Chapter Nine #2
Her thighs quivered either side of his head, and every shift and sway of her body only served to increase his own arousal. He knew that he would have to take himself in hand later, but that was then, Erin was now, and she was all that mattered.
She tasted like woman, like lust, like all he’d ever need, he realised as his breath hitched in his throat and she cried that little breathy moan that let him know she was so very close to the edge.
He knew from her body’s response that no one had touched her here, no one had kissed her here and, Neanderthal that he was, that gave him more pleasure than was justifiable.
Yes, yes, yes.
With her words on the air above him, his tongue pressing and taunting her clit, Enzo pushed her into an abyss of stars that pulsed in time with her pleasure, and knew that he’d never be the same again.
Erin slowly opened her eyes, aware that she was in bed, and closed them again when she remembered how she’d asked him to stay last night. He’d been about to leave, when she’d reached for his hand. She just hadn’t wanted to be alone after what they’d shared.
She turned onto her opposite side and reached for the imprint of where Enzo had spent the night, a little surprised to find it still warm. He must have only just left.
But he’d still left.
And in a way she was thankful. Because he couldn’t be there for what she needed to do. Because even while she realised that there was no future for her and Enzo, that there simply couldn’t be, she could still not continue to use him in any way.
Because he wasn’t the irresponsible, careless playboy she’d thought him to be. She could see how he’d been shaped by his parents, could see the hurt and the depth of the emotion he tried to mask from a world whose eye had been trained on him almost since birth.
Snippets from their time together ran through her mind.
Rin doesn’t seem to suit you.
Take what you need from me. Take your pleasure.
What I see when I look at you...a powerful, determined, fierce and beautiful woman.
All these things that he had said to her, given to her. This was not a man who didn’t care. This was not a man like her father at all.
And no matter what happened from here on out, she knew that she could never be just another person that would betray him. That would take a single thing from him without his knowledge or consent.
And before she could change her mind, she sat down at her laptop on the desk in front of a small window looking out at the marina in Cannes, and started her email to Gio Gallo.
I’ve told Gio I’m out, Sam.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Enzo squinted angrily at the horizon from behind dark sunglasses. Here at the marina, he’d not been able to do as he’d wished, and drop into the frigid depths of the sea to shock some sense back into himself. So he’d spent far longer than was probably healthy in a very cold shower.
The problem was that things felt so genuine with Erin, that he was beginning to fall for the lies they had both woven around this relationship.
And the fact that he wasn’t actively running for the hills was becoming a serious problem.
As perfectly illustrated by the fact that he’d spent half the night watching her sleep, not because she’d asked him to stay, but because he hadn’t been able to drag himself away.
Erin arrived on the upper deck at that moment, looking fresh in wide-legged white linen trousers and a light blue linen shirt, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and sunglasses dangling from her fingers.
Of course she looked the most innocent, the most natural that she had done since he’d first met her. Just when he was trying to remember her conniving manipulations. Of course he struggled with his body’s instinctive, near primal , response to this woman. That was her plan, wasn’t it?
‘Good morning,’ she said shyly, biting her lip, the artifice of her hesitation impeccable.
‘ Buongiorno ,’ he replied, rising from his seat to greet her. ‘Cannes suits you,’ he said with a forced smile.
‘ Merci ,’ she replied with a wry smile.
He went to kiss her cheek, but she moved ever so slightly, and when her lips found his, he held himself in check, when the palm of her hand rested on his chest, he prayed his heart would stay still.
He wondered if he was imagining the shift between this morning and before and told himself off for being fanciful.
‘You don’t think so?’ he asked, as she slipped behind the table onto the banquet seating.
‘I like Cannes, but... Italy was special.’
He blinked, hiding his surprise at her answer.
‘We have a party tonight,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Another one?’
He mock-winced. ‘Marcus has a lot of parties, but this one is important to him.’
‘You’ve known him long?’ she asked.
‘Since university.’
‘That’s why your English is so good? Because you went to university in England?’
‘Yes. My father was too notorious in America, and England was closer to Europe, so...’ He shrugged off the end of the sentence. ‘Marcus comes across as a bit of a buffoon, I know, but there is something bluntly honest about him which is important to me.’
He watched her closely, for any signs of a reaction to his description, but Erin just smiled and nodded.
‘Then I will look forward to getting to know him more,’ Erin said instead. ‘As long as I can pick the dress this time,’ she said pointedly.
He smiled when he was supposed to smile, and laughed when he was supposed to laugh, but all the while he couldn’t stop himself from wondering where this was going.
Could he really still see himself leaving her at the top of the aisle?
To expose her to the glare of the world’s press and their fierce judgement?
Before he’d met Erin, he’d lived his life unsure and uncaring of his next steps, going wherever he fancied, wherever the next party was.
But for the first time in his life, he didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t like it one single bit.
Erin walked into the large three-story club in the heart of Cannes’s beachfront, feeling very self-conscious.
Enzo hadn’t been as effusive as he had in the past, but Erin knew that he liked the way she looked in the flowing white dress she’d chosen for the evening.
The pallor of her skin had warmed in the last few weeks beneath the Mediterranean sun and the white made her appear bronzed, so that this time when people turned to stare at them, she knew it wasn’t because she looked hideous, or was an embarrassment.
It was because she looked like she fit on his arm.
And finally, she was beginning to feel that way too, which was a painful irony.
She’d received a one-word email response from Gio Gallo as she’d got dressed earlier that evening.
Understood.
And despite the fact that she knew she had lost Charterhouse for good, she knew she was doing the right thing.
For Enzo and for herself.
As for the future? Oh, she didn’t think she could pretend to carry on as if nothing had happened, she certainly couldn’t marry him.
But she also wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet.
So she’d hoped to claim just one night. One night as herself, as Erin, before she had to return home from Neverland.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell him about Gio and what had brought her into his life, but she could certainly tell him that it wasn’t his fault she was breaking their engagement.
‘Darling,’ Marcus said, to her when she and Enzo found him, ‘you look ravishing .’
‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting his compliment with a genuine smile.
‘Hello, I’m Cynthia,’ she unnecessarily re-introduced herself.
‘I know, we met before. On the Isola del Giglio?’
‘Oh, did we?’ Cynthia asked, oblivious to any awkwardness, or awareness of her own rudeness.
No matter what happened, Erin would never be friends with this woman, she decided.
‘I’m so pleased you both could make it,’ Marcus said. ‘It just wouldn’t have been the same without you. Champagne!’ he shouted at the top of his lungs, making Erin flinch then laugh when a waiter in a black-and-white suit immediately appeared with a bottle on a tray with four glasses.
It might not have been how Erin was used to spending her evenings, but she wanted to try for Enzo’s sake, for her own sake.
She wanted this night to be perfect and these were his friends and they weren’t all bad.
The music was loud, and the crowd boisterous, but for the first time she didn’t fear making a fool of herself or being the centre of attention for the wrong reasons.
She wanted to borrow a little of Enzo’s fun and try it on for size.
The club itself was spectacular. The Art Deco interior design suited the elegance not only of the location but of the attendees, and Erin found herself not only begin to relax but to actually start to enjoy herself.
If Enzo seemed a little flat, she found herself dialling up her energy to compensate, not quite aware that she was doing so.
She made small talk with Marcus, it was impossible to do so with Cynthia, and she got talking to Alana, a lovely woman from Morocco who owned and ran an ethical clothing company which made her instantly think of Conxion.
Which in turn made her wonder what it was she would do now.
Without Charterhouse. The company would now, surely, be broken into a thousand different pieces, as Gio had promised.
And she’d never have a chance to fix her father’s mistake.
For her mother. For herself too. It hurt, but not as much as it would have to hurt Enzo in the process.
She looked across at him, found him watching her. She smiled, but he didn’t return it. Not immediately. She was about to go to him, but he waved her off with a ‘don’t mind me’ look.
Something had shifted between them since the news of his father’s engagement had broken.
It was hardly surprising that he was finding it hard, she couldn’t imagine what it must be bringing up for him.
So, she sent him a reassuring smile and slipped away to the bathroom, hoping she wouldn’t encounter any nasty gossips this time.
Enzo watched her go, weaving through a crowd dressed in more money than sense, and still she shone like the brightest ruby. Dark, complex, and powerful.
‘Listen, I’ve got this investment thing,’ Marcus said, the volume of his shout a little too much, making Enzo flinch.
Only a handful of people knew about his company, let alone a portfolio significant enough to keep him off the world’s rich list. Sometimes it took more money than less to keep your anonymity.
So, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with Marcus bringing it up now.
But he could see that his friend was drunk.
‘I don’t talk business when I’m drinking, Marcus, you know that.’
‘I know, it’s just that this is time sensitive.’
‘Then it’s too sensitive and I’m not interested,’ he dismissed him.
Marcus side-eyed him as if gauging his mood.
‘Listen, I’m sorry about your dad,’ Marcus said more quietly. He knew how bad things had been for Enzo over the years, and while they rarely delved beyond the surface, Marcus had seen enough.
He nodded, the only acknowledgement of Marcus’s sympathy he could muster.
‘Have you heard from your mum?’ Marcus pressed.
Enzo gritted his teeth, this time shaking his head.
He hadn’t. And that had—he was reluctant to admit—worried him.
Usually she would have called him in hysterics by now and the sheer fact that she hadn’t.
.. And he didn’t like worrying about her, because she had never really worried about him .
And what he most especially disliked was sounding like a stroppy insecure child!
Last time he’d heard from her, she’d been sequestered in a chalet in Switzerland with a therapist and a spiritualist. ‘I’m going to make it work this time, Zo, I promise. It’s going to work.’
Maybe she was making it work. Maybe she had drowned herself in alcohol and pills. Who knew? All he could say was that he was distinctly and acutely uncomfortable with all these feelings . He didn’t know what to do with them. Other than try and push them all back down.
‘So, how’s it going with the girl?’ Marcus shouted into his ear above the music, his use of language making Enzo tense.
Erin wasn’t a girl . She was...she was...
Coming up against a wall, he realised that truly, he didn’t know what Erin Carter was. Master con artist, or not?
‘Have you found out what she’s after yet?’ Marcus shouted again.
‘No.’
‘I can’t believe she’s managed to keep that quiet this entire time. She hasn’t slipped up? Not once since Capri?’
Enzo didn’t reply, hoping that his friend would just drop it.
‘And I still don’t understand why she signed the prenup. Is there a fidelity clause in there somewhere? Is she expecting you to cheat on her?’
‘Marcus, I don’t know,’ he replied finally, giving up the fight with his frustration.
‘Whatever it is she’s after, she’s not going to get it.
And when she reaches the top of the aisle and comes face-to-face with the fact that I have absolutely no damn intention of marrying her, and instead, will leave her facing the music in front of as many guests and as many of the world’s press as I can possibly muster in the next seven days, she will be humiliated and left with nothing.
And then she’ll realise that it was a mistake messing with me.
Everyone will realise that it’s a mistake to mess with me. ’
And with that, he finished the last drop of his whiskey and stalked off, completely failing to see Erin where she stood in the shadow of the doorway, staring after him in shock.