Edo.
She found him sprawled on the sofa in the house, a drink in hand, a dish of olives on the table at his side, clearly ignoring the pile of papers beside him.
He cocked his head as she walked towards him. ‘You would like dinner?’
‘Not particularly.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘Then what would you like?’
She waited as he sipped his drink. ‘A honeymoon.’
‘Pardon?’ He choked.
‘I have an insatiable need to have sex with you.’ She pilfered an olive from his dish to hide her smile. ‘I’m sick of how insatiable it is. I want you to pleasure me until I’m over it.’
He stared at her as if she’d just grown three heads.
‘Do you need me to repeat that?’ She popped the olive into her mouth and savoured the burst as she bit.
‘No.’
‘Do you have a problem with it?’
‘No.’
‘Great. So can you arrange it please?’
He set down his drink and cleared his throat. ‘Rome? Paris? Manhattan? You want sights, nights out dancing?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘No frills is fine by me. Just a bed and pool will be sufficient.’
He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes widening more. ‘You want a “no frills” honeymoon?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ She swiped another olive. ‘I’m sure it’s just pregnancy hormones. Time will take care of it. Honestly, we can stay here if it makes you feel safer,’ she said. ‘I just want the sex.’
‘That’s your ideal honeymoon—sex on demand.’
‘Well, you’ll want to work as well, right? So do I. And I know you don’t want company most of the time, so if you like I could have a call bell.’
‘A what ?’
‘To summon you when I need servicing.’
He didn’t move. ‘I can’t tell if you’re being serious.’
‘Well, maybe the bell was a step too far, but really, the plan is pretty solid, I think. Don’t you?’ She studied the floor for a moment before glancing back up to meet his astonished gaze. ‘I’m tired of not getting what I want.’