“For a long time, I thought the only thing that would make me happy was if my mother was alive. Not possible, of course, but that’s what I wanted. And I still want that.” Her voice wavered at those last words, and something twisted in his gut. “I want children, though maybe not right away. But my family has always been at the center of my life, and I cannot imagine it otherwise.”
She paused and looked away.
“I was being honest when I told you I wanted freedom,” she continued, her voice steadier. “In hindsight, I can see I lived a very sheltered life under my mother’s wing, and life was easier that way. But I don’t want to go back to that. I want to discover what is meaningful to me. That’s what I meant by freedom.”
“You deserve to have this.” His words came out more forcefully than he’d intended.
Catarina’s laugh lacked the humor that had laced their conversation until the topic turned to her. “Few people in this world get what they deserve.”
Massimo found that he didn’t like this answer. Right now, she looked so lovely, so self-contained, as if she could weather any storm gracefully, and Massimo told himself that this was exactly why he had chosen her. And yet, the idea that she viewed her own life through this lens was…dissatisfying.
“But there must be things you’ve dreamed of doing,” he pressed.
“When I was young, my parents and I watched a movie with scenes in a hospital, and after this, I declared that I wanted to be a nurse,” she said. “Of course, my father laughed, and said, you will have plenty of opportunities to take care of someone. And now, here we are.”
She glanced at the bandage on his head. Her voice held that light, airy tone, but he couldn’t miss the undertones of irony.
“Is that the university path you were referring to when we were in the library?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrow, and he got the sense that she was surprised he remembered this piece of information. Then she waved off his comment.
“That whim has come and gone,” she said lightly. “Those are not the kinds of skills I was taught at boarding school, though my mother and I did go through CPR and first aid training. My father insisted when we began traveling alone. I’m so glad to have the opportunity to put these skills to use.”
There was a flicker of emotion in her eyes, and then it was gone.
“I supposed you could always pursue a career in top secret witness extraction or the like,” he said.
Catarina blinked at him, then did the most unexpected thing. She laughed. Nothing had prepared him for the sound of her laugh, musical and intimate. He could hear that it was a real laugh, one that slipped from behind the polite mask that she wore so diligently. It was a laugh just for him. Even more improbably, he felt the corners of his own mouth tug up in answering humor.
She shook her head. “You didn’t have to work too hard to find me. Thanks to my father’s guidance, of course.”
It wasn’t bitterness in her voice but something that sounded like betrayal. He discovered he did not like that sound.
“I would have found you anywhere.” His smile faded as much baser feelings surged through him.
Her eyes flared with heat, and she stood suddenly. He rose and circled the table. Her breath caught. She was close enough to touch, and he needed to be closer. He wanted to lean forward and press his mouth against the slim column of her neck, to the hollow where her heartbeat raced. She stared up at him with those wide eyes, and those beautiful red lips parted, waiting for his. He tottered on the precipice of control. He wanted to take her right there on the table, so driven with this disturbing need to make her his. Because he wanted her. He needed her like he needed his next breath.
Under no circumstances could Massimo lose control. He could not lose sight of the seduction as a path to marriage. Catarina was an innocent, and she wanted more than a man who could not and would not ever give her the love she deserved.Deserved. He had no idea where that thought came from, but the words rang in his head, and he took them as the warning that they were.
So he resisted every urge inside him and stepped back, leaving her room to pass. His own retreat shocked him, right at the moment he was getting what he wanted. It was strategic, he told himself, even if the thoughts of what she deserved echoed ominously inside him. Catarina paused, her eyes searching his, maybe even pleading. Then she looked away and left him standing alone in the room.
As her footsteps on the staircase echoed in the room, Massimo drank the last of his wine, focusing on its cool trail down his throat, forcing his thoughts to the crisp floral notes of the Vernaccia di San Gimignano, reminding himself that his driving desire for this woman did not rule him. Reminding himself that this seduction was a calculated risk, that any end game had winners and losers. And he never intended to find himself in the latter category.
The rational choice was to back out of their marriage deal altogether, to weather this runaway fiancée scandal to avoid the risk of a much larger one, a scandal born in this weakness that had the power to lead him down the same path as his father. And yet, Massimo knew he was not going to let her go.
Until they returned to Milan, he would focus on securing this marriage. He would highlight the kinds of sensual promises he could give her. These promises weren’t a lie, he told himself. Not exactly. In the future, he would need to slake this burning thirst for her from time to time. But he would limit their interactions when they returned to Milan, of course, until this dangerous urge to possess her wholly was under control. At that point, far, far in the future, they could negotiate children.
For now, he would satisfy the need that sparked between them, both his and hers. Tonight he would give her the passion she craved. Though this spark between them threatened to flare out of control each time she was close, experience told him that it would eventually fade, most often sooner rather than later. And any power she held over him would be lost.
But this remote fjord felt so far away from his business and the weight of his family name. It seemed to whittle his thoughts down to something baser, something much more compelling. For now, his next move was not to subdue this fire. His next move was to show her all the ways to stoke it higher.
Massimo slowly made his way across the great room. He was in control. He focused on the most efficient, expedient route to his goal. He headed for his room and searched his wallet for a condom, shoving it into his pocket. Then he strode to the opposite end of the hallway and entered her bedroom.
The lights were off, but moonlight echoed off the snow and through the window, casting a dreamlike glow over the room. Her bedroom’s design was much like the rest of the house, with vaulted ceilings, exposed beams and plush carpets scattered over the wooden floors, but this room had a more feminine twist. Clouds of pillows were scattered over a puffy down duvet, and the wooden dresser and mirror were carved with flourishes. Matching bookcases lined the other side of the room, and he wondered what books she held here in her private library. But that thought faded as his gaze drifted to the window. Catarina stood next to a reading chair, and the long shadow of her profile cast a graceful image across the floor. She was dressed in a long gown that covered her form, and yet it was made of a material that the moonlight rendered translucent. It highlighted her soft, rounded thighs, the generous swell of her rear, the tight buds of her breasts. Massimo hardened as he traced each curve with his gaze. Catarina turned, looking over her shoulder at him, and he couldn’t decide if he had startled her or if she had been expecting him. Maybe it was both.
His fingers ached to trace each curve, to feel the weight of her full breasts, to tease the hardness of her nipple, and his groin throbbed, begging him to do it.You can give in just this once, he reminded himself, just to show her what this could be like. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that this need for Catarina complicated their situation. She would be an indulgence, one he would strictly limit before the siren call of attraction grew too strong. But by then she would be his forever. Or maybe it was the reverse. Maybe it was he who would be hers. But Massimo was long past caring.
He didn’t remember deciding to move, and yet he was crossing the room. She said nothing, just watched him. He stopped in front of her, close enough that her warm breaths brushed over his skin, close enough to see the plea in her eyes, both pushing him away and calling him closer. The lure was irresistible.
