Mistress To a Latin Lover: The Sicilian's Defiant Mistress / The Italian's Pregnant Mistress / The Italian's Mistress. Jane Porter
changed me. It made me want more—”
“But sometimes there just isn’t more.”
She pushed through the front door. “You say that—”
“And I mean it.” He caught her by the shoulder and turned her around, the dim light of the entry hall shadowing both of their faces. “You got what I could give you. I saw you when I could. And it wasn’t a lot. I know it. We were a weekend thing. Once a month, two weekends a month, just now and then.”
She closed her eyes, counted to five, tried to keep from losing her temper. “Yet I was available every weekend,” she said carefully, “free each evening.”
“You had your own life—”
“I had work,” she interrupted shortly, opening her eyes to look at him. “But outside of work you were my life.”
Maximos inhaled sharply. “Your mistake. Not mine.”
Heat and sensation exploded inside her. Cass shuddered at the brutal tug on her heart. How could she feel so much? How could she still hurt like this? The pain was so intense she had to smile to hold the tears back. Was this love? Was it hate? All she knew for certain was that this emotion held her in its thrall, had bewitched her mind, taken control of her senses.
What she wanted…needed…
She shook her head once, a short dazed shake, the same dazed sensation she’d had since meeting Maximos two and a half years ago. “As I said, let’s drop it. Let’s just call it a night. I can’t fight with you anymore, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t enjoy it.” She felt tears sting her eyes. Not when I like loving you so much better.
The butler appeared, formally greeting Maximos and after turning on lights for them, quietly disappeared.
“Your coat,” she said, peeling off Maximos’s dinner jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll see you up.”
“I can find my way.”
“I’m heading that way myself. It’s easy enough for me to walk you to your room.”
“Well, in that case, since you’re not going out of your way…” She was teasing him and smiling crookedly, he gestured to the marble-and-gilt staircase, where the white carerra marble had darkened to almost lavender with age.
At the top of the stairs, Maximos flicked on more lights brightening the second floor landing with its dark red paint and the profusion of oils by the Italian masters.
“This is a beautiful home.”
“I don’t come home as often as I should. My mother is always asking me to come visit.” He sighed and then laughed. “Seems I can’t make anybody happy. You never saw enough of me. My family doesn’t see enough of me—”
She shot him a swift glance, sizing him up, seeing all at once his magnificent profile, the dark thick fringe of eyelash, the sultry coloring contradicted by such fierce, masculine features. He was gorgeous. Glorious. Proud. Sicilian. And obviously not interested in a long-term, monogamous relationship. “Then who does?”
“Good question,” he answered, walking her to her room, again turning on lights for her, before crossing to the windows and drawing the heavy velvet curtains closed. “I suppose my staff sees quite a bit of me. Clients. Customers. Automotive engineers.”
“You’re introducing a new car in the new year?”
“It’s being unveiled soon.”
“Exciting.”
“Mmmm,” he said, noncommittal, before changing subjects. “The house is old, but it does have an intercom. My mother insisted on it when my father was ill several years ago. You can call the kitchen if you need anything to eat or drink, or if you require something from housekeeping.”
“Thank you,” she said, thinking that just looking at him made her hurt. Just looking into his dark eyes made her want.
He’d discovered her turquoise gown on the bed. “What the hell happened to your dress?”
When she didn’t answer she saw him lift her ruined gown, the delicate fabric of the bodice in shreds. Maximos’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Sobato did this.”
She didn’t have to say anything. Maximos knew, and he swore softly. “I should just kill him and be done with all of this.”
She took the gown from him, balling it up and tossing it into a chair in the corner. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” His tone turned savage. “He’s made my life a living hell for far too long.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to go to him, touch him but she didn’t dare. He was too angry and she was too unsure of herself. Once she knew how to please him but that seemed like light-years ago. “I shouldn’t have come here with him, shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have needed what I needed.”
“And that was?”
“Closure.”
“Right.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Closure.” He looked at her. “Is that possible? Having seen me, do you think you’ll have that…closure?”
No. Never. Because she’d never forget him, never stop loving him. It was impossible. He might as well be part of her. “I hope so.”
CHAPTER SIX
“THAT’S good,” he said, smiling thinly but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And at least Sobato’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. His things have been removed from his room. He won’t be back.”
Emilio was gone? Cass felt a wave of relief. “What do you mean?”
“He won’t be returning to the palazzo, or attending the wedding. I made sure of that before we left the restaurant tonight.”
She felt weak, her legs wobbly, and she didn’t even know why. “You can do that?”
“My security detail can.”
She moved to the window, touched one velvet panel, the velvet soft, warm, pliable beneath her fingertips. “I didn’t know you had security.”
“I don’t when I travel. But here at home when the family gathers at the palazzo, or when we host a party, particularly one like my sister’s wedding where we have many high profile guests attending, it’s wise to take precautions.”
“That’s how you knew Emilio was trying to break into your office?”
“We caught him on one of the security cameras.”
She glanced up, checked the ceiling and corners of the room for possible cameras. “You don’t have any in the bedrooms, do you?”
Maximos smiled faintly. “I believe that’s considered an invasion of privacy.”
“Good.” A little of her tension eased. “We agree on something at least.”
Maximos stepped toward her, adjusted the strap on her white slip dress, smoothing the fabric on her bare golden shoulder. The touch of his fingers on her skin made her shiver, body and nerves tingling. “We probably still agree on quite a bit.”
She shivered again as his fingertip traced the low neckline and the lace panel covering her breast. “Careful,” she murmured, voice low and husky.
His hand fell away. “Are you dating anyone?”
Was she dating anyone? What kind of question was that? Hadn’t he been listening to a single thing she’d said today? “I’m not dating.”
“Why not?”
Did he really mean to hurt her, or was he honestly