Chapter Four
Charlotte couldn’t think of a single time when they’d driven in silence.
Usually, they at least went through the motions of making small talk, of going over one another’s days, their current projects, some acquaintance or other they had in common.
Never anything too deeply personal, just surface level information that acquaintances might swap at a dinner party.
They usually ran like a well-oiled machine, until the moment they stepped inside his South Kensington home and ripped each other’s clothes off.
But this trip was deathly quiet. As if they were each holding their breath. Or maybe, in the case of Dante, trying to take back the agreement they’d just forged with the kind of kiss that would be all anyone talked about for days, because it had been so intimate and so...steamy.
Yesterday, he’d been as completely and utterly opposed to marriage as any human being possibly could be. And now? Now, he’d practically insisted on it.
She glanced across at him, her mouth going as dry as the desert as the reality of their situation slammed into her for the first time.
Until then, it had been almost hypothetical.
She’d been so focused on the idea of finally being able to avenge her mother, to tilt the scale of justice back in her favour, that she hadn’t really thought about what it would be like to be married.
His legs were wide set, his thighs thick and masculine.
Beneath the expensive fabric of his suit trousers, they were roughened by dark hair and deeply tanned.
His chest was taut and muscular, which she knew was courtesy of the martial arts training he’d done for years.
He had a gym in his place equipped with all the necessary accoutrements.
She’d gotten him to show her some self-defence moves one morning, but the exercise had quickly devolved into them making love on the gym floor.
Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and at that exact moment, he turned to look at her, his eyes like onyx, darkly glittering and mysterious. His face, all chiselled and angular, with that square jaw and stubbled chin, looked every bit as tautened by tension as it had back at the charity event.
‘You might want to rethink the way you’re looking at me, Charlotte.’
Her lips parted. ‘How am I looking at you?’
‘Like you want me to finish that kiss?’ He glanced at her. ‘Believe me, that’s on the agenda. But first, we need to talk about this.’
She bit into her lip. ‘What’s to talk about? We’re getting married.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, no mention of it being ‘provisional’ now. ‘But getting married, having sex, living together. That’s a lot of potential for blurred lines, which I know we are both keen to avoid—,’
‘Living together?’ she interrupted quickly. ‘That hadn’t even occurred to me.’
‘Hence the conversation we’re about to have.’
‘Right,’ she nodded, glancing at his face. ‘I mean, yeah. We could live together. Your place is big enough for us to be able to keep to ourselves.’
He nodded once. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
And she hated that. She hated acquiescing so easily to him, letting him call all the shots. Even when he was doing her a favour, she still resented his easy authority.
‘You were right, yesterday. I have my reasons for wanting this to work.’ He glanced out the window, then back at her, his lips a grim line. ‘It is imperative that my grandmother believes I have fallen in love and decided to throw myself into the whole concept of a happily ever after.’
She ignored the way something in the region of her heart clutched in response to his obvious concern for his Nonna.
‘This has to seem real,’ he said, the words almost dragged from him against his will.
‘I agree.’
‘So when we go tell her, we’ll act like a couple.’
She bit into her lower lip. ‘When we go tell her?’
‘She’ll never buy it otherwise.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s not a big deal,’ he muttered. ‘A few days in Italy, maybe a week, so she can see this is legitimate. And then we’re done.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, nodding slowly.
‘In terms of the wedding,’ he lifted his shoulders. ‘I am more than happy to leave the details to you. If you want the whole big circus, that’s fine. Or if you’d prefer to simply get married and leave it at that, I’m fine with that, as well.’
She frowned. ‘I presume your grandmother would want to be there.’
‘I suppose so, yes, but at the end of the day, as long as she thinks I’m in love again, she won’t mind the details either.’
‘A small wedding, as soon as we can legally arrange it, with our closest friends and family. Yes?’
‘Fine.’
‘Okay.’ She expelled a soft breath. ‘Anything else?’
He flicked at his black bow tie until it opened, then undid the top button of his shirt, revealing a hint of his tanned chest and hair.
Her heart rate accelerated. The predictable physical response to this man was none the less powerful for being expected.
‘I’ll have a prenuptial agreement drawn up.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘That hadn’t even occurred to me. What kind of lawyer does that make me?’
‘A trusting one,’ he said.
‘I’m not interested in your money.’
‘It’s to protect you as much as it is me.’
She was about to point out that she had very few assets, but of course, that wasn’t true. Not only was there the trust fund her father had set up for her, but there was also the matter of the Papandreo Group, which was worth trillions.
And once they were married, it would be hers.
All hers.
Satisfaction seared her, so hard and fast it stung.
‘In terms of our personal relationship,’ he was continuing. ‘So long as we maintain the status quo, I can’t see any problems developing.’
‘And the status quo is...’
‘We keep it simple,’ he pointed out. ‘You and I don’t talk about anything serious or personal. Sex is sex, everything else is irrelevant.’
A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth, but inside, there was a familiar coldness spreading through her organs. ‘We’re good at that.’
He nodded once, his eyes dropping to her lips, lingering there, making her heart slam against her ribs.
‘We must almost be home,’ she said, a little breathlessly.
His glance flicked over her shoulder, to the window, then back to Charlotte’s face. ‘This is my street.’
Relief exploded. With the details of their deal ironed out, she was desperate to finish what he’d started at the charity event.
* * *
It wouldn’t have surprised Dante if Charlotte turned out to be a witch.
When they touched, it almost felt as though a spell had been cast over him.
The brush of her fingers over his body was incendiary, but her lips were even more so.
He felt as though his veins had been pumped full of molten lava.
And it had been like this between them from the very first night.
It had been a release. And a relief.
After Jamie, he hadn’t slept with anyone else.
He hadn’t wanted to. Although he had always thought of himself as a red-blooded guy with pretty consistent needs, in the end, he’d started to dread sex with his wife.
Not because the sex had been bad. It was sex, after all.
But because of the heaviness of expectation that came with it—the hope that she’d conceive and that this time, the baby would be okay.
Spontaneity and sensuality had gone by the wayside, in favour of monthly cycle tracking and recommended positions for conception.
Each month that passed without success had made him feel like a failure.
But worse was when the test showed a positive result, only to ride a rollercoaster of emotions for weeks, then go through the grief—and guilt—of knowing they were losing the baby.
They’d split and he’d been celibate. Not by conscious choice, rather by natural attrition. He wasn’t interested in something he’d come to associate with heavy personal pain.
He worked. He went to work functions. He worked some more.
And then there was Charlotte and, for the first time in a long time, he’d felt a stirring of something unexpected and almost unfamiliar.
Desire.
Simple, white-hot, uncomplicated lust.
Passion.
Need.
It was like being brought back from the dead. She touched him and he felt himself burning up. She kissed him and his whole world tilted sideways.
What they had was exactly what he needed.
He just hoped this marriage of theirs wouldn’t mess anything up.
The last thing he wanted was to screw up another woman’s life.
But Charlotte wasn’t looking for anything more from him. She’d made that clear, right from the start, and she’d made it clear when she’d rolled out this whole proposal. She was asking him for a favour. Their marriage was a means to an end. Their sexual chemistry was the cherry on top.
He pulled at her dress, suddenly impatient to see her, to feel her naked body against his.
The fabric was soft and she shivered as he lifted it over her head then threw it to the living room floor.
Her hands mimicked his, pushing at the buttons of his shirt until it parted down the middle, running her hands over his chest, teasing his hair roughened nipples as they moved to his shoulders then dropped the shirt to the floor.
He swallowed a curse as he shoved a hand into the waistband of her underpants and cupped her neat rear, pushing her against his body and holding her there, hard up against his arousal, his voice gruff as she began to move, rocking her hips, like she couldn’t wait for him to be inside her.
That made two of them.
‘I want you,’ she said, undoing his belt, then his zip, pushing his boxer shorts down with his pants. He stepped out of them then lifted her quickly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he took the few short strides to the leather armchair and sitting down on it, Charlotte straddling his lap.