Damiano's Return

‘Maybe you never actually went as far as sleep with him…maybe I could believe that,’ Damiano ground out thinly between clenched teeth, misinterpreting what she had said.

Eden tilted her pounding head to one side, wishing that annoying dizziness afflicting her would recede, and looked at him in increasing bewilderment. ‘You really don’t know what to believe, do you?’ A great weariness engulfed her then. ‘And I can do nothing but tell you the rest of the story. Tina and I discussed this in London. She has already said that she will lie to protect herself…and Mark is only willing to tell the truth for a price.’

Damiano frowned down at her without comprehension. ‘A price?’

‘He said he’d throw his lot in with Tina and lie if I didn’t give him money,’ Eden mumbled sickly. ‘Mark is blackmailing me, Damiano.’

Wrenching open the door, Eden fled into the bedroom. One glimpse of Damiano’s transfixed expression was sufficient to make her slam the door. With her emotional turmoil at a level beyond what she could handle, making that final confession had made her feel marginally better. She had finally told him the entire truth. Only a full two minutes after making that admission did her intelligence kick back in and shriek that she should have kept quiet about the blackmail. Now Damiano would be absolutely convinced of her guilt!

CHAPTER EIGHT

EDEN listened to the silence. Damiano did not follow her into the bedroom.

Still feeling dizzy and absently wondering whether stress could make one feel that light-headed, she flung herself on the bed and cried until there were no tears left. By then her eyes were sore and puffy and she was hot and exhausted. Pulling off her crumpled clothing, she crawled into the bed. Then she lay there dully wondering what to do next.

Was she supposed to be pleased that Damiano evidently cared enough about their marriage to declare that he would try to put her apparent infidelity behind him? What she did appreciate was how little she had once been able to read the volatile male whom she had married. Damiano jealous of Mark? It was as if Damiano had never ever quite been able to bring himself to believe that she loved him…why?

Somewhere in the midst of trying to work out that mystery while trying not to succumb to an urge to go and search the villa to see if Damiano was still in residence, Eden fell asleep. When she opened her eyes again, the room was dimly lit. She moved her head experimentally and was relieved that that strange dizziness had receded. She turned over then and got a shock.

Damiano was sprawled in an armchair only about a foot away. Jacket and tie discarded, black hair tousled, he had not followed his usual habit of shaving a second time in the evening. A definable blue-black shadow of stubble outlining his formidable jawline, he was nursing a brandy goblet between his lean hands while he studied her from below lush ebony lashes with keen intensity.

‘Wh-what?’ she stammered unsteadily, unnerved by that scrutiny.

Damiano loosed a heavy sigh and stretched his big shoulders back. ‘I want to hear about Mark trying to blackmail you,’ he admitted.

Tensing up even more, Eden paled and stared at him in bewilderment. ‘I…I gave him the money—’

All apparent relaxation abandoned, Damiano leapt up like a lion about to spring, an expression of unholy disbelief etched on his tough features. ‘You did…what?’

Eden gulped and sat up, clutching the sheet to her quaking frame. ‘He threatened to support Tina’s story instead. What was I supposed to do? How do you think you would have reacted to all this coming out within days of you getting home? I wanted time with you…I didn’t want everything ruined—’

‘You do realise that you are damning yourself more with every word you say?’ Damiano cut in flatly.

‘But it is the truth I’m telling you,’ Eden insisted. ‘I was scared of the damage Mark might do if he got together with Tina, so I gave Mark all the money I had in my bank account when he asked for it—’

An expression of shaken fascination stamping his lean, strong face, Damiano sank down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘You just gave him it…how much?’ he practically whispered.

After chewing at her lower lip for a second or two, she surrendered and told him. ‘I thought our marriage was worth it,’ she muttered heavily.

‘That is a highly original excuse for paying a blackmailer,’ Damiano conceded grittily, his broad chest swelling as he breathed in very deep as if he was having a hard time controlling his temper. ‘Anstey demanded the money the day you flew out here, didn’t he?’

She gave a jerky nod and swallowed hard.

‘That creepy little bastard!’ Damiano condemned with a sudden vicious force that made her flinch.

‘I’m sorry…I’m so sorry about all of this!’ Eden sobbed, flopping down to push her face wretchedly into the pillows.

‘Console yourself with the thought that by the time I’m finished some people are going to be a great deal sorrier,’ Damiano imparted darkly, and he went on to ask further detailed questions concerning Mark. But Eden had few concrete answers to offer. She knew Mark’s mobile phone number but not his current address and was unsure of the exact location of the organic farm company at which she understood he worked.

She heard Damiano stand up again and she lifted her head. ‘I never would have slept with Mark,’ she swore in a vehement rush. ‘I couldn’t imagine doing that with anybody but you.’

‘That does have a certain ring of veracity, cara mia. Sadly, however, the vodka incident you treated me to the first day doesn’t do much to support your case,’ Damiano admitted bluntly. ‘To me that now looks very much like you overcompensating out of a massive guilt complex.’

Eden looked at him with reddened eyes now finally beginning to spark with angry resentment. ‘Right…just you go on thinking that. Just you go right on rationalising your conviction that I’m guilty. Frankly, I think I’ve had enough grief over something I didn’t do!’

In the rushing silence which followed, Damiano shed his shirt.

Eden bounced up against the pillows, no longer limp and weepy. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Unzipping his tailored trousers, Damiano gave her a level glance. ‘I’m coming to bed—’

‘You’re not coming to bed with me!’ Eden declared in angry astonishment. ‘You don’t believe me about Mark… So you can go and sleep somewhere else!’

At a leisurely pace, Damiano removed the remainder of his clothing. Naked and unconcerned, he strolled back across the room.

‘OK…you can sleep here if you must.’ Eden withdrew her objections just as suddenly as she had made them for she recalled with a shiver of foreboding just how much of a distance separate bedrooms had imposed between them in the distant past.

‘Grazie,’ Damiano purred in liquid Italian.

‘You’re not thinking of a divorce, then?’ As the lights went out, that demand just erupted from her and she cringed, embarrassed by her lack of control over her own tongue.

‘Not just at the moment, no,’ Damiano drawled flatly. ‘But I’m probably going to make your life hell while I try to come to terms with this.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘A warning.’

In the darkness tears welled up again and stung her eyes. He didn’t believe her; he was never going to believe that she hadn’t betrayed him with Mark.

In an abrupt movement, Damiano closed lean hands to her waist and tugged her across the great divide between them into his arms. Nervous as a cat, Eden vented a startled gasp.

‘I still want you, cara,’ he breathed rawly.