Bedded and Wedded for Revenge Read online

  She inspected his face for a moment, wondering why he hadn’t commented on the thin white line on her forehead that her blonde fringe didn’t quite cover, or her ungainly limp, which he surely must have noticed when she had greeted him at the door.

  ‘I am not exactly in tip top shape,’ she said with a touch of wry humour that she could immediately tell was completely wasted on him. It was wasted on her as well. There was nothing funny about how her body looked and felt these days.

  ‘You are a very beautiful woman, as indeed you were ten years ago,’ he said. ‘Any man would be proud to have you as his wife.’

  Gemma hunted his dark gaze for any sign of mockery, the mockery she surely deserved after what she had done to him, but surprisingly she could see nothing there but sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘When is your birthday?’ he asked.

  ‘In six days’ time,’ she answered on the tail-end of a ragged sigh, the fluttering sensation of panic in her stomach making her feel physically ill. ‘My fiancé left a few minutes before you arrived.’

  ‘Left?’

  She gave him a cynical, jaded look. ‘Left as in permanently. The wedding is off.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that.’

  She crossed her arms over her chest as if she was cold although the temperature outside was typical of a Sydney sultry summer coming to an unwilling end. ‘Not as sorry as me, I can assure you.’

  Another silence crept into the space between them.

  Andreas moved across the room to stand just in front of her. ‘What if you were to find another person to take his place?’ he asked.

  Gemma had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. She was so used to bending down to Michael’s level it had been a very long time since she had met a man’s gaze of above average height.

  ‘In less than a week?’ She gave him a defeated look and added, ‘Things might be very different in whatever part of Italy you come from, but, let me tell you, here in Australia it takes a whole lot longer than six days to find a husband, or at least a legal one.’

  ‘What if I could come up with a solution to your problem within that short space of time?’ he said, his eyes steady on hers.

  ‘A solution?’ she put in warily, watching that dark, hawklike gaze with an almost fevered concentration, her heart missing another beat.

  ‘You need a husband,’ he said as if stating the simple everyday need of replenishing the refrigerator with milk.

  ‘Um…yes…I do…but I hardly think—’

  ‘I am available to fulfil that role for you,’ he cut across her protest as if he had known it was coming and had prepared for it. ‘It will not be difficult for me to organise the legal details. I have the necessary connections that will see to it without delay. I am willing to step into your fiancé’s place.’

  Gemma stared at him in a bewildering combination of indescribable fear and a growing sense of relief.

  Here was the solution to her problem.

  He was offering to marry her. She wouldn’t have to lose the estate she needed so desperately…but she couldn’t help feeling something about this was all wrong.

  ‘Why?’ She almost barked the word at him. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  His dark eyes gave nothing away as they meshed with hers. ‘You need a husband in a hurry, do you not?’

  Gemma wished she could deny it, but the truth lay in a sheath of documents with her late father’s lawyer even as the clock on the wall ticked steadily, inexorably towards her birthday.

  ‘Yes…yes, I do, but I—’

  ‘I am willing to step into the role.’

  ‘Why?’ The single word burst from her lips again as suspicion began to trickle into her body.

  ‘I need a wife.’ He gave a shrug that could have meant anything or everything. ‘You need a husband.’

  She gave him a narrowed glance. ‘As simple as that?’

  ‘I am now thirty-one years old,’ he said with an element of pragmatism. ‘I am at a time of life when I wish to put down some roots. I am Italian—the desire to have a wife, and family, is in my blood.’

  ‘You don’t even know me.’

  ‘Allow me to correct you,’ he said with another little enigmatic smile. I know you very well—that is of course unless you have changed dramatically in the last few years.’

  It was on the tip of Gemma’s tongue to confess that she had indeed changed dramatically, but the words stayed locked in her throat. She had covered the truth with a tiny white lie about her memory loss with regard to him and now it would take many more little white lies to keep that one in place. There was so much she didn’t remember about the accident and parts of the past, but she had not forgotten Andreas Trigliani and her treatment of him, which confused her as to why he was coming to her rescue now.

  He of all people would surely be after revenge. She had ruthlessly bludgeoned his male pride and she could hardly imagine him forgiving her for it unless he, too, had changed dramatically.

  He had certainly changed physically over the years. When he had worked at the hotel he had not yet reached his full height, and in young adulthood his limbs, though lean, had not been as heavily muscled and well defined as they were now.

  Andreas Trigliani was a stunningly handsome man. He could have anyone he wanted, which begged the question as to why he wanted to tie himself to her.

  ‘I’m not sure what you expect to get out of this arrangement,’ she said at last. ‘I need a husband—yes, but not a real one, or at least only on paper. I offered Michael Carter, my ex-fiancé, a hefty amount of money but somehow I don’t think that you would clutch at it gratefully, not when you have more than enough money of your own.’

  He looked at her for a lengthy moment without speaking, his dark gaze still centred on hers.

  Gemma felt the silence crawling around her insidiously as if it contained an invisible threat. She could feel it rising up to choke the very breath out of her lungs, her pulse rate starting to hammer in escalating apprehension at the determination she could see in his deep brown eyes.

  ‘I will marry you, Gemma,’ he said, speaking her Christian name out loud for the first time in a decade. ‘But I have a couple of stipulations and if those stipulations are not agreeable to you then I shall have no choice but to withdraw my offer.’

  ‘S-stipulations?’ The word came out slightly strangled as she looked up at him with growing fear in her dark blue eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes glittering with something that struck a chord of unease deep and low in her belly. ‘I want a wife but as well as that I want an heir.’

  Gemma swallowed deeply but she couldn’t seem to find her voice even if she had been able to think of a single thing to say.

  Andreas Trigliani paused for a pulsing moment before he continued in the same deep, even tone. ‘I will marry you in six days’ time on the proviso that you agree to be the mother of my child.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  GEMMA felt the full blow of Andreas’s words as if he’d sent a physical punch along with them, hurting her where she was most tenderly wounded. She held herself together with the steely fortitude that had helped her cope so far, but it was far more tenuous than he could ever have interpreted from the expression she held like a stiff mask on her face.

  ‘That’s quite some stipulation,’ she finally managed to get out, injecting her tone with a casualness she hadn’t believed she could carry off quite so convincingly considering how very shaken she was.

  ‘Perhaps, but it is not the only one,’ he continued.

  She tried to hold his gaze, but it took a tremendous effort on her part. ‘What are the others?’ she asked, her mouth feeling as dry as dust.

  ‘When my father died so unexpectedly ten years ago I realised that at some point I would have to fulfil my responsibility to continue the line of the Trigliani family,’ he explained. ‘I am the only son. It is my duty now to provide an heir. But if our marriage does not work out I insist on having full custody of t
he child or children of the union. You will have visitation rights of course.’

  Gemma had no answer so remained silent. She knew he would immediately see this as an agreement, but she was way beyond caring.

  ‘When this opportunity arose for me to return to Australia I immediately took it. My father would have wanted it this way—wanted me to succeed.’

  ‘You were…. very close to your father?’ she asked, wondering if he could hear the envy in her voice even though she tried to disguise it.

  It was a moment before he answered. Gemma felt as if he was choosing his words with care, that perhaps the subject of his father was still a painful one, even after the passage of ten years. She watched as he sent a hand through the thickness of his hair and noticed that for the first time his eyes showed an emotional depth she hadn’t realised was there. It was then that something inside her softened towards him in spite of his outrageous demands.

  ‘My father did not want me to live the sort of life he had lived. He dreamed of one day owning his own hotel. He had spent most of his life working for other people, never feeling financially secure enough to take a holiday for himself. I promised him that I would one day achieve the things he had wanted to achieve. That is why I came to Australia in the first place, to learn the ropes of running a business from the ground up.’

  Gemma had been well aware of his success in finding a mentor. Her father had been almost embarrassing in his effusive praise of the young Italian bellboy who had put to shame most of the local lads with his enthusiasm for his work. It had been amusing to Gemma at first, but as time went on she had become increasingly jealous of the attention Andreas had been receiving, attention she had wanted solely for herself. And with a spitefulness that still made her cringe to recall, she had set about getting her father’s attention back on her.

  Suddenly conscious of the growing silence, Gemma asked, ‘But surely you have numerous Italian women back home who would be much more suited to the task of being your wife?’

  ‘I have had many opportunities, yes, but there are certain advantages to having an Australian wife,’ he said.

  ‘A rich Australian wife,’ she put in.

  His eyebrows rose at her. ‘Yes, indeed. A very rich Australian wife with the sort of connections I need right now.’

  She drew in a cautious breath as she considered his offer. ‘So it seems we both can gain from this…er…enterprise?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘By marrying me you will inherit The Landerstalle Hotel, which in spite of its somewhat urgent need for refurbishment is still one of Sydney’s premier hotels.’

  ‘I want to sell it as soon as I possibly can,’ Gemma said.

  If her blunt statement surprised him he gave no sign of it on his face. ‘It will need a large makeover before you do so, otherwise it will not fetch its true market value,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘I just want it off my hands.’

  He gave her a lengthy look, his eyes not once releasing hers. ‘But the hotel cannot be sold until the six months is up,’ he reminded her.

  She stared at him, her growing alarm knocking like a sledgehammer inside her chest. ‘You seem very familiar with the terms of my father’s will.’

  The enigmatic smile was back, those dark, bottomless eyes glittering mysteriously. ‘I never do business until I investigate all the angles, Gemma. It is not wise to step into an agreement without covering all bases. Important details could get overlooked.’

  She had to lower her eyes from the burning probe of his. ‘I have no interest in the hotel. I just need the money from my father’s estate to…to settle some bills that have banked up.’

  ‘I will buy the hotel from you when the six months is up for whatever price you care to name,’ he said. ‘I will also put up the funds for an immediate makeover, which I do not expect you to pay back.’

  It was a very generous offer, Gemma thought, but there was only one problem, an insurmountable one that she couldn’t possibly inform him of without devastating consequences.

  ‘And in return I will give you what you desire the most—’ she disguised a tiny nervous up-and-down movement of her throat ‘—a child?’

  ‘That is the agreement,’ he said.

  Gemma felt her stomach tilt in dread. If he were ever to find out how she was deceiving him, what would be the price he would insist she pay? But then hadn’t she paid the ultimate price already?

  How much more could life ask of her?

  No matter how she felt, she had no choice but to block the pricks of her conscience and go with the offer as it stood. But she was short-changing him in a way that was despicable but born out of desperation. She hated herself for what she had to do, but she knew she would hate herself even more if Marcia were to step in and take what her father had worked so hard for and by doing so remove Gemma’s last chance to do something good with her life.

  Tying herself to a man she had treated so appallingly in the past, a man she’d barely known ten years ago, let alone now, was a small sacrifice to pay, or at least minuscule to what she had paid so far.

  Andreas Trigliani seemed a reasonable man, a very decent man who had clearly forgiven her for her childish and brutally cruel rejection of him all those years ago.

  Or had he?

  There was something about all this that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle in apprehension.

  ‘I can see I have shocked you with my proposal,’ Andreas said into the silence. ‘Under less urgent circumstances I would suggest you take a couple of weeks to consider it, but of course that is impossible. I will need your answer now so I can bring about the legal gymnastics that will be required to procure a marriage licence in time for next Friday.’

  Gemma swallowed the lump of guilt that had risen in her throat. She had to have her father’s estate.

  She had to!

  Even if it meant deceiving a man who could very well destroy her when he eventually found out the truth. But by then, she reasoned, she would have achieved her goal. She needed that money for reasons she couldn’t divulge, reasons worth any suffering Andreas insisted she endure.

  ‘I—I will accept,’ she said, trying to avoid his unwavering gaze. ‘But I…I have a few stipulations of my own.’

  He didn’t respond, which brought her gaze back to his, as she assumed was his intention. She found it hard to read his expression; it was as if he was keeping himself at a guarded distance. She could hardly blame him. She hadn’t been trustworthy in the past; why should he make himself vulnerable again?

  She took a breath and prayed her voice would co-operate and come out firm and steady. ‘Although we will be married within a week I will need some time to…to get to know you before we…’ she could feel her face heating but soldiered on regardless ‘…sleep together.’

  ‘But of course,’ he said. ‘I would not be so crass as to suggest we leap straight into a physical relationship without first developing some sort of understanding between us.’

  Gemma was sure the immense relief was evident on her face, but she forced herself to speak calmly and evenly even as her belly quivered at the thought of that big, strong, lithe body possessing hers some time in the future. ‘Thank you. I appreciate your…patience.’

  ‘You will find in time, Gemma, that I am indeed a very patient man,’ he said, his tone sounding to her as if it contained a cryptic element to it.

  She searched his face, but again it was as if a curtain had come down over it. It was hard for her to separate her feelings of panic from her sense of responsibility, but she could only hope that what she was agreeing to would not cause too much harm in the end.

  The marriage only had to last six months; she wasn’t sure why her father had placed that particular caveat on it. It wasn’t as if he’d known her real reasons for avoiding marriage.

  Although she had argued volubly with him for most of her youth and young adulthood about the restraints put on women by the institution of marria
ge and the expectation that they would willingly reproduce, she had only done it to annoy him, not out of any strong convictions of her own. It was only when the prospect of having a child was snatched away from her by the cruel hand of destiny that she realised her mistake in tempting fate in such a reckless way.

  The one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world was now the one thing she could never have.

  And Andreas Trigliani was marrying her to give him a child, a child she could never give him.

  What would he do when he found out the truth?

  ‘So,’ she said, trying to nudge her guilt away by concentrating on the practicalities, ‘what do we have to do to get the licence on time?’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ he said. ‘I have some legal contacts who will be able to fast-track it for me. We will go ahead with the arrangements you made with your fiancé. Was it to be a big church wedding?’

  She shook her head, a wry twist misshaping her mouth. ‘It was to be a register office ceremony. I didn’t quite fancy limping up the aisle of the local cathedral.’

  She was suddenly intensely conscious of his dark gaze as it connected with hers and wished she hadn’t revealed the vulnerability of her feelings in such a way.

  ‘I am sure you will be a beautiful bride no matter what sort of ceremony is conducted,’ he said with a small smile that touched her in a place she hadn’t even known existed.

  ‘Thank you.’ She lowered her eyes and added, ‘But I hope you weren’t expecting a white dress and a veil. I’m not what is known as in your country as…virginal.’

  He laughed. ‘It would hardly be fair of me to expect you to get to the age of twenty-eight without having experienced pleasure in another man’s arms, or indeed in several men’s arms.’

  Gemma was well aware of her past behaviour and how it had given her a reputation for being wildly promiscuous. She had slept with a small number of boyfriends, but an incident that had occurred on the night of her twenty-first birthday party had left her with one memory she would have given anything to permanently erase.