Bound To The Sicilian's Bed: Bound to the Sicilian's Bed

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I offered to buy you some suitable clothes for this trip but you turned down my offer.’

‘Because we tried that once before and it didn’t work. Remember? You were so eager to make me into what you thought a Barberi wife should be that I felt like some kind of dress-up doll.’

He frowned. ‘I was trying to make you feel more comfortable.’

‘What, by employing that expensive stylist who put me in those horrible starchy dresses which didn’t suit me? Or the fancy hairdresser who decided to chop off all my hair so I ended up looking like a shorn lion?’

‘That was a mistake,’ he conceded.

She looked at him uncertainly, clearly taken aback by what for him almost passed as an apology, and the fleeting vulnerability on her face stirred something deep inside him, reminding him what had attracted him to her in the first place. Well, that and her killer body.

‘But not any more. Tonight I’m going to wear my hair and clothes exactly as I like them,’ she continued airily. ‘And if you’re worried I’m going to disgrace you with my appearance, Rocco—you shouldn’t be.’

‘Oh?’ He was curious now.

‘If people criticise my less than conventional appearance at least it will reinforce why our last-minute attempt at reconciliation didn’t work. If they see us together and think “chalk and cheese”, they’ll wonder why we ever got married in the first place.’ She slanted him a challenging look. ‘Because although opposites attract—they can also repel. We both know that.’

With that she turned her back on him and left the terrace with a sway of her denim-covered bottom, which Rocco found almost unbearably provocative.

And after she’d gone, he felt restless—a feeling kick-started by the echo of her final words. Were they better off without each other? Not right now they weren’t. The fingertip he ran over his dry lips only added to his frustration as he breathed in the earthy aroma of her sex. By now she should have been in his bed—eagerly opening her legs so they could lose themselves in sweet oblivion, not leaving him here aching and frustrated.

Looking out to sea, he scowled. When his PA had called to say Nicole had arrived at his Monaco home he had been unprepared for the primitive rush of satisfaction he’d experienced, knowing she was here. Back in the marriage she had walked away from. It had never happened to him before—a woman telling him she was going, and meaning it. Only the stark note lying on top of an unmade bed had made clear her wishes.

Please don’t follow me, or try to contact me. It’s better this way, Rocco. I’m sorry.

And that had been it. A few words signalling the end. Yet he hadn’t seen it coming and shock was something he didn’t handle well. Maybe the only thing he didn’t handle well—not surprising given his history. He remembered the blood draining from his face as he’d crumpled the note in his fist and had proceeded to do something completely alien. Taking himself off to the bar in the nearby village, he had got himself very, very drunk. Groups of the local Sicilian men had looked surprised because Rocco Barberi was not known as a drinker. He remembered smashing his fist down hard on the counter and shattering a glass and hearing the old men’s voices raised in alarm. Someone must have made a phone call because he vaguely recalled his oldest friend arriving and getting him back to the complex, and Salvatore telling him that women were capricious creatures and she would be back before he knew it.

But she hadn’t come back and Rocco had told himself he didn’t want her back. Why would he want a wife who had deserted him—who had given up at the first hurdle? Yet despite her behaviour, his sense of duty went deep and his tenacity even deeper. He didn’t like failure and a shattered marriage fell very firmly into that category. So he had written to her, reminding her of the solemn vows they had made in church and suggesting they give their marriage another go.

She hadn’t even bothered to reply and Rocco had geared himself up to resist the demands for money he was certain would follow. He remembered his growing anticipation of the forthcoming battle—a battle he would certainly win—and his determination to bring her to her knees in court. It was the first moment of pleasure he had experienced in a long time. If she wanted his money then she was damned well going to have to fight him for it.

But...niente.

Nothing.

There had been no demands for alimony. Even the recent letter from her lawyers had simply requested that the marriage be formally ended. She had asked for nothing and somehow that had only intensified his rage.

His features were set as he undressed and stepped into the shower, but the powerful jets of cold water did little to ease his aching body as he pictured Nicole on the balcony, her rosy lips parted with pleasure as his fingers flicked over her heated flesh and brought her so tantalisingly close to orgasm.

As he towelled the icy droplets from his skin a renewed determination crept over him.

He would have her, he vowed silently as he willed his erection to subside. Because sex was the only thing which would rid him of her enduring memory.

And he would not wait much longer.

CHAPTER FIVE (#u07d525c5-4f9b-5944-9875-4e6b2973d1d6)

‘SO. HOW DO I LOOK? Does my appearance confirm your worst fears, Rocco, or will I pass the test?’

Nicole kept her words deliberately light as she walked into the vast sitting room where Rocco was standing with his back to her, staring through the open windows which overlooked the sea. Because what she was not going to do was beat herself up or crumple with shame when she allowed herself to remember how nearly she had succumbed to him earlier. It had happened. She hadn’t been expecting it to happen because she’d thought those kind of feelings had left her. But they hadn’t, had they? Rocco had melted the icy wall which had surrounded her for so long, and her image of herself as someone who could no longer feel desire had been shattered. Heart pounding, she had left him on the terrace and gone to find herself a bedroom in this vast house of his—glad to escape from his disturbing proximity. But she had lain down on the bed for a long time afterwards, her body trembling with frustrated desire, unable to get him out of her mind.

She let her gaze drift over him, wishing she could acquire some kind of immunity against him. Dressed in an immaculate dinner suit, his powerful body was silhouetted against the bright light of the Mediterranean but at the sound of her voice he turned round. And even though she tried to fight it, the brief, unguarded expression on his face filled her with pleasure. She’d seen that look of appreciation before—but usually when she was naked. Not when she was wearing a long dress which, apart from a scooped neck and bare arms, covered her body all the way down to her ankles. Fashioned from fine, black jersey it clung to her curves like a second skin and she had teamed it with black pumps and a black bag onto which she’d sewn lots of glittery sequins. The green of the sequins matched her dramatic green necklace and chandelier earrings, which gleamed whenever her wavy hair swayed.

His eyes narrowed as, slowly, they took in her appearance. ‘What happened?’ he questioned softly. ‘Did you rob a bank?’

‘I bought this dress from a market stall, as it happens.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the dress,’ he growled. ‘I meant the jewels.’

It was a small victory and Nicole couldn’t quite hold back her smile of triumph. ‘These? They’re fake, Rocco. Paste,’ she added. ‘I told you—nobody can tell the difference these days. And these were cheap enough for it not to matter if I lose one of the stones—not like the time that big diamond fell out of the bracelet you gave me on our wedding day and caused so much trouble with everyone having to hunt round for it.’ She was aware that she had started to babble, but maybe that was something to do with the fact that he was still looking at her as a lion might look at a lump of flesh, just before devouring it. And even worse—that she liked him looking at her like that. In her current state of frustrated arousal she could have let him look at her like that all day. She resumed her inane monologue about the wedding bracelet. ‘Still, at least we were able to get the money back on the insurance and I—’

‘Was that why you left behind all the jewellery I gave you?’ he interrupted suddenly. ‘Because you didn’t like it?

There was a short silence and she shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was a joint asset,’ she said. ‘And as such, wasn’t really mine to take. And I wanted...’

‘What did you want, Nicole?’

She met his gaze, uneasy at this sudden line of questioning from a man who had never cared about such things before. ‘A clean break, I think they call it.’

‘A clean break,’ he echoed, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. ‘Yes, of course. The modern, disposable marriage. If you try hard enough you can pretend it never happened.’

She opened her mouth to ask him what he had done to help save it but the sudden pain spearing through her made the words die in her throat. It didn’t matter what either of them had done or failed to do. Bottom line was that they’d messed up so and it still had the power to hurt. ‘Why rake up all this now, Rocco?’ she questioned, trying hard to keep her voice steady. ‘I thought the whole idea was for us to appear tonight as a couple who are trying to get it together—and we won’t convince anyone if we’ve been fighting. People can always tell if a couple have been rowing. So why don’t you tell me about what kind of event it is, so I can be fully briefed?’

For a moment Rocco didn’t answer, unwilling to be placated by this newly assertive Nicole who looked so damned gorgeous that all he wanted to do was to pull her into his arms and get intimate with her, despite the market dress and fake jewels. But maybe she was right. What was the point of sparring when they had a whole evening to get through—a necessary preliminary before he got down to the more important business of seducing her. And when he seduced her... His mouth hardened. His anger and his resentment would disappear with one fell stroke. He would enjoy her matchless body one last time. He would take his pleasure and pleasure her in return.

And she would spend the rest of her life remembering it.

‘Some of the major shareholders from the drug company I’m trying to buy are in town,’ he said evenly. ‘They’ve financed an art-house film which looks as if it’s going to be a commercial success.’

She blinked. ‘You mean they invest in films and drug companies?’

He walked over to the mirror which hung over an ornate marble fireplace and adjusted his tie. ‘Why not? They like to spread their investments around. It’s how you make the big bucks.’

‘And where do I fit in?’

He turned back to face her, his expression unreadable. ‘You’ll accompany me to the screening and afterwards we’re having dinner with the stars of the film, who are over here promoting it. All you have to do is gaze at me adoringly, tesoro. You play the young wife eager to get back with her husband. Do you think you can manage that?’

His words were wry but Nicole wondered what he would do if he knew the truth. That behind her nonchalant air, her senses were on fire. That every time he even looked at her she wanted to melt. She dug her fingernails into the sequins on her handbag. And he mustn’t find out because then he might start touching her again. And she wanted him to do it to her again—that was the most dangerous thing of all. Next time she might not be strong enough to resist him.

‘Oh, I think I can just about manage to maintain the façade of adoring you for a few hours—just so long as we’re back before midnight strikes,’ she said coolly. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll go and fetch my wrap.’

But that sense of unreality she’d felt earlier swept over her again as she climbed into the back of Rocco’s car—this time with the brooding billionaire by her side. She tried to make conversation but sensed that Rocco could see right through her attempts at chit-chat. Was he aware that it was all she could do not to reach out her hand and caress the honed hardness of his taut thigh, or run her fingertips through the ebony ruffle of his hair? Could he guess she was fantasising about him pressing the button which would bring down the screen shielding them from the driver, before lying her on the back seat and pulling her panties down. Little beads of sweat spring out on her forehead as she started imagining his tongue exploring her heated flesh and Nicole was relieved when finally they reached the venue.

The place where the screening was fancier than anywhere he’d ever taken her and she was amazed he could seem so relaxed in such a high-profile setting, for the Rocco of old would have curled his sensual mouth with derision. Flashbulbs popped as they walked up the flower-decked red carpet, his guiding hand placed unnervingly in the small of her back and making her shiver, despite the warmth of the evening.

The lights went down and the big screen lit up and Nicole watched a film which didn’t really do it for her, even though everyone else seemed to love it. She’d never been a big fan of black and white movies and, besides, she was distracted by what was going on in the semi-darkness. She noticed that the American actress who was starring in the picture and seated on Rocco’s other side was spending an awful lot of time cupping her hand over his ear to whisper into it. And suddenly all Nicole’s defiant words about nobody being able to tell the difference between real and fake jewellery seemed like so much hot air, because Anna Rivers looked a class act in her waterfall of diamonds, with the burly man from security who was guarding them never far from her side. Nicole shot her a glance, aware that the beautiful actress was flirting outrageously with her husband and that she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit.

Afterwards, they ate dinner in the Café de Monaco, an award-winning restaurant which overlooked the harbour. Yet despite not having eaten anywhere this grand for a long time, the experience was wasted on Nicole. She seemed to have lost her appetite and the glass of champagne she’d drunk at the beginning of the evening had left her with nothing but a raging thirst. But she was determined to honour her side of this crazy bargain and did her best to chat as agreeably as she could to the various shareholders. She treated them as if they were prospective customers in her little Cornish pottery shop and tried not to be offended by their obvious surprise when they learned who she was. Even the star of the film gaped like a stranded fish when she overheard Nicole talking.