She was temptation in a five foot seven package that he didn’t want to unwrap again.
It wasn’t Jamie’s fault that his older sister was a tramp. He was a good kid, a bit introverted and uncertain of himself, which made Bruno’s bullying towards him all the harder to excuse.
When he thought about it, his nephew had been a time bomb waiting to detonate. The loss of his father at the age of seven had knocked him off course; it had knocked them all off course. Patrizio had done his best but it clearly hadn’t been enough.
He sighed as he filled a glass with water and carried it back upstairs. Bruno was still hurting and that hurt was being played out with this totally uncharacteristic bullying behaviour. It was now up to him to set an example for his nephew, one of forgiveness and reconciliation, in public at least, even if he couldn’t quite manage to pull it off in private. It would be difficult but worth it if the boys were able to resolve their differences and move on with their lives.
Keira sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap as she tried to regroup. She was back in Patrizio’s life, acting as if things were normal, when nothing but acrimony bubbled like scalding lava between them. It didn’t help that she still loved him. That was what made her betrayal of him all the harder to understand. She had been angry—yes, and hurt to think he might have been sleeping around—but she had never dreamt of doing the same thing and certainly not with Garth, who had been the closest friend she’d ever had. In all the years she had known him, she had never felt anything but sisterly affection for him, which made it all the more inexcusable that she had acted as she had.
If only she could remember the details of that night! She had gone to Garth’s flat, beside herself with distress, a migraine already boring a hole behind her right eye from all the weeping she had done. He had gathered her close just like he had done for most of their lives, telling her it would sort itself out. He had offered her a glass of wine, which she had sipped in between sobs in an effort to calm herself. But after a while she had put the glass to one side as her headache had worsened. She had been wretchedly sick and sobbed some more before collapsing into bed, not even caring that it was the only one in the flat. Besides, they’d shared a bath together many times when they were little kids; it was like sleeping with a relative…or so she had thought…
She had sat up that morning, her pupils still protesting at the blindingly bright light coming in through the chink in the curtains. ‘Garth?’ she croaked and then, looking down at her nakedness, clutched at the tangled sheet near her feet and wrenched it upwards to cover herself as he came in.
‘How’s your head?’ he asked, handing her a glass of chilled water.
She took it with unsteady hands. ‘What happened last night?’ she asked, not really sure she wanted to know. ‘I don’t remember anything past me arriving with a headache and telling you about…about…’ she could barely say the words without feeling the pain of them scoring her throat ‘…Patrizio’s affair.’
He avoided her gaze, a dull flush running underneath the skin of his cheeks. ‘We slept together,’ he said.
Her eyes widened in spite of the pain it caused her. ‘You mean as in slept together?’
He gave her a brief nod, the line of his mouth grim.
Her chest felt as if it were going to collapse inwards under the weight of her guilt and shame. ‘Oh, my God…’ she gasped in shock. ‘What have I done? Oh, God…no. No! I couldn’t possibly have…’
‘It’s all right, Keira,’ he said. ‘We didn’t do anything wrong. Lots of friends sleep together. It’s not a big deal these days.’
Keira stared at him in horror, unable to believe she had acted so impulsively, so out of control, so recklessly and shamefully. ‘I—I don’t know what to say…I’m so ashamed to have…to have led you on like that…’ She swallowed and looked at him again. ‘Did I have too much to drink or something? I only remember drinking half a glass. I’m always so careful with alcohol, you know I am…’
He got off the bed, his indrawn breath striking a chord of unease inside her. ‘Your husband saw you,’ he said. ‘He came here this morning, a couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to let him in but he barged through before I could stop him. The press was here as well. I think some of them are still waiting outside. You’d better not leave until they clear off.’
Keira’s distress at hearing that rendered her speechless.
Garth turned around to look at her. ‘It was the best thing that could have happened, Keira. After all, he’s been doing the dirty on you. Why shouldn’t you do it to him? Talk about double standards. I don’t see why you should be feeling so guilty. It wasn’t your fault.’
It didn’t excuse her. Nothing could do that. She had slept with another man and Patrizio had every right to be angry.
He would never forgive her, any more than she could forgive herself.
Patrizio handed her the glass of water, watching as her eyes carefully avoided his as their fingers met briefly. He felt the lightning bolt of awareness zap him the way it always had, the sensual heat of her body coming towards him drawing him in like a powerful magnet did to an iron filing. Desire surged in his lower body, the blood roaring through him as he remembered the way her body had writhed and twisted beneath the desperate thrusting and plunging of his.
He had buried himself in several women since in an effort to expunge her from his memory, but not one of them had taken him to the unbelievable heights of pleasure he had experienced in Keira’s arms.
‘I’m sorry I woke you,’ she said again, her soft voice pushing against the silence.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, pulling back the sheets to get back in. ‘I was half awake, anyway.’
He felt the depression of the mattress as she lay back down; he could even feel the warmth of her body even though she was as far away from him as the king-sized bed allowed.
The silence crawled like an invisible entity from every corner of the room and even the numbers on the digital bedside clock seemed too bright once the lamp was switched off.
‘I forgot to ring my parents,’ she said after five minutes had passed.
‘Will they worry if you do not answer your phone at your flat?’ he asked.
He heard the rustle of the bedclothes as she shifted position. ‘Probably not,’ she answered with an almost inaudible sigh.
‘What about your mobile phone? Do you have it with you?’