Blackmailed into the Marriage Bed Read online

  ‘Because now I have to do this.’ And his mouth came down and covered hers.

  His mouth was deceptively soft against hers, luring her into a sensual whirlpool in which she knew she could so easily drown. But the feel of his lips moving against hers with such exquisitely gentle pressure left her defenceless, disarmed and desperate for more. She made a sound against his lips—a whimpering, mewling, approving sound that betrayed her as shockingly as if she had shouted, I want you.

  His tongue glided through her softly parted lips and rediscovered every corner of her mouth in deliciously arousing detail. The taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer maleness of him excited her senses into a madcap frenzy like someone poking at a hive of bees. Sensations buzzed through her flesh, hot prickles of want and cascading shivers of delight, and sweet little stabs of memory as his lips and tongue danced with hers like two ideally suited dancing partners coming together after a long absence.

  Ailsa welcomed each stroke and glide of his tongue, relishing the way his breathing quickened and his hold tightened. At least she wasn’t the only one who was affected. But it still worried her that one kiss could do this to her—turn her into a breathless, limbless wanton with zero willpower. She linked her arms around his neck and leaned into him, her breasts tingling at the contact with warm, hard male muscles.

  Vinn slid his hands down to her hips, holding her against the potent ridge of his erection, his mouth making teasing little nips and nudges against hers.

  ‘Want to do it here or shall we go upstairs?’

  His blunt statement was a shot of adrenalin to her comatose willpower. Ailsa unwound her arms from around his neck and stepped back, throwing him a look that would have curdled milk. Long-life milk.

  ‘Do you really think I would subject myself to more of your...your disgusting pawing?’

  He made a soft sound of amusement and his eyes gleamed. ‘You started it, tesoro. You know how hot I get for you when you use your tongue on me.’

  Ailsa remembered all too well. Over the last two years she’d vainly tried to forget the things she had done with him. Wickedly sexy things she had not done with anyone else, or ever wanted to. It made her hate him all the more for being so damn...special.

  She straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at him like a haughty Victorian schoolmistress. ‘I merely opened my mouth and your thumb was in the way.’

  He gave a deep chuckle that made the floor of her belly shiver like an unset jelly. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

  She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘Right back at you, buddy.’

  He closed the distance between them and traced a slow pathway from the front of her left ear and along the line of her jaw, sending every nerve under her skin into raptures. His expression went from amused to serious. ‘Thank you.’

  It was such an unexpected thing for him to say it shocked her into silence for a moment. She looked at him in confusion. ‘For?’

  His fingertip traced a lazy circle on her cheek, his eyes holding hers captive. ‘For making me forget about Nonno for a while.’

  Ailsa was a little shocked that she too had forgotten Dom. But hadn’t it always been this way between her and Vinn? It was as if no one else existed when they were in each other’s arms. ‘Is it too early to call the hospital to see how he is?’

  ‘Way too early.’ His hand fell away from her face and went to scrape back his hair from his forehead instead. ‘It will be hours and hours before we find out anything...’ a worried frown flickered across his forehead ‘...unless, of course, something goes wrong.’

  Ailsa put her hand on his forearm. ‘Try not to think like that, Vinn. Your grandfather might be frail but they wouldn’t have offered the surgery if they didn’t think he had a fair chance.’

  ‘He has no chance without it,’ he said, releasing a sigh. ‘No chance at all.’

  She squeezed her fingers around the muscles of his forearm. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  His eyes met hers. ‘You’re doing it by agreeing to come back to me.’

  Ailsa dropped her hand from his arm as if it had been scorched. ‘I’ll stay one night or two maximum. That’s all. Just till he gets out of surgery.’ Or doesn’t. She didn’t need to say the words out loud because she knew they were both thinking about the very real possibility that Dom wouldn’t make it through the surgery. She crossed her arms over her body and glared at Vinn. ‘You can’t make me stay any longer than that. I haven’t signed the agreement and I have commitments back home and—’

  ‘Cancel them.’

  ‘Oh, like you did during our marriage whenever I needed you?’ Ailsa injected a stinging dose of sarcasm in her tone.

  A brooding frown formed on his forehead. ‘I run a large business that involves a lot of responsibility. I can’t just take a day off to keep my bored wife amused. I have people relying on me for their incomes.’

  ‘And why was I bored? Because you insisted I move to Milan and forget about my job back in London. I wasn’t used to having so much spare time on my hands.’

  ‘But you told me you were unhappy in that job,’ Vinn said. ‘You were working for someone else who was exploiting you.’

  ‘Yeah, funny that,’ Ailsa said with a pert tilt of her brow. ‘I seem to attract those sort of people, don’t I?’

  His mouth flattened to a line of white. ‘I did not exploit you. I told you what I was prepared to give you and—’

  ‘And then you went and changed the rules,’ Ailsa said. ‘You thought you’d get me to pop out a baby or two while you go on with your terribly important career that can’t be interrupted under any circumstances.’

  ‘You are the most maddening young woman I’ve ever met,’ Vinn said with a thread of anger running through his voice. ‘It’s impossible to discuss anything with you without it turning into World War Three. I’ve made it clear how this is going to work. I need you here for this week at the very least. I realise you have responsibilities back in London so I’ll allow you to travel back and forth as needs be—’

  ‘You’ll allow me?’ Ailsa could feel her eyes popping in outrage and her pulse thundering.

  ‘I’m prepared to be reasonable.’

  She laughed a mirthless laugh. ‘Somehow you and the word reasonable don’t fit too well together. I’ll travel to London whenever I want or need to. I will not be ordered about by you, nor can you kidnap me.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’

  Ditto. He was temptation personified. Putting her anger aside, Ailsa didn’t know how she was going to keep her distance, and was privately impressed with herself for how she’d got this far without throwing herself upon him and begging him to make love to her. She blew out a breath and picked up her bag from where she’d left it on the floor.

  ‘I need a cup of tea or something. Do you mind if I make myself one?’ It seemed strange to be asking permission to do something in the home she used to call her own, but with the surly presence of his housekeeper Carlotta, no doubt still guarding her territory like a junkyard dog, Ailsa was reluctant to breeze in there as she had in the past. She didn’t have the same rights and privileges now...but then, maybe she never had, which was something his housekeeper had made clear whenever she’d had an opportunity. Ailsa had tried to strike up a friendship with his housekeeper because she had felt a little daunted by being so far away from everything familiar. She had secretly hoped Carlotta would be a sort of stand-in mother figure for her since her own mother had never been the nurturing type. But Carlotta hadn’t been interested in connecting with Ailsa on any level. The older woman had been cold and dismissive towards any attempts on Ailsa’s part to offer to help around the villa. Ailsa had felt unwelcome, a hindrance, an inconvenience. A burden to be borne.

  Just like she’d felt back at home with her mother.

  Vinn waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Make yourself at
home—you know where everything is. I’m going out for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back. But call or text me if you want me.’

  That was the whole trouble—Ailsa did want him. She wanted him so badly it was a persistent ache in her flesh. When would she stop wanting him? Would that day ever come? Or had he left his mark on her like a brand? Making her his for ever by the simple fact of making her desire only him and him alone?

  ‘What about Carlotta? Is she going to frogmarch me out of the house as soon as she sees me or have you given her the heads-up?’

  His mouth tightened as if he were recalling all the arguments they’d had over his housekeeper’s attitude towards her. An attitude he had never witnessed and therefore didn’t believe existed. ‘She’s having the week off.’

  ‘A week off? Wow, wonders will never cease.’ Ailsa didn’t bother pulling back on the sarcasm. ‘I didn’t think Carlotta had a life outside this house. She never even had a day off when I was here. Not once.’

  He let out a breath that sounded faintly exasperated. ‘I hope you’re not going to make things difficult for her while you’re here.’

  ‘Difficult for her?’ Ailsa laughed even though she felt like crying at the injustice. ‘What about her making things difficult for me? I tried to get close to her and she shut me down like I was a stray dog who’d turned up at the back door looking for scraps.’

  ‘Look, she’s an old woman and I don’t want—’

  ‘She should’ve retired by now,’ Ailsa said. ‘She doesn’t even clean the house properly. I was always going around after her, redoing stuff she’d missed, which I’m sure was another reason why she hated me so much. Why do you still employ her when she’s obviously past it?’

  He let out an impatient-sounding breath. ‘She did not hate you.’

  ‘Not while you were around, no,’ Ailsa said. ‘She saved it for when you weren’t there to witness it. How old is she anyway?’

  ‘Seventy-three.’

  Ailsa widened her eyes. ‘Seventy-three? That’s surely a bit old to be still in full-time employment, isn’t it?’

  ‘She’s been working for my family for a long time.’ He paused for a beat and then continued. ‘Since before my mother died. They were...close, or as close as a housekeeper and an employer could be.’

  Ailsa tried to read his expression but it was like trying to read invisible ink. ‘So you keep her on because of her link to your mother?’ He had so rarely mentioned his mother in the past. She had tried to draw him out about what he could remember about his mother but she had got the impression he’d been too young when his mother died to remember much at all.

  A shadow passed over his gaze but then his mouth became tightly compressed as if he regretted his uncharacteristic disclosure. ‘Please—make yourself at home. I’ll let you know if there is any news on Nonno.’ And with that he turned and left her in the hallway with just the echo of his footsteps for company.

  Ailsa made her way to the kitchen, but instead of making herself a cup of tea, she stood and looked out of the windows to the courtyard and garden beyond. The two-lane lap pool sparkled in the warm spring sunshine and, even without opening the French doors, she could almost smell the purple wisteria hanging in a scented arras.

  How many other women had Vinn made love to in that pool? How many other women had he made love to under the dappled shade of those trees? Her stomach clenched into a fist of anguish.

  How many women had he made love to in the bed he had once shared with her?

  She turned away from the window and sighed. Why was she even thinking about things like that? She had been the one to leave their marriage. If Vinn had taken up with other women since, surely that was his prerogative? They had been separated almost two years. Longer than they’d been together. Two years was a long time to be celibate for a man who had been having sex since his teens. Damn it. It was a long time for her and she’d only been having sex—the sort of sex that was worth mentioning, that was—while she had been married to Vinn.

  Ailsa left the kitchen and made her way upstairs to the master bedroom she had once shared with him. Even as she walked towards it, she knew she was inflicting unbearable torture on herself but she felt compelled to revisit that room, to see if anything had been changed. There were numerous other rooms she could have visited first, but no, her legs were carrying her, step by step, to that room.

  She pushed open the door and for a moment just stood there, breathing in the faint scent of Vinn’s aftershave that was still lingering in the air. The king-size bed was neatly made and she wondered again who was the last woman to sleep in it with him.

  Ailsa swallowed a tight lump as she walked towards the walk-in wardrobe, drawn there like a hapless moth to a deadly flame. This is going to hurt. But, even as she mentally said the words, she pulled back the sliding doors...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AILSA STOOD AS still as one of the marble statues in the garden below and stared at the rows and rows of her clothes. At first she thought they might have been someone else’s but she recognised the fabrics, the styles, the colours. Things Vinn had bought her, expensive things—things she could never have afforded herself.

  She’d stormed out in such a hurry that she hadn’t bothered packing, mostly because a secret stubborn part of her had always hoped to come back when Vinn pleaded and begged her to, which of course he hadn’t done. She hadn’t asked him to return anything to her London address because, once it was clear he wasn’t going to fight for her, she’d wanted to put her life with him in Milan behind her. She had wanted no reminders, no triggers for memories that could make her regret her impulsive decision to call time on their marriage.

  For she could see now, with the benefit of hindsight, how impulsive it had been. How...how immature to storm out like a tantrum-throwing child instead of trying to work at better communication. Why hadn’t she tried harder to understand where Vinn was coming from? If he’d wanted to talk about the possibility of having children then surely she should have been mature enough to have the discussion even if her opinion remained the same. It was becoming apparent to her that his inability to see the flaws in his housekeeper was deeply rooted in his attachment to Carlotta that stretched back to his early childhood. A childhood he had told Ailsa virtually nothing about.

  Why hadn’t he told her about Carlotta’s connection with his mother before?

  And why hadn’t she made it her business to find out more about his childhood?

  Because she hadn’t wanted him digging about in her own.

  Ailsa trailed her fingers through the silky fabrics on the velvet hangers, releasing a tidal wave of memories as the clothes moved past her fingers. Why hadn’t he got rid of them? Why not toss them out in the rubbish or donate them to charity?

  Why keep them here, so close to his clothes?

  Ailsa slid the doors closed and let out a serrated sigh. How well did she know Vinn? She knew the way he took his coffee and that he absolutely hated tea. She knew what books he liked to read and what movies he liked to watch. She knew he had a ticklish spot at the backs of his knees and that he always slept on the right side of the bed—no exceptions.

  But how well did she know him?

  Was his keeping her clothes a sentimental thing or a tactical thing? What if he wanted her to believe he hadn’t given up hope on her returning? What if this very minute she was being masterfully manipulated?

  Anger prickled her skin like a rash. Vinn was ruthless—she had always known that about him. He detested failure. He saw it as a weakness, even as a character flaw. He wanted her back for three months to prove what, exactly? That she couldn’t resist him?

  Ailsa smiled a secret smile.

  She would show him how well she could resist him.

  * * *

  Vinn paced his Milan office floor like a tiger on a treadmill. He wondered now if he should have st
ayed back at the villa in case Ailsa did another runner on him. She still hadn’t signed the agreement. He might be considered a little ruthless at times but he could hardly force her to sign it. He could offer her more money but he had a feeling it wasn’t about the money. It was about her wanting to stand up to him. She could stand up to him all she liked but he didn’t want anything to compromise his grandfather’s recovery.

  He had to have her here with him, otherwise people would suspect it was all a ruse. He wanted his grandfather to believe he and Ailsa were back together. He’d seen the joy on Nonno’s face when she’d walked into his hospital room. Vinn hadn’t seen his grandfather so animated, so overjoyed since the day Vinn had presented Ailsa to him as his fiancée. His grandfather had always approved of Vinn’s choice of bride, which had not surprised him because Ailsa was everything a man could want in a bride: beautiful and smart, accomplished and quick-witted—the downside of that being, of course, she was a little sharp-tongued. His grandfather liked strong women and no one could describe Ailsa as anything but strong.

  But Vinn hadn’t chosen Ailsa as his bride to gain his grandfather’s approval. He had chosen her because he couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t feel attracted to her. He had never felt such powerful chemistry for a woman before. The sexual energy she triggered in him was shockingly primitive. No one had ever pushed his self-control to the edge the way she did. He wanted her with a fierce, burning ache that pulsed in his loins even now. He had tried for almost two years to rid his brain of the images of her going down on him, the way her lips and tongue could undo him until he was weak-kneed and shuddering. He knew she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could feel it in the air when they were in the same room together. It changed the atmosphere. Charged the atmosphere until the air all but crackled with tension.

  Vinn couldn’t settle to work—not with his grandfather still on the operating table and his almost-ex-wife no doubt searching through the bedroom they’d shared during their marriage. He’d heard Ailsa’s footsteps going up the stairs on his way out of the villa and knew it wouldn’t take her long to see he had left her things in the wardrobe. It seemed a foolish oversight now that she was back. What would she make of it? Why hadn’t he tossed the lot out? Or shipped it to her? Damn it. He could have got Carlotta to do it.