Helen Bianchin - Mistress Arrangements

‘COFFEE?’ STEFANO queried as they descended the staircase, and Carly nodded her head in silent acquiescence.

In the kitchen she filled the percolator with water, selected a fresh filter, spooned in a measure of freshly ground coffee-beans, then activated the machine before reaching for two cups and saucers, sugar.

‘From now on, use the BMW.’

Resentment flared in his mocking command. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my car,’ she retaliated at once. ‘It’s roadworthy and reliable.’

His gaze trapped hers and she felt every single hair on her body prickle with inexplicable foreboding. ‘When was it last fully serviced?’

Too long ago, Carly admitted silently, all too aware that over the past few months all her money had gone on expensive medical bills.

‘You don’t like the BMW?’ Stefano queried with deceptive mildness, and she summoned a false smile.

‘I presume it’s the “in” vehicle that wives of wealthy corporate directors are driving this year.’

His eyes narrowed fractionally, and the edges of his mouth curved with cynicism. ‘That wasn’t the reason I chose it.’

‘No?’ Her faint smile was tinged with mockery. ‘It does, however, fit the required image.’

‘And what is that, Carly?’ Stefano pursued with dangerous softness.

‘You’re a very successful man,’ she returned solemnly, ‘who has to be seen to surround himself with the trappings of success.’ She lifted an expressive hand and effected an encompassing gesture. ‘This house, the cars. Even the women who grace a part of your life.’

His eyes locked with hers, and she suppressed a faint shivery sensation at the dark implacability evident.

‘You know nothing of the women in my life.’

It was like a knife twisting deep inside her heart, and she fought visibly to contain the pain. She even managed to dredge up a smile as his eyes seared hers, dark, brooding, and infinitely hard.

Carly felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and the beat of her heart seemed to thud right through her chest, fast-paced and deafening in its intensity. She wanted to escape—from the room, the man, the house. Except that she had to stay. For a while, at least. Until Ann-Marie was fully recovered. Then…

‘The coffee is ready.’

His voice intruded, and she turned blindly towards the coffee-machine. Dear God, she doubted her ability to walk the few paces necessary and calmly pour the brew into cups, let alone drink from one. She’d probably scald her mouth, or drop the cup. Maybe both.

‘I no longer feel like any,’ she managed in a voice that sounded indistinct and far removed from her own.

‘Add a dash of brandy, and cream,’ Stefano ordered steadily. ‘It will help you sleep.’

She opened her mouth to respond, only to have him pursue with dangerous softness, ‘Don’t argue.’

‘I’m not arguing!’

‘Then stop wasting energy on being so stubbornly determined to oppose me.’

‘You must know how much I hate being here,’ she flung with restrained anger. She was so infuriated that it took every ounce of control not to lash out at him.

‘Almost as much as you hate me,’ Stefano drawled imperturbably as he moved to pour the coffee, then he added brandy and cream to both cups.

‘You have no intention of making things easy for me, do you?’ Carly demanded bitterly.

His eyes assumed a chilling bleakness, his features assembling into a hard, inflexible mask. ‘You’re treading a mental tightrope.’ He lifted a hand and caught hold of her chin, his fingers firm and faintly cruel. ‘And I’m in no mood to play verbal games.’

‘Then stop treating me like a fractious child.’ It was a cry from within, heartfelt, and more revealing than she intended.

‘Start behaving like a woman and I’ll respond accordingly,’ he said hardly, and flecks of fiery topaz lightened the darkness of her eyes.

‘Close my mind and open my legs?’ Rage bubbled to the surface and erupted without thought to the consequence. ‘Sorry, Stefano. I’m not that desperate.’

For a moment she thought he meant to strike her, and she was powerless to escape him as hard hands curled round her arms and pulled her close.

‘This time,’ he ground out grimly, ‘you push me too far.’

He possessed sufficient strength to do her grievous bodily harm, yet she stood defiant, unwilling to retract or apologise for so much as a single word.

With slow deliberation he caught both her hands together, then slid one hand beneath her head, tilting it as he impelled her forward, then his mouth was on hers, hard and possessively demanding.

A silent scream rose and died in her throat, and she began to struggle, hating him with all her heart as he exerted sufficient pressure to force open her mouth, then his tongue became a pillaging destructive force that had her silently begging him to stop.

His stance altered, and one hand splayed down over the gentle swell of her bottom, pressing her close in against him so that the heat of his arousal was a potent virile force that was impossible to ignore.

The invasion of her mouth didn’t lessen, and she felt absorbed, overwhelmed, possessed by a man who would refuse anything other than her complete capitulation.

Something snapped inside her, swamping her with anger and a need for retribution. She began to struggle more fiercely, managing to free one hand, which she balled into a fist to flail against his back. She clenched her jaw against the considerable force of his, and gained a minor victory when she managed to capture his tongue with her teeth.

Not enough to inflict any damage, but sufficient to cause him to still fractionally, then he was free, but only momentarily, for he lifted her effortlessly over one shoulder and strode from the room.

‘You bastard,’ Carly hissed vehemently as she pummelled her fists against the hard muscles of his back. ‘Put me down, damn you!’

She fought so hard that she lost all sense of direction, and it wasn’t until he began to ascend the central staircase that she began to feel afraid. Her struggles intensified, without success, and several seconds later she heard the solid clunking sound of the bedroom door as it closed behind them, then without ceremony she was lowered down to her feet.

Defiance blazed from her expressive features as she met his hardened gaze, and despite their compelling intensity she refused to bow down to fear. Her mouth felt violated, her tongue sore, the delicate tissues grazed and swollen. Even her throat ached, and her jaw.

‘If it weren’t for Ann-Marie…’ She trailed to a halt, too incensed to continue.

‘Precisely,’ Stefano agreed succinctly. His implication was intentional, and she burst into voluble speech.

‘You’re so damned ruthless ,’ Carly accused vengefully. ‘You dominate everything, everyone. I can’t wait to be free of you.’

He went completely still, and she was vividly reminded of a superb jungle animal she’d viewed on a television documentary; of the encapsulated moment when every muscle in his body had tensed prior to the fatal spring that captured and annihilated his prey. Stefano looked just as dangerous, portraying the same degree of leashed violence.

‘You believe our reconciliation to be temporary?’ he queried in a voice that sounded like the finest silk being torn asunder.

She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it. ‘When Ann-Marie is completely recovered, I intend to file for divorce.’

His eyes lanced hers, killing in their intensity. ‘You honestly believe I’d allow you to attempt to take her away from me?’

‘Dear lord in heaven,’ Carly breathed shakily. ‘Who do you think you are? God ?’