Mistress To a Latin Lover: The Sicilian's Defiant Mistress / The Italian's Pregnant Mistress / The Italian's Mistress

“In Padua, yes.” She sighed, briefly closed her eyes, feeling knots of tension tighten along her neck and shoulders. “And why are we getting married in Padua?”

Emilio dropped into an armchair next to the foot of the bed. “Because it’s a place of particular personal significance to my dear friend Max. Tell me, what were his exact words when you told him about Padua?”

“Tell me the significance of Padua first.”

“I don’t want to spoil the fun.” Emilio stretched, put his arms behind his neck, and chuckled. “God, I would have loved to have been there for that little announcement. Maximos probably didn’t even know what hit him.”

Cass stiffened, disgusted. She hated Emilio’s voice, hated everything about him. Why had she agreed to come here with him? Why had she agreed to do this awful thing?

Maximos.

Maximos’s betrayal. And yet wasn’t she betraying him now? Wasn’t she doing the very thing she objected to most?

Her conscience smote her. She couldn’t bear hypocrisy and yet here she was, aligning herself with Emilio, inflicting pain on Maximos—the weekend of his sister’s wedding no less.

It was horrible. She was horrible.

“Chin up,” Emilio said. “The fun’s just beginning.”

She looked away, pressed her knuckles into the bed covering. “This is a mistake.”

“He hurt you, Cass.”

She shook her head, bit her lip.

“He did. He dumped you,” Emilio reminded. “Trashed you. Broke your heart.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Now that’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. And you’re not pathetic, Cassandra Gardner. I’ve heard all about you. You’re ruthless at work. The original tigress. Don’t change your stripes now.”

He stood up, headed for the door. “I’m going back downstairs to get another drink. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

The last thing she needed was alcohol. Her head was already spinning enough. “Yes.”

“Okay. But don’t fall asleep. I’ll want you waiting when I return.”

Her head jerked up and her eyes, blazing, met his.

Emilio laughed. “Just kidding,” he said, and still laughing, he exited, closing the door loudly behind him.

CHAPTER THREE

CASS stared at the door until her eyes burned, stared so long she thought she’d frozen, turned to stone.

The closing of the door reminded her of all the times Maximos had left her, all the times he’d made love to her then dressed and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance.

She’d sat on her bed more than once watching Maximos leave, feeling sick inside, feeling that she’d agreed to the impossible.

Not that she’d thought it would be impossible when she first accepted the terms of the relationship with Maximos: No commitments. No promises. No guilt trips.

But that wasn’t all. There were the unsaid terms, the fine print that didn’t get read the first time around. But she’d been with Maximos long enough to know the fine print by heart now.

No scenes.

No emotions.

No needs.

Nothing stated, nothing implied, nothing demanded equaled nothing denied.

It was a bitter relationship, one so one-sided that it had hurt her night and day.

She realized in the first couple of months that with Maximos there’d be no marriage, no children, no family get-togethers. No attending functions as a couple, no traveling with others.

No, their relationship was based on the idea that they saw each other when it was convenient for him, that they had what they had, that they were satisfied with what they had.

But Cass had known for over a year before she confronted Maximos that she couldn’t bear to continue living with so little, or living as though she meant so little. It had quickly become unbearable being the woman on the side, the woman who was an ornament. A bit of fluff. A bit of fancy. She wasn’t even his woman. She was just his mistress.

Worse, he could go weeks without seeing her. He could go weeks without needing to speak to her. She wondered if he was even aware of the passage of time. Even aware that two weeks sometimes became four weeks without a phone call. And she couldn’t call. At least, she had to ration her calls.

She could call once every two months.

It was her rule, not his, but it worked. It gave her a sense of control, a way to ensure self-control. When she missed him the most she’d reach for the phone and she’d hold it against her chest. If you call now, she’d tell herself, you won’t be able to call again for weeks. Months. Are you sure you want to call now? You can’t sound desperate. He hates desperate. He loves the calm, strong you. He loves the gorgeous, sophisticated independent you.

Not the real you.

Not the you that is on fire with emptiness. Loneliness.

God, if he only knew the truth! If he only knew how you’ve changed.

Had he—this relationship—done it to her? Or had she had her own midlife crisis? You know, hitting her thirties, still single, still slim, attractive but even more alone than when she’d first started out in life.

Desperate to escape her thoughts, Cass pushed off the bed and opened her suitcase, drawing out her turquoise gown for the dinner reception that night. She hung the gown on a hanger, hooking the hanger over the bathroom door. After making sure the bathroom door was locked, she stripped and took a long soak in the tub before washing her hair.

Wrapped in her towel, she perched on the edge of the chair in the bedroom applying lotion to her arms and legs. She was nervous about tonight, worried about attending the family dinner. If she were smart, she’d just leave. She’d go now before things got even messier.

The door suddenly opened and Emilio entered the room. “Nearly naked,” he said with a lecherous smile. “Nice.”

She frowned at Emilio, bemused how someone like Emilio Sobato could have ever been Maximos’s best friend and business partner. She knew the two had started Italia Motors together, designing and building some of the sleekest, fastest sports cars in the world before their falling-out a number of years ago. And maybe the young Emilio might have been a savvy designer, but she couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t also been dangerous.

“What happened between you and Maximos?” she asked, suddenly wanting to understand what had prompted this huge rift between the two. “You were once best friends.”

Emilio shrugged as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “He couldn’t handle my success.”

“But Italia Motors was both your success.”

“The engineering was all mine. Max just supplied the capital.”