Bound By The Billionaire's Vows

It had been about him, his grandfather, her father, and some stupid hotel she’d never even heard of. A vendetta that she knew nothing about which seemed to have controlled the lives of all those she’d loved. Her father, her husband...

Skye straightened her back, wounded pride forming the shield she needed.

‘I have the divorce papers here,’ she said softly. ‘You just need to sign them and I’ll take care of the rest.’

He expelled a breath; his expression gave little away. ‘Show me.’

Skye could scarcely believe how well this was going! She’d been fretting about meeting Matteo again, yet he was being so reasonable... She told herself she was relieved.

‘Here.’ She pulled the document out of her handbag. It was only five pages long. She passed it to him, careful not to get too close, careful not to let their fingers touch.

His eyes, when they met hers, were scathing. He knew. He knew she was avoiding him.

He skimmed each sheet of paper, reading the words quickly, then placed them on the edge of his desk.

‘And if I don’t want to divorce you?’

Skye froze, the success she’d already been inwardly celebrating shattering. Her face drained of all colour. ‘Don’t be absurd.’ The words were whispered from her before she remembered that she needed to be strong. Confident. Matteo preyed on weakness.

‘What’s absurd about wanting to stay married to you?’

And he strode across the room, closing the distance between them, his eyes locked to hers until she was quivering where she stood. Strength, apparently, deserted her at her moment of need.

‘This wasn’t a real marriage,’ she muttered, standing her ground with effort. ‘We both know that.’

His lips flicked with what she took to reflect silent agreement.

‘It felt real enough to me.’ The words were dangerously silky. His hand snaked around her waist, catching her completely by surprise. He jerked her against him, her softness meeting his hard strength in a way that was instantly familiar. Desire flooded her. Heat scorched her soul and a soft moan escaped her lips unbidden. It was foolish to stay so close to him, yet she did. She had denied herself this contact for long, miserable weeks, and now she wanted to enjoy it. Just for a moment. One last time.

‘It wasn’t,’ she said huskily. ‘I know that now.’

‘What do you know?’ The question was asked quietly. Almost gently.

‘I know everything.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I know about your father and my father. I know they fell in love with the same woman and your father married her. I know that my father was angry. I know that he went out of his way to hurt your family.’ Her words cracked as she glossed over the admittance of her father’s part in the angst. ‘I know he felt hurt and rejected and that he took it out on you financially.’

Matteo’s laugh was a grim rejection. ‘You make it sound so sterile. Believe me, this was not the case.’ He leaned forward, his expression menacing. ‘Carey Johnson bankrupted my grandfather. Your father destroyed everything my grandfather spent a lifetime building.’

His vehement passion paralysed her for a moment, but belatedly she found her voice. ‘And so you wanted to punish me?’

Silence fell around them, thick and caustic. She could see him weighing his words, carefully choosing what to say.

‘It was never about punishing you,’ he said finally.

‘Punishing him, then? Punishing my dad?’

What could he say to that? Wasn’t it the truth? Hadn’t he delighted in the final insult he’d held over that bastard Carey Johnson? Making Skye moan for him, Matteo, in his bed all night long? Yes. He’d wanted to take his revenge, one sweet night at a time, and Skye had been a very obliging pawn in his game.

‘You married me because you loved me.’ He returned to their original point with apparent ease, the question asked silkily. ‘Remember?’

God, she had loved him. She’d fallen for him, but it had all been an act. She noted dispassionately how he hadn’t included his own feelings in the neat summation. His feelings were irrelevant; no, his feelings were non-existent. ‘Love and hate are so close on the emotional spectrum, aren’t they? It amazed me, too, how quickly that love morphed into something else.’

‘You’re saying you hate me?’ he prompted, his free hand lifting to her hip, holding her where she was. She felt the stirring of his arousal and her breath snagged in her throat.

Sex.

That was the only truth of their marriage. Even he wasn’t that good an actor. The desire had been real. It had controlled him as much as it had her.

‘Of course I hate you,’ she hissed, knowing she needed to pull away from him—that she would, in a moment. ‘How could I feel anything else for you?’

His laugh was pure, sensual cynicism. ‘Careful, cara. You and I both know how easy it would be for me to prove you a liar.’ He rolled his hips, bringing his arousal into intimate contact with her body, and Skye felt a groan tear through her. Need, unmistakable and urgent, grew within her soul.

‘That’s just physical,’ she hissed, her eyes locked to the top button of his crisp, pale blue shirt. ‘And I’m sure you’ve had enough experience to know it doesn’t mean a damned thing.’

‘But you haven’t,’ he reminded her mercilessly, his eyes glowing with intensity. ‘You were all mine.’

More memories. Their first time together—her first time with any man. She bit down on her lip, hating the way her nerves jerked in response. He’d taken hold of her that night, body and soul. He’d unlocked parts of her she hadn’t even been aware of, and it had all been a part of his game. His plan for revenge. How easy she’d been to con into this marriage—into his bed!

‘And I think you still are.’

A garbled sound escaped from Skye’s throat. But it wasn’t a denial. Was it a sound of surrender? Because he was right. She was desperate to feel his body once more. To be with him one last time.

He would probably always have that power over her, but everything hinged on her being able to stay strong. To remember the reason she had to get the papers signed and get the heck away from him. There was no future for them. There couldn’t be. How could she stay married to a man she loved with all her heart, raise a baby with him, knowing that he’d used her in the most cynical of ways?

Her only hope was never to see him again. To go far from where he could find her. And that was her plan. Once he’d signed the papers she was going to disappear again. She thought of the ticket in her purse, a flight to Australia for later that night, where she planned to find her way to a remote corner of the country, somewhere with a view of the beach, and set about healing her broken heart.

‘You’re wrong.’ She pulled away from him with determination, moving back to the window and staring out at Venice.

‘Am I?’

‘Oh, fine.’ She shrugged her shoulders, not turning around. ‘Apparently, I still...desire you. So what? You were my first lover. I dare say my body won’t ever completely forget the lessons you taught me.’ Fragments of their nights cut through her determination. The way he’d kissed her for hours; the way his mouth had owned her body. The way they’d swum naked in the moonlit ocean off the coast of Sicily or in the rooftop pool at his Venetian mansion. The sensual massages he’d given her. She pushed those thoughts aside. ‘But nor will my heart.’

‘And what did I teach your heart, cara?’

‘Not to trust handsome strangers,’ she said, the humour of the comment sucked away by the desperation in her voice. ‘Sign the papers, Matteo. This marriage is over.’

‘And if I won’t?’ The words were thick with emotion. And for a second hope scorched her. But it was a foolish hope, the same blind love that had led her into the marriage.

‘You wanted revenge. You got it.’

‘I wanted the hotel,’ he said with a dangerous softness to his voice. ‘You were...a silver lining.’

‘A silver lining?’ she returned angrily. ‘For God’s sake, Matteo. I loved you! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

He stared at her long and hard. ‘That wasn’t love you felt. It was infatuation. Sex.’

She swallowed past a lump of bitterness in her throat. He was wrong. She’d loved him with her whole heart. She wouldn’t tell him that now, but somehow knowing that their baby had been conceived with goodness in her heart, at least, mattered a whole lot to her.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s all academic now. Our marriage is over. There’s obviously no way on earth I could ever forget what you’ve done. Nor forgive you for it.’ She sucked in a breath and stared at him headlong. ‘You can have the hotel.’