Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SHE WATCHED HIM FROM hooded eyes as he made coffee, his expression forbidding, his features imposing.
He’d come in late the night before and had gone straight to bed.
She’d heard his footsteps on the stairs, and then outside her door, slowing to a pause, and she’d held her breath, waiting for him to knock, and her heart had slammed into her ribs with every second that passed, until his footsteps sounded once more.
The next moment, there was the opening and closing of his door.
She hadn’t been able to sleep.
It was hot – unpleasantly sticky and sultry, the evening bringing little relief from the day’s warmth, but that wasn’t why she’d struggled to sleep.
No, it was the questions that had chased each other through her mind all evening.
Where had he been? And who had he been with?
She had no reason to suspect he’d been with a woman and yet once the idea planted itself in her brain, she found it impossible to shake free from its grip. It was horrifying to realise how much she cared. But she did. The idea of Fiero Montebello with anyone else made her insides boil.
So much of this situation had simply got away from her.
After the accident, she’d been over the proverbial barrel – Jack was already here in Italy and Fiero had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to give up his parental rights without a fight – a fight she instinctively shied away from, regardless of what she’d said.
More than that, seeing how badly Fiero had been hurt by her decision to raise Jack on her own had made her want to fix things – as though she ever could.
Everything had happened so quickly, and she’d been led by instincts rather than allowing herself to stop and think.
For someone who prided herself on her rational abilities, everything about her situation now was unexpected.
She was living in Italy under the same roof as the father of her son.
They’d slept together – she couldn’t be in the same room without desire making her body tremble – and Jack was growing closer to Fiero with every day that passed.
She turned the page of her newspaper without really absorbing any of the stories, reaching for her tea and taking a sip.
The problem was, being an insecure and jealous woman was anathema to Elodie. She hated the idea of seeming like she cared where he was! And yet, her pride demanded that she stand up for herself, that she lay down some clear rules about what she wanted.
The initial surprise of the situation she found herself in had passed. She needed to get up off the mattress and find a way to make this work.
“Fiero?” She lifted her eyes to find him watching her, a thoughtful frown on his face.
He lifted a single brow in response. She cradled her tea in both hands, hoping she looked calmer than she felt.
He wasn’t going to say anything; he clearly wasn’t going to make this easier. She sighed. “I think we need to talk.”
He lifted his broad shoulders, then cast a laconic glance towards his wristwatch. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes. Can it wait?”
Fire filled her bloodstream. The idea that he may very well have been with another woman the night before, combined with the disdain with which he treated her request, zipped inside of her.
“It won’t take long.” Her voice held a note of steel.
With a swift exhalation of breath, he sipped his coffee, his nod curt. “Go on.”
She ignored her nerves. This was important. She wasn’t going to sleep with him when it suited him, be his completely by night and ignored during the day. She wasn’t going to share him. That certainty came to her out of nowhere, but she knew it was right, and true.
“We never talked about how this would work, but we should.”
He didn’t react, and her heart trembled. Despite the strength to her words, she was awash with doubts.
“I think I deserve to know if you’re sleeping with other women.”
“What?”
His surprise was some kind of balm, because it was genuine and she immediately felt foolish, and like she’d shown that she cared way more than she should have.
Her heart began to thump and her pulse was like electricity inside of her.
“I don’t care if you are,” she added, the words only slightly uncertain.
“You’re a free man. You don’t owe me anything.
But I’m not interested in being something you do on the side.
I don’t want to sleep with you if you’re dating anyone else.
” She stood up, her knees wobbly, and forced herself to meet his eyes.
He was studying her as though he could look at her hard enough to make sense of her.
He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to. And with her burst of adrenalin exhausted, she spun away from him, preparing to leave the room.
Only his hand curved around her wrist, holding her where she was, and then he pulled, lightly, spinning her back to face him. Her throat felt thick and aching.
“Are you saying you don’t want to sleep with me?”
Her body surged in denial of that. She dropped her gaze, staring at the thick column of his throat. “I don’t want you to use me when you’re bored,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be one of many women you’re going to bed with. I don’t deserve that.”
“Do you think this is what either of us wants?” The words were exasperated.
“Do you have any idea how hard I fought this? God knows I wish I was strong enough to keep you out of my mind, my bed, out of my life, but I want you every bit as much as you do me.” He moved forward, bringing their bodies together.
Three more steps and he’d ushered her against the wall, so she was caught between it and his muscular chest.
Desire was hot between her legs, and the only sound in the room was the rush of her breathing.
“Do not pretend you can walk away from this,” he groaned, kissing her, and she surrendered to it, and him, even when her heart was aching and twisting.
“I have to.” Her kiss was a complete contradiction to her words. “I just can’t let you do this to me again.”
“Again?” He stilled, lifting his head up and pinning her with his dark, watchful eyes.
She swallowed, ignoring the warning siren blaring in her head, ignoring everything except how he made her feel. Her hands lifted his shirt from the waistband of his pants, connecting with the warm flesh at his hips. But he continued to stare at her, his expression serious. “Do what, Elodie?”
“To be just some other woman, on the periphery of your real life.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and then he took a step back, away from her, out of her hands; the separation was agony. “You were never that.”
Her eyes flashed with hurt. “You were married.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of that.”
“And you walked away from me like I meant nothing. You treated me like I was meaningless then, and you’re doing it again now. I’m here in Rome and yet you’re living your life like nothing has changed,” she bit down on her lower lip to stem the unwelcome tide of tears that was threatening.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Believe me, I am very conscious of how much my life has changed.
” He stared at her but offered nothing by way of reassurance, nothing that eased the ache in the pit of her stomach.
“I want to find a way to make this work, for Jack, but you shouldn’t misunderstand me, Elodie.
For your own sake, you must remember what I said in the hospital. ”
Remember it? The warning was burned into her brain.
“And that’s how you feel? Despite…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Sympathy briefly flashed in his eyes. “Yes. It’s how I’ll always feel.” And then, running his hands through his hair, he moved closer, as though he were going to touch her again. But he didn’t. He closed his eyes for a moment and then turned, leaving the room.
He shut the door quietly behind himself, but he might as well have slammed it, for how she jumped.
Christo. He glared at Rome as though it had personally wronged him.
Fire ran through his veins – fury too.
He’d been completely blindsided when she’d accused him of sleeping with someone else.
It hadn’t occurred to him that she might construe his evening out as that – a date – and yet, naturally she had.
If she’d done a recent google search of him she’d know he was no stranger to the company of women – though his exploits were generally over exaggerated by a scandal-hungry media.
It wasn’t unreasonable for her to presume he was still dating.
No, that wasn’t why he’d reacted the way he had.
It was in response to his instincts – instincts that had wanted to reassure her, to explain, to tell her he wasn’t seeing anyone else, that he had no interest in seeing anyone else.
The fact that was true was all the more reason for his panic.
He slammed his laptop shut and stood up. It was past eight – he’d chosen to work late rather than face the music, but now it was time to undo the mistakes of that morning.
Elodie showered and changed into a simple cotton nightgown, but she didn’t go to bed.
She moved to the little balcony that overlooked Rome, she stared out at the city and tried not to think about herself, or Fiero.
All day long she’d had him on her mind, weaving in and out of the grey matter of her brain, making her question everything, making her doubt, making her wonder what the hell she wanted from him.
She was sick of it. Sick of thinking about him in a repetitive loop; sick of the way he could take over her mind so easily.
She looked out on beautiful Rome and thought of the city’s origins, the ancient lives that had hummed between these hills, the lives that had been lived fully and long ago extinguished, lives that were a part of the fabric of this city’s memory.
She was a part of that now too, her pain and ecstasies weaving into its ancient consciousness.
There was consolation in that, somehow. As though knowing she was just a thread in an enormous fabric being stitched over time, it somehow lessened what she was feeling in that moment.