A Hunger for the Forbidden. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
when she’d seen him in New York, it had been easy, natural, to kiss him. To ask him to make love to her.
But after that he hadn’t come to save her.
She looked at him now, at those dark eyes, hollow, his face like stone. And he seemed like a stranger. She wondered how she could have been so wrong all this time.
“I don’t want to dredge up the past. But I want to know that the future won’t be miserable.”
“If you preferred Alessandro, you should have married him while you had him at the altar with a priest standing by. Now you belong to me, the choice has been taken. So you should make the best of it.”
“Stop being such an ass!”
Now he looked shocked, which, she felt, was a bit of an accomplishment. “You want me to tell you how happy I am? You want me to lie?”
“No,” she said, her stomach tightening painfully. “But stop … stop trying to hurt me.”
He swore, an ugly, crude word. “I am sorry, Alessia, it is not my intent.”
The apology was about the most shocking event of the afternoon. “I … I know this is unexpected. Trust me, I know.”
“When did you find out?” he asked.
“At the airport. So … if you had met me, you would have found out when I did.”
“And what did you do after that?”
“I waited for you,” she said. “And then I got on a plane and came to New York. I have a friend here, the friend that hosted my little bachelorette party.”
“Why did you come to New York?”
“Why not?” She made it sound casual, like it was almost accidental. But it wasn’t. It had made her feel close to him, no matter where he might have been in the world, because it was the place she’d finally been with him the way she’d always dreamed of. “Why did you come to New York?”
“Possibly for the same reason you did,” he said, his voice rough. It made her stomach twist, but she didn’t want to ask him for clarification. Didn’t want to hope that it had something to do with her.
She was too raw to take more of Matteo’s insults. And she was even more afraid of his tenderness. That would make her crumble completely. She couldn’t afford it, not now. Now she had to figure out what she was doing. What she wanted.
Could she really marry Matteo?
It was so close to her dearest fantasy. The one that had kept her awake long nights since she was a teenager. Matteo. Hers. Only hers. Such an innocent fantasy at first, and as she’d gotten older, one that had become filled with heat and passion, a longing for things she’d never experienced outside of her dreams.
“And if …” she said, hardly trusting herself to speak “… if we marry, my family will still benefit from the merger?”
“Your father will get his money. His piece of the Corretti empire, as agreed upon.”
“You give it away so easily.”
“Because my family still needs the docklands revitalization. And your father holds the key to that.”
“And it will benefit Alessandro, too.”
“Just as it would have benefitted me had he married you.”
Those words, hearing that it would have benefitted him for her to marry someone else, made her feel ill. “So a win all around for the Correttis, then?”
“I suppose it is,” he said.
There was a ruthless glint in his eyes now. One she had never seen directed at her before. One she’d only seen on one other occasion.
“What if I say no?” she asked, because she had to know. She wasn’t sure why she was exploring her options now. Maybe because she’d already blown everything up. Her father likely hated her.… Her siblings … they must be worried sick. And she wondered if anyone was caring for them properly.
Yes, the youngest, Eva, was fourteen now and the rest of them in their late teens, but still, she was the only person who nurtured them. The only person who ever had.
The life she’d always known, the life she’d clung to for the past twenty-seven years, was changed forever. And now she felt compelled in some ways to see how far she could push it.
“You won’t say no,” he said.
“I won’t?”
“No. Because if you do, the Battaglias are as good as bankrupt. You will be cared for, of course our child will be, too. I’m not the kind of man who would abandon his responsibility in that way. But what of your siblings? Their care will not be my problem.”
“And if I marry you?”
“They’ll be family. And I take care of family.”
A rush of joy and terror filled her in equal parts. Because in some ways, she was getting just what she wanted. Matteo. Forever.
But this wasn’t the Matteo she’d woven fantasies around. This was the real Matteo. Dark. Bitter. Emotionless in a way she’d somehow never realized before.
He’d given her passion on their night together, but for the most part, the lights had been off. She wondered now if, while his hands had moved over her body with such skill and heat, his eyes had been blank and cold. Like they were now.
She knew that what she was about to agree to wasn’t the fantasy. But it was the best choice for her baby, the best choice for her family.
And more fool her, she wanted him. Still. All of those factors combined meant there was only ever one answer for her to give.
“Yes, Matteo. I’ll marry you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE HUSH IN the lobby of Matteo’s plush Palermo hotel was thick, the lack of sound more pronounced and obvious than any scream could have been.
It was early in the day and employees were milling around, setting up for a wedding and mobilizing to sort out rooms and guests. As Matteo walked through, a wave of them parted, making room for him, making space. Good. He was in no mood to be confronted today. No mood for questions.
Bleached sunlight filtered through the windows, reflecting off a jewel-bright sea. A view most would find relaxing. For him, it did nothing but increase the knot of tension in his stomach. Homecoming, for him, would never be filled with a sense of comfort and belonging. For him, this setting had been the stage for violence, pain and shame that cut so deep it was a miracle he hadn’t bled to death with it.
He gritted his teeth and pulled together every last ounce of control he could scrape up, cooling the anger that seemed to be on a low simmer in his blood constantly now.
He had a feeling, though, that the shock was due only in part to his presence, with a much larger part due to the woman who was trailing behind him.
He punched the up button for the elevator and the doors slid open. He looked at Alessia, who simply stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, dark eyes looking at everything but him.
“After you, cara mia,” he said, putting his hand between the doors, keeping them from closing.
“You don’t demand that a wife walk three paces behind you at all times?” she asked, her words soft, defiant.
“A woman is of very little use to me when she’s behind me. Bent over in front of me is another matter, as you well know.”
Her cheeks turned dark with color, and not all of it was from embarrassment. He’d made her angry, as he’d intended to do. He didn’t know what it was about her that pushed him so. That made him say things like that.
That made him show anything beyond the unreadable