CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
‘W E ’ RE GOING TO need to go shopping.’
At the sound of Romano’s soft interjection, Kelly turned round, wearing nothing but the silk shirt he’d impatiently discarded within minutes of arriving at his Turin residence. She had been staring out of the window at the leafy garden square beneath his vast apartment, not quite able to believe she was really here.
It was all a bit much to take in. She had suspected he would live somewhere grand, but the reality of his home had surpassed all her wildest imaginings. Romano’s apartment was part of a converted eighteenth-century palazzo and she’d never seen anything like it. Domed ceilings were exquisitely decorated with intricate frescoes and the marble floors were strewn with silken rugs. It had several reception rooms. A gym. A kitchen you could get lost in. It even had its own library, with leather-bound spines which looked worryingly old. She kept expecting someone to ask her to produce her ticket to prove she’d paid to get in. She’d really had no idea that people lived like this.
But it wasn’t just the splendour of the building or the nearby city surroundings which were so achingly impressive—it was the evidence of Romano’s life. His real life. Because this wasn’t a castle he’d inherited, which he seemed to be conflicted about for perfectly understandable reasons. This was his home . With paintings and cushions and velvet drapes and photos in solid silver frames and one photo in particular, taken at some Premio Mondo race, possibly in Monaco. In a blur of sprayed champagne, he was standing next a driver who was holding aloft a glittering trophy and Romano had his arm round a woman—a blonde, Kelly noted sourly—who was looking up at him, and laughing.
It wasn’t simply that the blonde was beautiful—which she was—it was just that captured moment of intimacy, as if she were completely dazzled by the gaze of the Castelliari racing tycoon. And her clothes. Oh, her clothes. She was dressed in the sort of outfit you might see within the pages of a glossy fashion bible, most of which probably wouldn’t have survived the celebratory champagne bath, thought Kelly a touch sourly before she realised that Romano was looking at her and was clearly waiting for an answer.
‘Why do we need to go shopping?’ she questioned, automatically enjoying the golden-olive gleam of his naked body as he lay sprawled against the snowy backdrop of the rumpled sheets. ‘I thought you said someone had been in and stocked the fridge.’
‘Not for food,’ he said impatiently. ‘I meant to buy something for you to wear.’
Kelly tried not to react negatively to his emphatic statement but she was already stiffening defensively. ‘I thought you said you liked me best when I wasn’t wearing anything at all,’ she objected.
His mouth gave a close approximation of a smile. ‘This much is true. Your body is much too delicious to be covered,’ he agreed silkily. ‘But you can’t stay naked all the time and I thought we might do a few things while we’re here in Turin. Go to the opera, perhaps?’
‘And my clothes aren’t good enough, is that it?’ she demanded, remembering the way he’d looked down his nose at her when she’d arrived at the church for the christening in her cheap, flowery dress.
There was a pause. ‘I think you know very well they aren’t, cara . You came to Italy with barely enough stuff for the weekend, and a pair of jeans which you’ve dried on the radiator, really isn’t going to work in this kind of environment. You will stand out for all the wrong reasons.’
His voice was almost gentle and wasn’t that in itself patronising ? Once again, Kelly bristled. ‘I don’t want your charity.’
‘It isn’t charity, Kelly,’ he answered patiently. ‘You can leave them here when you go back to England, for all I care.’
‘What, so my replacement can wear them?’
‘I’ve never met anyone with your particular petite and curvy dimensions, but, if you must know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to dress as well as undress,’ he offered, his voice now tinged with a mild irritation. ‘But that’s all I intend to say on the subject and I certainly don’t intend to wrestle you into a dress shop on the Via Roma. I thought it might be fun, that’s all.’
Their eyes clashed in silent battle until at last she gave a shrug. ‘Okay,’ she sighed, because he did have a point. She definitely didn’t have enough clothes with her and, unless she was intending to hit Turin wearing her Ragno uniform, she couldn’t drag out her claret velvet dress again . ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘There’s only one thing I really want right now. So take off that damned shirt and come over here,’ he instructed throatily, making no attempt to hide the hardening at his groin.
Undoing the buttons with trembling fingers and casting aside the costly garment, Kelly went into his waiting arms, wishing she weren’t constantly see-sawing between happiness and sadness. It was as if she’d been placed on an emotional roller coaster which was speeding out of control and she didn’t know how to get off. She knew why they were here, because he’d told her—supposedly to empty the well of their mutual desire.
But as far as she was concerned, Kelly suspected it would never run dry, especially as with every day that passed, her heart became more and more engaged and not just her body. She found herself wanting to press her face close to his and tell him she’d never believed anyone could make her feel this way. Romano was someone she just couldn’t get enough of, and she had convinced herself that as long as she kept that unwanted truth to herself, everything would be okay. In a normal world it might have been.
Except…
She swallowed.
Except that her period still hadn’t come, and now she was five days late.
And sooner or later she was going to have to address that.
But not now. Not when his hands were on her breasts and he was pressing her down against the mattress and moving over her. His kiss was deep and drugging as he drove one hard thigh between hers. Her hungry fingertips explored the silk of his skin, kneading luxuriously at all that hard flesh. Every one of her senses was engaged… The evocative scent of sex perfumed the air as he directed her to stroke on the condom and she revelled in his hopeless groan as she demonstrated this newly acquired skill. With a strangled moan he entered her and she came almost immediately and it wasn’t long before Romano was choking out his fulfilment in a way which had become achingly familiar, and Kelly felt a great sweep of unwanted emotion as she tightened her arms around his back and tried to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.
Afterwards they moved apart and lay there in silence until the ragged sounds of their breathing had calmed. But instead of staring at the beautiful frescoed ceiling, Kelly shut her eyes until she was sure that the tell-tale shimmer of tears had retreated. And only then was she able to turn to him with a super-bright smile.
‘Okay,’ she said carelessly. ‘Let’s hit the shops.’
‘No, that one,’ affirmed Romano decisively as he watched the stylist dangle two contrasting gowns in front of the diminutive redhead. ‘The silver.’
Lounging back on the leather sofa with an untouched goblet of champagne by his side, he waited until Kelly emerged from the changing room in his chosen gown, rather concerned to see that she was biting her lip.
‘What’s the matter?’ he questioned.
‘You don’t think it’s a bit…’
‘A bit what?’ he prompted, the flicker of a smile beginning to play at the edges of his lips.
She shrugged her silk-clad shoulders. ‘Revealing?’
He was tempted to tell her in soft and very graphic English that the dress was relatively modest when judged against the standards he was used to. It wasn’t slashed to the thigh, or plunged deep to the navel. Just a shimmer of silvery fabric, which made her look like a fallen star. And though he might wish to feast his own eyes on her body, he was damned if he wanted other men seeing too much of it. But she might easily misinterpret such a possessive statement and there was always the chance that it might be overheard by someone and fed to the salacious press.
‘No, I don’t,’ he said coolly and then, turning to the stylist, who was failing to hide her apparent joy—probably thinking about her commission—he nodded his head. ‘We’ll take it.’
The silver dress was packed up and dispatched to join yet more shiny carrier bags, which would be delivered to his apartment later. Only one had been held back, on his instructions, and he gave a nod. ‘Why don’t you put that one on?’ he suggested silkily. ‘You can wear it out to lunch.’
Ducking back into the changing room, Kelly slithered into the outfit which Romano had selected, wondering if she should object to his bossiness in deciding what she should wear. Yet why waste precious time and energy by making a fuss? It wasn’t as if it were going to make any difference in the long run, was it? She was still going to go her way and he his. And didn’t part of her revel in the way his black eyes smouldered with undisguised passion when he saw her in something he particularly liked? Didn’t it thrill her and still shock her a little bit that she was capable of making him react like that?
The full-length mirror reflected back an image which was quietly expensive, because everything she wore was expensive. Eye-wateringly so. Beneath a chiffon dress the colour of ginger tea, she was wearing new lingerie, which was managing to do some gravity-defying things to her breasts, as well as silk stockings and a ridiculously lacy little suspender belt.
Her eyes narrowed. Dressed like this, she would be able to move around without judgment or censure in Romano’s high-octane world, that was for sure—though part of her felt like an imposter. The poor girl dressed up to the nines who was only sharing the billionaire’s life for the briefest of tenures.
Had she settled for too little? Allowing him to dress her up like a doll, while inside her head was whirling as she tried like mad to reassure herself that her period being almost a week late wasn’t a big deal at all. But it was—of course it was—and sooner or later she was going to have to do a test. She chewed on her lip. And since it would be practically impossible to go to a local pharmacy on Romano’s territory without incurring a mild interrogation, that meant she was going to have to tell him.
Romano, I think I might be pregnant.
No. That gave it the spurious air of being something they’d planned. Something they might be happy about.
Romano, I’m worried sick that I might be pregnant.
That was certainly more accurate. Her heart clenched. She would have to say something on those lines.
But not today.
Today she was going to pretend that this was for ever…
With a final adjustment of her curls, she walked out of the changing room to where Romano was waiting like a watchful panther, and she wondered if he was expecting her to do a twirl, or to parade before him in her cream high heels so he could watch the delicate silk chiffon brushing against her thighs. But instead, he placed his hand in the small of her back, his thumb making enticing little circles as he propelled her through the prestigious store and outside, where a limousine was waiting.
‘Where are we going?’ Kelly asked, sliding onto the back seat of the luxury car.
‘I’m taking you out for lunch.’ He put his hand on her knee. ‘Hungry?’
She supposed she should be. It was a long time since breakfast, which he had fed to her while she had been sitting on the breakfast bar of his amazing kitchen, again wearing nothing but one of his shirts. But it was difficult to be enthusiastic about food when his fingers were creeping beneath the hem of her dress like that.
‘Sure,’ she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. ‘Where are we going?’
Annoyingly, he removed his hand from her thigh. ‘Wait and see.’
He took her to a light and airy restaurant, with olives trees dotted around a large terrace which commanded impressive views over the city. Kelly had been expecting ostentation and a lavish display of wealth but to her surprise it was neither of those things. It was a quiet and traditional place, serving Piedmontese food, which was ambrosial, especially the pudding—which initially she tried to refuse.
‘Try it,’ he said, forking into a slice of torta and extending it towards her. ‘Go on. Turin is famous for hazelnuts,’ he added as she began to nibble on the rich cake. ‘Ever since Napoleon banned chocolate imports from England in the nineteenth century and the local chefs had to find something else to use in their desserts.’
‘Is that so?’ she said, holding back a smile as he delivered another forkful into her waiting mouth.
‘Would you like to hear more about the history of Turinese cuisine, Kelly?’ he questioned gravely.
‘Absolutely. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat waiting,’ she said, meeting the playful gleam in his black eyes.
It was the most delicious and frustrating meal she’d ever eaten and it seemed to take a lifetime before they were back in the limousine and he could push her back against the soft leather seat, his mouth on her neck, his hand on her thigh.
‘Now then,’ he murmured hungrily. ‘Where was I?’
‘I think you know. But just for the avoidance of doubt.’ Instinctively, she wriggled her hips to position herself. ‘You’re in exactly the right place.’
‘Who taught you to be so bold, Kelly Butler?’ he growled.
‘Why, I think that would have to be you, Romano Castelliari.’
With a low laugh, he raised the darkened sound-proof window between them and the chauffeur as he brought her to an ecstatic climax and then, back in the apartment, he stripped off their clothes with unsteady impatience before tumbling them down on his vast bed.
‘ Porca miseria , what is it that you do to me?’ he uttered, his hands moulding themselves over her quivering breasts before tracing down to the moist bud between her spreading thighs.
‘Was that a serious question?’ she gasped as she felt his erection nudge impatiently against her.
‘No,’ he husked, his big body positioning itself over her before empaling her with one hard and emphatic thrust.
Rocking in time to his glorious rhythm, she soon felt the ecstatic squeeze of her approaching climax, her back arching helplessly as she pulsed with pleasure beneath him. And afterwards Kelly had to be super-vigilant as he held her tightly in his embrace, her cheek resting against the muscled silk of his shoulder. She wanted to whisper that she had never felt so wanted, nor so cherished, and she wanted to tell him that she was frightened she might be carrying his baby. But the insane thing was that part of her longed to carry his baby. Was that the natural projection you made when a man had managed to burrow his way into your heart and you were terrified you were falling in love with him?
They spent most of the afternoon in bed and then a lot of time in the bath before he left her to wash her hair and then laboriously dry it into glossy ringlets. She had just finished putting on the silver dress and a pair of matching strappy shoes when Romano walked into the bedroom, wearing a black tux, which made him look impossibly handsome and yet somehow…remote.
His face was serious as he handed her a slim leather box.
‘What’s this?’
‘Why not have a look inside?’ he suggested.
She did as he asked, blinking in surprise as she flipped open the lid to see a pair of dangly diamond earrings dazzling against a backdrop of indigo velvet. Kelly was a silversmith who knew practically nothing about diamonds—apart from the words she’d heard used to describe them, like Ashoka and brilliant and marquise . But anyone could see that these were pretty special. It made her feel quite faint to think how much they must have cost.
‘Are these on loan, or something?’ she joked.
‘No. I bought them. I thought you could wear them to the opera tonight,’ he said, the gleam of his ebony gaze sweeping over her. ‘They work well with that dress.’
‘But…surely some of my own would work better? I mean, mine are silver, like the dress. And you never know…somebody might see them and commission a pair!’
‘I would prefer you to wear these,’ he insisted, holding one out towards her, the white fire of the precious gems flaming over his olive skin.
She opened her mouth to object before asking herself if this was a battle really worth fighting, before obediently clipping them in to stare at herself in the mirror. But it hurt that he didn’t want her to wear the jewellery she’d made herself. As if he was rejecting the person she really was. Did he worry that the silver danglies might look cheap and downmarket in the lavish setting of the city opera house?
She stared at the incandescent rainbow flash of diamonds which could certainly never be accused of falling into that particular category. In any other circumstances she might have quipped that she hoped they were properly insured, because what if one fell off while she was in the loo? Yet there was something about his proprietorial expression which stopped her and, indeed, something about the whole occasion which felt skewed. He’d thrown a lot of money at her to change the way she looked and he’d succeeded. But as she saw the priceless stones flashing at her ears she recognised that the transformation was now complete…she really wasn’t Kelly Butler any more.
And if she wasn’t herself, then who was she?
A rich man’s mistress with a terrible secret nagging away inside her.
A secret she dared not share.
‘Let’s go,’ he said softly as he opened the bedroom door for her to exit before him.
Romano frowned as she nodded her head without really looking at him and found himself wondering if he had offended her in some way. Yet how could he have done? There wasn’t a woman in the world who didn’t like diamonds, and the bigger, the better. He’d had enough hints dropped to him in the past, though he’d never actually bought a lover jewellery before. And they were an investment, weren’t they? Kelly would be able to take the earrings with her. Because he didn’t want to see her broke, or struggling in the future. He would have no problem with her selling them as soon as she went back to England and gaining a comfortable financial cushion.
He stared out of the window as the bright lights of Turin flashed past in a blur on their way to the opera house, wondering how much longer she would stay.
Would he decide when that moment had arrived?
Or would she?
And why was he viewing the prospect with increasing reluctance?
A pulse began to pound at his temple as the car drew up outside the Teatro Regio, and beside him he felt Kelly stiffen. Reaching up, he turned her face towards him and in the dimness of the car he was aware of her strained expression.
‘What’s the matter?’
Her nonchalant shrug didn’t quite disguise the faint frown lines on her forehead. ‘I’ve never been to the opera before.’
‘So what?’
‘Oh, come on, Romano. Even you can’t be that insensitive.’
‘Even me?’ he echoed. ‘Am I that much of a brute?’
There was a pause. ‘Only sometimes,’ she said softly.
Her fingers reached up to touch his jaw and something about the tenderness of the gesture made him jerk his head back as if he’d been scalded, but she rested her hand back on her lap as if she hadn’t noticed his instinctive recoil.
‘I’m scared of feeling out of my depth,’ she continued, her voice sounding forced. ‘Of everyone else knowing how to behave, but not me.’
‘Well, unless you’re planning on getting up in the middle for a comfort break or leaping on stage to join in with the main aria, I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
‘Stop it.’ Her lips started to twitch. ‘I’m serious .’
‘And so am I,’ he said, relieved to have broken the sudden tension which seemed to have descended on them. ‘Just follow everyone else’s lead—that’s how everyone learns. We’re here and it’s going to be fine. You might even enjoy it. Come on.’ He stepped out of the car to the inevitable flash of cameras and, despite being taller than usual in her sparkly shoes, she looked so small and vulnerable as she slid to her feet beside him. Was it that which made him hold his hand out to catch hers, or the sudden desire to make amends for his occasionally brutish behaviour?
Her fingers laced in his, they entered the iconic building, with its eye-catching scarlet seats curving beneath the bright spill of modern chandeliers.
He glanced up towards one of the boxes to see an instantly recognisable figure, his old face as wrinkled as a walnut, and Romano’s lips curved with faint amusement to see Silvano di Saccucci. The last time they’d met the octogenarian had been bad-temperedly refusing to sell him his company because he disapproved of his lifestyle. Yet now the old man was inclining his head politely in his direction and Romano found himself automatically returning the courtesy, before giving Kelly’s fingers a quick squeeze.
‘Okay?’ he questioned.
‘So far, so good.’
She looked up into his face, his diamonds glittering like ice in the thick fall of fiery hair, and as he smiled back he could hear someone nearby murmuring his name with a note of surprise. His first thought was that this outing was definitely going to provoke gossip in salons across the city.
And the second, which followed on almost immediately, was that he really didn’t care.