The Bride Fonseca Needs
She knew damn well that his urge to indulge in that very public display of affection hadn’t been entirely inspired by the need to fool their guests, because the look on his face just before he’d kissed her had been dark and haunted. It struck a raw nerve.
She pushed herself free of Max’s embrace and stood up.
He stood up too, frowning. ‘Where are you going?’
Darcy whispered angrily, ‘I’m taking ten minutes’ break from this charade—if that’s all right with you?’
She forced a poilte smile at their guests, who had now started moving around after lunch, but didn’t stop, heading straight for a secluded balcony through an open set of French doors. She needed air. Now.
She went and stood at the stone wall and looked out over Rome, basking benignly in the midafternoon sun. It was idyllic, and a million miles from the turmoil in her belly and her head.
Damn Max and his effortless ability to push her buttons. The galling thing was she didn’t even know what button he was pushing. She just knew she was angry with him, and she hated feeling like a puppet on a string. This was a mistake. No amount of money was worth this. She’d happily live as a nomad for the rest of her life if she could just be as far away from Max as possible.
Liar.
‘Darcy?’
She closed her eyes. No escape.
Darcy turned from the view. It was the thread of concern in his voice that made her glance at him, but his face was unreadable.
She looked at him accusingly. ‘Why did you kiss me like that? It wasn’t just to put on a show for people.’
‘No,’ he admitted reluctantly, ‘it wasn’t just for that.’
A pain that Darcy knew she shouldn’t be feeling gripped her when she thought of the anger and frustration she’d sensed in the kiss.
‘It’s one thing to be wilfully and knowingly used for another’s benefit, and to agree to that, but I won’t let you take the fact that I’m not the lover you want out on me.’
Max’s eyes widened. And then he came in front of her and put his hands on the wall either side of her, caging her in. In a low, fierce voice he said, ‘That statement is so far from the truth it’s not even funny. The only woman I am remotely interested in is right in front of me.’
Darcy swallowed and tried not to let Max’s proximity render her stupid. ‘But you were angry...I could feel it.’
Max pushed himself off the wall and ran a hand around his jaw. He stood beside Darcy and looked out at the view. Then he sighed and without looking at her said, ‘You’re right. I was angry.’
Darcy rested her hip against the wall, her own anger diffusing treacherously. ‘Why?’
Max’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. More a reflex. ‘My brother, primarily. I saw them—him and his wife...’
Without elaborating Darcy knew exactly what he meant. She’d seen it too. Their almost unbearable intimacy.
Max shrugged and looked down for a moment. ‘He gets to me like no one else can. Pushes my buttons. I always feel like I’m just catching up to him, two steps behind.’
Darcy could see it then: the intense hunger Max had to feel he wasn’t in competition with his brother any more. Whatever had happened when their parents had split up had marked these two men indelibly.
Feeling tight inside, she said, ‘Well, I don’t like being used to score a point. Next time find someone else.’
She went to move away, to go back inside, but Max caught her before she could leave with his hands around her waist, holding her fast. His eyes were blazing down into hers.
‘I kissed you because I want you, Darcy. If there was anger there at my brother it was forgotten the moment my mouth touched yours. I do not want you to be under any illusions. When I kiss you I know exactly who I’m kissing and why.’
Darcy stared up at him, transfixed by the intensity of his expression.
‘Maledizione. I can’t think when you look at me like that.’
He pulled her closer and Darcy fell against him, unsteady in her shoes. She braced her hands against his chest. He
was warm. Hard.