The irony of it was not lost on her and, sour though it was, she could taste it in her mouth.
But he was prepared to strike that low—stoop that low now. And low it would be as he bit out, ‘Don’t think that I would do it otherwise.’ His voice was harsh. ‘But you heard the doctor—heard Matteo when we went into him. How…obsessed he is. He’s beyond reason.’
She still wouldn’t answer him. Mouth set like steel.
Another rasp broke from him, and he threw up his hands angrily. ‘For God’s sake, all that is required is that we go through the motions! Let him think we’ve played into this…this fairy tale…this fantasy he’s become obsessed by!’
She turned away, unable to bear looking at him. Unable to bear the stone in her throat, her lungs. It was stopping her breathing, the concrete set hard in her stomach. She felt her hands clench.
That morning Matteo had looked like a death’s head. Whatever kind of collapse he’d had, it had brought him closer to death than she had ever yet seen him. His voice had barely been a whisper, and his hand had been skin and bone as it had clutched hers. Fear had stabbed at her—and it stabbed again now.
‘Bianca?’
Luca’s voice was still harsh. Still brutal and ruthless. But she didn’t have to think of him. He wasn’t worth a single thought unless it was to damn him to hell, where she’d damned him six years ago. And then again, with black, bleak fury, she had damned him to hell last night. All she had to think of was Matteo—her uncle—who had found her, brought her here, welcomed her into the home that might have been hers all along. Who had given her his love, freely and instantly, and who now was dying…
She heard words form inside her, forced away the stone in her throat, her lungs. Gritted her clenched teeth.
‘I’ll do it—for him,’ she said.
Acid burned in her mouth.
* * *
Luca was in the pool in the villa’s gardens, relentlessly ploughing up and down in a strong, tireless freestyle, his thoughts turbid as he chewed up the lengths. He needed the exertion—needed something, anything, to release what was inside him.
Dio,had he really done what he had? Let himself be manoeuvred into this? Let Matteo believe his deluded fantasy was actually real?
Should he really have gone along with his godfather’s obsession—driven, he knew, by his impending mortality?
Well, it was too late to think otherwise. He and Bianca had gone up to Matteo’s bedroom, told him the ‘good news’—Luca’s mouth twisted unconsciously—and the change in Matteo’s countenance had been dramatic. The fearful, fretful, strickenanxiousness had vanished. His face had lit up and his weak, thin hand had reached out to wring Luca’s in delight.
The end of the pool neared, and Luca executed a rapid tumble turn before resuming his ploughing through the water. It was too late to regret what he’d done. All he could do now was face up to it, endure it for as long as it took—and make sure Bianca did as well.
Bianca…
Of all the women Matteo wants me to marry, it has to be Bianca…
Some cosmic jester—one of the old pagan gods, no doubt, with a warped sense of humour—had conjured her up out of the past he’d left behind, walked rapidly and ruthlessly away from, and dumped her back in front of him. Forced him into this distasteful farce.
But it was a farce he was stuck with now.
An old saying—bitter and cynical—intruded into his head.
No good deed goes unpunished.
His good deed was taking pity on his godfather at this drastic hour of his failing life.
His punishment—well, that came with a name, a face, a body…and a whole heap of memories he could do without right now.
Especially the memory of that clinch out on the terrace last night. Por Dio, was I mad…insane to do that?
It was the only explanation. She’d goaded him, repudiated him, scorned him, and it had infuriated him…inflamed him. He’d acted on impulse—on something that had flared in him. Something that he hadn’t been able to stop, hadn’t wanted to stop…
He’d wanted to indulge instead.
So he had. He had indulged. Indulged very pleasurably. Finding her mouth with his…drawing her soft, pliant body against his…letting the contact arouse him…arouse her…
No!He pulled his mind away, increased the pace of his strokes to a punishing degree, refusing to let himself remember how it had felt to have Bianca pressed close against him, the feel of her peaked breasts against his chest, the feel of her soft, silken mouth opening to his, the hardening of his own body as she’d aroused it with hers…