A Legacy of Secrets

‘Because when he stops kissing her, he knows they must talk and he doesn’t want to know the truth.’

‘Does he forgive her?’ Santo asked. ‘Does he end it?’

‘He surely has to,’ Ella said.

‘Even though he loves her?’ Santo checked.

‘He cannot trust her,’ Ella said.

‘Too simple.’ He was sucking on the ice and she watched the round, smoothed slivers as he ran them over her stomach.

She was so turned on, watching his fingers work the cubes down. She lifted her knees a little, blanched as he teased and intimately iced her then breathed as his tongue warmed and sucked a far more tender place than her breast.

And she was more than a willing participant. The sensations he delivered and the skill of his tongue were exquisite, and it was Ella sucking on ice cubes and passing them to him now.

For Santo, the feeling was incredible. He liked sex, and a little play prior just to be nice, but if the clock stopped now, even without coming, this was the best sex he had had. He was just fascinated by her body, by the sighs and moans from her mouth, how if he put his tongue there her fingers tightened in his hair, and if he put it there, her hands sought her thighs and still she kept passing the ice.

‘I always use...’ He was pressing ice into her with his tongue and she thought she might die from the pleasure.

‘I know,’ Ella whimpered, locked between pleasure and pain.

‘I want to try...’

‘Please...’ She was in this very strange place, where for the first time she could voice her want, did not have to be demure, be quiet, did not have to hold back what was on her mind. She had never opened up to another before, but she handed herself over to him now, if just for a while.

He climbed up her body and she was frozen deep on the inside and frenzied with heat at the surrounds. Her body, her skin, wet and cold from their games, sought the relief of him dry and warm now on top of her and he wrapped his arms under her.

‘God, Ella...’ He looked down, nervous at diving in as she begged him to hurry. Santo had never expected to be tentative his first time unsheathed, and she heard his shocked moan as he entered. ‘I don’t like it.’ They were both shaking with laughter, with shock, with adventure, and then he moved a little more. ‘Actually—’ he rocked deeper and harder ‘—I’ve changed my mind.’

The friction warmed her, warmed him, till they were soaked and panting, and Santo was true to his word, had never made love unsheathed, but for this he willingly broke the rule. As she warmed to him he found new pleasures—the grip of her muscles, the increasing warmth. His promise to take forever, to do her slowly, was one he wanted to keep, for all he wanted was this.

‘This morning I hated the day—’ he was moving so fast within her now ‘—and now...’ She couldn’t understand what he was saying, she was too locked in her own thoughts. Then he was gracing her with Italian, but her brain didn’t attempt to compute, because she felt her thighs starting to shake and this flood of warmth to her groin. But more than that, she was thrashing with her own thoughts, holding back her own words,

‘Santo.’ She considered for a brief second that the press outside must have got in, because lights were exploding in her head as if there were a thousand cameras aimed at them. She moaned and writhed and climaxed as Santo moved faster and it was bliss to come first, to just gloat from the podium and savour as he came a delicious last.

Santo was lost, feeling her pulse around him. He forced his own torture just so that he could feel each flicker and throb, and then gave in.

Ella watched his face contort and felt the pulse of his relief. Then, as if he might have been hit over the head, he collapsed onto her, the weight precious, the calm of sated. Santo lay there, his face in her hair that was spilled on the pillow, and he was almost nervous to look up.

It was the lack of condoms that had made it amazing, he told himself.

Or perhaps that he had wanted her for so long that made it all more intense?

‘Santo?’

He went to move, assumed he was too heavy, except her hair was sliding beneath his face as she turned hers to his, and what Ella couldn’t possibly know as his lips met hers was this was Santo’s first kiss with meaning.

CHAPTER SIX

THEY ENDED UP checking out at four.

In the morning!

But, ever thoughtful, Santo left a huge tip for the maid.

The press were still convinced that Alessandro was in the hotel and so, instead of heading out there with soaking wet hair from the shower, Ella took a bit of time to dry it. She stood in bra and panties and put her make-up on and turned herself back into his PA again, but with Santo watching on.

‘You like make-up,’ he observed, watching her rouge her cheeks.

‘Do I?’ Ella answered, adding mascara and then moving to her lips, but Santo wasn’t paying attention. He had taken out her concealer and was now standing behind her trying to cover up the mess he’d made of her neck. He looked amazing, wearing black jeans and black shirt and, with his eye a vivid purple, he looked sulking and rough. But there was a smile on the edge of his lips as he painted her neck.

‘Do you want to borrow it?’ Ella heard the slight edge to her own voice and fought to check it.

‘No need.’ He turned her round to face him. ‘I never cover up my mistakes.’

And she’d have to see them.

It hit Ella then what she’d signed up for, understood all his ex-lovers’ tears that she’d mopped. She had sworn she could handle just a little bit of Santo, but standing facing him, Ella knew enough about herself to know that already she wanted more. Yes, her notice should have been with immediate effect, because four weeks was way out of Santo’s attention-span range.

As his mouth moved in to kiss her, as he hoisted her body to him, she could feel him dressed but indecent on her near-naked body and the effect of him made her nervous.

‘No.’ She said it too sharply. It came out too tense and quickly Ella qualified. ‘I’ve just done my make-up.’

And in the world Santo inhabited, it was an entirely appropriate response, just his wasn’t. ‘I could turn you around then...’

He did just that. As he started to kiss her shoulder she watched his hands sliding over her stomach in the mirror and then she looked to her own eyes and saw her sudden panic, because he was going to be impossible to get over, because forever she would remember this.

And Ella didn’t do sentiment.

‘You’ve got a movie kicking off in a couple of hours and I want to go home.’ She turned and smiled and she meant it. Ella put on her skirt and blouse and her shoes and made idle chit-chat, but she could hear blood whooshing in her ears, was fluttering in mild panic and didn’t want him to see, didn’t want to even give him a hint that he moved her.

Santo didn’t seem to notice any difference in her. It was Santo who had changed, for this time as he faced her in the lift, he was a different man going down than up. Relaxed even as he headed out, not even bothering to scowl to the media, he saw her into the car, then drove towards Ella’s villa. He needed no direction as he had dropped her off a couple of times before, but she had never asked him in and neither did she now. But Santo was having none of it.

‘Make me coffee.’ Santo yawned, because there was another drive ahead now to get to the run-down docklands where they were filming, only Ella wasn’t joining him till Tuesday. ‘And if you do...’ He smiled. ‘I will give you today off.’

‘I was already taking it off anyway!’ Ella said as he followed her into her villa. She was just a touch embarrassed—it was pretty sparse, just a small one-bedroom rental. As she headed into the kitchen to put the coffee pot on the stove Santo stayed in the lounge, looking at the few books she had and noticing they were all about directing.

Noticing, too, that, apart from that, there were no real clues to her.

He was very used to checking out women’s homes—it was a fleeting game he played—but there was nothing to be learned about Ella here. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him—she was only here temporarily after all—but there wasn’t even a family photo above the fireplace.

And nothing much about her in her bathroom either, Santo noticed when he excused himself for a moment and shamelessly peered into her cabinets. He did make a mental note of her favourite scent and then smothered a smile, because he had been about to let Ella know, so she could order some, and flowers and jewellery too! Had she not been a woman she had just bedded, Ella would have been told later this morning that the works were needed for her new lover. For once, Santo wasn’t feeling seedy after excess. Nope, there wasn’t even the vague pang of guilt that happened all too often after an empty encounter.

‘Coffee!’ he heard her call from the kitchen. Santo glanced into her bedroom, saw the unmade bed and a bra on the floor. As exhausted as he was, as much as he needed to get to work, when he thought of her lying there calling him a bastard into her phone, he could easily have called to her to say to hell with the movie and that he wanted his coffee in bed.

Instead he headed back to the kitchen, watching as she poured the thick black coffee into two small cups and then sweetened them. She passed one to him and he took a grateful sip.