‘Aren’t I?’ he said softly, leaning towards her, his breath warming the icy tremble of her lips. ‘How very remiss of me, bella. I wonder how best I can go about that? Mmm? Any ideas?’
His face was close. Too close. Close enough for its hard contours and aristocratic lines to mock her for what could never be. To make her long for the impossible. Cassie closed her eyes, knowing that he was going to kiss her—and, if she was being honest, she supposed that she wanted him to kiss her. To seal a deal which he had never wanted to make. But also because she had missed his kisses and all the closeness and intimacy which went with them.
He had tutored her in the sweet pleasures of the flesh and hadn’t her newly awakened body ached for him? But at least by blotting out the sight of his mocking face she might be able to protect her emotions from the grim recognition that this was simply a business arrangement.
His mouth grazed over hers—and despite all the misgivings which stabbed at her heart it ignited instant fire in the pit of her belly. Back and forth his lips touched in light provocation, until the desire to put her arms around him overrode all other considerations like pride and self-respect. Biting back a small cry of something which felt like relief, Cassie clung to his shoulders as if she had found dry land after being lost at sea—and for a moment she felt safe as she let the kiss deepen and felt his tongue move inside her mouth.
He pulled her close, cushioning her silken hair in the palms of his hands and, after a while, he drew away from her, trying to steady the sudden shudder of his breathing.
‘That is better. Much better. Now listen to me, Cassandra—for this is important. You will go home—and you will tell your mother that you are going to marry the man you met in London.’
Cassie swallowed. ‘And if she asks me why?’
‘You will tell her that you love me.’
‘But I—’
‘You don’t love me?’ he interjected mockingly. ‘You know that and I know that—but that can be our little secret, Cassandra.’
‘Another one?’ she interjected bitterly. ‘How many secrets will we have between us?’
He shrugged, still stroking her hair. ‘In life, as in business—it is always wise to hold something back.’
‘But this is different!’
‘No, it is not different. The principle is exactly the same. Let’s not overload your family and friends with too many surprises all at once.’ His dark eyes glittered. ‘And why don’t we look at facts instead of fantasy? Love has never guaranteed matrimonial success—statistics show that arranged marriages fare much better.’
‘N-not in the kind of world I’ve grown up in,’ she answered shakily. ‘And anyway, people are bound to be suspicious.
His mouth hardened. ‘Then distract them by telling them that I am letting you choose a wedding venue anywhere in the world. Give them something else to think about other than the speed with which the ceremony is taking place.’
For a moment, Cassie was torn between horror and admiration for the sheer cold-bloodedness of his proposal. He really was a cynic. Did he think that her mother would be swept away by the promise of a luxury wedding? Maybe he did. He had told her himself that he had a lifelong mistrust of women—and hadn’t the only woman he had ever loved been blinded by the dazzle of wealth? The question was whether she should walk straight into an arranged marriage with such a man.
But what alternative did she have?
She tried to imagine the reality of going it alone as a single mother. Her mother’s initial shock and disappointment would inevitably give way to affection—and any baby would be welcomed and adored into their little home. But it wasn’t her mother’s responsibility—and having a grandchild would impact heavily on her life. She was only just emerging from the grief of widowhood—and didn’t she deserve a little freedom of her own?
Cassie thought about leaving a little baby while she went to work in the shop—and even if she got her promotion there would be hardly enough money to go round. She would be subjecting her child to a lifetime of making-do—while all the time the powerful and wealthy persona of his father would be hovering in the background.
And wouldn’t Giancarlo be preparing to strike at the earliest opportunity? Eager to seize the chance to take the baby away from her. To whisk him or her off to London—or, worse, another capital city—where her child might become gradually inaccessible to her, protected by the impermeable barriers of great wealth.
There was something else, too—something she didn’t want to acknowledge, even to herself. That the world seemed less frightening when Giancarlo was by her side. In a funny kind of way, he made her feel safe. He could make her heart leap with desire just by the brief brush of his lips. Somehow, he had the ability to make her feel alive—truly alive.
With a little nod of her head, she realised that capitulation was the only way forward—a sort of gritting her teeth and making the best of it.
‘When?’ she asked him. ‘When shall I do this?’
‘Do it today,’ he commanded softly. ‘And later, I will come and meet with your mother myself.’
So Cassie went home and broke the news that she was getting married. And she could see another reason for keeping her pregnancy secret. Deep down, wasn’t she worried that her mother might try to talk her out of marrying Giancarlo—and wasn’t it peculiar to discover that she didn’t want to be talked out of it? As if by some wishful-thinking kind of magic she might be able to shuffle the hand that fate had dealt her and find something hopeful in the cards which lay before her.
In a slightly surreal state, she watched her mother’s uncertainty become dawning delight when an impossibly elegant Giancarlo turned up on their tiny doorstep later that evening. The stern and serious expression on his face was tempered by the celebratory bottle of champagne he carried and, later, by the captivating quality of his smile.
Cassie felt appalled at just how utterly convincing and ruthless he could be in his pursuit of what he wanted. It was a side of him she had seen only once before—when he had bamboozled Hudson’s into not charging her with theft. She listened as he vowed to her mother that he would look after her and said that they both wanted the wedding to take place as soon as possible—and that he hoped there were no objections to that. Maybe if it had been anyone else her mother might have had a few. But who in their right mind could object to Giancarlo when he was ladling on the charm with a trowel?
And it was only after he’d gone that her mother turned to her, a dreamy kind of smile on her face.
‘Oh, darling,’ she said. ‘Now I can see exactly why you don’t want to wait.’
Cassie managed a bright smile as she met her mother’s eyes—her mother who had enjoyed a strong and loving marriage herself. What could she say? Because the truth of it was that part of her was longing to be Giancarlo’s bride and to wear his ring on her finger—despite knowing how foolish her little dreams were. Was that what people meant when they talked about hope triumphing over experience?
They were married quietly, in London—because that had seemed the most appropriate venue after all. Giancarlo’s offer of a wedding anywhere in the world had seemed like something someone else would do—not Cassie—and she was still smarting from all the accusations of being a gold-digger which he’d hurled at her. And so, despite only ever having been to Paris, she turned down New York and the West Indies and all the other luxury destinations he assured her were there for the taking.
She found herself caught