Unexpected Pleasures (13 page)

Especially not this woman.

He could hear Sasha speaking to her sons, the sound of her voice, but not her words, carried to him by the breeze.

Sasha! By the time Gabriel was twenty-five he had become a billionaire. A billionaire who trusted no one and who kept the women he chose to warm his bed as exactly that—bedmates and nothing else. The rules he laid down for his relationships with them were simple and non-negotiable. No talk of love, or a future, or commitment; absolute fidelity to him while they were partners; absolute and total adherence to his safe sex and no babies policy. And, just to make sure that this latter rule wasn’t broken ‘accidentally on purpose’, Gabriel always took care of that side of things himself.

Over the years he had endured his share of angry, bitter scenes, with weeping women who had thought they could change those rules and then learned their mistake. Magically those tears had quickly dried once they were offered a generous goodbye gift. His mouth twisted cynically. Was it any wonder that he had become a man who trusted no one, and most of all a man who despised women? So far as Gabriel was concerned there wasn’t a woman in existence who could not be bought. His mother had shown him what women were, and all the other women he had come into contact with since had confirmed what she had taught him when she had abandoned him for money.

Not that he didn’t enjoy the company of women, or rather the pleasure of their bodies. He did. He had inherited his father’s good looks, and finding a willing female partner to satisfy his sexual needs had never been a problem.

‘Sam, don’t go too far. Stay here, where I can see you.’ Sasha’s words reached him this time, as she raised her voice so that her son could hear it. A caring mother?
Sasha?

Like his bitterness, the past wouldn’t let go of him. It was here around him now, gripping him so tightly that he could feel its pain.

After his grandfather’s death he had had closed up his grandfather’s remote and uncomfortable house in Sardinia and bought himself a yacht. With financial interests in property, it had made sense for him to travel, looking for fresh acquisitions both material and sexual. And if a woman invited him to use her for his sexual pleasure then why should he not do so? Just so long as she understood that once his appetite was sated there would not be a place in his life for her.

By the time he was twenty-five he had also already made the decision that when the time came he would pay a woman to provide him with an heir—a child to which he would make sure
he
had exclusive rights.

Gabriel watched Sasha with cold-eyed contempt. Six weeks ago, just after his thirty-fifth birthday, he had stood beside the hospital bed of his dying second cousin—the Calbrini family was extensive, and had many different branches—listening to Carlo pleading for
his
help for the two sons Carlo loved more than anything else in the world.

The same warm breeze that was playing sensually with Sasha’s long hair was flattening the thick darkness of his own to reveal the harsh purity of a bone structure that bore the open stamp of Sardinia’s human history—the straight line of his Roman nose a classic delineation of masculine features that echoed the works of Leonardo and Michelangelo, coupled with the musculature of a man in his prime. Centuries ago the Saracens had invaded Sardinia, leaving their mark on its history and its inhabitants through the women they had taken and impregnated. It had been Carlo who had told him that legend had it that boy children born to such women were said to possess the physical stamina and legendary merciless cruelty of the men who had fathered them. Gabriel knew that there was Saracen blood in his own family’s past, and he knew too that it showed in his attitude to life. He had no mercy for those who double-crossed him.

Eyes as golden and as deathly watchful as those of an eagle studied the two boys. Privileged, and loved by a doting elderly father. Their childhood was so very different from his own. The sunlight gilded his skin, warmly gold rather than deeply olive. He looked on the promise Carlo had begged from him as an almost sacred trust, an admission from his cousin without words being spoken that he was entrusting his sons to Gabriel’s care because he did not trust their mother—because on his deathbed he had finally been prepared to admit that she could not be trusted.

But still Carlo’s last words to him had been of her.

‘Sasha,’ he had told Gabriel. ‘You must understand...’

He had been too weak to say any more, but there had been no need. Gabriel knew all there was to know about Sasha. Just like his mother, she had walked out on him. The memory of that was like a constant piece of grit rubbing against his pride, exacerbating the darkness within him. She was unfinished business, the cause of a blow to his pride against which it had banked a debt of compounded interest—which he was now here to claim in full.

* * *

A
ROAR
OF
protest from one of the twins caused Sasha to turn to look in maternal anxiety, and then to call out, ‘Stop fighting, you two.’

Something—no,
someone
—had moved between her and the sun. Immediately she shielded her gaze to see who it was.

There were moments in life that happened both so quickly and yet so slowly that they could never be ignored or forgotten. Sasha felt the abrupt cessation of her heartbeat, then a suffocating sense of shocked disbelief, streaked with fear and panic—and something else so painful that she refused to give it either life or a name. She listened to the slow heavy thud of her heart as though it belonged to another woman, distantly aware of it propelling the blood into her veins, keeping her physically functioning while, emotionally, every nerve felt as though it had been tortured and then severed. Just one word was torn from her throat.

‘Gabriel!’

CHAPTER TWO

J
UST
ONE
WORD
,
but it was so filled with anger, shock and fear that it seemed to reverberate between them.

Sasha had to tilt her head back to look up at Gabriel, and she could feel the panicky beat of the pulse at the base of her throat. She resisted an urge to place a covering hand over it.

‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’ It was a mistake to ask him that. He would be able to hear the panic in her voice and see how she was having to fight to control her fear. The way his mouth was twisting into that cruelly unkind and satisfied smile she remembered so well told her that.

‘What do you think I want?’

His voice was so soft and gentle that it could almost have been the tender stroke of a lover’s touch against her skin, or the brush of an angel’s wings. Just for a second her body reacted to the memories it evoked. She was seventeen again, a desperate bundle of aching, emotional need she had kept hidden beneath a shield of bravado. Her body was bereft of its sexually challenging armour of short skirt and minuscule vest top, and her long hair, with its amateur blonde streaks, was still damp from the shower Gabriel had insisted she have. She was watching him watching her, overwhelmed by the feeling, the longing suddenly shooting through her; knowing for the first time in her life what it felt like to experience physical sexual desire. And she wanted him,
desired
him so very badly.

A door had swung open on her past. She didn’t want to see what lay behind it, but it was already too late. She remembered how she had been too impatient to wait for him to come to her, running to him instead. He had caught hold of her, holding her at arm’s length whilst he studied her naked body. Even her flesh had signalled its eager readiness to him, her breasts firming and lifting as she imagined him touching her there. But when he did she had realised that her imagination had not had the power to tell her just how his touch would feel, or what it would do to her. The flesh of his fingertips had been hard and slightly rough, the flesh of a man who worked and lived physically, not just cerebrally. She had shivered, and then shuddered with uncontained delight when he had slowly explored the shape of her breasts. The erotic roughness of his touch had increased her arousal so much that she had suddenly become aware of not just how much she wanted him, and how excited she was, but how ready her body was for him, how hot and wet and achingly sensitive that most intimate part of her had felt. As though he had sensed that, too, Gabriel had trailed his hand down over her body, smoothly and determinedly. When he had allowed it to rest on her hip, cupping the gently protruding bone, she had been seized with impatient urgency and the need to feel him caressing her more intimately.

Had she then moved closer to him, openly parting her legs, or had he been the one to propel her closer to him, moving his hand to her thigh? She couldn’t remember. But she could remember how it had felt, how she had felt, when he had bent his head to kiss the smooth column of her throat at the same time as he had stroked apart the swollen lips of her sex to dip his fingers in the slick moist heat that was waiting for him. She had almost reached orgasm there and then.

A shudder punched through her. What was she doing, thinking about that now? She could feel the strain of her own emotions. Fear? Guilt?
Longing?
No, never again. The girl she had been was gone, and with her everything that that girl had felt.

Sasha looked down towards the beach, where her sons were still playing, oblivious to what was happening, and then looked quickly away, instinctively not wanting to contaminate them with what was happening to her. Her sharpest and most urgent need was not to protect herself but to protect them. As she looked away she stepped to one side, as though to draw Gabriel’s attention to her rather than her vulnerable young. There was nothing she would not do to protect her sons. Nothing.

Gabriel tracked the involuntary movement she made away from the two boys. Carlo had claimed that she was a very protective mother, but of course she would have been while she believed that Carlo was a wealthy man and her role as their mother gave her unlimited access to that wealth. Carlo, like many men who come to fatherhood so late in life, had worshipped the flesh of his flesh, evidence of his potency. His heirs... Now the heirs to precisely nothing. Gabriel’s tiger-eyed gaze pounced on the visual evidence of their privileged cosmopolitan lifestyle—expensive Italian clothes, healthy American teeth, upper-class English accents, their flesh and bones that of children who had from birth been well fed and nurtured. At their age he had been wearing rags, his body thin and bony.

He switched his gaze from the beach to the woman in front of him. She too had good teeth, expensive teeth—paid for, of course, by her doting husband. Her doting and now dead husband. Her hair was cut in the kind of style that looked artless but, as Gabriel knew, cost a fortune to maintain. The ‘simple’ linen dress she was wearing, with its elegant lines, no doubt possessed a designer label, just as her hands and feet with their uncoloured but carefully manicured nails spoke of a woman who had the kind of confidence that came from enjoying position and wealth. But not any longer. What had she felt when she had learned of Carlo’s death? Relief at the thought that she would no longer have to give herself to an old man? Avaricious pleasure at the belief that she would now be wealthy?

Well, she would have one of those two feelings to keep, he acknowledged brutally, although probably not for very long. She must be close to thirty now, and if she wanted to find another rich old man to support her she would discover she was competing with much younger, unencumbered women. The kind of women who fawned around
him
wherever he went.

One of Gabriel’s mistresses had once told him that it was his Saracen ancestry that gave him the dark and dangerous side to his nature that his enemies feared and his women loved. For himself, he believed that any child growing up as he had done—unwanted, harshly treated, both physically and emotionally—quickly learned to give back as good as it got. A child who had to literally fight off the farm dogs for a scrap of bread was bound to develop a hard carapace to protect both his flesh and his spirit.

An unexpected smile dimpled his chin as he watched Sasha swallow and saw the telltale darkening of her eyes, but there was no warmth to that smile. ‘Yes, it must have been hard for you, lying there in bed, letting an old man take his pleasure with your body and being unable to give you any pleasure back. But then, of course, you had all that money to pleasure you, didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t marry Carlo for his money.’

‘No? Then why did you marry him?’

Ah, now he had her. He could hear the uneven ratcheting of her breath escaping from her lungs. How well he knew that fierce need to protect oneself from a death blow. Unfortunately for her it was too late. There was no protection for her here.

‘It certainly wasn’t for love,’ he taunted her unkindly. ‘I saw him just before he died. He was in the hospital in Milan. You, I believe, were in New York—shopping. Very conveniently you had also boarded your sons at their school, in order to give yourself the freedom to do so.’

All the colour bled out of her face. Infuriatingly Gabriel recognised that even now, almost bleached of blood and life, she still managed to look impossibly beautiful.

Sasha was terrified she might actually faint, so great was the pressure of her anger. She had gone to New York in secret, to meet with yet another specialist to see if there was some way that Carlo might be saved. She might not have loved her husband as a woman, but she had been grateful to him for all that he had done for her and for the twins. The decision to ask the school if the boys could board was not one she had made without a great deal of soul searching. For her, the boys’ emotional security was always paramount, but she and they had owed Carlo a huge debt. What kind of person would she be if she had not done absolutely everything she could to find a way to give her husband more time with them? It wouldn’t have been possible to travel to New York to seek a second opinion with the boys. And then there had been the added worry of how it would affect them to watch Carlo slowly dying. She had needed to be on hand to visit the hospital and then the hospice sometimes twice or three times a day. Carlo had wanted to die in Italy, not London, where the boys were at school. She had made what she had believed was the best decision she could at the time, but now Gabriel was pinpointing the guilt that still nagged at her for having had to leave the boys at school for a term.

‘You know, of course, that the business is ruined and that all he has left you is debt?’

‘Yes, I know,’ she agreed bleakly. There was no point in even attempting to conceal the reality of her financial situation from him, or trying to explain to him how she felt about Carlo. He would not understand because he was incapable of understanding. Their shared experience of damaged childhood years, instead of forging shared bonds of mutual compassion, had turned them into the bitterest of enemies. He would never understand why she had left him for Carlo, and she would never tell him—because there was simply no point.

‘I suppose I should be honoured that you’ve actually come to gloat in person. After all, you weren’t at the funeral.’

‘To watch you cry crocodile tears? Even
my
stomach isn’t strong enough for that.’

‘But it is, of course, strong enough for you to come here and verbally stone me. It’s been over ten years, Gabriel. Isn’t it time—’

‘Isn’t it time
what
? That I claimed the debt you owe me, along with its accrued interest? I’m a man who likes payment in full, Sasha. Carlo knew that.’

Something—either old knowledge or female instinct—iced down her spine in a cold trickle of awareness she didn’t want but couldn’t ignore.

‘What do you mean? What did Carlo know?’

‘He knew that when he asked me to lend him money that money would have to be repaid.’

‘
You
loaned Carlo money?’

Gabriel inclined his head. ‘Against the security of the deeds to his hotels. He had overtraded, and badly. I told him that, but he believed he could borrow his way out of trouble, and since we were family I could not refuse him the help he wanted. Unfortunately for him he did not manage to turn the business around. Fortunately for me his debt was covered by his assets. My assets now. Including this place, of course.’

Sasha stared at him.

‘Yours?’ She couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. ‘You mean that
you
own this hotel?’

‘This hotel,’ he agreed, ‘and the others. And your home, the money in your bank, the clothes on your back. It all belongs to me now, Sasha. Everything. Carlo’s debt is repaid,’ he told her softly, ‘but yours to me is still outstanding. Did you think it had been forgotten? That I wouldn’t bother to seek retribution?’

She wanted desperately to look at her sons, to reassure herself that they were there, whole and safe, and that none of this could touch or harm them. But she was afraid that somehow just looking at them would draw Gabriel’s attention to their vulnerability.

Instead she drew in a deep, unsteady breath and said, ‘You seek retribution from me? I was the one who was the victim in our relationship, Gabriel. You were the one who—’

‘You were the one who sold herself to the highest bidder.’

Somehow she made herself look at him. ‘You left me with no other option,’ she told him quietly.

It was, after all, the truth. She had gone to him looking for all those things she’d never had, still able to believe that miracles could happen, even for girls like her, and that all the wrongs in her life could be made right. She had still trusted in her dreams then. She felt pity for the girl she had been, was glad that she was gone, and even more glad to be the woman who had taken her place.

Before Gabriel could say anything else she demanded, ‘What is it exactly that you want, Gabriel? I assume you haven’t wasted your precious time coming here just to gloat? Or did you think it would be amusing to throw us out personally? Well, I’ll save you the bother. It won’t take us long to pack.’ Of all the luxuries she would have to give up this was the one she would miss the most. The luxury of pride. Because she knew so well just what a luxury it was.

‘I haven’t finished yet,’ he told her.

There was more? What? Surely it wasn’t possible for things to be any worse?

‘Before he died, Carlo appointed me as his sons’ legal guardian.’

It was a joke. A cruel deliberate attempt to frighten her. Payback time with a vengeance. But of course it couldn’t be true.

‘What’s wrong?’ she heard Gabriel demanding softly when he caught her swift indrawn breath and the shocked disbelief she was trying to hide. ‘Surely Carlo told you that he intended to appoint me as their legal family guardian in accordance with traditional Sardinian law?’

He knew, of course, that Carlo had done no such thing because his cousin had told him so himself.

‘It is for the best,’ Carlo had whispered painfully to Gabriel. ‘Even though I know Sasha won’t see it that way at first.’

She certainly didn’t, Gabriel recognised. Her eyes were wild with disbelief as she shook her head in denial.

This couldn’t be happening, Sasha thought frantically. This was the nightmare to end all nightmares. The ultimate betrayal. A knife-sharp edge of fear sliced into her heart and paralysed her defences.

‘No!’ she told him, shock bleeding the colour from her face, clenching her hands into small, anguished fists. ‘No. I don’t believe you.’

‘My lawyers have all the necessary papers.’

This wasn’t some kind of malicious joke, Sasha recognised numbly. This was real. Her head was aching, bursting with unanswerable questions. She was too distraught to maintain the protective distance of remote disinterest.

‘I don’t understand... Why would Carlo do something like that? Why?’

Gabriel shrugged, a small movement of powerfully strong shoulders. Sickeningly for a second the scene in front of her swung crazily out of focus and she was seeing another, younger Gabriel, sea water sluicing from the bare tanned strength of those same shoulders as he hauled himself up out of the ocean onto the deck of his yacht, his body naked and unashamedly ready for her, just as hers had been equally ready for him.