Taught by the Tycoon (18 page)

She winced at the terribly tacky headline. “My fault on the corn, sorry.”

“That’s just it, none of this is your fault. It’s mine. I knew better than to sleep with you. You were right. You’re my P.A. and my friend’s sister. There were so many reasons to keep it platonic. To keep you out of my bed.”

“Clearly I should’ve kept my legs closed,” she said crudely, stung and near tears.

The car arrived outside his building and she climbed out before he could stop her. But he was right on her heels as she made her way inside. She should’ve just left, hailed a taxi to her apartment, but she wanted all her belongings that he’d had brought here. The presumptuous, controlling jerk. Thinking she would just agree to move in and marry him.

What was happening? The past weeks had been sexy and fun, and now it had turned into something dark and domineering.

By the time they’d taken the elevator to his penthouse, she’d finally decided what needed to be done.

It nearly ripped her heart out, as she said flatly, “We’ll forget this getting married or moving-in craziness. I think it’s actually time to end things. I’ll have Michaela put out a press release tomorrow that we’re no longer involved.”

“The hell you will.” His guttural reply had her stumbling back from him and against the wall of the foyer.

She swallowed hard. “Look, this is exactly what we planned all along. You’ve got Maria off your back, and I’m...” Absolutely heartbroken. And she should’ve been prepared for this. She’d tried to be.

“You’re what? That plan was for when Lionelli was still in the picture.”

She tilted her chin, and couldn’t resist a mocking, “Who says he’s not?”

His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He took a step closer. “I think we both know you no long have interest in Lionelli.”

She didn’t reply, but lowered her lashes instead. There was no use trying to pretend she held interest in anyone but Damiano, but she wouldn’t stay with him because his conscience had kicked in.

Maybe she was old-fashioned, but she wanted the person she married to love her as much as she did him. But Damiano didn’t love her. He didn’t love anybody. Sometimes she wondered if he even loved his mother.

“It doesn’t matter who I want anymore.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I’ll grab my things and return to my apartment tonight.”

The slight smile he gave her held no warmth, and his eyes held a menacing warning that slid a chill down her spine.

“And how will you pay for that apartment when you no longer have a job?”

Damiano felt a stab of guilt at the blatant shock in her eyes at his words. Her mouth parted and she made a small choked noise.

“You promised you wouldn’t fire me.”

The panic at her threat to quit had made him bluff. He couldn’t let her walk away. Not with the possibility of her being pregnant. Not with his oath to her brother.

He reached out to rub his thumb over her bottom lip, felt that familiar, tenacious swell of arousal gather in him.

“Consider being my wife a promotion,” he murmured lightly.

Most women would. She wouldn’t have to work anymore, and instead would have access to all his money. It was what every woman wanted, wasn’t it?

“How ridiculously arrogant to think that I would want that. I have no desire to be married to you.”

He tilted his head and gave her a pointed look. “Yet you’re in love me.”

Humiliation flared in her eyes, but she didn’t look away, didn’t back down. “A low blow, thank you very much. Yes I love you, but clearly that love is not reciprocated.”

His chest tightened and he gave a strained smile. “Don’t take it so personally. I don’t love anyone.”

She looked almost confused, before she gave a resolute shake of her head. “Well I won’t marry you. And I don’t think I really even
want
to work for you anymore. So there, all untidy ends are neatly clipped.”

Panic rushed through him and he followed her into his bedroom. She was already reaching for several of her still-packed bags.

“I think you may find it more difficult to find another job than you imagine. At least one of equal caliber. My opinion goes a long way in this city.”

“Oh, you’re resorting to blackmail now? Really?” She shook her head, giving a laugh of disbelief. Her eyes had a faint sheen of tears. “This would almost be funny if it wasn’t so appalling. What is
wrong
with you?”

He took the bags from her hands and set them back down. “I don’t trust easily. I refuse to fall in love. And, yes, I usually do get what I want, which makes me a bit entitled, I’m sure. More so, what isn’t wrong with me?”

Her expression became one of confusion. “This isn’t you, Damiano. This isn’t the man I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you better than you think.” Instead of backing away from him, she looped her arms around his neck. “I think you care for me much more than you want to admit, and it terrifies you.”

When he opened his mouth to deny it, she kissed him. Laid her lips against his and gave him a slow, deep kiss. Drawing a response from him, physical and emotional.

He pulled her into his arms, so grateful to have her kissing him and not fighting him. Then she pulled away and he bit back a groan of protest. His body was awake to her again.

She cupped his cheek. “Stop acting like a jerk, Damiano. I know you’re a decent guy. I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t.”

He ignored the L word. “The bottom line is we work well together, Rachel. I’m past thirty and should be settling down. Us marrying is actually a rather smart business decision, once I stopped to consider it.”

“Marriage is
not
a business decision.” She met his gaze, the disbelief right back in her eyes again. “Which reminds me. Would you like to know what Maria told me that night?”

That gave him pause. “
Sí
. I believe I would.”

“She told me the only thing I’m suitable for is being your assistant and your whore.”

He swore under his breath. “She was jealous. It was a spiteful thing to say. I’m sorry, Rachel.”

“I’m not, because she was completely right. I’m not suitable to date, let alone be married to someone like you. It’s what I’ve said all along.”

“And now you are the one who sounds inane at the moment,
Dolcezza
.” With his blood still heated from her kiss, he began to loosen his tie. “With all of our lessons, I’ve already taught you how to be the perfect wife, no?”

She saw the mix of wariness and need in her eyes.

“I’m visualizing one you actually taught me while in Italy,” he murmured. “Where you were on your knees in front of me. Something about you pleasing your lover so skillfully, he will only want you.”

Her gaze skimmed over his chest, then lower. She swallowed hard and shook her head. But not before he’d seen the flash of desire in her eyes. Even when they fought, this need would always be between them.

“That won’t be happening again.” Her words were contrasted by the huskiness in which she spoke them.

Today had not gone as he’d planned. He’d hoped to bring up the idea of marriage in a more romantic way that he knew she would prefer. But there’d been no chance when she’d learned about the move while in the car ride home.

It had become bitter and heated, with her threatening to leave and refusing to marry him.

Dio
. Why was she so stubborn? She loved him and had admitted the fact. With the possibility of a baby growing inside her, there was no way he was allowing her to walk away from what they had.

There was one way he knew he could convey how much she meant to him, and it didn’t involve talking.

He closed the distance between them and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Fortunately, I also enjoy being on my knees,
Dolcezza
.”

She made a soft groan of protest, pushing at his shoulders when he dipped his head to kiss the soft curve of her neck.

“This will solve nothing, Damiano. We need to talk.”

He gave a husky, knowing laugh. “I can think of one or two things it’ll solve immediately.”

Reaching down, he pulled her skirt up her thighs and above her hips. He moved his palm between her legs and gave a low groan at the damp heat he felt there.

“Tell me to stop now, Rachel. And I will.”

She didn’t tell him to stop, but her head moved back and forth. She breathed heavier now.

He smiled against the rapidly beating pulse in her neck, before closing his mouth over the sensitive skin there. She whimpered as he tugged her panties to the side, and then slid a finger into her slick heat.

They both let out a low moan and her thighs closed around his hand. Desire ran through his blood like liquid fire.

He fell to his knees before her and cradled her hips, pressing a kiss to her belly.

“
Merda
. Do you see what you do to me?” he rasped. “I’ll always need you. Want you.”

“But do you love me?” she whispered, not pushing him away, but holding him to her.

The word yes resounded in his head. Turned his muscles to ice. A reply couldn’t be released however, and instead it lay dormant beneath the lump of fear in his throat. How had this happened? How had he let himself love?

He tightened his fingers around her hips, struggling against the realization that was as merciless as he’d been in his demands to Rachel.

The scent of her arousal was the only thing grounding him. And he welcomed the primal, carnal need that overtook him.

He tugged her panties down to her ankles and claimed her with his mouth. Tasting her and stroking her with an urgency that was as selfish as it was giving.

Her choked cry of shock faded into a sob and she clutched his head to her. Her fingers deep in his hair and moving over his scalp.

He teased and tasted her, unable to get enough, and she came all too soon with a shuddering cry. Her knees buckled and she began to fall, but he caught her, rising to his feet and swinging her into his arms.

With her body still trembling, he carried her to the bed and removed all her clothes. After doing the same to himself, he put on protection and climbed onto the bed.

She watched him through her lashes, which were spiked with tears. The sight made him still and shame lanced through him.

“Rachel—”

“I think we’ve done enough talking.” She pulled him down on top of her, parting her thighs so that he slid between them. “Just take me.”

With her words encouraging him and his mind telling him he should ease her heartache, nature won out. He sank into her welcoming heat, inhaling sharply as her tight sheath clenched around him.

Always, it was like coming home with her. Later, they would talk. He would tell her everything. But for now there was only this moment and the passion that drove it.

Where usually their joining was hard and almost frenzied, this time he moved slowly inside her. Enjoying each thrust in, and each sensual pull back out. Marveling at how perfect they were together.

They built to climax together and came just seconds apart. His mind was empty and his body was spent. He could do no more than ease off her and pull her into his arms.

She didn’t resist and curled her body into his. The words, everything he needed to say, were in his head, spinning and trying to become rational.

But his eyes were heavy. He’d rest them. Just for a moment.

Rachel waited until she knew he was asleep, and then let the tears spill down her cheeks.

He didn’t love her. Even after that incredible, sensual, epitome of what love-making was, he couldn’t say the words.

She slid out from under his arm, doing her best not to wake him, and then went to the bathroom. The pregnancy test he’d promised awaited her, sitting on the counter.

She wanted to toss it in the wastebasket and refuse to acknowledge the possibility.

But that would be very irresponsible, refusing to act like a grown up and do the right thing. So she unwrapped it from the package and set about taking the test.

While waiting for it to give her an answer, she stared into the mirror at her pale reflection. Each possible outcome slipped through her mind. What it would be like to carry Damiano’s child. What it would mean for her future.

She closed her eyes, conflicted by the emotions each scenario evoked. When she opened them again, she slid her gaze to the little stick and stilled as the answer was displayed.

Heart pounding harder, she left the test exactly where it was and went and dressed. She managed to pack a small bag of clothes to get her by, and then slipped out of Damiano’s penthouse apartment without ever waking him.

“Did he hit you?”

Rachel held the cup of tea between her palms and bit back a miserable laugh. “No.”

If he’d hit her it would’ve been so cut and dry. She would’ve left and never looked back.

Lexi sat across from her in one of the small coffee shops in Brooklyn. They both had a hot drink and a pastry in front of them. Rachel was so sick to her stomach with misery, she could barely touch her food.

“Are you going to tell me what
did
happen?”

Rachel stared into her tea and took a deep breath. All she wanted to do was cry, but she’d done enough of that on the subway ride back to her part of town.

“Damiano was the one who moved all my stuff out. He wants us to get married.”

“Well.” Lexi raised a brow and leaned back in her chair. “That does make him a total jerk, I suppose.”

Rachel had to laugh at her friend’s sardonic words. “If it were for the right reasons, it would be wonderful. But he doesn’t love me, flat out says he never will. This marriage would be about as romantic and practical as a business deal in his eyes.”

“Still. A lot of women would jump all over that. Being the wife of Damiano Mantovani. Money. Power.”

“Would you marry without love?”

“Maybe.” Lexi’s eyes darkened as she seemed to be thinking about something. “I find love overrated.”

“I thought love was pretty amazing. The floating on air. The giddiness that seems to stretch from the top of your head to the ends of your toes. It was perfect.” Her smile faded. “Until the point where you realize you’re the only one in love, and you get your heart broken.”