Jane Porter - Mistress To a Latin Lover

“He knows why you’re here, Emilio. He knows you’re interested in his new design—”

“Fine, he can’t prove anything. And he’ll still hate seeing us together. He’ll hate it every time you touch me. He’ll be sick each time you turn your adoring eyes on me, insane with jealousy every time I get a fondle, or sneak a kiss. And you better make it believable or I’ll tell him everything.”

Cass took her courage, her last bit of strength and wrapped it around her like a much needed cloak. She’d been hurt by Maximos, gravely hurt. Emilio could do nothing to her. “Then tell him. I’m not scared.”

He chuckled. “Good girl. You keep pretending to be tough, and I’ll pretend I’m a sensitive guy.” His laugh faded and his face hardened. “But it’s just a shame, you know, about the pregnancy, because the one thing Maximos has always wanted was to be a father. He’s longed for a child.” His gaze met hers and held. “Especially a daughter.” Emilio hesitated. “In fact, you’d find this is quite a sensitive subject with him. Explosive, even.”

There was more to this than Emilio was telling her and Cass wanted to know the facts…the truth…but she doubted she’d get the truth from Emilio. Anything he said had to be twisted. Just the way he twisted the facts about her miscarriage. “How did you find out?”

“I was at the hospital that night you checked yourself in. The woman I was dating happened to be your doctor.” He looked at her, his expression speculative. “I have a copy of your medical records. It says plain as can be—D & C.”

She felt the ground shift beneath her. Cass reached out, touched the car door to steady herself. “Go to hell.”

“That’s all it says, Cass. Nothing else. Maximos will think you ordered the D & C.”

She ground her teeth together. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, well, you don’t know Maximos very well if you think he’ll find that an acceptable excuse.” Emilio pushed the dress toward her again. “Now go change because there’s fashionably late, and then there’s just very late and I prefer to be the former, not the latter.”

Back in her bedroom, Cass woodenly unzipped her turquoise designer gown, slowly stepping out of the soft fabric and laying it flat on the bed.

Even more slowly she unhooked her delicate lace bra and with trembling hands drew the sheer white gown toward her.

Even if Emilio was dating her doctor, how could he get a copy of her records? That was illegal. Patient records were confidential.

But Emilio doesn’t play by the rules, does he?

No, she answered herself, and now her secret was out. She had been pregnant. And she’d suffered a horrible miscarriage—the pain had been unbelievable and even that awful pain had been nothing compared to the heartbreak. She’d wanted the baby. Wanted the baby desperately.

It didn’t matter anymore, did it?

Wearily Cass pulled the slip dress over her head, down on her shoulders, smoothing the sheer fabric over her hips.

Stepping into the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror.

It was the most indecent thing she’d ever seen. Nearly completely sheer in the front, the slip dress left nothing to the imagination. You could see everything. Her breasts, the nipples, the dark rosy aureoles. Her belly button. The shadow of her sex.

Cass drew a slow shallow breath. What was she doing? Why was she here, playing this game? It had seemed so simple in Rome when Emilio had first invited her.

She’d accompanied Emilio to Sicily to show Maximos she didn’t need him anymore, or want him any longer, and then she’d return to Rome and get on with her career and her life.

Fighting a wave of icy panic, Cass plucked at the plunging neckline of her white lace slip dress. She couldn’t attend a young woman’s rehearsal dinner wearing a sheer white lace dress with her breasts and thighs exposed.

Cass knew she had flaws and faults—many, many—but she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t humiliate another woman—much less Maximos’s sister—and she couldn’t humiliate herself.

But what about the baby?

Cass leaned against the counter’s edge and covered her mouth, trying not to gag.

But there wasn’t a baby, not anymore, and nothing Emilio could say or do would bring the baby back…

Numbly, resolutely, Cass changed out of the white lace dress and put her turquoise gown back on. She struggled to get the zipper back up before smoothing loose tendrils of hair back into the elegant twist, tucking a few new pins into the twist to secure it better.

Cass was partway down the hall when Emilio appeared at the head of the stairs.

It was hard to read his expression in the shadowy hall but his tone betrayed his fury. “You didn’t change.”

“It didn’t fit,” she said calmly, reaching for the banister but before she could start to descend the staircase Emilio grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her back.

“I don’t appreciate you wasting my time.”

“Take your hands off me.”

He wrapped his fingers tighter around her biceps. “Change. Now.”

“I can’t.” But she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic and she knew it. “The dress didn’t fit. I’ll send it home with you so you can return it in Rome.”

For a moment he said nothing. He didn’t move. He just studied her in the dim light of the hall.

Then swiftly he took a step toward her, reached for the front of her turquoise gown and jerked violently on the fabric, ripping the designer gown wide-open.

“Oh dear, it looks like this gown doesn’t fit, either.” He made a sympathetic clucking sound before turning away. “Put on the dress I gave you or I shall go straight to the reception and announce to everyone that you weren’t just Maximos’s mistress—but the mother of his late child.”

Cass swayed on her feet, her right hand clutching the torn gown to her breast. “I didn’t come here to ruin the wedding—”

“But you did want to humiliate him—”

“No.” Her voice quavered. “No, I don’t want to humiliate him, I’d never want to humiliate him. I love him. I’ve always loved him.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Emilio turned away, headed for the stairs but paused briefly on the top step. “Hurry. You’ve five minutes before I leave for the restaurant, and don’t think I won’t spill the beans. I’d like nothing better than to spoil sweet Adriana’s special night with really bad news. And trust me, Cass, this would be really bad news.”

Cass put the dress on and walked out of the room without even looking in the mirror. She didn’t need to look in the mirror. She knew exactly what she’d see and it made her sick.

Outside, Emilio was gunning the engine. He said nothing as Cass slid into the passenger seat but in the glow of the dashboard light she saw the satisfied curl of his upper lip.

The rehearsal dinner was being held at a restaurant near the cathedral and Emilio found parking on a narrow street not far from the restaurant. Just before Emilio pocketed the car keys he reached over, tugged on Cass’s French twist, pulling the pins out until her heavy honey-brown hair fell to her bare shoulders.

But he wasn’t finished yet. With the tip of his finger he smudged her lipstick up over the bow of her upper lip, below her lower lip, and then with his thumb he smeared her eyeliner beneath her eyes. “Better,” he said, wiping his hands off. “Nice and slutty. Just the way I like my women.”

Despite her flaming cheeks, Cass steeled herself, clamping down on her emotions, refusing to let herself think or feel as she walked next to Emilio. She hated him. That’s all she knew. She hated him and somehow she had to get through this evening, survive the shame of this evening until she could speak to Maximos and try to explain.