She had a feeling that she was sinking into volcanic lava. Did he know? Could she gamble that he didn’t? And if it wasn’t about Helena, then what?
“I don’t know why,” she said finally. For she only suspected, and the more she thought about it, the more his anger didn’t seem to fit the situation. If he had discovered the truth about Helena, surely he would have peppered her with questions to ascertain the degree of Helena’s depression.
“I see.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his teeth lightly into the soft pad of her thumb. “And so we will continue to pretend.”
Sophie’s heart turned over in her chest. “Alex, this is killing me. Please talk to me.”
Alex had thought about doing just that. But wouldn’t it simply give her the opportunity to go back to Eric? No. Alex needed to hold onto his wife until he was certain Helena’s marriage was safe. “I do not wish to talk to you right now,” he murmured, slipping a finger through the straps of her swimmers and gliding the top down her arms.
“Alex,” she groaned, for her insides were already churning with pleasurable anticipation at his touch. “We have to talk.”
He put an arm around her waist and guided her away from the pool, towards the villa. The side entrance led to the room he used for business, and beyond them, there was a narrow staircase. He led her up it until they reached yet another bedroom.
“When you are ready to talk honestly to me, I will listen.”
She stared at him and felt a strange prickle of concern. “Why do I get the feeling you’re playing me somehow?”
His smile was bleak. “Because I am.”
Sophie tried to think of something to say, but he brought his mouth down to one of her nipples and rational thought became increasingly difficult.
“Alex,” she lifted her hands, meaning to push him away, but they gripped the lapels of his shirt instead. “I don’t understand.”
“Does it matter now? In this moment, do you care?”
“I care,” she shuddered as he transferred his mouth to her other breast.
“Do you want me to stop, so that we can speak?”
“No,” she responded instantly, her breath coming in ragged spurts now. “There will be time … later.”
“Yes. The rest of our lives, remember?” His ironical tone wasn’t lost on her. It was simply subsumed by what they were about to share.
In contrast to several nights earlier, when they made love now, Alex was gentle and kind, careful to hold her lovingly as he moved her to the brink of passionate collapse. It was as if he was atoning for the way he’d taken her, only Sophie, traitorous, treacherous, sex-mad Sophie, was part-desperate for the intensity and strength he’d introduced her too.
As she felt herself tipping into climax, she dug her nails into his shoulder. “Fuck me, Alex.”
He lifted his head so that he could stare into her eyes. His look was loaded with silent enquiry.
“Fuck me, Alex,” she repeated, nodding slowly.
He ran a hand down her cheek. “I hurt you last time.”
“No.” A single tear slid out of the corner of one of her eyes and he watched it with a kick of remorse. “Your manner hurt me. Your anger hurt me. You didn’t hurt me. Physically, you were … amazing. It was amazing.” Her cheeks flamed. Discussing their sex life was not something she’d ever find easy.
He shook his head, his eyes banking down on the emotions she was invoking. “I was angry. I do not ever want to hurt you, Sophie.” It was a plea. A broken, angry, confused plea, and Sophie understood then that whatever he knew, whatever he felt, it was eating him alive too.
“Then don’t.” She pushed up on her elbows and kissed him. “I love you, Alex. Whatever else you think, you have to know that I married you because I love you.”
He kissed her back, but he felt even less convinced of anything than ever. She was either an excellent liar, or she did indeed feel something for him. But love? Was this woman who had slept with two of her married employers truly capable of feeling love?
He made love to her with the desperate, aching need that was consuming him. He took her until she screamed with pleasure, and then he held her tight. Silently, while he held her to his chest, he begged whatever Gods were out there to work out a way to make his Siren truly belong to him.
And to absolve him of guilt for manipulating her into a marriage that, if she understood his true motivation, she wouldn’t have wanted a bar of.
* * *
“Seriously the best Scotch I’ve ever had.” Olivia cradled the glass in her hand, her legs curled beneath her. The man she’d come to meet had, over the previous two days, impressed her. She hadn’t wanted to be caught up in his web, but Alessandro Petrides was an impressive specimen. Funny, engaging, intelligent, gorgeous and generous, he had made her feel completely at ease, and had even insisted on his private jet taking her over to Vegas. “It is, forever, at your disposal. Any time you need it, simply call Sophie and she can arrange it.”