Mistress To a Latin Lover. Jane Porter
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“Then name it,” she interrupted, finding the courage to stand up to him, even as she ignored the shivers racing down her spine.
“What is the penalty?” she added, furious with him, furious with herself. It was all coming back, the memories rushing through her, of love and loss, memories of him, memories of the midnight trip to the hospital, memories of intense pain, and loneliness. “Tell me what it is. I’m dying to know.”
“Do you two need a minute alone?” Emilio asked, suddenly helpful, deceptively innocent. “Because I could go get us drinks.”
“A great idea,” Maximos answered, cutting her own refusal short.
But it was all the encouragement Emilio needed, and with a casual gesture Emilio indicated he was off to find fresh drinks.
Eyes narrowed, lips thin, Maximos watched Emilio saunter off. “Your fiancé doesn’t seem too inclined to protect you.”
She, too, watched Emilio walk away and she hated the way her body suddenly felt weak, her legs flimsy beneath her. “Maybe because he knows you’re no threat.”
Maximos laughed, the sound deep, harsh, so harsh it scraped her heart, abrading her senses. “You know so little, cara, it scares me.” For a moment he was silent, and then his head turned and he considered her. “So what are you doing here?”
“I already told you—”
“No. Not that bullshit. I want the truth.”
“The truth?” Her voice cracked as his dark eyes settled on her, scorching her. He made her too aware of her own skin and body. They weren’t touching and yet his hands might as well be all over her. Her heart thudded hard and fast. Her insides felt hot and tight. Her knees shook beneath the slim skirt.
How was it possible to still feel so strongly? To still crave so much?
Cass felt wildly out of control, empty, suspended in air. Her insides felt tender, bruised, her insides felt turned out, exposed to air.
She needed peace. More than anything she craved peace. But with Maximos there was no peace. Just anger. Just pain. Just need.
“The truth,” he repeated. “Or has Sobato turned your head so completely you don’t even know that anymore?”
“Emilio’s been a perfect gentleman—”
“Impossible,” Maximos interrupted. “But go on, tell me whatever it is you and Sobato worked out between the two of you. Give me the truth…if you can remember to keep your story straight.”
Her mouth opened, shut. Shame swept her. Shame and indignation. Thank God there were no weapons here, nothing heavy to throw or swing, because otherwise she’d knock his smile away, knock his horrible arrogant smile off his face.
She hated him.
Hated.
How could she have ever felt any closeness, any sense of intimacy? Had the whole sexual aspect of their relationship colored her perceptions so thoroughly? Had his prowess in bed, his sexual expertise, made her believe there was more between them…or made her believe there could be more?
Now she wondered at it all, wondered at the idea they’d ever been anything but bed partners, that she’d been the way he satisfied his sexual needs.
A release, she taunted herself, and the taunting was like pouring acid on an open wound.
He suddenly reached out and touched a strand of her brown hair shot with honey-gold. “You’re not really with him, are you, bella?”
Bella. Beautiful. He’d always called her bella when he touched her, made love to her and the word had buried inside her, burrowing deep into her soul.
She blinked, holding back grief and tears. Shoulders lifting, she shrugged. “But I am.” She swallowed around the horrible lump filling her throat. “We’re engaged.”
“Engaged?” he repeated as if it were a word he’d never heard before.
Scalding tears burned the back of her eyes. “We’re getting married in April.”
For a moment he said nothing. His hand simply smoothed the silken strands of hair back from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Why are you doing this, Cass?”
Her chest squeezed, lungs compressing. She didn’t want to do this anymore. “Doing what?”
“Pretending—”
“It’s real.” She forced a smile, smiling to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. “We’re getting married. In April. In Padua.”
The color drained from his face. “Padua?”
“Yes.” She hoped her smile didn’t look as fake as it felt and reaching up, she tugged on her earlobe, jingling her dangling gold chandelier earring. She felt sick, hideous, horrible. Just get this over with, she told herself, finish what you started so you can go home and get on with the rest of your life. “That gives us six months to plan the wedding and reception.”
A small erratic pulse beat at his throat. “Why Padua?”
“Emilio said—”
“What?” Maximos was staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost, his dark eyes glazed, unseeing.
“That the city has a special significance for him.”
Abruptly Maximos turned away. His features had hardened, the skin taut, pale, like polished stone. “Get out.” His voice was low, raspy. “Get out before I personally throw you out.”
CHAPTER TWO
“I’M NOT leaving,” Cass said, jerking her elbow from his hand. “I didn’t come here simply to torture you. There were things I needed to see. Things I needed to know.”
Maximos’s expression suddenly shifted, his dark eyes lighting, a new alertness sharpening his features. “What things?”
“I needed to understand why I couldn’t—” Her voice broke, and the words failed her. She took a breath, wrapped her courage around her and continued. “Have more of you. Understand why you never gave me more—” And suddenly Cass knew she’d said too much. She could tell from Maximos’s expression that she’d just unwittingly revealed her hand.
“You’re not his fiancée,” Maximos said grimly. “This is a sham, a charade—”
“No.” Her pulse leapt wildly. What had she done? What had she said? “It’s true. I am—”
“Then why do you care so much about us?” He practically hissed the last word.
“Maybe because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice!” She’d been