He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning over her—his lips very close to hers. ‘That was a little one-sided,’ he mused.
Lily swallowed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, but it does.’ Slipping his hand down between her thighs, he began to move his fingers against her heated flesh. ‘It matters a lot.’
‘Ciro—’
‘Shh.’
It was quick and it was perfunctory and Lily was much too turned on to be able to stop him from bringing her to another gasping orgasm, which he didn’t even bother to silence with a kiss.
Afterwards she felt like turning her face into the pillow and weeping with shame, but she vowed that Ciro would see no tears from her. She had to face the truth—no matter how unpalatable that might be. She couldn’t just shrug off all the responsibility and place all the burden on him. If this was a blame-game then there were two players, not one. She had helped to create this situation. She’d known the kind of man he was, with his old-fashioned ideals—and she had allowed herself to play along with it. Yes, it had felt real to her, but Ciro didn’t care about that. He cared about her deception. About the smashing of what he’d believed in—and there was no going back. They needed to confront the future and they needed to do it with dignity.
‘So where do we go from here?’ she asked slowly.
Ciro looked down at her flushed face and saw the pulse which was beating frantically amid the dampened hair at her temple. Where indeed? He felt the bitter taste of regret, knowing he shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have had sex with her again—nor brought her to such a cold-blooded orgasm afterwards. He despised himself for his actions—even while his body still shivered with remembered pleasure of how good she’d felt.
For a long moment he was silent as he weighed up all the possibilities which lay open to them. ‘If we hadn’t consummated the marriage, then we could have had it annulled,’ he said. ‘As it is, I think we should put an end to it as soon as possible, don’t you?’
Lily thought about a pet dog she’d once had—her beloved Harley, who had lived to a ripe old age. When he had become sick the vet had talked about ‘putting him out of his misery’. Well, that was exactly what this felt like. Only without the long and happy life in between.
Well, she was damned if she was going to ask him if they couldn’t try to work it out—not when he’d clearly made up his mind that it was over.
‘I can go back to England,’ she said quietly.
Ciro shook his head, his mind working quickly, the way it always did when he saw a problem which needed a solution. ‘No, Lily. That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want any more drama—and you flouncing out with a haunted face and accusing eyes is the last thing I need. My marriage ending within days will either make me look like a fool—or a bad judge of character. And I will countenance neither.’
‘So this is all about your reputation, is it, Ciro?’
‘What do you think?’ he questioned roughly. ‘I have worked hard to build it and I will not have it wrecked by you.’ He paused, his heart beating heavily as he looked at her. ‘If you agree to my plan, then you’ll get what you wanted all along. The Grange will still be yours and I will ensure a generous settlement in return for your cooperation.’
Lily heard the steely note of negotiation which had entered his voice and stared at him. He looked like a stranger, she thought. A dark-faced and grim stranger. ‘What do you mean by cooperation?’
He shrugged. ‘It isn’t complicated. You play the part of my beloved wife for six months—after which time we will tell the world that you are homesick. That you miss England too much to make the marriage work and that we are parting amicably.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘I don’t think you will.’ His black eyes hardened and so did his lips. ‘You see, you aren’t really in any position to refuse, Lily.’
She opened her mouth to contradict him, to tell him that she could refuse anything she pleased. But the truth was that she was filled with a weariness which seemed to have seeped deep into her bones. And that, right now, she couldn’t face going back to the tatters of the life she’d left behind in England.
CHAPTER TEN
‘YOU were very quiet tonight.’
Ciro’s words broke into the silence of Lily’s thoughts and a whisper of awareness shivered over her skin as he joined her on the balcony. Suddenly the terrace of their apartment seemed the size of a matchbox as he dominated the space around him, just as he always did. The glitter of the starry sky, the dark lick of the waves in the bay—all these seemed to fade into nothingness as he came to stand beside her. She could sense the warmth of his body and smell the raw tang of his aftershave. And it didn’t seem to matter how much she tried to fight her attraction towards him, or how often she told herself that it was dangerous to still feel this way about him—nothing ever changed. She continued to want her husband with a fierce hunger which had shown no signs of abating.
They had arrived home a short while ago and she’d gone outside into the warm night air to drink in the view she had grown to love. The magic of the southern city which had captured her heart these last few months—a heart for which her husband had no use.
‘You didn’t enjoy the evening?’ he questioned.
Lily felt the faint whisper of the sea breeze on her bare shoulders and swallowed down a
painful sigh. Did he really have no idea why she was so preoccupied? Didn’t he realise that no matter how wonderful the opera or after-show party, or whatever other glitzy event they happened to be attending, it didn’t make up for the tense reality of their married life. That every second spent beneath his unforgiving gaze was like having a knife twisted in her stomach.
It isn’t complicated, Ciro had said on their wedding night—when he had proposed the idea of a six-month marriage for the sake of propriety.
Like hell it wasn’t.