Billionaire's Defiant Mistress (11 page)

Later, having showered and dressed, Carlos raised his glass to Sarah in silent toast as they were eating dinner.

“Sarah?” he enquired. “Do you have a passport?”

Sarah put down her glass as she pondered the unexpected question, her heart thudding as she sat in the spotlight of his stare.

“Of course I have a passport.”

“There is no 'of course' about it. You told me you had never been to Europe.”

“I did go on an overnight trip to Dublin with school – not sure that counts as Europe. Anyway, I needed a passport,” she exclaimed triumphantly.

Carlos held back an indulgent smile as he considered her unwitting talent to amuse him. What a perfect mistress, he thought. Sexually curious and a natural intelligence which would often surprise him. He enjoyed taking her to the theatre, introducing her to opera – even if he hadn't bothered introducing her to his friends. There was no point. She would never see any of them again.

But that morning, as he was shaving he'd received something of a shock at realising that Christmas was almost here. The days had flown past without him noticing, possibly because he wasn't bored by the constant company of just one woman. This time next week he would be busy with the heavy fixture programme over the holidays. And when that was over, he would be back home to a bed that was empty of his youthful, blonde mistress.

Would he miss her?

He watched intently as her delicate tongue worked its way around her lips, giving them a provocative glow. It reminded him of what that talented tongue had done to him just a short time ago. For someone who had no experience of a man's body only a few weeks previously, she had proven herself to be a remarkably fast learner, a talented woman.

He was going to miss her – but he would soon forget, he always forgot quickly.

“I've been thinking,” he said, waiting for her undivided attention. “How would you like to go to Venice?”

“Venice? Really?” She squeaked.

“On the Adriatic coast of Italy,”he said
in mock seriousness. “Have you heard of it?”

She looked deep into the shine of his dark eyes, at his proud rugged features which made her heart jump every time she saw him. “Carlos, do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“When?”

“How about tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow? Oh yes. Great! Thank you! Thank you!” Sarah leapt from her chair and wrapped her arms around his neck kissing his head and cheek in a flurry of grateful kisses. At that moment the door opened and in walked Elaine. The appearance of the housekeeper brought Sarah's exaggerated affection to an end – even before she felt the tensing of Carlos's muscles. Carlos didn't do public affection. Neither did he do it in front of his housekeeper.

Sarah was finding it difficult sharing a house with live-in staff. She had taken quite quickly to sharing a bed, but sharing a home with staff was proving much more challenging. Elaine wasn't unfriendly towards Sarah, but she was distant and Sarah found the distance intimidating. Sarah understood that Carlos needed people to run his house for him; she just wished they would all go on holiday during her stay there. That would have given her the freedom to roam the house, to make love in each room and to cook for Carlos herself instead of having meals served up to them. She had no interest in the benefits of Carlos's great wealth, she was interested only in him.

“Sarah and I will be leaving for Venice, first thing in the morning,” said Carlos, as a brightly flushed Sarah sat back on her seat.

“That will be nice,” said Elaine, smiling. “Venice is such a pleasure at this time of year.”

Sarah gave a grimace as she tried to smile. It seemed the whole world had travelled more than she had. But she soon forgot her insecurity as she started packing for the trip. A few weeks ago, packing would have involved throwing a few items into a bag and little else. But not now – mainly because since being with Carlos her wardrobe had expanded considerably. It wasn't unusual for Carlos to return home carrying fancy carrier bags containing presents for Sarah. There was the silky black dress which slid through her fingers. The pair of high heel shoes similar to the one she wore on the first date. Though these were handmade in pure leather and exquisitely crafted. She had wondered how he managed to buy her clothes which fit perfectly, how did he know the size? But of course, she wasn't the first woman for whom Carlos had bought clothes, nor would she be the last. He was an expert in knowing the dress size of a woman.

She had protested about the gifts, even accusing him of believing her own clothes weren't good enough. Carlos dismissed her protests explaining that it was a mistresses right to receive expensive gifts. She had wanted to throw the presents back at him, but she realised quickly such actions would achieve nothing. There was little point in sulking or issuing ultimatums just because he wouldn't behave in the way that she wished – like he was falling in love. Carlos wasn't going to fall in love. Sarah was treated like a mistress because she was his mistress. Hoping for the relationship to deepen rather than coming to a sudden end would be a waste of time and emotional energy.

He was never going to fall in love with her as that was not part of the deal. She had been adult enough to accept the terms at the beginning, so now she should be adult enough to respect those terms even though she had discovered they didn't suit her after all. So she grudgingly accepted his presents with a calm emptiness, though now she was pleased that with the trip to Venice, she had the perfect wardrobe to take with her.

Sarah hadn't flown before but had heard plenty of stories about waiting at airports, long queues and cramped seats. She had no personal experience to reference against but no sooner had they arrived at the airport she found herself being ferried by limousine to a small private jet plane a few hundred yards away from the much bigger, passenger jets. They were the only two passengers on board the plane, with two pilots and a bright cheerful hostess who made it quite clear she was there to provide anything they may want. As soon as they were in the air Sarah was sipping champagne thinking how the sumptuous leather chair in which she sat, was the most comfortable seat she had ever come across.

After landing, they were transferred by limousine to the heart of Venice. Carlos had hired an enormous suite with a private balcony overlooking the Laguna. The room was decorated in a Venetian baroque style with marble floors, oriental rugs and big vases of bright pink roses. The bed was enormous, and one of the two bathrooms had a Jacuzzi. Sarah wandered around in disbelief as her hand slid over the golden outline of the arm of the sofa.

“This is like a dream – I keep thinking that I will wake up at any moment.”

“I don't want you to go to sleep just yet,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms. “Venice is the perfect place for lovers.”

What did he say? Lovers? Was he mocking her? It was a very misleading word to use because this trip had nothing to do with love. How many of his lovers had been here with him before?

But Sarah soon forgot the nagging thought when Carlos began to undress her, sliding the ultra soft silk lingerie away from her body as his lips found her breast.

For the next three days they did everything that tourists do when in Venice. Coffee in the Piazza San Marco, exploring the hidden churches and lively markets. They would hop on and off the water taxis; and Carlos insisted they get up early and walk the traffic-free alleys in the early morning mist. When they weren't exploring the romance capital of the world they were having sex – amazing sex which was made all the more urgent by the sense that it would soon be over. And that sense of ending was reinforced on the final day when Carlos wanted to buy her a beautiful black, leather coat.

“I don't want the coat. It is so expensive and it just makes me feel like I am a bought commodity,” Sarah had complained.

Carlos paused and stared at her in disbelief. “You won't succeed in trying to make me feel bad.” He drawled. “I warn you, don't try and lay a guilt trip on me. Our time together is coming to an end and I wanted to buy you a warm coat. That is all. You don't have one and there's a cold winter ahead.”

“Warn me?” Sarah's love turned to anger and then resentment. She felt like a Victorian urchin stood in threadbare clothes selling individual roses as the snow fell around her. “You know where you can stick your coat!” she screamed, as she turned and raced out of the shop without looking back.

He handed the coat back to the shop assistant and chased after her. He caught her arm, his face black as fury, as his fingers bit into the thin material of her coat. “How dare you!”

“How dare I refuse to be bought by you?”

“I mean how dare you make a scene in public,” he snapped. “I have a reputation to keep – even if you do not care much for your own.”

Sarah could feel her body trembling as she stared back at him. As she registered his words, her heart sank, as she asked herself how could she be so stupid? She was so attracted to his charm that she had assigned to him all kinds of attributes which only existed in her own mind.

To Carlos she was a commodity. She was nothing more than an adornment to his arm, a mistress in his bed for whom he paid the bills. He brought her to Venice, she provided sex on demand. That was the arrangement, the temporary arrangement, and there was no more to it than that.

He spoke of reputation, yet to Sarah, he had saved her reputation only to ruin it in another way. Yes, he had saved her from a ruinous return to the Lake District and being labelled a thief – but then he had persuaded her to become his mistress which was the opposite of all the things she held dear. Love and fidelity were her ideals and her dreams had been broken.

Sarah had paid a high price for what she had learnt. She had lost her innocence and seen her adventure in the big city become nothing but a sordid affair – the sooner she was out of there, the better because in return all she had learnt was that providing good sex to a wealthy man would see you rewarded with clothes and gifts worth thousands of pounds.

She came to wish she had let him buy the coat because it cast a cloud over the rest of their time in Venice. And in the extended moments of silence her mind kept looking forward to the moment of her departure, back to the Lake District. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Prior to the scene in the shop she had hoped he would attempt to persuade her to stay on until spring.

But she no longer expected, not even in her wildest thoughts, to be asked to stay. The flight back home was mainly silent and this time there was no ice bucket with champagne. Sarah felt deflated as the limousine drove them back from the airport and Carlos vanished the minute they arrived home.

Home? It was nothing like home. It was a suburban mansion inhabited by a single, wealthy man who ruthlessly helped himself to anything he wanted. Probably because the only woman whom he had ever loved had dumped him for his best friend. He would never change and anyway why would he change?

Sarah soon booked her train ticket back to the Lake District and didn't bother to let him know. She just informed him that she would be on the train the following morning.

“You're going so soon?”

Sarah had difficulty getting the words out. “Yes. I think it's best that I go soon, don't you?”

He observed her eyes, and eventually agreed by nodding. “Perhaps. Please take my car, there is no need to go on the train.”

“Thanks for the offer,” she replied, “but I will be going by train.”

“Why?”

Sarah thought it was obvious why. Could he not see anything from her perspective? Maybe he couldn't. Perhaps the hurt was so deep, because of the betrayal, that Carlos had built bigger and bigger walls around his heart. He wasn't going to allow anybody to get inside – and because the walls were so high he didn't have a clear view of the outside world.

“I live in a small village,” she began. “If I turn up in a chauffeur driven limousine I will be the talk of Keswick for months, maybe even years.”

Carlos felt a tiny stab of guilt and a touch of sadness as he noticed the paleness in her cheeks and the darker shadowing of her soft skin underneath her eyes. At this moment he realised something had changed. He was regretting the bitter exchange they had in the shop in Venice, though maybe it had been inevitable. He had planned for a smooth, sophisticated goodbye but had realised some time ago that was probably wishful thinking – he suspected that Sarah was reading more into their relationship than was intended.

So instead, he planned to give her one last night to remember. A night she could look back on and reminisce at how great it had been. She would remember Carlos and everything he had shown her – and her future husband would appreciate Sarah for being an exemplary lover.

“Then you will go by train. But right now my dear, let's go upstairs. I want you so much; I want to make love to you right now.”

“But it's only six o'clock, and Elaine will be preparing dinner.”

“Elaine has the evening off, because I wanted you on your own,” he growled.

Sarah could feel the turmoil inside. Her pride was saying no, but her pride was losing to desire. She found herself sliding her arms around his neck, lifted her face to his and in her heart she forgave him. It wasn't as if he had broken any promises. He'd never given her false hope and for that she should surely commend him. Her heart may be wounded, but that could only be her own fault for not having heeded his words.

“Then let's go up, now,” she whispered.

The last night with Carlos was both sublime and painful. Sarah mentally labelled everything as 'the last time' which made everything sad – and probably why the sex seemed more urgent and intense. From the moment dawn broke, time seemed to pass unbearably quickly as the night was now definitely over and this was the day of her departure. The last time I will see him asleep, she thought. The last time I will lay here listening to his breath. Never again will I wake to his kiss or feel his limbs entwined with mine. She thought briefly about her future and how one day she would make love with another man, but that man wouldn't be Carlos.