The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her. (9 page)

“I don’t like this. Annie Carlton is just a kid.”

“She’s twenty five,” Giac interrupted, a hard edge to his voice.

“And you’re thirty six,” Lincoln persisted. “You’re in the middle of a marriage break up. I don’t feel right setting her up like this.”

Giac tried a different tact. “We need a lawyer for the Paris trip. Why not Annie?”

Lincoln frowned. Though he had reservations, he knew better than to set himself at odds with Giacomo Medici. The man always, without fail, always got what he wanted. If he had decided he wanted to ease his loneliness with Annie Carlton, the woman didn’t stand a chance.

“Fine. I’ll have HR organize it.”

Giac stood with a nod. Lincoln’s cooperation had never been in doubt. Nonetheless it was a relief to have one less stumbling block in his way.

* * *

Annie replaced the receiver slowly, a small, quizzical frown on her face.

She had not been working on the Paris project at all.

She’d have to spend the next twenty four hours reading up on the requirements to be fit to go on the trip. Still. She smiled. Paris
would
be amazing.

Annie Carlton always arrived prepared. She took her job extremely seriously, and so she sacrificed sleep in the interest of being as prepared as possible for the negotiations ahead.

But when she arrived at City airport, tired and excited by the opportunity to work on something new, she realized she had missed one vital piece of information.

She’d failed to check the trip manifest. Had failed to realize that she’d be traveling with the gossipy Donna Mills, the man who ran Amicus, Lincoln Barrett, and the man she’d been dreaming about for over three years. The sinfully sexy, completely heart breaking Giacomo Medici.

Giac’s eyes locked with hers as she walked slowly through the airport. The sun was only just coming up; the sky tinged with pinks and yellows. Inside, it was a haze of shiny linoleum and fluorescent lights. Despite the earliness of the hour, crowds were milling, assembled at various queue points throughout the terminal.

And in the midst of it all, Giac. A shiver ran down her spine, and her insides clenched with red hot desire. Everyone else failed to exist, except him, and her, and the powerful sensations throbbing between them.

She was going to Paris with the man she loved, and it scared the heck out of her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’re very adept at your work,” Giac said smoothly, as they rode the elevator at the end of a long day’s negotiations.

Annie’s heart hadn’t stopped racing. The ten or so coffees she’d drunk to get through the meetings hadn’t helped. Now, at the end of it, adrenalin alone was keeping her on her feet.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. They were alone. For the first time in a week, it was just the two of them, and she didn’t know what to say. She hardly knew how to feel.

“No, thank
you
. Without your charm and skill, I’m sure this negotiation could have dragged on many weeks longer.”

She arched a brow, but still didn’t look at him. “That’s patently untrue. I did nothing except cement the last few details. It’s the team back at the office who worked everything out.”

“So modest,” he muttered, his voice not quite disguising his frustration.

She didn’t respond. She needed to be in the safety of her own hotel room. She needed a bath, a cup of tea, and bed. She had no ability to parry verbal spars with Giac at that point in time.

“You used to be better at taking compliments.”

She bit back on the urge to tell him she used to be a fool. “I know I’m good at what I do.”

“Not so modest, then,” he drawled, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

“I don’t like the idea that women – or anyone, I guess – should feel that they can’t be proud of their achievements. I’m not good at what I do by accident. I work my arse off so that I can be good at my job.”

“I know.”

“I don’t need you to compliment me, that’s all,” she huffed, looking away from him hurriedly.

The lift pinged to a stop. With a sense of gratitude, Annie maneuvered her suitcase out of the lift. She turned around to say good night to Giac, and bumped straight into him. “What are you doing?”

“Walking you to your room.”

As simple as that. Her eyes locked with his, and she felt her lungs burn with breathlessness. It was a slippery slope they were on. One wrong move and she knew where they’d end up.

Her cheeks flushed pink with anticipation, and the adrenalin that had sustained her all day took another dip.

It would be so simple. Just a quick nod of her head. An encouraging smile. And then what? The best sex of her life until he moved on, again?

“I can walk there just fine on my own. Thanks, all the same.”

His expressive features were darkly annoyed. “Annie,” he said, reaching out on the pretense of tucking an ebony swathe of hair behind her ear. “Let’s have a drink together. For old time’s sake.”

She bit down on her lip. “I’m not so sure old times are worth drinking to.”

Giac felt an increasing desire to pull her into his arms and kiss some sense into her. “Why can’t you let this go? Why can’t we start from scratch?”

“You must be kidding me?” She whispered, her eyes scanning his face, looking for a trace of a joke. “There is no starting from scratch in life, Giac. You know that.”

“I am getting divorced. That is starting from scratch.”

Annie had heard the expression ‘seeing red’ many times. Now, she lived it. “Fine,” she muttered, storming ahead of him down the carpeted corridor, counting the numbers until she reached her own. She inserted the card in the gold door locking mechanism and stepped inside. It was a beautiful room. As she quickly surveyed the setup, she took in the king size bed, the cream sofa, the view of the Eiffel Tower just visible through the gauze curtains.

Giac clicked the door closed, and Annie whipped around.

“Being divorced by your wife doesn’t make a fresh start for
us
,” she picked up the thread of their conversation as if they hadn’t left off.

“Why not?” He demanded, his relaxed pose belied by a tensely watchful expression.

Her laugh was scoffing. “Because I don’t want you anymore,” she lied, angling her body away from him, so that he wouldn’t see the way her pulse was hammering beneath the thin skin of her neck; the way her nipples were hardened beneath the dress she’d worn that day.

“I didn’t think you capable of dishonesty with me.” He was right behind her. His hands on her hips, turning her to face him. She didn’t resist. The fight inside of her was hard enough to wage. Let alone battling with him, too.

“It’s true,” she stammered, her green eyes looking anywhere but at him.

“You want me as much now as you did then.”

“No.” The denial died on her lips, as he crushed his mouth to hers. She groaned. Her need was inexplicable. It was fierce and hard, and impossible to deny.

“You want me.”

His body was warm against hers; his hands so strong and so supportive against her body. She felt a sob in her throat. “Yes.” She pulled at his belt buckle, and out of nowhere, she knew that a part of her would die if they didn’t make love. Immediately. She couldn’t deny her body the pleasure any longer. She dropped the belt onto the ground and flicked the button of his pants open. One quick movement of the zipper and she freed him over the top of his underwear. “God,” she groaned, holding his arousal in her hands, remembering the sensation, needing to feel it again.

Giac’s eyes glittered as he looked down at her. He was insane with need, but he was still lucid enough to know what they were about to do. “Annie, are you sure?”

“Yes,” she thrust her hips forward, silently inviting him to take her, to pleasure her, to claim her anew. She’d waited and wanted for too long.

He barely had the presence of mind to place protection on himself, but he did. Their complete dependence was too enormous to accept delay. He pulled her underwear down her legs and entered her in one swift movement, crying out as her muscles clenched around him.

He felt a dam in his chest burst, as they moved as one. Not prone to emotionalism, Giac felt a lump in his throat.

“Annie,” he moaned against her hair, holding her to him as he thrust into her again. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, staring into her green eyes, her passion ravaged face. He held her hands above her head, kissing her sensitive inner wrists.

When she reached her climax, he held her close, and whispered in her ear. He spoke in his native Italian, because everything else seemed to have fallen from his brain. He kept her safe in the circle of his arms, as the corners of her world fell apart completely. And then, he unleashed his control and tumbled after her, releasing himself silently.

His heart was hammering against his chest. He waited for the breathing to slow, for the moment to pass, and then he rolled off her, pulling her with him, so that her head was cradled against his chest.

The first fingers of remorse were swift to punctuate her sexual haze. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Giac, and wishing their story could be fixed. That she could love someone else, with this same desperate passion.

But she couldn’t.

She loved Giac, and only Giac.

And now they’d slept together.

She cursed angrily. It was just a whisper but it was full of venom.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

She shook her head, pushing up from his chest. When she looked down, she realized she was still wearing her clothes. They hadn’t even had enough patience to undress. She winced. The evidence of her sexual cravenness was all around her. The belt that had been discarded on the floor, her underwear crumpled against the wall. She shook her head, and lifted fingers to her shaking lips.

It shouldn’t have happened.

Her green eyes pricked with tears. “I hate you.”

Giac stood up. “No, you don’t. You love me.”

Her eyes were wide, her shock obvious. “That’s a very arrogant assumption.” Though accurate, she admitted to herself. She decided it would be more embarrassing to bend down and replace her underwear, so she stalked past them into the small kitchenette. She flicked the kettle and stared at the impressive view while the water boiled. Giac was only seconds behind her.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I
used
to love you.”

“I know.” He remembered how she’d looked at him back then. Like a kid in a candy store. Her face had shown exactly what
he
felt. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for you to forget what happened. I just want another chance.”

“I’d be an idiot to trust you again,” she murmured, fishing a tea bag out of the caddy and placing it into her mug. She sloshed some boiled water in on top, and watched, transfixed, as the golden color bled through the water.

“I loved you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That’s even more reason not to trust you,” she pointed out, finally looking into his eyes. “You loved me, or say you did. But you had no problems ripping my heart out and tearing it to shreds.”

He narrowed his gaze. “It was an impossible situation.”

“Life is full of impossible situations. But you threw me under a bus at the first sign of trouble.”

It was an expression he was not familiar with, though he could guess its meaning easily enough. Giac swore, loud and harshly, into the dimly lit kitchen. “I should
never
have got involved with you. It was weak and unforgivable. I was engaged, Annie! For God’s sake, Carrie and I had been together since we were kids. Our wedding was weeks away. Then I met you, and everything I thought I wanted was blown to pieces.”

Annie kept her breathing level with effort. “I think you should go now.”

“Damn it, Annie, did you hear what I just said? That wasn’t easy for me.”

“Don’t.” She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare tell me our situation wasn’t easy for
you
. You got to carry on with the life you’d planned for yourself. What did I get? Memories. And even those were destroyed by what you did.” She shook her head. “Instead of being able to remember an amazing, albeit short, relationship with a man I loved, I had to suffer the ignominy of knowing that I was just a fling to you. That I would, forever, be ‘the other woman’, in your relationship.”

He was silent a long time, as emotions chased themselves over his face. “And yet you’ve just made love to me, while your boyfriend sits faithfully at home back in London.”

She lifted the tea to her lips, then put it down without drinking from the cup. “Thomas and I broke up.”

Giac didn’t respond at first. Then, quietly, he demanded, “When?”

“A few nights ago.”

He turned away from her, and stood, staring at the bed, his hands firmly planted on his hips. “When were you going to tell me?”

She frowned. “Why would I tell you? It had nothing to do with you.”