Blackmailed into the Marriage Bed Page 4

  ‘But I’m not really—’ Ailsa stopped mid-sentence. How could she tell Dom the opposite of what he clearly wanted to hear? She might not have signed Vinn’s agreement, but his poor old grandfather was being wheeled into surgery within a matter of minutes for an operation, which he might not survive. What harm would it do to allow Dom this one moment?

  She wasn’t back with Vinn as in Back With Vinn. She was playing a game of charades to keep an old man happy. Standing here by this old man’s bedside with the prospect of his life with a clock ticking on it made her want to do everything in her power to make Dom feel settled and peaceful before his life-saving or, God forbid, life-ending surgery.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said and moved her hand so it was on top of Vinn’s on Dom’s hand. ‘We’re both here. Together.’

  Tears dripped down from Dom’s eyes and Ailsa leaned over to pluck a tissue from the box beside the bed and gently mopped them away, her eyes feeling suspiciously moist and her chest so tight it felt like she was having her own medical crisis.

  ‘If I don’t make it through this operation then at least I have the assurance you two have patched things up,’ Dom said, his voice choked with emotion. ‘You’re meant to be together. I knew that the first time Vinn introduced me to you. You’re a strong woman, Ailsa. And my grandson is a strong man and needs someone with enough backbone to handle him.’

  Ailsa was going to handle Vinn all right. She was going to grab him by the front of the shirt and tell him what she thought of him manipulating her into this crazy charade by default. Even though she hadn’t committed herself on paper, he must have known she wouldn’t be able to help herself once she saw his desperately ill grandfather. No wonder he hadn’t made a fuss back in his office when she’d refused to sign the wretched agreement. He had simply bided his time so he could play on her emotions because he knew it was her weak spot. Just like he was using her love and affection for her brother as a bargaining tool, forcing her to bend to his will.

  ‘Time to go to Theatre,’ a hospital orderly announced from the door.

  Vinn leaned down to kiss his grandfather on both cheeks European style, his voice husky and deep. ‘Good luck, Nonno. We’ll be waiting for you once you come out of Recovery.’

  If you come out of Recovery...

  Ailsa could hear the unspoken words like a haunting echo inside her head. Vinn had lost his mother when he was a small child barely old enough to remember her. He had lost his grandmother—who had effectively raised him—five years ago, and lost his father during the last two years. Now he was facing the prospect of losing his grandfather. The grandfather who, in many ways, had been more of a father to him than his own father.

  She hadn’t expected to feel anything other than hate towards Vinn because of the way he had married her because he wanted a wife and she had somehow measured up to his standards. Little did he know how far below those standards she actually fell. But now she felt an enormous wave of sympathy for what he must be going through. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything where Vinn was concerned. She was in the process of divorcing him.

  But who wouldn’t feel sorry for someone saying goodbye to a grandfather who had been there for them all of their life? Dom and his wife Maria had stepped in when Vinn’s mother died when he was so young and again when his father had caused so much financial and emotional mayhem. Dom had been there for Vinn in every way possible and now he was facing the very real prospect of losing him. Not that she had found out any of that information about his grandparents’ role in his life from Vinn. She had found out most of it from his previous secretary Rosa, who had filled her in on some of the Gagliardi family dynamics.

  Ailsa leaned down to kiss Dom’s cheeks and wish him well and, when she straightened, Vinn’s arm encircled her waist and drew her close to his body. In spite of the layers of her clothes, his touch set off fireworks through her flesh. He was so much taller than she was and even in her high heels she barely came up to his shoulder. She had never been more aware of her femininity than when standing next to him. It was as if his body had secret radar that was finely tuned to hers, signalling to it, making it ping back responses she had little or no control over. She could feel them now. Ping. Ping. Ping. Tingle. Tingle. Tingle. The warm press of his hand on her left hip was sending a message straight to her core, like a network of fiery hot wires fizzing and whizzing. Her breasts began to stir, as if remembering the slightly calloused glide of his hands caressing them, his thumbs rolling over her nipples...

  Ailsa gave herself a mental slap and eased out of Vinn’s hold once Dom had been wheeled away, accompanied by the nurse and three other clinicians. She waited until they were alone before she turned to face Vinn with a skewering glare. ‘Did you tell him we were back together before you’d even spoken to me?’

  His expression showed faint signs of irritation. ‘No. But he must’ve put two and two together when he saw you come in with me.’ He rubbed a hand over his face, the sound of his stubble catching against his skin making something in her belly turn over. ‘Thanks, by the way. You’ve made a frail old man very happy.’

  Ailsa shifted her lips from side to side—a habit she’d had since childhood. She did it when she was stressed and she did it when she was thinking. ‘But what about when he wakes up? He’ll know there’s something not right between us. He might be desperately sick but he’s not a fool.’

  His dark-as-pitch eyes moved between each of hers in a back and forth motion, as if looking for a gap in her firewall. ‘You’ll have to work a little harder on convincing him you’re in love with me.’

  Ailsa gave him an arch look. ‘Maybe you could show me how to do it by example.’

  His hooded gaze went to her mouth and something dropped off a shelf in her stomach. That was the look that had started their crazy lust-driven relationship. The I-want-to-have-jungle-sex-with-you look. The look that melted her self-control like a scorching flame on sorbet. But then, as if he remembered they were still in a hospital room and likely to be interrupted, he brought his gaze back to hers. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a great job once you see ten million pounds in your bank account.’ He took out his phone and started pressing the keys, adding, ‘I’ll transfer a quarter of the funds now and the rest on signing.’

  Ailsa bristled again at the suggestion she could be bought. ‘I don’t care if you put twenty million in my account, it won’t change the fact that I hate you. And I told you, I’m not signing it until I’ve had time to think about it.’

  He looked up from his phone with an unreadable look. ‘Hate me all you like in private, cara, but in public—signed agreement or not—you will act like a blissfully happy bride or answer for the consequences.’

  She ground her teeth together. ‘Don’t go all macho man on me, Vinn. It won’t work.’

  One side of his mouth lifted in an indolent smile as if he was enjoying her strong will colliding with his. He stepped closer and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. She knew she should have jerked away from him but for some reason her body was locked in a mesmerised stasis. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t make out his pupils and they pulsed with little flashes of heat that could have been anger or red-hot desire or a combination of the two.

  ‘You really are spoiling for a fight, aren’t you, tesoro mio? But you know where our fights end up, hmm? In bed with you raking your fingernails down my back as I make you come again and again and again.’

  Ailsa could feel her cheeks blushing like an industrial furnace. How dare he remind her of how wanton she had been in his arms? He made her turn into an animal in his bed. A wild animal with needs and desires and hungers that had never been awakened, much less satisfied, by anyone but him.

  The need to get away from him so she could think straight was suddenly paramount. She didn’t care what agreement he wanted her to sign or for how much, but right then and there she had to put some space between them.

 
‘Dream on, Vinn. I need the bathroom. Will you excuse me for a minute?’

  ‘There’s a bathroom in here.’ He pointed to the signed door in his grandfather’s room. ‘I’ll wait for you.’

  Ailsa gave him a tight smile that didn’t show her teeth. ‘Strange as this may seem given our previous relationship, but I would actually like a little privacy. I’ll use the bathroom down the hall.’ She moved past him and mentally steeled herself for him trying to stop her but she managed to escape without him touching her. She glanced back from the doorway but he had already taken out his phone and was tapping again at the screen.

  * * *

  Ailsa walked straight past the bathroom down the corridor and stepped into the first available lift. She would have taken the stairs but she was in too much of a hurry. She had left her overnight bag in Vinn’s car but at least she had her passport in her tote bag. But then she began to weigh her options. If she flew back to London he would immediately withdraw his offer of Isaac’s sponsorship. She had no reason to think he didn’t mean every single word. She had run up against his steely will too many times to count. The only time she had won an argument with him was when she’d walked out on their marriage.

  But in a way she hadn’t really won.

  She had left him almost two years ago but a secret part of her had hoped he would come after her. While on one level she accepted he didn’t love her in the traditional sense, on another level she had been so desperate for a sign—any sign—he cared something for her that her walk out had been far more impulsive and dramatic than she’d intended. In hindsight, she realised she had been hormonal and moody and feeling neglected because he’d been working extra long hours. She’d felt like a toy that had been put to one side that no longer held its earlier appeal. When he’d mentioned having kids it had triggered all her fears about their relationship. It had triggered all her fears about herself. What sort of mother would she be? How could she risk having a child when she didn’t know whose DNA she carried?

  But Vinn hadn’t come after her. He hadn’t even called her. It seemed to prove how little he cared about her that he would let her call time on their marriage and not even put up a fight to beg her to stay.

  But then, men like Vinn Gagliardi didn’t beg. They commanded and people obeyed.

  The lift doors opened and Ailsa looked towards the hospital entrance. Could she walk out those doors and hope some decent part of Vinn would make him go ahead with Isaac’s sponsorship? But then she noticed a gathering of people outside and her heart began to skip in her chest. Paparazzi. Were they here for a visiting celebrity? It only took her a moment to realise she was the celebrity. Why hadn’t she realised Vinn would contact the press about their ‘reconciliation’? He was always a step or two ahead of her. It was as if he could read her mind as well as her body. She hadn’t signed his stupid agreement so he had a Plan B and C and God knew how many others up his designer sleeve.

  One of the paparazzo looked Ailsa’s way and said something to his colleagues and then they came rushing through the front doors of the hospital.

  Ailsa turned and stabbed at the lift button but when she looked up at the numbers she could see it was still on the fourth floor. She went to the next lift and, just as she pressed the button, the doors opened and she came face to face with Vinn.

  He took her hand and looped her arm through his. His expression was hard to read but the tensile strength in his grip was not. She would have to think twice before trying to outwit him. ‘Our first press conference is about to begin,’ he said. ‘Nice that you could join me for it.’

  Ailsa had no choice but to paint a plastic smile on her face as he swung her to face the press. The back and forth conversation was mostly in Italian so she could only pick up a few words here and there, but it was clear the press were delighted to hear the runaway wife of high profile billionaire furniture designer Vinn Gagliardi was back.

  ‘Let’s have a kiss for the cameras,’ one of the journalists said in English.

  Ailsa’s heart began to race at the thought of Vinn’s mouth coming down on hers, but he held up his hand like a stop sign. ‘Please respect our privacy. This is a difficult day for both of us with my grandfather undergoing life-saving surgery. Grazie.’

  The press gang parted like the Red Sea as Vinn led her towards the front doors of the hospital. She understood the gravity of the situation, with his grandfather hovering between life and death upstairs in Theatre, but why hadn’t Vinn taken this opportunity to kiss her? Had she misinterpreted the way he’d looked at her mouth earlier? Was he really serious about the no-sex rule? Did it mean he already had someone in his life who serviced those needs for him? A sudden pain gripped her at the thought of him with someone else. For the last twenty-two months she had forced herself not to think about it. He was a man with a healthy sexual appetite. Not just healthy—voracious. He was thirty-five years old—in the prime of his life.

  Vinn led her to where he’d parked his car and silently handed her into it. Ailsa knew he was angry. She could feel it simmering in the air like humidity before a storm. He got in behind the driver’s wheel and gave her a look that would have blistered paint. ‘You might not have signed the agreement yet, but you told my grandfather you’re back with me. If you try to run away again I will not only withdraw my offer of sponsorship from Isaac, but I will make sure no one else ever offers to sponsor him. He won’t be able to walk onto any golf course in Europe as a spectator, much less play in a tournament. Have I made myself clear?’

  Ailsa would have loved to throw his agreement and his ten million back in his face. She would have loved to tear up the money note by note and stuff the pieces down the front of his shirt. But she loved her brother more than she hated Vinn. Much more. Which was kind of scary because she needed to vehemently hate him in order to keep herself safe. But could she ever be safe from Vinn? She raised her chin a fraction, unwilling to let go of her pride. ‘You might think you can cleverly blackmail me back into your life for three months but I will always hate you. Ten million, twenty million—even fifty million—won’t ever change that.’

  ‘If I thought you were worth fifty million I would pay it.’

  His words were as cruel and stinging as a slap and shocked and pained her into silence.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as his hands opened and closed on the steering wheel, his knuckles straining white against the stretched tendons. The air inside the cocoon of the car felt thick, dense, as if all the oxygen atoms had been sucked out.

  Ailsa felt dangerously close to tears, which annoyed her because she wasn’t a crier. She was a fighter not a crier. She gave as good as she got and never showed her vulnerability. She didn’t like showing her neediness. She fought against her emotional weakness. She’d taught herself from a young age when her mother would turn away from her outstretched arms as if she couldn’t bear to be touched, let alone hugged, by her own child.

  Ailsa turned her head to stare blindly out of the window, vaguely registering people coming and going from the hospital. People going through the various cycles of life: birth, death, illness and recovery, sadness and happiness and hope and loss and everything in between.

  Vinn released a heavy sigh and turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry. That was...unkind of me.’

  ‘Unkind?’ Ailsa wasn’t ready to forgive him. Her hurt was festering, pulsating and throbbing like a reopened wound. Old hurts and new hurts were twisting around each other like rough ropes tied too tightly against wounded flesh. ‘But true in my case. I’m not worth anything to you. In fact, I’m surprised you offered ten million.’

  He reached across the space between them and put a gentle hand to the nape of her neck where it seemed every nerve in her body had gathered to welcome his touch. ‘I would pay any amount of money to get my grandfather safely through this surgery.’ His mouth twisted in a rueful movement that wasn’t quite a smile. ‘I’m not
ready to let him go.’

  You were ready to let me go. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t say them out loud. ‘You really love him, don’t you?’

  His hand moved closer to the base of her scalp, his fingers moving through her hair sending shivers down her spine. ‘He’s family. The only family I have left.’

  ‘Don’t you have cousins and uncles and aunts and—?’

  He made a dismissive sound. ‘They ran for cover when my father’s shady dealings became public knowledge. I have no time for fair weather family or friends.’

  Ailsa hadn’t realised until then how isolated he was. She knew there were numerous Gagliardi relatives because she had met a lot of them at their wedding. Some had refused the invitation because of his father’s reputation but Vinn had shrugged it off as if it hadn’t bothered him one way or the other. But where were they today, the day his grandfather faced the biggest battle of his life? Had anyone reached out to support Vinn? To offer comfort at such a difficult time? Who were his closest friends these days? She had met a few of his business associates in the past but none of them appeared to be close to him or he to them. He had a tendency to hold people at a distance.

  And who knew that better than her?

  Even though she had shared his body and his home for nearly a year he was as much of an enigma to her as ever.

  Ailsa looked into his gaze and felt her resolve melting like an ice cube in a hot tub. She didn’t have too many pressing engagements back in London. She had planned to have a week or two out of the studio to work on some designs for some clients at home. What would it matter if she rescheduled her flight for a day or two? Just until Dom got out of surgery or Recovery. Her assistant, Brooke, could handle anything urgent.