Pregnancy of Revenge Read online

  'Your trip was a success?' Jake leant back against the doorjamb, and noted the slight thrust of her chin, the cool expressive features as she faced him. He suppressed a faint smile at the sleek, upswept hairstyle that ended with a pur­posely contrived bunch of wild curls on the top of her head. Very elegant, very chic: the many facets of his lovely wife were a source of constant fascination to him, though he would never admit it. One minute, playing with young Aldo in shorts and shirt, she looked like a teenager. He knew because every night he had studied the security videos of them exploring the grounds. Then in the evening, cool and reserved opposite him at the dinner table, or, best of all, curled up in his bed, her beautiful face relaxed and innocent in sleep. He could watch her for hours, had done...

  His loins stirred and he shifted away from the door will­ing his wayward libido under control. No, now was not the time. Tonight he was hosting a dinner party in an exclusive country restaurant that had been hired privately for the eve­ning. He had instructed Sophia to arrange the party a couple of days before his wedding. At the time he had thought it was a great idea, a second reception to introduce Charlotte to all his friends. He had hoped it would be a wonderful surprise for her; now he only hoped they got through the night without her obvious antagonism showing.

  'If you call being trussed up like a dog's dinner a success, then yes,' Charlie said wryly. The dress was a brilliant blue, which matched her eyes, and had a scooped neck with very short sleeves whose sole function was to hold up the prin­cess-line bodice because the back was virtually non-existent to her waist. Sophia had assured her that her tummy didn't show and the dress, which ended above her knee, was the height of fashion. She had also approved the three-inch sti­letto-heeled sandals that accentuated the length of her legs.

  'You are no dog, Charlotte.' Jake grinned, his dark eyes gleaming with male appreciation. 'Sophia has done a good job. You look exquisite, the epitome of sophisticated young woman. Now prove you can act like one. Bring me a whisky on the rocks, upstairs—I'm going to get changed.'

  She was about to refuse, but as she studied his handsome face with its dark eyes set beneath hooded lids and the al­most permanent tightness that seemed to have taken control of his chiselled mouth she realised he looked tired. 'Okay.'

  Charlie poured the amber liquid over ice cubes, and, lift­ing the crystal glass, she rotated it in her hand, her mind prey to conflicting thoughts. Ordered to serve her master, or a much-needed pick-me-up for a hard-working husband? For the first time since her wedding night, she allowed com­passion to cut through her fierce pride, and slowly made her way upstairs.

  She walked into the bedroom, looked around, and was about to put the drink down as Jake walked in from the en suite.

  She stifled a gasp and all she could do was look at him. Black hair sleeked back from his forehead accentuated his handsome features. His superbly muscled body was naked except for a precariously slung white towel around his lean hips shielding his essential masculinity.

  Hastily she lifted her eyes but it was difficult to meet his gaze as she moved towards him. 'Your drink as ordered.' She held out the glass with a hand that shook slightly.

  'You have surprised me,' Jake said with a husky chuckle, and took the glass from her outstretched hand. 'Thank you. I need this.'

  'My pleasure.' She forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes before she fled. But the searching intensity of his dark gaze kept her motionless. Since this morning something had changed between them—Jake had changed. The air in the room was suddenly heavy with sexual tension. Charlie drew in a quivering breath. She could feel the swell of her breasts beneath the fabric of her gown, and hastily she tore her gaze from his.

  Noting her reaction, Jake quirked his lips in the briefest of grins, immensely satisfied that she was not as immune to him as she tried to pretend. And though it was chauvinistic to admit as much, he was privately delighted that Charlotte's experience of men was limited to him, and he intended it to stay that way. With that thought in mind, Jake broke the vow he had made to himself, and allowed a wicked, sensual grin to break the handsome contours of his face. 'And it will be your pleasure later, cara.'

  Charlie blushed scarlet and fled, sure she could hear his throaty laughter as she closed the door behind her.

  Back in the family room, she eyed the drinks cabinet in something like desperation. Never had she felt more like a drink in her life, but with her pregnancy it wasn't an option. Dear heaven! This acting the happy wife was a lot more nerve-racking than she had bargained for. A couple of kisses this morning and a teasing smile this evening, and she was in danger of melting at his feet in a puddle and reverting to the stupid girl who had gazed at him in dumb adoration before she had found out what a ruthless devil he could be. That was not what she wanted at all, but an equal relation­ship built on mutual respect and trust.

  'You dashed off before I could give you this.' Jake's deep drawl had her spinning around to face him.

  Charlie's eyes flicked over his broad frame, taking in the dark dinner suit, the white silk shirt and black bow tie, and she struggled to control the sudden racing of her heart as he approached her.

  Where is your pride, girl?she admonished herself with a defiant tilt of her head, but her blue eyes collided with gleaming black, and she made no protests as he stopped and one strong hand circled her throat.

  'Exquisite though you are, the dress lacks something,' he declared softly, a finger and thumb sliding down to caress the delicate hollows at the edge of her neck, igniting a sen­sual heat in the pit of her stomach.

  'Bare is beautiful, but I thought something to reflect your sparkle, Charlotte.' With his free hand he withdrew a hand­ful of jewels from his pocket.

  'I don't need—' she began stiffly.

  'Quiet, cara. Indulge me, because I do need.' Deftly he fastened a magnificent sapphire and diamond pendant around her neck.

  Charlie gasped and lifted her hand to touch the jewels but Jake caught it and slipped a matching bracelet on her wrist. 'I don't want...'

  'You do want,' Jake drawled with dry mockery. 'But you don't want to admit as much.' And before she could grasp his meaning, he had lifted her hand and slipped an equally fabulous diamond and sapphire ring on the third finger of her left hand to rest snugly against her wedding band.

  'There, that is better.' He cupped her shoulders, his dark eyes roving over her with obvious satisfaction. 'No one this evening will be in any doubt you are my much-adored wife.' He drew her against him to press a swift kiss on the tip of her nose. 'Come, we must leave now or our guests will think we have deserted them.'

  Free from the mesmerising effect of his dark eyes, Charlie's first thought was to remove the jewellery.

  'Don't even think about it,' Jake commanded, reading her mind.

  'If you think you can buy me, forget it. I am not for sale,' Charlie snapped back.

  'I realised that some time ago,' Jake said with a wry smile and, clasping her hand in his, he linked his long fingers through hers. Together they left the house and got into the waiting car.

  'What did you mean, meet our guests?' She belatedly remembered his other comment, when Jake slid into the back seat of the limousine beside her. 'I thought we were going out for dinner.'

  'And so we are.' As the car sped through the evening traffic towards Portofino Jake explained it was by way of being a wedding reception for his friends and business acquaintances who had not been able to make the original service in England.

  The thought of being on display before all his friends filled her with trepidation and she didn't offer a word for the rest of the drive to the restaurant. But she was intensely aware of Jake at her side. She had been in a state of nervous tension all day, and his thigh brushing lightly against hers was not helping at all.

  Charlie heaved a sigh of relief when the car stopped and she slid from the seat the moment the chauffeur opened the door. But her relief was short-lived as Jake took her arm and led her up the massive stone steps of an
elegant old building that belonged to another era, and into a marble entrance hall.

  It was almost eight when they entered the dining room, and Charlie's eyes widened in shock as a trio of musicians stationed on a raised dais in one corner of the room im­mediately struck up with 'Here Comes the Bride', followed by an almighty cheer from all the assembled guests.

  Blushing furiously, she was grateful of Jake's supporting arm as he introduced her to the elderly couple that stepped forward to meet them. They were his foster-parents, Mr and Mrs Lasio, and, seeing them hug Jake and then smile at her, she was struck by the underlying sadness in their eyes. It made her realise that Jake's reaction to the death of their daughter was not that extreme after all. And when they wished her a long and happy marriage with obvious sincer­ity, she felt incredibly guilty on her father's behalf.

  'Don't worry. They don't know,' Jake murmured, accu­rately reading her thoughts, and, taking her arm, he led her to another group. The next half-hour was a blur of names and faces to Charlie as Jake introduced her to the hundred people that were his close friends and business colleagues.

  She met Paulo Bruno, the doctor's son, and his wife Stephanie, and they did register with Charlie because within seconds of meeting them they were congratulating her on her marriage and her pregnancy.

  Charlie coloured to the roots of her hair, and spared Jake a quick angry glance. She caught the faint gleam of amuse­ment in his dark eyes, and realized he didn't give a damn who knew she was pregnant.

  'This is Italy, cara,' he stated with a shrug of his broad shoulders. 'The prospect of a child is something to be cel­ebrated at the earliest opportunity, not something to hide.' His dark eyes slid down to the barely perceptible swell of her tummy beneath the cleverly constructed slight A-line shape of her gown. 'But you do it well,' he added mock­ingly.

  'You're impossible. And I need the bathroom,' she hissed, but not softly enough.

  'I'll show you the way,' Stephanie offered. 'I can remem­ber when I was in your condition and running to the loo all the time. It was hell.' Everyone laughed.

  Having completed her ablutions, Charlie smiled at Stephanie. 'I suppose we have to rejoin the fray.'

  'Yes, unless you want Jake hammering on the door look­ing for you. I have never seen him in love before and it is amazing.' She gripped Charlie's hand. 'I'm so happy for you both, and especially for your baby. Jake will make a great father,' she said as they left the bathroom. 'And you don't want to believe all the stories you hear about the women he has supposedly known. Paulo told me they are vastly exaggerated—not that he has led the life of a monk, but Jake is a very moral man, old-fashioned in some ways. So you have nothing to worry about. He will make a mar­vellous husband and father.'

  If Stephanie had sought to reassure Charlie, her infor­mation about all the women he was rumoured to have known had the opposite effect. Her determination to give their marriage a chance took a wobble—but face it, she told herself, she didn't have much of a choice.

  'Charlotta, I thought you had got lost.' Jake's husky ac­cented drawl, and the arm that curved around her waist, were a welcome relief from Stephanie's unwanted confi­dences, and her troubled thoughts. 'Dinner is about to be served.' he added and she made no demur as he led her back into the dining room.

  The women were all elegantly dressed in the latest de­signer fashions, and Charlie said a private prayer of thanks to Sophia for guiding her in what to wear. As for the jewels, Jake had been right about that: she would have looked pos­itively bare in this company where the diamonds on display had to equal a king's ransom—and not only on the women, she noted with an amused smile as Jake introduced her to a Signor Dotello. The diamond stud in the man's ear was the size of a gull's egg. His dress shirt was open almost to his waist and an enormous chain circled his neck, but that was not all: a massive diamond crucifix glittered against his deeply tanned chest.

  'I believe that is what is called bling,' she murmured to Jake as the man left to take his place at one of the ten circular tables arranged around the periphery of the room, to leave space for dancing in the centre.

  'Correct,' he said with a husky laugh. 'Dotello is a New York gems dealer and likes to show his wares.'

  'Along with half his chest.'

  'Not that you should not have noticed,' Jake declared possessively as he led her to the top table and saw her seated before joining her.

  Jake deftly reacquainted her with their table companions. His foster-parents were next to him and then Sophia and her husband Gianni, followed by Paulo and his wife Stephanie who smiled at Charlie like an old friend.

  The food was superb and the champagne and conversa­tion flowed freely through half a dozen courses, except for the last couple at the table: Diego and a stunning Russian model called Lenka, who could not speak a word of any language but her own.

  'Lenka is a typical Diego type,' Jake murmured to Charlie in a soft aside as Stephanie, having finished her sweet, tried to engage the model in conversation. 'Diego likes his women to be models, mobile and mute.'

  'And of course you don't?' Charlie mocked with an ele­gant lift of a finely arched brow, remembering Melissa. Her blue eyes dimmed and she speared a solitary morsel of ga­teau left on her plate and popped it into her mouth.

  'I have dated several, I can't deny it.' Jake settled back in his chair and regarded her with dark intent eyes. 'But my preference is for a beautiful English blonde, with a penchant for climbing, but not of the social variety, and maybe just a little bit too much mouth.' Leaning forward, he lifted a finger. 'Speaking of your delectable mouth, you have a crumb.' The pad of his index finger stroked the corner of her mouth and lingered.

  'Come on, you two, less of the canoodling and lead the dancing,' Diego called with a laugh.

  'Shall we?' Jake suggested smoothly as the band struck up the wedding waltz, and, rising to his feet, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor.

  With all his friends watching she could not disagree, but it struck her forcibly how little she really knew of Jake as he slid an arm around her, his hand splaying firmly across the centre of her back as he moved her in close to him. 'Do you realise I have never danced with you? I don't know if I can.'

  'Trust me,' Jake murmured, grinning down at her. 'For a woman who moves like you in my bed, dancing is a given.' And he was right.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THEY danced, Jake stroking his hand gently up Charlie's bare back, while the other caught her hand and held it tight to his chest. They circled the floor once to the applause of the crowd, and then other couples joined them.

  'Thank God. I hate being the centre of attention,' Charlie murmured, tilting back her head to glance up at him.

  'I thank God for you,' Jake murmured, his dark gaze in­tent on her upturned face. .

  Charlie's lips parted. The compliment was so unlike Jake she had trouble believing him, but there was something so convincing in his tone she couldn't help herself. Their eyes met and desire sharp as a rapier lanced between them. He raised her hand to his shoulder and left it there, to slide his own down to curve over her hip and urge her closer, one long leg edging between hers. She felt him stir against her and the familiar heat flowed through her.

  Dear heaven, he felt so good, and though she knew he did not love her there was a sensual part of her that ached for his strength, the heat and power of his possession. She sank against the hard, lean length of him, her fingers instinc­tively linking behind his neck, her head resting on his shoul­der as she gave herself up to the slow music and the sheer joy of being in his arms.

  They were cocooned in a world of their own, and there was only the brush of thigh on thigh, hand on skin, the sensual stimulation of two bodies in perfect harmony as they moved to the slow, dreamy music.

  Then the tempo changed to a loud disco beat.

  Jake stopped, but held her close, his dark head dipping to hers. 'How long do you think before we can decently leave our own party?' he husked, his breath a warm care
ss against her cheek.

  Mistily, Charlie glanced up at him, her blue eyes meshing with gleaming brown as he added with wry, self-deprecatory humour, 'Or, in my case, indecently.' The increased pres­sure of his hand on her bottom told her exactly what he meant.

  She made no response; she simply gave him a slow sen­sual smile.

  'That's it,' Jake growled. 'We're leaving.'

  'We can't, the guests will be disappointed,' she mur­mured, not very convincingly, and saw his dark eyes flare and take on a devilish gleam.

  'Not necessarily.' He grinned. 'Follow me.'

  Five minutes later, after Jake had spoken to his foster- parents and a few of the guests, she found herself once more in the back of the limousine with Jake's arm draped around her shoulders.

  'What on earth did you say to everyone to make them look at me so sympathetically?'

  'I told them you felt faint and needed to lie down.'

  'You what?' Charlie should have been furious, but instead her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. 'You liar.'

  'Not exactly. I need to lie down.' His deep dark drawl fractured and his long fingers curved her neck. He tilted her head and his smouldering black eyes blazed down into hers. 'Quite desperately...with you.' His thumb stroked her nape, and then his mouth was brushing her lips slowly—oh, so slowly.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and his lie was suddenly the truth. She did feel faint. Faint with the myriad sensations flowing through her body, faint with love... Her mouth opened beneath his and a tiny moan sounded in her throat as the kiss deepened into a hungry, devouring force. He moved close, his hand raking up through her hair, sending the carefully contrived style into chaos as he angled her head. Her upper body was tight against him. The thought of resistance didn't enter her head, and when his hand slipped under the bodice of her dress, his fingers finding and teasing the pebble-like nipple, she shuddered, heat flowing through her like a river of fire. She wanted him, ached for him...