Morning would come soon enough.
Carla Nardozzi would be his.
* * *
She would most certainly not be his.
Not in the cold, calculated way he’d spelt out in the darkness of his car. There had to be another way. She toyed with getting Draco to negotiate on her behalf, but her agent had done his part. This renegotiation of the contract was private, between her and Javier. Besides, based on the current strained relationship between the two men, she didn’t think Javier would welcome her turning to the man he thought she was trying to make jealous three years ago.
She tossed in the pre-dawn light and a different dilemma flared again. The shameful knowledge that Javier had been right, that she would’ve given herself to him in that alley, couldn’t be erased. The release she’d received at his hand had been gratifying, but it’d barely dented the depth of her hunger. She could continue to deny it, continue to keep him at arm’s length with her words alone. But they would be lies.
That didn’t mean she had to give in.
The bed linen twisted around her heated body as she fidgeted. The simple truth was, had their circumstances been different, had they been meeting again after three years as casual acquaintances reconnecting again, Carla knew she would’ve given in to her body’s clamouring. The pull between them would’ve been too great to deny herself a chance to explore it. Especially having already experienced the intensity of it.
But all that aside, she knew there was no way she could walk away from the chance to find out what happened to her mother, the opportunity to finally lay her ghost to rest. Hadn’t she only yesterday vowed to do everything she could to get to the truth?
Just as Javier had brought himself to do the unthinkable and tolerate the father who’d rejected him at every turn all his life, for the sake of his mother, didn’t she owe her mother the same? Was the body she’d already given willingly to Javier, and couldn’t deny she would give again were their circumstances different, suddenly too high a price to pay?
She didn’t deny the irony of finding common ground with the very man who was threatening that ground, but as the sun crested the horizon Carla rubbed her eyes and faced the decision head-on.
In a few short hours, she would agree to become Javier Santino’s mistress.
Exactly why that sent a terrible little thrill through her, she shut her eyes firmly against examining.
* * *
‘Ah, there you are. Buenos días, Carla. I was beginning to think I would be subjected to a lonely breakfast by myself.’
Carla refrained from pointing out the many breakfasts she’d had on her own since arriving in New York. Nor did she imagine for an instant that Javier’s easy tone was in any way a barometer for his mood. What really spelled out his mood were the narrowed, piercing eyes that tracked her from the dining-room door to her seat. Silently, she accepted as she sat down that she might have contributed to that look by oversleeping past her usual first light waking.
With indolent grace, he scoured her face, now devoid of last night’s make-up, before leaning forward to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. The action, so poignantly gentle, and yet so ruthlessly calculated, sent a tremor through her.
‘Javier, I’ve come to a decision,’ she started, wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible.
‘Let us eat first, chiquita. That way neither of us risks a spoilt appetite if the news delivered and whatever reaction it produces isn’t agreeable to our digestive systems.’
He nodded to Felipe, who hovered discreetly nearby. Sterling silver domed dishes were unveiled and her plate heaped with all her favourite foods. Managing a stiff smile at the butler, she attempted to make a dent in the poached egg, toast and slices of ham before her. Fresh fruit appeared on another platter. Before she could shake her head, Javier picked up a large chunk of pineapple and sliced it into smaller pieces.
Forking a square, he presented it to her. His eyes were still narrowed, gauging her stance on a subject he suddenly seemed reluctant to discuss.
For a moment, Carla wondered if he was nervous about her decision. Although it seemed impossible to imagine it now, she’d witnessed his pain and misery when he’d talked about his childhood. His vulnerability had shown then, and she wondered if it was there now, hidden beneath his brusque and intense demeanour.
She took the offered fruit and watched him feed himself a piece. In silence, he shared the pineapple between them until it was finished. Then he sat back and finished his coffee.
When she set her own empty cup down he rose. ‘Now we’ve had our fill, let’s talk.’
He walked out of the dining room, the white shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms and the dark grey trousers lending him a casual air she knew was false. Thinking they would conduct their business in the taciturn surroundings of his study, she was taken aback when he led her out onto the vast, wraparound terrace. Sunlight framed his lithe form, bathing his hair and body in a vibrant glow as he strolled over to the high terrace wall, and observed the iconic view for a full minute before he faced her.
‘Tell me your decision,’ he said abruptly.
Carla started to lace her fingers, then grimaced when her cast got in the way. She walked forward, stopping several feet away when the immutable force of his aura threatened to swallow her whole. ‘I agree to your conditions.’ Clearing her throat so her voice emerged stronger, she continued, ‘I’ll be your...whatever term you want to place on this association of ours.’
His eyes
turned dark and stormy. ‘The term is mine, querida. You’ll be mine.’
Her breath shuddered out. ‘Sì. I’ll be yours,’ she whispered.