Authors: Lilly LaRue
The only other way off the island was either by plane, helicopter, or boat. Aronne must have the codes used to access the communications systems, so he could call for the yacht or air transport, but he had made no move to do so. It was their second night in captivity, and she was already stir-crazy. Her plan had been to hide out in her room, read the books she hadn’t had time to, enjoy a chance to relax without a toddler underfoot, and avoid him like the plague.
The small villa was truly a honeymooners’ delight. The cozy confines had elegant touches, but was small enough to be intimate and feel like an escape from the world. It had only one bedroom, which had been the beginning of her plans derailing. Instead of having a room to hide in, she’d had the option of sharing with Aronne or sleeping on the sofa in the living room. It was comfortable for a couch, but nowhere near as luxurious as the massive bed.
It wasn’t just the bed that appealed, if she was honest. Since the start of their unofficial honeymoon, Aronne had once again begun his sensual assault on her senses. He touched her constantly, whispered endearments, and seemed to be making a genuine effort to seduce her. Was it more than seduction? She didn’t know, finding it impossible to still trust him. They’d never gotten well enough acquainted to build trust in the first place.
That was changing. He’d spent most of yesterday grilling her about her life. At some point, she’d ended up participating in the conversation and discovered they had a lot in common. Much more than she had ever expected. He was starting to seem like a real person to her, not just the thoughtless heel who had discarded her.
Molly didn’t want to feel that way. Since his return, she’d found playing the victim role comforting—and safe. It staved off any uncomfortable emotions she didn’t want to deal with. Even knowing she had been the conductor of her own downfall hadn’t absolved him for abandoning her after using her so callously the day of their wedding. Now, she was forced to see it from his perspective, all because he’d opened up to her. She couldn’t pretend not to empathize with him, how he’d been yanked from his family, lost their respect along with his own self-respect, and had taken refuge in Rio. He certainly hadn’t counted on a child-bride and a forced wedding.
Or a child. Molly sighed, pushing the hair off her forehead as she walked in the hot sand, the cooling waters occasionally lapping to cover her feet. There had been a lingering bit of doubt, perhaps, that he hadn’t known about Cara, but that had been laid to rest. Aronne had told her how sad it made him to know he’d cost himself fifteen months of her life by being an arrogant idiot. She couldn’t have doubted his sincerity. The only thing she doubted at the moment was her ability to trust him, and the capability to shield her heart from him, since he seemed to be determined to win it.
♥♥♥
There were a couple of servants who lived on the island full-time, but she hadn’t seen them or their quarters yet. Two nights later, yet another scrumptious meal awaited them in the cozy dining room, without a trace of the person who had prepared or served it.
She shifted in her chair, unhappily aware of how virile Aronne appeared in lightweight white slacks and a white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest to reveal golden-bronze skin and a dusting of black hair. Being able to recall how it felt to run her hands through that hair didn’t help improve her mood. Molly moved again, unable to get completely comfortable. She was tired. She was restless. She was horny as hell, thanks to the swim they’d taken earlier, followed by the soothing massage he’d given her later. It hadn’t been overtly sexual, but her body still thrummed with need even with the recall of how his oiled hands felt sliding over her skin.
As of yet, he hadn’t tried to get her into bed. He’d raised an eyebrow the first night she’d taken up residence on the sofa, but hadn’t commented. The air crackled with electricity, and each time their gazes collided, heat curled in her stomach. Tonight, he was probably going to make his move, and she still hadn’t decided if she would allow him to make love to her.
Maybe it was silly to resist or overanalyze, considering how easily she’d fallen back into bed with him, but Molly sensed this was different from the night he’d reawakened her body at her home. If she accepted his overtures, she was agreeing to more than just physical release. It remained unspoken between them, but the awareness was there on both parts. She shouldn’t sleep with him unless she was committing to the idea of making their marriage work.
What had seemed a preposterous notion just a couple of weeks ago now seemed plausible. They both loved Cara, and there was physical chemistry between them. When he was being charming and sensitive, as he had been since their arrival, it was easy to believe deeper feelings could develop between them. Or had they already?
Frowning, she remembered looking up from her book yesterday to find him staring at her with a brooding expression, some indefinable emotion present in his gaze. She hesitated to label it, but would have said perhaps longing if she’d been forced to give it a name. Could he really care for her, or was it part of his ploy to make their marriage last, for Cara’s sake?
“Is something wrong with your lamb?”
Blinking, Molly looked up. “Sorry, what?”
“Your lamb. Is there something wrong with it?”
She shrugged, not even remembering how it tasted. “It’s fine.”
“You took a bite and frowned fiercely. I thought maybe there was something wrong with it.”
Molly shook her head, taking another bite. It was delicious, as expected. “It wasn’t the lamb.”
He looked up again. “What upset you then?”
“You,” she said with bald honesty.
Aronne winced. “I see. Have I done something wrong?”
Molly shrugged. “You’ve been perfect since we arrived. Perfect manners, perfect conversation…perfect everything.”
He arched a brow. “And this is a problem?”
“No.” It sounded silly when she tried to verbalize it, but she felt the need to press on. “I just don’t know how much is the real you, and how much is the Aronne trying to make the marriage work for Cara and Sophia.”
He set down his fork, his gaze unwavering from hers. “I have been myself from the moment I met you. Sometimes, that self is a real bastard.” Aronne let out a weak chuckle. “I’ve had a long time to think about where things went wrong before.”
“At the beginning,” she said with her own small laugh.
Aronne nodded. “We know how the relationship began. I was a drunk, besotted idiot trying to drown my sorrow at losing what I thought was my great love.”
She exhaled harshly. “You no longer think Margot is your great love?”
He shook his head. “No. It was a foolish infatuation, based on her appearance, not her personality. To be blunt, Margot was a bit of a bitch back then.”
Molly laughed. “She’d be the first to agree with you.”
“Having gotten to know her better since, I would expect my feelings to have deepened if they were genuine. Now, when I look at her, I feel nothing.”
She refused to acknowledge the rush of relief. “I see.”
“Speaking of seeing, do you know what I see when I look at her?”
Molly’s stomach clenched as she braced herself. “What?”
“A pale substitute for you.”
She sagged against her chair, not sure how to respond. Once again, the words were perfect. If motivated from his heartfelt sincerity, she would be ecstatic. “I don’t know how to trust you.” That was at the heart of the issue.
Aronne pushed back his chair to stand up and walk around the table. He knelt beside her chair, taking her stiff hand in his. She tried to hold herself immobile and keep herself immune to his presence.
“I understand. You have no reason to trust me. I was angry with you when you lied to me.” When she tried to look away, he cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I was angry with our fathers as well. I felt helpless and manipulated. Like an ass, I took out my frustrations on you.”
“It was my fault.”
Aronne shrugged. “You never flat-out lied to me.”
Molly frowned. “Don’t make excuses. I led you to believe I was around twenty-two, not almost eighteen.”
“Yes, you did, but you were young. Ostensibly, I was an adult. I should have had the balls to stay and face our parents, to deal with our marriage.” Aronne sighed. “Had I done so, had I made the effort to have a genuine marriage with you, I wouldn’t have missed out on Cara’s life up ‘til now, and we would have a stronger relationship.”
Molly shook her head. “I wasn’t ready to be married then. I wasn’t even eighteen. When I seduced you…” She blushed, still feeling a little awkward about it. “When I tried to get your attention, I did it because I thought you were cute. I thought you might give me a kiss.”
His face twisted. “Instead, I ruined your life.”
“Stop that. I freely admit I got more than I’d expected that night, but it wasn’t anything I didn’t want.” Molly took a sip of wine, both for courage and to wet her dry mouth. “I made up my mind to take you as my first lover during our second kiss. I knew you’d be angry that I’d deceived you, but I let it happen anyway.”
“I would have been, but I don’t think I would have been such a jerk if everyone hadn’t known what I’d done.” Scarlet rose up his neck. “I was the despoiler of virgins, and the seducer of little girls. Not only in their eyes, but my own as well.”
“It was consensual. I knew what I was doing and what I wanted. It wasn’t like my decision would have changed in three weeks, if I’d waited until I was eighteen.” She sighed. “Our parents were wrong to force us to get married. They should have let us go our separate ways.”
“I won’t pretend that I would have tried to pursue a relationship with you then, if it had played out that way. I was too guilty and ashamed by my own actions, not to mention the age difference.” Aronne brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back. “However, I wouldn’t have abandoned you to have Cara alone if I’d stayed around. We’ll always have her in common, but she isn’t the reason I’m trying to repair our marriage.”
“Sophia?” she asked, torn between burgeoning hope and fear of hearing what he said next.
Aronne shook his head. “I love my mother, but I wouldn’t let her force me into staying in a marriage I didn’t want. You’re the reason I want to reconcile.” His eyes darkened. “That day when you kissed your boyfriend, it hit me like a fist in the gut. I was angry. At first, I told myself it was because you’d brought him into Cara’s life, but I was lying to myself. I was just jealous. I wanted you for myself, and it took seeing you with someone else to make me admit it.”
She blinked, unable to question the veracity of his statement when everything about him screamed honesty and supported that he was pouring out his heart. “But why?”
“I think it was mostly physical, at first, along with a healthy dose of territorial macho bullshit. I was your first, and I was enraged someone else had followed me. I know it is an old-fashioned view, and I wouldn’t have considered myself capable of feeling that way, but I did. I do.” Aronne closed his eyes. “It kills me to know someone else has been there for you the last two years. Someone else sleeps beside you, touches you, makes love to you…”
Hand trembling, Molly reached out to cup his cheek, making his eyes open. “I haven’t. That is, Carter has never done those things. He’s a good friend, and we have a safe, comfortable relationship together, but I’ve never felt the urge to take our relationship to that physical level.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted. Every time I saw pictures of you with yet another woman, I swore I’d finally have sex with Carter. Yet, I never could go through with it.”
Aronne blushed. “About those women—”
She put up her other hand. “Spare me the details.”
He shook his head. “That’s just it. There really aren’t any details. I never slept with any of them.”
Molly couldn’t hide her skepticism.
He winced. “I don’t blame you for doubting me, but it’s the truth.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Aronne let out a long exhalation. “It wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time I’d get ready to make a move, so to speak, I’d find myself unable to perform. Instead of seeing the girl I was with, I kept seeing the shattered face of my wife after I used and discarded her on our wedding day.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t get it out of my mind, how badly I’d hurt you. It was a constant presence, and it left a few women annoyed and disappointed.”
“I want to believe you, but…”
He nodded, obviously not offended that she still didn’t trust him. “I have another confession. It wasn’t the first time my emotions had overwhelmed my libido. I always brought a date to family events, to protect myself from how I felt about Margot. I was smart enough not to lead anyone on, so the women who came with me were just friends. The night I took your virginity, it was the first time I’d had sex with a girl in more than two years. I was desperate and rough. I hurt you.”
She smiled tremulously. “It’s supposed to hurt the first time, and I was just as eager as you were. I hadn’t had sex in seventeen years.” Molly grinned.