Chapter Thirteen #2
But this fire had not burnt out yet. Plus, she had agreed to remain on Capri for at least a month, so why end this arrangement prematurely, when they were both enjoying it?
It had been years since he’d taken a genuine break from work…
And now the estate was his, why should he not enjoy the fruits of the labours to bring it back to life?
‘Good work, Carstairs,’ he said.
‘By the way, our real estate department has a buyer for Westwick,’ the man said.
‘It’s a Saudi investment conglomerate. They want to turn the place into a resort hotel, which would probably mean some substantial remodelling.
We’ve looked at the building’s status on the heritage registry, and apparently it’s only the frontage that’s listed, the rest of it can be demolished and rebuilt.
Anyway, it’s a great offer. You want me to set that in motion? ’
Again, the news should have been like having all his birthdays come at once.
The Hall still held so many unpleasant memories for him, those long days spent festering in the bed after his accident.
It represented everything about his childhood he had always hated—his father’s searing contempt, the loss of his mother, the loss of his life on Capri, the loss of his freedom…
But in the past two weeks, every time Tallulah mentioned the Hall, which she did quite often, he had begun to understand a little more how much the place really meant to her.
And there had been other memories that had tickled the back of his consciousness.
The little girl who had been so determined to coax him out of his shell, whose presence and bright, lively friendship had eventually made that long, unhappy summer bearable.
It made him feel weak and foolish to remember that girl now, and how much he had come to depend on her daily visits to his sickbed.
And in some ways, Tallulah’s love of Westwick made him hate the place more too—because he knew she would want to return there once their time together was over.
But could he bring himself to take the one thing away from her that he knew she cared for so passionately?
He had turned himself into a cold and ruthless man over the years, deliberately.
So he would never be that scared, lonely boy again.
But sometimes, late at night, with her beside him, he had allowed his mind to wander, enough to even question how happy the isolation he had imposed on himself since that summer had made him.
After all, letting his resentments, his anger fester, had allowed him to believe his father’s lies about Sante for too long.
So long in fact, he now found it impossible to return the calls and messages from both him and Mia, inviting him to return to Sicily.
Similarly, how could he take the one thing away from Tallulah she had wanted out of this whole arrangement, when they parted? And what if he did not wish to cut ties entirely? Having her working for him would give him an excuse to see her again, should he wish.
‘Hold fire on that for now,’ he said, suddenly feeling almost sentimental about Westwick.
‘Are you sure?’ Carstairs looked astonished. ‘I don’t know how long the deal will be on the table, Mr Lorenti.’
‘I’m sure there will be other interested buyers if I decide I still wish to sell,’ he heard himself say before ending the call abruptly.
He could never live in the Hall, but Tallulah seemed devoted to the place and the people she worked with there. And surely, he owed her that much, for helping him secure ownership of the palazzo.
Although strangely, since he’d been here with her, he’d also become aware that the idyllic memories he had of Capri had always been overshadowed by other emotions he’d been careful to lock away since.
As a boy he’d adored the freedom, but hadn’t he also been in constant fear that his mother’s dark moods would come back, that Mia would not have enough to eat?
The staff had come and gone with alarming regularity because his mother squandered the money to pay their salaries on her endless pursuit of pleasure at all costs.
And the house and its grounds had been in a deteriorating state long before her death, the wild parties often becoming scary when the adults were all either drunk or drugged up to their eyeballs.
His money had repaired the property, but Tallulah’s presence had added a layer of something more… Companionship, friendship, stability even, that he hadn’t realised he had yearned for then, until these past two weeks.
He blinked, the sentimental thoughts somehow lowering his guard.
Dio, when had he become so soft?
The light knock had him turning to find Tallulah standing on the threshold of his office. Something swift and sharp rushed through him.
Why was he so overjoyed to see her, when they had made love less than two hours ago?
‘Dario, I need to speak with you,’ she said.
He strode towards her and grasped her around the waist, deciding that fierce rush could only be the desire to have her again.
To feed this damn addiction. She wore a simple summer dress, making it easy for him to lift the skirt and palm her lush flesh, even as he dragged her the rest of the way into the room and slammed the door closed with his foot.
‘How about we talk later?’ he said, sinking his hands into her panties to cup her naked bottom.
She gasped, but if she was shocked by the demand, the scent of her arousal that filled his senses told him her answer.
He clasped her hand, strode to the desk, and pushed the laptop and papers to one side to lift her onto the surface…
and inhaled the sultry scent which told him she wanted him with the same intensity.
He covered her mouth with his, to swallow her sob of surrender and found the hot flesh between her legs with insistent fingers. She moaned, lifting her arms to rope around his neck, while he worked the swollen erection free of his pants.
‘Yes?’ he asked, even though her eyes were already dazed with need.
She nodded, and he clasped her hips to thrust his straining cock into her, the penetration impossibly deep.
They rode the sharp, swift wave to completion in a matter of seconds, her orgasm massaging him to his own fierce release, their ragged breathing reverberating around the quiet room.
The heady mix of need and desperation disturbed him as he felt his heartbeat start to slow and her hands shaking where she gripped his shoulders.
He buried his face in her hair, suddenly ashamed of the vicious hunger he hadn’t even attempted to control.
What was wrong with him? She wasn’t just a fire in his blood now—she had become someone he couldn’t seem to live without for more than a few hours at a time.
She shifted slightly, still impaled on the rigid length. He pulled free of her body and felt her flinch. The shame twisted in his gut like a blade.
He raised his gaze to hers, cradled her cheek to press a kiss to her temple.
‘I apologise, Tallulah, that lacked finesse,’ he managed, which had to be the understatement of the century. He had treated her as if he were a rutting bull.
Her face was flushed, her lips trembling, and yet the smile which crossed her face was unbearably sweet. ‘Don’t apologise, Dario. I—I love it when you need me like that.’
He stepped back to repair his clothing. How could she be so artless, so innocent and yet affect him so deeply?
She climbed off the desk and lifted her torn panties from the floor, before shoving them into the pocket of her dress.
Dio, had he ripped her underwear from her? How had this need become so wild, so elemental?
‘What did you wish to talk about?’ he asked, forcing his mind to engage again through the fog of pheromones and panic.
She stared at him blankly, her lust-blown pupils hazy with confusion.
Good to know he wasn’t the only one blindsided by this hunger.
She blinked. ‘Oh, yes… I wanted to return to Westwick tomorrow—just for a few days.’ For a moment the information would not compute in his endorphin-addled brain.
‘The decorators are arriving on Monday, and I need to be there to oversee the work.’ She hesitated then rambled on, making no sense.
‘I’ve arranged a flight from Naples. I was wondering if I could borrow one of your cars and park it at the airport… ’
She continued to babble about her travel arrangements as frustration rose up inside him.
‘No…’ He barked the word more harshly than intended, making her jumbled information slam to a halt. ‘You cannot leave Capri yet.’
Because I still want you, all the damn time.
Thank god he managed to bite off that confession before it could tumble out of his mouth. But the fear continued to claw at his chest. He could not let her go, not yet. He wasn’t ready.
Her eyes widened. But then her chin firmed, and he saw the stubbornness which had been absent for the last two weeks… It was annoying to realise he’d missed it.
‘We agreed, Dario, in Milan, on the day we exchanged vows,’ she said, with a patience that infuriated him. Did she think him an imbecile, that he didn’t remember that? ‘And you…you promised.’
He let his frustration build, to control the panic. He didn’t want her to go. What if she did not come back? He needed her.
Even as the thought struck him, the walls of the study, bright with the mid-morning sun, seemed to close in around him.
His leg throbbed, alongside the scar on his face…
And he was suddenly that boy again, trapped in the wreckage of an overturned car, waiting forever for his only friend to return to him.
He stalked across the room, turning his back to her, to stare at the rocky coastline, the shimmering blue of the sea, the glint of the cliffs, the rambling pinks and purples of the bougainvillea, his body still humming with afterglow, his stomach hollowing out.
He thrust his fingers through his hair, trying to buy himself time, to control the fear, the emotion, that hideous feeling of being abandoned, of being alone.
‘I’ll be back in a few days…’ she murmured.
He swung round. ‘No, I will accompany you,’ he managed, his throat still raw with panic, the sweat pooling to run down his spine. ‘We will take the helicopter to Naples, and the jet from there to Heathrow. Then we can transfer by car to the estate.’
Even as he suggested the hasty travel plan, he knew he sounded deranged.
The last damn thing he wanted, the last damn thing he had ever wanted, was to spend time at Westwick.
But how could he force her to stay? Not only had he promised to let her return to Wiltshire during the month, but worse, it would make him seem weak and too needy to refuse her request.
Her face softened with surprise and then a brilliant smile crossed her features.
‘Really? You’ll come to Westwick with me?’
‘Yes, of course. We must not separate yet, the Trustees still need to be convinced this marriage is real,’ he said, the white lie coming easily.
‘Oh Dario, that’s wonderful.’ She rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He clasped her shoulders, stupidly touched by her transparent, and uncomplicated reaction.
And ignored the prickle of guilt that she had accepted his lie so readily.
Because her blind faith in him, and her trust, however undeserved, was somehow even more intoxicating than the furious lovemaking, the effects of which still echoed in his groin.
As she began to reel off a list of things she wanted to show him—to do with the renovations—he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, that he had no interest in the Hall.
But as she continued to babble, the brutal thunder of his own heart, crashing against his ribs, started to ease.
He would take her to that godforsaken place, and then bring her back here with him… And keep her here, until he could lock the fear away again for good.
Then, at last, he would be able to let her go.