The Mistress: The Mistress\Wanted: Mistress and Mother (29 page)

“Why me?” she whispered angrily, tears spilling down her face
as she glared at him. “Why, when you could have any woman you wanted, did you
have to pick on me?” Her hoarse whisper trailed off as she heard Hugh and
Katrina at the foot of the stairs. Horrified, she stared at him, excruciatingly
aware of her lack of attire, knowing how it would appear and not up to the
confrontation.

His reflexes were like lightning. His hand closed around hers
and in one movement he opened a door, practically pulling her inside, but she
was plunged from desperation to hell. The mocking sight of his bedroom twisted
the knife further, if that were possible, and she let him have it, her fists
balling like Alex’s, pushing against his chest as she choked the words out. “You
knew what this would do to me. You knew how much this would hurt me in the end.
So why did you even start it, why, when you could have anyone, did you have to
pick on me?”

“Shh,” Dante warned, the voices on the other side of the door
growing nearer, but Matilda was past caring now.

“Why,” she said nastily, “are you worried what Katrina will
say?” She never got to finish. Both his hands were holding hers so he silenced
her in the only way he could, his mouth pressing on hers, pushing her furious
body against the door as she resisted with every fibre of her being, clamping
her mouth closed, trying not to even breathe because she didn’t want to taste
him, smell him, didn’t want to taste what she could never have again.

“’Night, Dante...”

A million miles away on the other side of the door Katrina
called to him. Warning her with his eyes, he moved his mouth away, his breath
hot on her cheeks, his mouth ready to claim hers again if she made a single
move.

“’Night, Katrina.”

And shame licked the edges then, shame trickling in as he
stared down at her till the moment had passed, till Hugh and Katrina were safely
out of earshot and Dante told her a necessary home truth.

“I do not have to answer to Katrina, but I do respect her,
Matilda. She is the mother of my wife and the grandmother of my child. I will
not flaunt a relationship in front of her without fair warning.”

“What relationship?” Matilda sneered, but her face was scarlet,
knowing that in this instance he was right. “Sex with no strings isn’t enough
for me, Dante.” Which was such a contrary thing to say when her whole body was
screaming for him, her nipples like stinging thistles against her nightdress,
her body trembling with desire, awoken again by the one-sided kiss.

“It isn’t enough for me either,” Dante said softly. “At least
not since you came along.” His hands had loosened their grip but his eyes were
pinning her now, and she stared back, stunned, sure she must have somehow
misheard. She dropped her eyes, didn’t want to look at him when surely he would
break her heart again, but his hand cupped her chin, capturing her, ensuring
that she remained looking at him, his fingers softly holding her, his thumb
catching tears as they tumbled down her cheeks. “A lady who asks me for
directions, a lady who steps into a elevator and into my life. It was I who
wanted to see you again. Hugh told me to cancel that dinner, it was I was who
insisted that we go ahead...” Utterly bemused, drenched in hope, she blinked
back at him, struggled to focus as she shifted the murky kaleidoscope of the
their brief past into glorious High Definition. “I had to kiss you. I convinced
myself that when I did it would be over, but no...” It was Dante who appeared
confused how, Dante shaking his head as he recalled. “Like a drug, I need more,
we make love and still I tell myself that it is just need that propels me, male
needs, that when the garden is finished then so too will we be. I don’t want to
feel this, Matilda...”

“Why?” Matilda begged. “Because of Jasmine?”

Pain flickered across his face and for a fragment of time she
wished she could retract, take back what she had just said, yet somehow Matilda
knew it had to be faced, that they could only glimpse the future if he let her
into the past. But Dante shook his head, refuted her allegation almost
instantly.

“Alex is the one who has to come first...”

“She will,” Matilda breathed, sure that wasn’t the entire
issue, sure that, despite his denial, and his apparent openness, still he was
holding back. But as he pulled her into his arms, as he obliterated the world
with his masterful touch, she let it go, reassured by his words and a glimpse of
the future with Dante by her side and utterly sure she had all the time in the
world to source his pain.

One hand was circling the back of her neck now, tiny circular
motions that were incredibly soothing but at the same time incredibly erotic.
She could feel the steady hammer of his heart against her ear, inhale the unique
maleness of him as his gentle words reached her, his lips shivering along the
hollow of her neck, moving down to the creamy flesh of her shoulder. His teeth
nibbled at the spaghetti strap of her nightdress, his tongue cool against her
burning skin, eyes closing as, giddy with want, he pulled the delicate garment
downwards, sliding it over her breasts. His hands lingered over her hips as,
guided by him, she stepped out of it, facing him now with a mixture of
nervousness and raw sexuality, naked apart from the palest of pink silk panties.
And the low moan of desire that escaped his lips erased for ever the poisonous
roots of self-doubt Edward had so firmly planted, her body fizzing with new hope
and desire as he sank to his knees, knowing that to Dante she was beautiful.

His hands were still on her hips but he was kissing her stomach
now, deep, throaty kisses that were as faint-making as they were erotic. She
could feel his tongue on her skin and it was overwhelming, her tummy tightening
in reflex as one hand slipped between her thighs, stroking the pale, tender skin
on the inside as his lips moved down. She could feel the heat through the cool
silk fabric, his tongue, his lips on her making her weak with want, desperate
for him to rip at her panties, to satisfy the desire that was raging in her. She
gave tiny gasps in her throat as her fingers knotted together in his hair, as
still he teased her more, his teeth grazing the silk, his tongue moistening her
more, and even if it was everything she wanted, it still wasn’t enough.
Realisation hit her that, despite what had taken place in the garden, she’d
never seen him naked. Need propelling her, she pulled back a touch, saw the
question in his eyes as slowly he stood up. Her fingers, nervous at first, but
bolder as desire took over, wrestled with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the
sleeves down over his muscular arms. Closing her eyes in giddy want, her pale
breasts pressed against his chest. She felt the naked silk of his dark skin
against her, skin on skin, as she opened his belt and unzipped his shorts. She
held her breath in wonder as Dante now shed the garments that stood between
them, and if he’d been beautiful before, he was stunning now.

Never had she seen a more delicious man, his body toned and
muscular, his dark, olive skin such a contrast to hers, the ebony of the hair
that fanned on his chest tapering down into a delicious, snaky black line that
led to the most decadent, delicious male centre. His arousal was terrifying and
exciting at the same time, jutting out of silky black hair, proud and angry and
alive, and the bed that had looked so daunting was just a tiny breathless step
away. As they lay face to face she held him in her hand, marvelling at the
strength, the satin softness of the skin that belied the steel beneath it,
nervous, tentative at first. But his tiny moans of approval told her she was
doing it right. Her other hand was audacious too, cupping his heavy scrotum,
holding all of him, and loving it, as his lips found her breasts, suckling on
her tender flesh, a tiny gasp catching in her throat as felt him growing
stronger, nearer.

“Careful.” His voice was thick with lust as his hand captured
her wrist, stopped her just in time, and she was greedy now for her turn, biting
down on her bottom lip as he ran the tip of his erection over her panties, could
see the tiny silver flash that told her he was near. She almost wept with
voracious need as his finger slipped inside the fabric, gently parting her pink,
intimate lips, sliding deep inside as still he teased her on the outside,
sliding his heat against her till she was frenzied, her neck arching backwards,
her whole body rigid, fizzing with want.

And Dante was the same, she knew it, as he tore at the delicate
panties, ripped them open and plunged deep inside, her orgasm there to greet
him, her intimate vise twitching around him as he entered, thrusting inside her.
And yet he made her wait for his, their heated bodies moving together, long,
delicious strokes as his moist skin slid over hers, her orgasm fading then
rising again as he worked deliciously on, her fingers clutching his taut
buttocks, her neck rigid as his tongue, his mouth devoured it, tasting her,
relishing her, arousing her all over again. She could feel the tension in him
building, his movements faster now, delicious involuntary thrusts as his body
dictated the rhythm for both of them, no turning back as he drove them both
forward.

He spilled inside her as she came again, crying out his name as
he took her higher than she had ever been then held her as she came back down.
But if making love with Dante had been exquisite, nothing could rival the
feeling of him holding her in his arms, his body spooning into her warm back,
the bliss of being held by him, his tender, warm hand on her stomach, his
breathing evening out, experiencing the beauty of a bed shared tonight.

And the promise tomorrow could bring.

Chapter 10

“D
ante!”

She barely said it, more breathed the word, her eyes snapping
open as the bedroom door opened. A tiny rigid figure was silhouetted in the
doorway, staring at the vast bed, and all Matilda knew was that Alex mustn’t see
her. She wriggled slightly in his arms, pulling her legs down straight, trying
to remain inconspicuous yet somehow awaken him. Gently she prodded him, slipping
beneath the covers as he came to, feeling like an intruder hiding, chewing on
her bottom lip and cringing inside as Dante took in the scene.

“Alex, darling.” She could feel him pull back the covers,
groping on the floor for his boxers then stepping out of the bed and crossing
the room. “Did something wake you?”

And because it was Alex, there was no answer to his question.
Instead, Matilda listened to his comforting words as he scooped the little girl
up and carried her back towards her bedroom. She waited till the coast was clear
before wrapping the sheet around her and heading for the
en
suite,
pulling on Dante’s bathrobe and, despite the oppressive heat
of the night, heading back to the bed to sit and shiver on the edge till Dante
returned.

“Is she OK?” Worried eyes jerked to his. “I don’t think she saw
me. It’s so dark in here I’m sure that she couldn’t have. I just heard the door
open...”

“She’s fine,” Dante instantly reassured her. “I gave her a
drink of water and she settled back down. I don’t know what’s wrong with her
tonight...” Sitting down on the bed, he wrapped an arm around her, but she could
sense his distraction, knew that he was worried about what Alex might have
seen.

“I heard the door open and saw her. I honestly don’t think that
she saw me. The only reason I could make her out was because the hall light was
on. As soon as I heard something, I slipped under the covers.”

“She didn’t seem worried,” Dante agreed. “I think she was just
thirsty...” His voice trailed off and Matilda watched as he raked his fingers
through his hair, seeing him now not as a lover but as the father he was...

Would always be.

“I’ll go back to my room.”

“No.” He shook his head, one hand reaching out and attempting
to grab her wrist. But Matilda captured it, holding his strong hand in her
gentler one. And as much as she didn’t want to go, as much as she knew Dante
wanted her to stay, she knew it was right to leave.

“Dante, it’s fine. Alex might come back and neither of us is
going to relax now. I’ll go and sleep in my room. It’s better that way. We’ve
got away with it once...”

“You understand?”

“Completely,” Matilda said softly, her free hand capturing his
cheek, feeling the scratch of his stubble beneath her fingers. Although she
longed to sleep with him, to wake up with him, she knew some things were more
important, knew that she had to act unselfishly now. “You need to be here for
Alex,” she whispered, kissing his taut cheek, feeling the tension in his body as
she held him for a precious second, knowing he was torn between want and duty,
knowing that she could make things easier for him by going.

And it wasn’t a small comfort as she slipped into her
king-sized single bed, still wrapped in his robe, still warm from his touch, his
intimate spill still moist between her legs. It was the most grown-up decision
she’d ever made.

It was love.

* * *

“Dante!”

Brutally awoken by the piercing shout, Matilda sat up in bed,
her mind whirling as chaos broke out. She tried to piece together the events of
the night before and failed as the urgent events of today thundered in.

“Where is she?”

Wrapping the tie of Dante’s bathrobe around her, Matilda
climbed out of bed, her heart hammering at the urgency in Katrina’s voice,
waiting,
waiting
for Dante to reply. For him to tell
her that Alex was in bed with him. Her stomach turned as she opened her bedroom
door and saw Dante’s pale, anguished face as he ran the length of the hallway,
desperation in his voice as he called his daughter’s name, terrified, frenzied
eyes meeting hers as he explained the appalling situation.

“Alex isn’t in her bed. We can’t find her.”

Dashing down the hallway, she careered into Dante, his face a
mixture of fixed determination and wretched pain.

“The pool!” They both said it at the same time. His worst
nightmare eventuating, she followed him, bare feet barely touching the surface,
jumping, running, taking the stairs two, three at a time as her mind reasoned.
The pool was fenced and gated, Matilda attempted to reason as she ran; Dante was
always so careful with his daughter’s security there was no way Alex could have
got in. As she dashed across the lawn, Dante was miles ahead, naked apart from
his boxers, his whole body taut with dread. Finally she reached him, shared in
that anguished look at the cool glittering blue surface. But there was little
solace to be taken. The glimmering bay twinkled in the sunrise, a vast ocean
just metres away and a tiny, fragile child missing.

“Call the police.” Dante’s voice was calm but his lips were
tight, a muscle hammering in his cheek as his idyllic, bayside view turned again
to torture. “Tell them to alert the coastguard.”

* * *

“She was fine last night!” Katrina’s brittle voice
grated on Matilda’s already shot nerves. The police had long since arrived,
their radios crackling in the background as officers started the appalling
process—interviewing the adults, searching the house and gardens. A frantic race
against time ensued. She could hear the whir of helicopter rotors as they
swooped along the coastline. As she stared at Dante, who had returned at the
police’s bidding from a frantic race to the beach to look for his daughter, sand
on his damp legs, his proud face utterly shattered, her first instinct was to
reach out and hold him, to comfort him, but aware of Katrina and how it would
look, she held back. “I looked in on her as I went to bed...”

“What time was that?” An incredibly young officer asked as
another sat writing notes.

“Eleven, twelve perhaps,” Katrina responded. “Dante had already
gone up.”

“So you were the last person to see her?”

“No,” Dante broke in. “I was the last person to see her.”
Matilda held her breath as he carried on talking, wondering if he would reveal
what had happened and with a sinking heart knowing that he had to. “She was
distressed when I went up, but she went back to sleep. Katrina would have seen
her a few moment after that, but a couple of hours later she came into my
room.”

“She’d climbed out of her cot?”

“She’s started to do that,” Dante said, raking his fingers
through his hair, his whole body in abject pain. She ached to comfort him yet
sat completely still as he spoke on. “She seemed thirsty so I gave her a drink
and cuddled her for a moment.”

“Was she upset?”

“No.” Dante shook his head, his face contorting with agonized
concentration as he recalled every detail of the last time he had seen his
daughter. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” the policeman pushed, and Matilda could
have slapped him for his insensitivity. But Dante was calmer, explaining Alex’s
problem in a measured voice, but his voice was loaded with pain.

“My daughter has problems—behavioural problems.” Katrina opened
her mouth to argue, but Dante stood firm, shaking his head at Katrina, clearly
indicating that now wasn’t the time for futile denial. “She doesn’t react in the
usual way—you never really know what she’s thinking. Look, you
have
to tell your colleagues that they could be just a
metre away from her, could be calling her name, and she won’t answer them, she
won’t call out...” His voice broke for a second and Matilda watched as he
attempted to recover, his eyes closing for an agonising second as he forced
himself to continue. “You have to tell them that.”

The officer nodded to his partner, who left the room to impart
the news before he continued with the interview. “You gave her a drink—then
what?”

“I opened the window a fraction more—there are locks on it, so
she could never have opened it wide enough to get out. Her room was...” His
English momentarily failed him. Dante balled his fists in frustration as he
tried to give the police officer each and every piece of information he could.
“Confined,” he attempted. “With the storm coming and everything...” As if in
answer, a crack of thunder sounded and Matilda watched the fear dart in his
eyes. The rain started to pelt on the window, each drop ramming home the fact
that his baby was out there with the elements

“Anything else?” the officer checked. “Is there anything else
that happened last night that was out of the ordinary? Any strange sounds, phone
calls—anything, no matter how irrelevant it might seem, that might have upset
your daughter?”

Dante’s eyes met Matilda’s.

“No.” He shook his head, dragged his eyes away but his
expression haunted her. The guilt in his eyes as he bypassed the truth made her
know without hesitation what was coming next, that the only person Dante wanted
to protect here, and rightly so, was his daughter.

“Officer, may I speak to you outside?”

“About what?” Katrina demanded as the two of them walked out of
the room. “What aren’t you telling us, Dante? What happened last night that you
can’t say in front of me?”

Embarrassed, terrified, Matilda stood there as Katrina answered
her own question.

“You tart,” Katrina snarled, and Matilda winced at the venom
behind it. “That’s Dante’s gown that you’re wearing.” Katrina eyed Matilda with
utter contempt but didn’t leave it there. Her lips were white and rigid with
hatred. “You were in bed with Dante, weren’t you? That’s why the poor little
mite ran off into the night!”

“I truly don’t think that she saw me,” Matilda said. “We were
both asleep and she just pushed open the door...”

“And saw a woman who wasn’t her mother in her father’s bed! Do
you realise what you have done, Matilda?” Disgust and fury were etched on
Katrina’s features and for an appalling moment Matilda thought that Katrina
might even hit her. “Do you have any idea the damage that you’ve done to my
grandchild?”

“Leave it, Katrina.” Dante’s voice was weary as he came back
into the room, but it had a warning note to it that Katrina failed to heed.

“I most certainly will not leave it.” Furious eyes swivelled
between Dante and Matilda, her face contorted with disgust. “Did Alex see you?”
Her eyes were bulging in her head. “That little girl walked in and found the
pair of you—”

“It wasn’t like that,” Matilda said, but Katrina shot her down
in a second.

“Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut the hell up. You have no say
here! None at all.”

“Katrina.” Dante crossed the room, his face grey. “This isn’t
helping...”

“Of course it isn’t helping. How, Dante, did you think sleeping
with her was going to help your daughter? How did you think shaming my
daughter’s memory like that was going to help Alex? But, then, I suppose you
didn’t even stop to think. I warned you, Dante, warned you to be careful, to
keep things well away from Alex, and then some little—”

“I said leave it!” Still he didn’t shout, but there was such
icy power behind his words that even in full, rage-fuelled flood Katrina’s voice
trailed off. It was Matilda who stepped in. Running a dry tongue over her lips,
she again attempted to calm things down.

“All we can do for now is give the police all the information
we have and then look for Alex. Arguing isn’t going to help.”

“She’s right,” Dante said, addressing Katrina, which
momentarily Matilda found strange. But she didn’t hold the thought. Her mind was
already racing ahead, trying to work out how they could find Alex, where the
little girl might be. But as Dante continued talking, Matilda knew that the
agony that had pierced her consciousness since awakening had only just begun,
because nothing Katrina had said in rage could have hurt her more than the
expression on Dante’s face as he turned and finally faced her, his expression
cold and closed, his eyes not even meeting hers.

“I think you should leave, Matilda...”

“Leave?” She shook her head, her voice incredulous, horrified
by what he was saying. “Don’t shut me out now, Dante. Last night you said—”

“Last night you were his whore,” Katrina shouted. “Last night
he said what he had to, to get you to share his bed. Dante loved my daughter.”
She was screeching now, almost deranged. “Jasmine’s barely cold in her grave.
Did you really think you could fill her space? Did you really think he meant
what he said, that he’d besmirch her memory with you?”

“No one’s trying to besmirch Jasmine’s memory,” Dante said, his
face as white as marble as he turned to Katrina.

“No one could!” Katrina yelled. “Because if you truly loved my
daughter then last night can be nothing more than a fling and I know that you
loved her. I know that!”

“I did.” Dante halted her tirade. “I do,” he insisted, his
hands spreading in the air in a helpless gesture, utter panic on his face as
reality started to sink in. “But right now all I can think of is Alex. All I
know is that my baby is out there...”

“Let me help with the search,” Matilda pleaded, but Dante’s
back was to her, demanding action from the officer that stood there, picking up
the phone and punching in numbers. “Dante, please...”

“You want to help?” His face was unrecognisable as he finally
faced her. “If you really want to help, Matilda, you will do as I ask and just
go home. It will be better.”

“Better for who?” Matilda whispered through chattering teeth,
knowing the answer even before it came.

“Better for everyone.”

* * *

It took about ten minutes to pack, ten minutes to throw
her things into her suitcase and drag it down the stairs, ten minutes to remove
herself from Dante’s life. The scream inside was a mere breath away, her teeth
grinding together with the agony of keeping it all in. She wanted to slap him,
to yell at him, confront him, couldn’t believe that he’d done it to her again,
that she’d been stupid enough to let him fool her, to be beguiled by him over
again, but somehow she choked it down, the horror of a child missing overriding
everything. She placed her own pain, her utter humiliation on total hold.
Wincing against the sting of the rain on her bare arms, she threw her case into
the boot, imagining its impact on a little girl dressed in nothing but
pyjamas.