The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her. (13 page)

She stared up at him, her eyes awash with emotion. “I guess I just can’t forgive and forget after all.” She tilted her head forward. The sight of him was too much to bear.

“You don’t mean that,” he demanded, his fingers knitted through hers.

“How would you feel, if our positions were reversed?” She asked, her head swimming with what she’d just had confirmed.

“I’d be furious,” he responded. “Because I love you and I hate the thought of any other man having something special with you.” He cupped her cheek with his palm. “I can’t help what I did before I met you.”

“You married her
after
you met me,” she pointed out acerbically, shaking her hand free.

“Yes. Annie, we need to talk. Please, will you just come with me for a drink?”

“Well,” she snapped, “I guess we can’t go to your apartment. Your wife is, after all, up there.”

His lips were a slash in his face. As he led the way to an exclusive bar across the street, he questioned the wisdom of going somewhere so public with Annie. This conversation was undeniably private, and Annie’s temper was understandably inflamed. The possibility that things could get ugly did occur to him, but not before he had ordered her a gin and tonic and a scotch for himself.

She was sitting at a booth in the corner, her face pinched, her eyes wet.

He felt as though he’d been stabbed. Worse, he felt as though he’d stabbed her.

He passed the drink over, careful not to touch her. He needed to speak, to think, not to remember how her body set his alight.

“I’m staying five minutes. I can’t believe I’m even giving you that much of my time, when everything that comes out of your mouth is probably a lie.”

Her words were acidic, but he understood. She was hurt and she was scared, and she was lashing out.

He ran his fingers around the rim of his glass. “I’ve already told you the nature of my relationship with Carrie,” he said seriously. “We were young lovers. Passionate and idealistic.” She winced, and he wanted to reach over and take her hand in his. He suspected she would reject the gesture, so he cradled his drink. “That lasted about three months.” He couldn’t help the smile. “But we were friends, Annie. Good friends. We just understood each other. Her father was… well, it’s not really my place to go into details. Suffice it to say, he was… abusive to Carrie. She doesn’t speak about it. She didn’t then. I worked out what was going on for myself.”

Despite herself, Annie felt a kernel of sympathy bloom inside of her. “That’s awful.”

“Yes.” He grimaced, lifting his drink to his lips and letting the liquid touch his tongue. He wanted to keep his wits about him, so he set it back down again immediately. “I promised myself I would never let anyone hurt her. I took my role as her protector seriously. And I would have done anything to fulfill that role, Annie. Until I met you.” He sighed heavily. “When I proposed to Carrie, I knew we weren’t in love.  Not in a romantic sense. That didn’t matter. I didn’t believe in love; not like this. I thought a wife like Carrie would fulfill all
my
needs. She’s beautiful, intelligent, well-born, interesting. And loyal as hell. She didn’t feel any more love for me than I did her. We both wanted a sensible, safe, calm marriage. A friendship. Her father ruined her, in some ways.” He shook his head sadly.

It was hard not to believe him. His expression was one of such anguish that her own heart felt like it was breaking.

“Then, I came to London.” He shook his head, looking over her shoulder. His eyes assumed a faraway look. “You were wearing a bright red blouse that made you look a bit like Snow White. I remember thinking I’d never seen anyone with skin like yours – like spun sugar. Your hair was flowing down your back, and your eyes. Oh, Annie, your eyes were so alive and naughty. It was as if you were laughing at the room, and no one else seemed to notice it.” His smile was one of reminiscence.

“I think I fell in love with you then. Or maybe it was the next day, when you brought the whole room Starbucks. You were so thoughtful. So down to earth, yet sharp as a whip. I listened to you speak and felt like something was clicking into place for me.”

Her heart was racing, her pulse frantic. She remembered that day well.

“But I was engaged.” He shook his head. “My wedding was around the corner. I told myself every lie in the book. Cold feet. Pre-wedding jitters. An infatuation that would pass.”

Annie lifted her glass and sipped her Bombay Sapphire. 

“Then, you jumped in that damned fountain and it was like … a shot in the heart. I knew I had to have you. That it was no infatuation. That I was, cataclysmically and completely, in love with you.”

She lowered her head, so he wouldn’t see just how his words had affected her. Finally, she looked at him. “So what happened?” She hadn’t meant for the words to come out so tortured. It just felt like everything should have been so much easier.

“I called Carrie. I was going to tell her about you. I knew she’d understand.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Just as I would have, if she’d met someone else.”

“And did you? Tell her about me?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “That weekend, when Carrie came to the UK – when you brought those beautiful roses to me? She came to see me. I had every intention of telling her about you. But she came to tell me something else.”

“What?” She whispered, literally on the edge of her seat.

“Carrie had cancer.”  His eyes beseeched her to understand. “Cancer, Annie. How could I leave her?”

Annie’s body was racked by a silent sob. “You couldn’t. I get it.”

“No. I couldn’t. And so, I married Carrie. I told myself I would stay with her until she was better. I couldn’t leave her. All I could do was think about you, remember you, and crave you, every day.” Her body shook with emotion. She drunk the rest of her drink in one go.

“And is she better now?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Yes. She’s in remission, at least, and determined to best it.”

“Does she know about me?”

“I imagine she’s guessed by now,” he drawled quietly.

Annie nodded. “And today she surprised you.”

“Yes. She was able to pull strings through the US embassy to get a seat without me knowing.”

Annie nodded. It all sounded so plausible, but only one thing couldn’t be explained away. She put her glass on the table and pushed it resolutely towards Giac. “I understand, Giac. I do.” She stood, lifting her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me.”

She walked with her head held high out of the swanky underground bar.

“Annie?” He caught her on the street. “What the hell are you doing?”

She looked down the street and lifted her hand to grab the attention of a slowly approaching cab. “I understand that you love her. I understand that you felt you needed to protect her. But what about me?” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “You had a choice. And you chose to hurt me. You could have explained this at the time. You could have told me the truth back then.”

He shook his head, urgently. “Carrie didn’t want anyone to know about her diagnosis.”

“I’m not just ‘anyone’,” she pointed out hotly. She took a deep breath. “In any event, you didn’t think about me. And what I went through. What loving you and losing you was like. How can I trust you now? Knowing how little you value me?”

“Annie!” His voice was tortured. “I adore you. Listen to your heart. You know you can trust me.”

She shook her head sadly, placing a hand on the door of her taxi. “Actions speak so much louder than words, Giac. If you loved me as you say you do, you would have found a way to support Carrie and still be with me.”

“She was sick.”

“I know. And I think it’s great you were there for her. But you weren’t there for me.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” He took a step back, totally dumbfounded.

Annie nodded. “Goodbye, Giac.” She slid into the car and pulled the door behind her. She couldn’t look at him. It was too hard. She gave the driver directions to her brother’s home and sat back in the comfort of the seats. She couldn’t go to her flat, where memories seemed to make the walls groan inwards. She needed to be distracted by someone else for a while, and Stu was the perfect candidate.

Somewhere around Pimlico, she gave in to the tears that had been threatening to fall. She sobbed silently in the back seat, knowing her life would never be the same again.

CHAPTER TEN

Annie listened to the story of Stu’s reconciliation for the third time with the same pained smile she’d worn second time around. She was thrilled for them, of course. They were a perfect couple in so many ways. Though what, indeed, was a perfect couple? If she’d seen Giac and Carrie and not known their history, she would have presumed them to be infinitely in love. She supposed, in the end, what made a relationship work, was two people’s willingness to commit to one another. Flaws and all.

When Stu looked at Chloe, there was no sign of resentment in his face. No anger that she’d cheated on him. No recriminations were obvious in the way he ran a hand over her hair and carried her favorite herbal tea to the lounge. He was happy. As for Chloe, if she seemed to be looking at Annie with the hint of embarrassment, Annie understood that, too. They had been friends a long time. More like sisters, really. Chloe didn’t just cheat on Stu. If their relationship had broken up, it would have been Annie who suffered, alongside him.

“Annie’s probably bored of this, Stu,” Chloe interrupted, as Stu began to extol his girlfriend’s virtues once more.

Annie shot her a grateful smile.

Chloe sipped her tea. “What’s new with you, Annie?”

Annie opened her mouth to confide in them, but the words wouldn’t come out. She shook her head. “Nothing. The usual.”

“Stu said you broke up with Thomas?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t serious about it. Have you seen him recently?”

“Not since that night,” Stu said with a shrug. “I’m sure he’s fine. Thomas is hardly short of women looking to date him.”

The fact it didn’t inspire even a hint of jealousy in Annie underscored that she’d done the right thing to end it with him.

And yet, the thought of Giac and Carrie, or Giac and any other woman, made her nails want to scratch eyes loose. She shook her head. Jealousy was not the ticket to a lasting relationship. She had felt, all her life, that relationships succeeded with respect, affection, trust and love. The whole sexual attraction thing was a small part of the overall equation. So what if she and Giac had incredible chemistry? That did not a soul connection make.

Only… as she lay on the slightly uneven sofa in Stu’s lounge room, trying to catch those pesky zeds, she did feel a soul connection with Giac. The sex was amazing, but that wasn’t what it was about. It was so much more than that. She thought of the times he’d had her in stitches, laughing over something ridiculous; his political satire, his astute observations were cutting and clever. She loved his body and his brain, his soul and his sexuality. She loved him.

But it wasn’t enough.

Love alone was a fantasy, if there was not trust and respect to balance it out.

Somewhere before dawn, sleep claimed her. It was a patchy, rough sleep, with dreams tormented by happy memories that seemed to laugh at her, spitefully.

Waking was a relief. Facing the day ahead, was not. For she had to get back to reality at some point, and that meant going home.

* * *

Trepidation scratched her spine. The last time she’d been in her flat had been with Giac. Then, the future had been bright; possibilities endless. The idea of moving on, into a life without him, again, was onerous. Impossible to contemplate. And yet, what choice did she have?

He said he loved her, but when had he ever done as he ought?

She shook her head, trying desperately to free herself from the prison of her unsatisfactory thoughts. She climbed the stairs slowly; like a woman on the way to a death sentence. The knowledge that every step brought her closer to facing reality was difficult to accept.

“Hi.” A small voice, whispered, caught her attention.

She looked up, sharply.

Carrie.

So ethereally beautiful in the morning sunshine. Her face was flawless. She looked like she should be starring in a toothpaste commercial.

Annie, who had slept on Stu’s couch, was wrinkled, in yesterday’s clothes, and her breath smelt of last night’s chicken tikka massala. “Hello,” she responded, unable to keep curiosity from edging into her voice.

Carrie stood up, and Annie felt a pang of conscience. The woman had not been well. She shouldn’t have been sitting around on the freezing cold floor.

“I brought coffee. Cold, though, by now.” She nodded towards the two take away cups.

Annie was surprised to find her mouth curving into the suggestion of a smile. “It’s still caffeine, right?”

Carrie nodded, handing one over. “Giac’s driver gave me your address. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Straight to the point. Annie swallowed. “Do you want to come in?”

“Do you mind?”