Preview of His Brother’s Wife

A Billionaire Romance

 

 

When beautiful classical pianist, Amalia Rai, marries billionaire Jackson Gallo, it is not a happy union. Amalia’s father has blackmailed his daughter into marrying the man who can save his company—and in return, he will allow Ama’s younger sister, Selima, to divorce her abusive husband.

As she walks down the aisle, Ama’s life is changed forever when she sees Enda—Jackson’s illegitimate, Italian half-brother. The attraction between them is obvious.

Beginning a sensual, erotic affair with Enda, desperate to relieve the tension from her sham of a marriage, Ama falls in love with him, but when Jackson finds out about the affair, his rage is all-consuming.

Fleeing to Italy with Enda, Ama begins a new life, making friends with Enda’s best friends, Raffaelo Winter and his lovely wife, Inca. Happier than ever, she is shattered when, after months of silence, Jackson takes his revenge, shattering everyone and everything Ama cares about …

Can Ama find the strength to fight for the people she loves and live happily ever after with the man of her dreams?

 

Not for the first time, Amalia Rai gazed in the mirror and wondered how the hell she had gotten here. This is the twenty-first century, right? And, yet, she, a successful classical pianist and music professor, was about to be married to a man she barely knew—and who she could barely stand.

Amalia closed her eyes. She could hardly stand to look at the sadness in her own eyes. At twenty-seven, she had accomplished so much and had thought herself free of her controlling father and all the bullshit that went on in their family. If it hadn’t been for her desperation to save her little sister’s life, she would never have agreed to this.

But her father held all the cards. He would not allow Selima to divorce her abusive husband unless Amalia agreed to marry Jackson Gallo—her father’s rival in business and the man who had nearly brought her father to his knees. When Gallo offered Gajendra Rai a lifeline—give him his eldest daughter in marriage, and he’ll give Gajendra a multimillion dollar cash –injection—Gajendra had not hesitated in going to Amalia and demanding she marry Jackson.

Amalia had turned him down flat. That she and her father were not close was an understatement. For months, she had held out, until the day Selima had called her from the emergency room of the hospital. Her husband had beaten her so badly that she could barely speak, but just sob over the phone to her sister. Amalia went to her and was horrified by her injuries and by what she had been through. Gajendra, though, refused to let Selima divorce her husband …unless Amalia married Jackson.

Desperate, Amalia agreed, and now, in a few minutes, she would take her father’s arm and walk down the aisle in the church Jackson’s family had built in their luxurious compound on the outskirts of San Francisco. A prison, not a compound, thought Amalia as she straightened the wedding dress that had cost seven times her salary. Her father had paid, of course, and although Amalia would have preferred to marry in the traditional Indian attire befitting her heritage, her father insisted that a white dress would be more suitable for the society pages.

Amalia shrugged to herself now. What did it matter? This wasn’t a real wedding and it wouldn’t be a real marriage. She had made it clear to Jackson that under no circumstances would the marriage be consummated. Jackson had laughed, and she knew he thought she was joking. He would find out tonight that she was deadly serious.

Jackson Gallo was handsome in a bland, preppy way. The youngest son of billionaire property magnate Macaulay Gallo, Jackson was often to be found in the pages of gossip magazines, romancing some of the world’s most beautiful women. When he had laid eyes on Amalia at a benefit gala where she was performing, he’d pursued her relentlessly until Amalia had grown frightened of his vehemence. She had finally thought he’d gotten the message she wasn’t interested when the call from her father came. Jackson had been victorious when Ama had agreed to marry him, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he would settle on her. Yes, she was a renowned pianist and a very successful professor of music at The San Francisco Conservatory of Music. Yes, she knew she was considered a beautiful woman, with her creamy coffee-and-pink skin, bright green eyes, long, wavy, dark hair, and curvaceous body, but to society and Jackson’s world, she was completely indifferent.

A knock came at the door and her sister, dressed in a simple lilac silk sheath, came in and smiled at her. “Hey, sis … are you nearly ready? Dad’s hovering outside.”

Ama smiled at her. “Almost.” She sighed and stood. Selima came up to her and studied her.

“It’s not too late, you know. We can skip out of here and escape somewhere hot.”

Ama laughed sadly. “And live on what, Lima?”

Selima shrugged, but her eyes were sad. “I hate that you’re doing this for me.”

Ama hugged her sister. “I swear, knowing that you’ll be free of that bastard is the only good thing about this.”

Selima nodded. “Thank you, Ama. I mean it. And look, the prenup says …”

“I’m trapped for two years.” Ama tried to make a joke of it. “Trapped, but living in luxury. How many women would kill to be me right now?”

Selima’s nose wrinkled. “With that creep?” Selima had as much of a low opinion of Jackson as Amalia did. Her smile brightened. “Olivier, on the other hand …”

Olivier Gallo was Jackson’s older brother, and Ama had grown very fond of him. He was in his early forties and a workaholic, but kind and quiet. He was the only one in the family who didn’t stand for Jackson’s arrogance or posturing, and there were many times when he’d met Amalia’s gaze over the family dinner table and rolled his eyes at what Jackson was bloviating about on that particular night.

And yes, Olivier was gorgeous and tall, with dark hair and brown eyes, but there was sadness in him that Amalia didn’t understand. Macaulay had once told Amalia that Olivier had been particularly close to his mother, who had died giving birth to Jackson, who was thirteen years younger than Olivier. Amalia was curious about that, and about the fact that Olivier seemed to have no time for anything else, but work in his life.

Selima had a huge crush on the older Gallo brother. She grinned at Amalia now. “I bagged the seat next to him, too. Hey, isn’t today when we all meet the black sheep?”

Amalia nodded. Enda Gallo was the middle brother …well, middle half-brother, the result of an extramarital affair Macaulay had had with an Italian actress. Amalia had never met him, but knew he kept to himself, mostly living in Italy. Since Enda had been ignored by his father for the first thirty years of his life, it was only because Olivier had reached out to him seven years ago that Enda had finally been brought into the family fold and had reconciled with his father. Jackson couldn’t stand him, always referring to him as ‘the bastard’ and badmouthing him. Amalia, having never met Enda Gallo, was already disposed to liking him because Jackson hated him so much.

The clock struck noon and Amalia sighed. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

 

Gajendra laid his daughter’s arm over his and smiled at her. “You make me very proud today, Amalia.”

Amalia didn’t reply, keeping her expression blank as they walked down the long aisle of the church. At the altar, she could see Jackson waiting, a supercilious smile on his face. Olivier, his best man, smiled at her and winked. Amalia gave a little sigh. If she could just hang out and be friends with Olivier, then maybe she would get through this. There were hundreds of people there, most of whom she didn’t know. Some of her friends from the conservatory sat on the left-hand side of the church. Christina, her best friend, a no-nonsense Korean cellist, made a face at her and Amalia tried not to laugh. Christina was the only one of her friends who knew the real reason behind this marriage. Amalia had told her she wasn’t going to ask her to be maid of honor, “because I want to save you for my real wedding someday.”

Christina had grinned and toasted her. “Hell, yes. Let’s drink to that.”

God, thought Amalia. Their nights out drinking seemed so far away now. Would Jackson stop her from enjoying her freedom? Probably.

Amalia was nearly at the altar now, and she saw Macaulay Gallo smiling at her. Despite his weaknesses, she liked the old man …he just had no idea how to raise children and had left all the responsibility of the Gallo estate to Olivier. Amalia smiled back at him now. She could have worse as a father-in-law.

Then her eyes met the man standing next to Macaulay and her breath caught in her throat. Tall, athletic, with dark curls messy around his head, he glowered at her, his bright green eyes intensely fierce. His face was set grimly and he looked like the most dangerous man she’d ever seen.

And the most devastatingly handsome …

Amalia stumbled a little and her father steadied her. The man, who she guessed had to be Enda Gallo, stared at her. He hates me …he hates me …she thought, her heart sinking. There was no mistaking the man’s expression. Loathing. He looked like he wanted to kill her …

Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t know you. And you don’t know him. Maybe that’s just how his face is; moody and dark, with a definite edge. His sensual mouth was set in a straight line, as if he were gritting his teeth, and Amalia felt as if she could feel the heat of anger coming from him. As she passed by him, she breathed in a wave of woodsy, clean cologne. It sent her senses reeling, and her body reacted, her nipples hardening and a pulse beating between her legs. He radiated pure animal, dangerous sex.

Even as she was saying her vows in a monotone, she could feel his eyes on her. As Jackson, his face set in the fakest smile she had ever seen, recited his own vows, Amalia chanced a glance at Enda Gallo. His eyes were fixed on her face, and briefly, Amalia entertained the fantasy that he would stop the wedding, grab her hand, and run away with her, intending to take her away and fuck her senseless …

Woah …where did that come from? Ama struggled to pull her attention back to the present and realized, with a sinking heart, that she’d missed the moment. Her last moment of single life.

She was married.

 

The greeting line, the dinner, and the speeches were all a blur. Ama didn’t bother to listen to the platitudes of her new husband. Even Macaulay seemed a little subdued. It was only when Olivier stood to speak that she took notice. He said all the things that were expected of him, and Ama could see he struggled with finding good things to say about his brother. When he turned to her, though, his eyes softened.

“And to my new sister …I am very glad to have you in our lives, Amalia. We are privileged to have someone so brilliant, kind, and independent. I can assure you, sweetheart, that we will always care for you …and encourage you in your career and aspirations.”

His meaning was clear—don’t worry, we won’t let Jackson control you—and Ama smiled back at him warmly, mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. She had an ally. It made her feel more secure. She saw Enda Gallo at the back of the ballroom, propped against the bar. He met her gaze and Ama felt a flush creep up her face. Why did he have such a visceral, feral effect on her? It was a new feeling for her. She looked away, and when she looked back, he had gone.

 

The reception seemed to go on for days, and by midnight, Amalia was drooping. She had changed from her wedding dress into a simple, dark burgundy slip dress, freeing her hair from the intricate bun she had worn for the ceremony and pulling it over one shoulder.

She was tired of Jackson parading her around as if she were an object, and when she returned to the ballroom, she sought out her sister and Christina who were huddled in the corner, clearly making fun of the prissy society people.

“Ama!” Christina was already drunk, and Amalia grinned at her. Christina hugged her friend and looked her up and down. “That’s better. You look more like you now.”

“Agreed,” Ama laughed, but in the next moment, she felt Jackson’s hand on her upper arm pulling her away from her friends.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Ama wrenched her arm out of his grip. “It’s called a dress, Jackson.”

“On your feet,” he said darkly and pointed down to her comfortable and admittedly well-worn flat pumps. “Go and change into heels, right now.”

Ama looked him in the eye. “I will not. I’ve had heels on all day and now I want to be comfortable. It’s after midnight, Jackson. I’ve played the part you wanted long enough for one day.”

Jackson’s eyes were fierce on hers. “May I remind you, you are my wife now?”

Ama’s smile was cold. “Wife. Not staff, Jackson. Did you hear me say ‘obey’ in my vows? No, you did not. Now, some of your guests are looking at us, probably wondering why I look so pissed off. Want me to tell them why?”

Jackson’s jaw clenched. “We’ll talk about this later. In bed.”

He stalked off and Ama saw him switch on the charm instantly as he spoke to the guests who had been watching them. Ama felt sick. No. No way would they do anything in bed. Ever.

She returned to her friends, but soon excused herself. She needed to be alone for a few moments to get some air. She slipped out into the beautiful gardens surrounding the mansion and walked quickly down to the little Japanese garden that had been her go-to place for escaping Jackson since they’d become engaged.

There were a few lanterns giving the place a soft glow and she sat down on one of the stone seats and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. Silence. Bliss. She only heard the tiny trickle of the water feature.

Then she caught a breath of cigarette smoke and opened her eyes. Enda Gallo stood on the other side of the garden, staring at her. Ama’s heart began to pound against her ribs and she stood. She didn’t know what to do. Running would seem rude, but the expression on Enda’s face was …what?

She turned to leave, and in a flash, he was beside her. Trapping her against a tree in the cage of his arms, he gazed down at her. Ama couldn’t look away. God, he was beautiful …those eyes, that craggy, yet boyish face. She noticed he had a half moon scar at the corner of his right eye, and without thinking, she traced the line of it with her finger. His eyes never left hers. Ama could barely breathe, such was the tension between them.

Enda bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. Ama froze. What the hell was going on? Was he testing her?

He kissed her again, and this time, she couldn’t help but kiss him back. His lips were soft, but his kiss was rough---almost violent---and she found her fingers twisted in his dark curls as they embraced. When she felt, his hands push up her dress, a jolt of panic slid through her, but then he pressed his body against hers and she was lost. She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Enda Gallo right here, right now. His fingers were caressing her through her panties and she felt herself dampen with longing. Cupping his cock through his pants, she marveled at the size of him and panicked at the same time. Could she do this? Should she?

Could she really, finally, lose her virginity to her brother-in-law on her wedding night?

Enda’s eyes were questioning now …and somehow Ama knew that if she asked him to stop, he would, without question.

But she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him here, now …

Enda swept her off her feet and onto one of the stone tables that framed the little garden. He unzipped his fly, freed his diamond-hard cock from his pants, and climbed on top of her.

Ama felt like this was a dream—a fantasy—right up until Enda Gallo thrust into her and she gave a little cry of pain. It faded quickly, and then all she felt was an all-consuming pleasure as he made love to her, kissing her tenderly, his cock driving deeper and deeper into her with every stroke. His hands pinned hers to the table, his eyes locked onto hers as they moved together, her legs wrapped around his hips. Ama felt her orgasm build, and when she came, her back arched up off the table, pressing against him as she gasped and shuddered. Enda kissed her passionately, then raised his head and groaned as he too came, pumping thick, creamy semen deep into her belly. He gave her no time to recover; his mouth found her clit and teased it until she was weeping with desire, and then his cock was inside her again driving her onwards and onwards, toward her climax.

Afterward, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He still had not spoken one word to her. He touched her face once more …and then he was gone.

Ama, her legs still shaking, sat down quickly on the bench, blinking. Did that really just happen? Her body answered—god, yes, yes …

She had just fucked Enda Gallo …or he had fucked her. Ama gave a disbelieving laugh. She sat there for a further five minutes, then made her way slowly back inside the house. Most of the guests had gone now and Christina was looking for her.

“Have to go, sweets, before I drink this place dry.” She hugged Amalia, then studied her. “Hey, are you okay? You look weird.”

Ama blinked, then tried to smile. “Just tired, babe. Look, promise me we’ll get together for lunch on Monday.”

“Promise.”

 

She went back into the main ballroom, her heart thumping at the thought of seeing Enda in there. But he was nowhere to be seen. Jackson came over to her. “Our guests have left—would have been nice of you to say goodbye. I hope you’ll be more sociable in the future.”

“Fine.” She didn’t want to argue. “Goodnight, Jackson.”

He caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

“To our bed.”

Ama sighed. He would never stop trying, would he? “No, Jackson. To my room. I told you once, and I meant it. I will never, ever have sex with you. Find one of your many admirers—I assume you’ve worked your way through most of them anyway. I’m sure one of them will be up for it.”

Jackson stared at her, his face angry, then stepped closer to her. “You will submit to me one day, little girl, or I’ll break you. I swear I will.”

Ama wasn’t impressed. “Go away, little boy. You don’t scare me.”

She turned and walked out of the room, running lightly up the huge staircase, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. Selima was in her room, packing her wedding dress away. “Dad’s just bringing the car around.” Selima had tears in her eyes as she hugged her sister. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me, Ama. Never. I just pray you find some happiness.”

Ama held her sister, feeling the tears threatening again. “Go along now. Dad’s probably waiting. I’ll see you soon.”

Selima nodded. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

Alone, she locked the door and put a chair up against it. She didn’t trust Jackson not to have a spare key. There was no way she was letting him in. Sure, enough, a half hour later, as she walked out of the shower, toweling her long hair dry, the door handle rattled. She smirked to herself as she heard him curse, but he soon gave up.

Amalie sat down on the bed. She was married …and had lost her virginity all in one day. And to two different men. What the hell was I thinking?

She already knew she regretted one of those things …and it wasn’t anything to do with Enda Gallo.

 

Olivier Gallo drove into town and was at the restaurant fifteen minutes before his half-brother arrived. He stood to hug Enda, who clapped him on the back. “Hey, brother, good to see you.”

“You too.” They sat, and Olivier beckoned the waiter over. “Could we have the drinks menu please?”

“No need,” Enda said in his deep, accented tones, “Red. Third down from the top.”

Both brothers laughed, and the waiter nodded. He knew these Gallo brothers—they had been coming to this restaurant for a few years now and were good tippers. They treated him with respect, unlike their asshole brother Jackson.

The restaurant itself was mid-range and less flashy than the places Jackson liked. It had a frontage, which opened out onto a jetty overlooking of the Bay. They sat outside so Enda could smoke. Olivier grinned at him as he lit up a cigarette. “You ever going to give up?”

Enda squinted through the smoke. “Probably not.”

Olivier grinned. “Fair enough. How have you been? I didn’t get to see you much at the wedding.”

“As I recall, you were doing your best man thing, trying to keep the toddler under control.”

Olivier rolled his eyes. “Mostly for Amalia’s benefit. Poor kid looked shell-shocked.”

“She’s no kid.”

Olivier’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant, she’s a grown woman. She knew what she was getting into.”

Olivier chewed his lip for a moment. “She did it for her sister, Enda.”

Enda nodded. “I’m just saying …it sucks for her.”

“Yep.”

They paused while the waiter brought their wine and they ordered their food. Enda sat back and took a slug of red wine. “She’s beautiful.”

“Who?”

Enda rolled his eyes. “Our brother’s new wife.”

“Of course. Sorry. Yes, she is. Also, brilliant, funny, and smart.”

Enda nodded. “She also seems to have …what is the word …empathy?” He pronounced it ‘em-patty.’

“Like I said, she’s a sweetheart.”

“You like her?” Enda grinned at Olivier’s eye-roll.

“As my sister, yes.” Olivier chuckled. “If it’s any of your business, I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh, yes? Wait, please tell me it’s not that blonde from the reality show?”

Olivier laughed. “No. That was …jeez, what was I thinking? Anyway, no. She’s a journalist from San Diego. Helena. Early days, but yeah, she’s cool.”

Enda looked skeptical. “A journalist?”

Olivier grinned. “Not that kind. She’s focused on business and financial stuff. I like her.” Their food arrived then—steamed salmon for Olivier, rare, bloody steak and garlic butter for Enda. Olivier shook his head, laughing. “Dude, you are a walking heart attack.”

Enda grinned, his smile lighting up his intense features. “Hedonism is my default position.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Olivier cleared his throat. “So, what did you think?”

“Of what?”

“Amalia.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“You said that.”

Enda shrugged. “I don’t know her, Olly. I barely spoke to her. If you tell me she is a good person, I believe you.”

Olivier speared some asparagus with his fork. “Enda …I’m worried. Lately, Jackson has been more …out of control than normal. This deal he made with Amalia’s father …you know he engineered it so that Ama was practically forced into this marriage.”

“Ama, is it now?” Enda teased his older half-brother, but then his smile faded. “That sounds just like Jackson, though. He always got what he wanted. Didn’t matter how.”

Olivier sighed. “I know, but this is a person we’re talking about. If and when she does something he doesn’t like …Enda, he has addictions. Cocaine, for one. And this thing with Ama …he’s obsessed with her. I’m worried.”

Enda looked away from his brother’s gaze. “What can I do?”

“Stick around ‘Frisco for a few months. Help me keep Jackson on a steady keel. See how the land lies.”

Enda closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Olivier could see his internal struggle. Enda hated Jackson with the fury of a thousand suns, but he didn’t owe Amalia Rai anything. He didn’t even know her.

“I’m thinking about dad in this too. If Jackson were to do something rash or worse, Dad wouldn’t survive it. I’m not saying you owe him anything either, but for me, maybe.” Olivier’s voice was low and Enda nodded.

“I will stay. I can oversee the business from here. We have been thinking of opening an office here …maybe it’s time. I’ll talk to Raffaelo in the morning.”

 

Jackson Gallo was frustrated. It had been a month since the wedding and Ama had barely spoken to him, let alone touched him. She attended functions with him and behaved impeccably, but he couldn’t bust through those walls of hers. Her bedroom door remained locked and barred …if it wasn't for the fact that his father slept in the same house, and that their staff also were there at night, he would have busted down that door and taken her.

But he knew she would leave him if he forced himself on her. So, to satisfy his aching balls, he had started fucking other women almost immediately after the wedding. If Ama guessed, she didn’t seem to care, and it drove him mad.

It had been particularly galling that, since the wedding, Gajendra Rai’s business had flourished, being linked to the Gallo name. And Amalia’s sister, Selima, had settled into her new life as a student in Los Angeles. It seemed to Jackson that Amalia had reaped the rewards of their union, while he still hadn’t.

He sat in his office now and decided to call her. She picked up the phone eventually, sounding harassed. “What do you want, Jackson?”

He rankled. “Well, for one, I’d like you to speak to me with respect.”

Amalia sighed. “I’m busy, Jackson, What do you want?” There was no noticeable shift in her tone.

“I would like to take you out to dinner tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Be ready at eight.”

“Fine.” The phone clicked in his ear. So much for sweet nothings. Jackson put his phone down and smiled to himself. He’d actually arranged to have dinner with his brothers that night, but he couldn’t resist bringing Ama and showing her off to them. Look at my glorious wife. Look how beautiful she is.

Suddenly an idea struck him and he laughed to himself. Flicking through his contacts on his phone, he made the call, smiling to himself.

 

Ama saw Enda as soon as they entered the restaurant and knew Jackson had set this up on purpose. “I didn’t know we were having dinner with your brothers.”

Jackson smiled. “Family time.”

Ugh. More like bragging time. She was being trotted out like a prize horse. But at the moment, she could think of nothing else, but Enda Gallo’s eyes on her. God, she’d forgotten just how gloriously good looking he was. Olivier stood and kissed her cheek, and then she was in front of Enda. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Bella.”

That voice—deep, mellifluous, accented—was dripping with sex. She wondered if he could see the blatant longing in her eyes.

She was mostly silent through dinner, ignoring Jackson as much as she could, to Enda and Olivier’s obvious amusement. Olivier distracted them all with jokes, and Enda, too, she found, was fun to be around. He and Olivier were obviously close, and both busted Jackson’s chops, which was fine by her. For once, she saw Jackson as he really was—the baby of the family. Despite his bragging, he was still just a little kid. Olivier and Enda were men. She couldn’t help, but compare them. Jackson, his dark blonde hair slicked back; Oliver, neatly trimmed beard and dark brown eyes, so beautifully dressed. Then there was Enda—his looks had a wildness to them, a devil-may-care look. He oozed easy sex appeal. God, I want you, Ama thought, then pushed the thought away. He was off-limits. At least, now he was.

“What are you smiling at?” Jackson demanded of her suddenly, and Ama jumped slightly. Jackson’s arm had been along the back of her chair, possessively, and her back ached from sitting forward to avoid him touching her.

“Just marveling at how different you are from your brothers,” she said coolly. You don’t snap at me like that. Ever, her eyes said, and Jackson backed off. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go freshen up.”

In the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and tried to stop thinking about Enda. When she finally got up her courage to go back to the table, she exited the bathroom. She gave a little cry of surprise as two hands gripped her waist from behind and pulled her back into the dark alcove. She turned and saw Enda smiling down at her. “Hello again.”

His voice sent thrills through her body, and when he kissed her, she couldn’t help, but give a little moan of desire. They were hidden from sight, and when Enda slid his hands under her skirt, Amalia’s body reacted, curving into his. “I want you so badly,” she whispered, and Enda grinned, his lips rough against hers.

“If it wouldn’t get us arrested, cara mia, I would fuck you right here. Sadly, I think my brother’s suspicions would be aroused.”

“I’m not sleeping with him. I don’t know why it’s important to me that you know that, but it is.”

Enda stroked her cheek. “I know, Bella. Listen …I must see you again. Can I come to your office?”

She nodded and gave him the address. “I know this is wrong, but …”

His lips silenced hers and she could feel his erection through his pants. God, she wanted him so badly. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

She went back to the table a few moments before Enda, but couldn’t help but feel that their lust for each other was obvious. Jackson seemed not to notice, though, and when Enda returned, there was nothing in Jackson or Olivier’s glances that gave anything away.

Ama felt sick with excitement. He wanted her …what the hell was she supposed to do? She barely knew him, but she knew, without a doubt, that she was falling for Enda Gallo.

 

As Olivier and Amalia walked ahead of them, Jackson held Enda back with a touch of a hand. He smiled without humor at his half-brother. “I hope we will see you at the house more often.”

Enda looked askance. “That’s new. Since when?”

Jackson’s expression was mocking. “Now I’m happily married; I just want us to be family. And when my children are born …well …” He smiled smugly, and Enda wanted to pound his face in.

“Fine.” He turned and walked away, catching up with Olivier and Ama. He had no time for Jackson’s games. Since that farce of a wedding, all he could think about was Ama. When he had seen her walking down that aisle, apparently terrified, his heart had started to beat quicker, and when their eyes had met, a thrill of desire had run through him. Later, in the garden, he hadn’t been able to help himself when he saw her so sad and so lovely in that slip of a dress, her long hair tumbling around her shoulders. No one that beautiful should be that unhappy. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but when she’d looked up at him, her lovely eyes so troubled, her dusky skin glowing in the low light, her lips so red and plump, it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss her.

As soon as their lips had touched, he had known he was lost. Making love with her …yes, he should feel guilty, and he would do if it had been any other man’s wife. Not that the guilt had stopped him before. But something about Ama was different. He knew it had been an arranged marriage and that she was an unwilling participant in it. And, god, he had wanted her so badly …

 

He and Olivier said goodbye to Ama and Jackson as they got into their car. Ama met his gaze and smiled slightly. Her eyes told him everything he wanted to know. As they drove away, Olivier sighed. “I hope he treats her right.”

“God help him if he doesn’t,” Enda said darkly.

Olivier studied him. “You don’t think …I mean, the thing with Penelope was years ago. He learned his lesson, right?”

Enda looked at his brother. “God, Olivier, I really hope so.”

 

The package was waiting for Ama on her desk when she arrived at work the following Monday. Her assistant, Lena, greeted her with a smile “Jeez, Ama, was that the honeymoon? That was quick.”

Ama tried to smile. “We’ve postponed it for a while, because of work. It’s no problem, really.” Lena didn’t need to know Ama had refused to go on honeymoon with Jackson. She had no doubt that if she had been alone with him …god, she couldn’t bear to consider what might happen.

She went into her office and dumped her purse on the desk, glancing at the parcel. The label was handwritten—just her name in a beautiful cursive scrawl. “When did this come?”

Lena grinned. “This morning. Girl, you should have seen the delivery guy. Gorgeous. Italian, I think.”

She went back out to her desk, not realizing the frenzied excitement that had started in her boss. Ama touched the label, running her finger over her name. Picking it up, she opened the parcel. A burner phone. She switched it on. Only one number was programmed into it, under the name ‘He.' Ama smiled. She was really going to do this, wasn’t she? Have an affair …

She thought about Jackson trying once again to get into her bedroom last night and her teeth clenched. Yes. She was going to do this. Hell, yes.

She closed her office door quietly and pressed the dial button. Her heart was beating against her ribs and adrenaline spiked in her when she heard his voice. “Cara mia …”

“Hey there …He.” She chuckled, hearing him laugh.

“I thought that was the safest name I could come up with. How are you today?”

“Better now that I’ve heard your voice,” she said softly, “When can I see you?”

“Can you be free for lunch?”

“I can.” God, she felt like a love-struck teenager.

Enda laughed. “Good. Write this address down.” He gave her an address in Russian Hill. “Take a cab. I’ll meet you there.”

 

At noon, a very nervous, but excited Ama was in a cab, being driven to Russian Hill. When she got there, Enda was waiting outside an apartment building. He took her hand and led her inside. “I rented an apartment. I thought it would be safer.”

Ama felt like she was in a dream. In the elevator, Enda took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Hello again,” he said softly, and she smiled up at him.

The ‘apartment’ was, in fact, the penthouse of the building, and Ama stood open-mouthed at the door, suddenly feeling intimidated. Enda laughed. “You live in a mansion and an apartment is what scares you?”

Ama relaxed, chuckling. “Sorry. It’s beautiful.”

Enda came to her. “You’re beautiful. This is just bricks and mortar. Come with me.”

He led her into the bedroom, beautifully decorated in gray and navy. Enda’s fingers were at the belt of her wrap dress. “I’m sorry, Bella, I can’t wait any longer …”

Ama gave a soft moan as he pulled open her dress and dropped to his knees, his mouth on her belly, his tongue tracing a circle around her navel. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he pulled down the lacy cup of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth, teasing the small bud until it grew hard and sensitive. She closed her eyes as he did the same to the other nipple, and then he was sliding her panties down and burying his face in her sex.

Holy hell …the feeling of his tongue sliding along her sex, lashing around her clitoris, then plunging deep into her red and swollen cunt was intoxicating. Her limbs felt they were liquefying.

Enda pushed her gently onto the bed and spread her legs wide, eager to taste her further. He began to slide two fingers in and out of her. Ama was gasping, her entire body aflame, and she came shuddering and moaning.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, and Enda grinned. He stripped down quickly as Ama shed the rest of her clothes, sitting up, then taking him in her mouth. She had no idea if she was doing it right, but she went with her instincts, tracing the shaft up and down with her tongue and teasing the tip. She heard Enda moan appreciatively as she began to move his cock in and out of her mouth, sucking gently and massaging his sac with her hand. With the other hand, she dug her fingernails into his buttock and heard his hissed “Yes!” His obvious enjoyment made her heart soar, and when he drew away and pushed her back onto the bed, his cock was almost straining, engorged, and rock-hard.

Enda crushed his mouth against hers as he hitched her legs around his waist. “Are you ready for me, baby?”

Ama gave a frustrated moan, and he laughed before launching his cock into her and ramming his hips against hers. Ama gave a cry of intense release and clung to him as he fucked her, her fingernails digging into the toned muscles of his back. “God, Enda …yes …harder …harder …”

He obliged, laughing, and kissed her passionately. She was utterly lost in this man’s arms, completely at the mercy of his body and his desire for her …Jesus, his cock was incredible, and she was amazed she was able to take him in so deeply. She clung to him, wanting to savor every moment of his skin against hers, his mouth hungrily kissing hers, and the clean scent of him.

She came again, hard, and Enda reached his climax, pumping cum deep inside her. She didn’t want him to pull away at first, and so, for a few minutes, he stayed inside her, kissing her tenderly. “Bella Ama,” he whispered in that deep, sensual voice, and Ama sighed happily.

Finally, he lay at her side, propped up on his elbow, gazing down at her. His hand traced a path down her body, his long, warm fingers splaying over her belly. “Ama? May I ask you something?”

Ama smiled up at him. “Anything.”

“Before your wedding …had you ever made love?”

She gave a half-embarrassed chuckle. “Is it that obvious? No, I hadn’t, Enda. I was a virgin.”

“It surprises me …and to answer your question—no, it’s not obvious. At all. Just a hunch on my part. You are an incredible lover, my darling.”

My darling. The words thrilled her. She stroked his face. “About the wedding …Enda, you saved that day for me. I was so miserable, but when I saw you in the church …god, I have never felt like that before.”

Enda smiled. “Me either, although my reputation would probably contradict that.”

Ama grinned. “Luckily, I knew very little about you. I know very little about you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” She sighed. “If I had met you before …well, it wasn’t even as if I had a choice in marrying Jackson.”

Enda nuzzled his nose to hers. “I know. Olivier told me the reason. I think you are a selfless person.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is modern times,” she muttered, half to herself.

Enda studied her. “Ama …why were you a virgin? Can I ask, or is that too personal?”

She smiled at him. “Like I said, you can ask me anything. The reason is …I know it’s modern thinking to just enjoy yourself and sleep with anyone and that’s an absolutely fine way to live. It just wasn’t for me. Before now, I was completely focused on my work.”

“I would love to hear you play sometime.”

She kissed him. “And so you shall. We have a recital coming up at the end of the month, at the conservatory.”

“I’ll be there.” He moved his body on top of her. “When do you have to be back at work this afternoon?”

Ama grinned, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Not for an hour or two.”

“Hmm,” he grinned and plunged his cock into her. “What shall we do for an hour or two?”

Ama moaned as he thrust harder and harder until she was screaming his name.

 

Lena eyed her. “Why are you glowing?”

Ama, knowing that the multiple orgasms that Enda had given her were the reason, shrugged. “Just having a good day.”

She went into her office and slid the burner phone from her purse into her desk. In the small bathroom attached to her office, she looked in the mirror and saw her eyes shining. Her skin indeed was glowing. You look like a woman who’s been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Enda Gallo. My lover. She kept saying it to herself over and over as she worked, and when she went to teach her class that afternoon, her good mood infected her students and she had a blast with them.

Driving home, though, the usual dread set in. She could barely stand to be in the same room as Jackson, and it was with relief that she saw Olivier’s car in the driveway.

She was smiling when she went in, still lost in her memories of the afternoon, and distracted. She didn’t see Jackson approach her until he crushed his lips against hers. Horrified, she pushed him away. “Take your hands off me.”

Jackson was unrepentant, grasping her upper arm.

“Come. We have a visitor.”

Olivier stood and hugged her. She deliberately made a fuss of him to annoy Jackson and was rewarded with a glare from her husband.

“This is a nice surprise …you’ll stay for dinner, yes? Where’s Mac?”

“Upstairs, not feeling well.” Jackson’s tone was dismissive.

Olivier smiled at her. “Love to stay. How are you?”

“In the four days since I saw you last?” She grinned at him. She had the feeling that his presence was for her benefit; Olivier had an air of the protective older brother about him.

 

Over dinner, a sumptuous duck dish prepared by Mac’s chef, Ama and Olivier chatted easily, mostly ignoring the glowering presence of Jackson. He finally had enough of not being the center of attention.

“I hear your father’s business is in trouble again,” he said suddenly. Ama looked at him, her expression smooth.

“Not that I know of, but then I haven’t spoken to my father in a while.”

Jackson smirked. “The cash injection I gave him soon got spent. Seems your bride price wasn’t enough. That’s what you get for having a cheapskate dad, I suppose.”

“Jackson,” Olivier’s tone was harsh. “That’s enough.”

Ama was staring at Jackson with undisguised disgust. “And, yet, my ‘bride price’ wasn’t enough to allow you everything you wanted, was it?”

Jackson’s smile faded, and Ama realized he’d probably been boasting about his conquest of her to his brothers. For a moment, she regretted saying anything. Olivier looked uncomfortable.

Ama took a slug of wine and tried to ease the atmosphere. “Listen, we are having a recital at the conservatory at the end of the month. Would you like to come, Olly? Bring a date?”

Olivier nodded. “I would love to …are you playing?”

She nodded. “Although, I’m very rusty. I need to practice more than I have been. It’s hard to find the time with work being so hectic.”

“We should get you a piano here,” Jackson said suddenly. “Then you could practice here, and maybe I could see more of you.”

Ama didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he being friendly or setting a trap for her?

“That might be a solution,” she said carefully. Jackson gave a nod.

“Consider it done.”

Ama exchanged a glance with Olivier. She hated that every conversation she had with her husband was loaded, making her feel tense and jumpy. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“You okay?” Olivier, of course, was the one asking, and she smiled at him.

“Just tired.” From fucking your glorious half-brother, she wanted to scream at Jackson, but then she felt remorse. Maybe her own attitude wasn’t helping the marriage. She wasn’t going to go soft on him …but she could make an effort to be friendlier. Was she so scared of leading him on?

Yes.

The thought of Jackson making love to her made her want to vomit. He had bought her, for chrissakes. That wasn’t love. That was possession. Ama felt sick and pushed her chair back.

“Forgive me, Olivier …Jackson. I really am tired. I think I’d better go lie down. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course.” Olivier stood as she got up and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, honey.”

She smiled at him gratefully and thought, if I weren’t already falling for Enda, it would be so easy to love you, you sweetheart of a man. She glanced at Jackson.

“Goodnight, darling,” he said in an even tone. She nodded.

“Goodnight, Jackson.”

 

The next evening, when she returned from work, a Bösendorfer Imperial Concert Grand piano was waiting for her in the drawing room. Ama couldn’t believe it. She sat down on the stool and ran her fingers lightly over the keys.

“I hope you like it.”

She turned to see Jackson in the doorway, watching her. She cleared her throat. “It’s too much.”

“No.”

He walked over and pulled up a chair next to her. “Ama …we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I know you don’t love me, and I’m not saying that I’m in love with you. But I want the chance to be. At least the chance to see if we can make this work. I’m not under any illusion that you won’t file for divorce the moment the contract is up. But maybe we could enjoy these two years.”

Ama considered his words. “Jackson …I don’t want to live in a house of misery, where I’m afraid to sleep with my door unlocked. Let’s get one thing straight. I will never, ever sleep with you. Ever. But if we can put that aside and tolerate that …we could try to be friends. Companions. If you need sex, feel free to look around. There are plenty of open marriages.”

Careful now, she told herself, don’t give him any reason to suspect you. Just because your brain is still frazzled from having Enda Gallo’s cock buried deep in you this afternoon …careful.

Jackson’s expression was carefully composed. “Fine.” He got up and walked away from her, and she sighed. The house was too quiet tonight. She went to her room and locked the door behind her. Had she done the right thing? Or had she aroused his suspicions, which would make sneaking off to the apartment much harder?

Ama reached into her purse and pulled out the burner phone. She had been about to put it on her desk at work before she left, but something told her to take it home. She wanted to know that she could talk to Enda whenever she wanted. That she could hear his voice. This afternoon she had spent another blissful hour in his arms, but they didn’t have time to actually talk or to find out about each other in the stolen moments they spent. Not that she was complaining …her lover had ravished her body, leaving her shivering with pleasure.

She smiled at the memory and went to draw a bath.

 

Enda Gallo went back to his hotel. He knew he could stay at the apartment he had rented, but every time he went there increased the chances he would be recognized and that his cover would be blown.

And, besides, without Ama in his arms, the place seemed lonely, echoing with the memory of her. At least at the hotel he could distract himself and get some work done. Back in Italy, his property business had taken him years to build, but now he was about to form a partnership with his friend, Raffaelo Winter, to open a chain of boutique hotels around the world.

He called Raffaelo at home in Naples now. It was eight a.m. in Italy, and Raffaelo picked up straight away.

“Ciao, Raff.”

“Hey, ciao, my friend.” Raffaelo sounded relaxed, and Enda guessed that he must be at home with Inca, his gorgeous wife of almost ten years. Enda had met Inca soon after she and Raff had become engaged and had been devastated when she had been stabbed by a jealous stalker. Enda had tried to be there for Raff as much as he could during her recovery and the time they had spent together had only strengthened their bond. People remarked on their physical similarities, but Enda had laughed off the suggestion they could be related. His mother, his dear mother, had passed away only recently, and it was due to Raff and Inca—and Raff’s twin brother, Tommaso—that he hadn’t felt entirely alone in Italy.

He chatted easily with his friend now before Raffaelo told him his news. “We’re coming to the States soon. Inca wants to visit her friend, Olly, in Seattle, so we thought we’d do that and then come down to SF. Sound good?”

Enda was overjoyed. “God, man, yes. How soon can you come?”

Raff laughed. “That bad, eh? Well, we’re flying to Seattle this Friday, staying for a week, and then down to you. So, ten days? We don’t have any restriction on time, so we can stay as long as we’re welcome. Bo is performing at Pride, then doing a couple of nights at the Fillmore, so Tommaso and their vast brood will be there too.”

Enda grinned. Tommaso had fallen in love with singing superstar Bo Kennedy at Raffaelo and Inca’s wedding—or just after—and between them, they now had seven kids: five of their own, Matteo, Tommaso’s son, and Tiger, Bo’s teenage boy, both from previous relationships. They divided their time between Italy and the United Kingdom and so they were rarely in the US.

Suddenly Enda wanted to tell Raffaelo about Ama—about how much he cared for her and thought about her all of the time. He so desperately wanted to introduce her to his friends. Maybe there was a way …

“Hey listen, before you go, I wanted to float an idea to you. I know we said on the next project we would concentrate on hotels, but how about we look into building music schools for the less privileged? Jackson’s new wife,” he almost choked on those words, “Amalia, is a classical pianist and tutor, and she got me thinking maybe there’s a new outlet.” He knew he was rambling now. “Anyway, just something to think about.”

“Of course. I like the idea of that. Let’s talk when I’m in town. Maybe we should meet Amalia.”

Enda punched the air silently, grinning. “Definitely.”

When he had ended the call, Enda went to shower, then got into bed. What he would give to take Ama to meet his friends as his partner. Two years, he said to himself. Two years and she’ll be free, and then I’m going to marry that girl.

The thought brought him up short. Marriage? Wow. Marriage had never been something he had aspired to or wanted, but with her …with Ama … well, damn.

His phone bleeped, and it was with delighted pleasure that he recognized the number as Ama’s burner phone.

Missing you. Thinking only of you.

Enda smiled and tapped out a reply.

I wish you were with me right now, Bella.

Me too, gorgeous. Sleep well.

 

Enda brought up the subject of the music schools at dinner with his family, careful not to give away that he and Ama had already discussed it earlier that day, when they had spent a blissful afternoon in his apartment, screwing each other senseless and talking. They were learning so much about each other in those precious hours. Enda discovered that, despite her great beauty, Ama hated to be judged on that, and preferred to be complimented on her brain or her humor. That underneath her almost regal presence, she was, at heart, a book nerd, an art lover, and someone who declared she would be unable to live without music. Not just classical, either, but rock, and cheesy pop songs—and Johnny Cash.

Enda found himself opening up to her about his family—or lack of it—until Olivier came to find him. “I never knew they existed,” he admitted, and then grinned at her. “And in the end, I got the best and the worst of brothers. I love Olivier. He gave me a way to know my father, and he’s been nothing but supportive. I even suspect if he had known about us, that he would have been our biggest cheerleader.”

Ama smiled at him. “I was thinking the same thing, actually. Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea to clue him in. I would hate to put him in an awkward position.”

“Agreed.”

 

So, now, as they all sat around Macaulay Gallo’s vast dinner table, Enda made sure he didn’t make eye-contact with Ama when he told them his and Raff’s ideas.

Jackson made a scoffing noise. “Really? Where’s the profit in that?”

Enda looked at him coolly. “I would think, in your position, that you would see that money isn’t everything. How many more billions do you need, Jackson? Isn’t it time you gave something back?”

“Didn’t I just broker the deal that saved Amalia’s sister from an abusive marriage?” Jackson grinned at his wife, who stared back in dislike.

“I don’t think that’s what Enda meant,” she said softly. She turned to her lover and tried not to show in her face how much she felt for him, “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Schools all over the country are having their funding for the arts cut to almost nothing. They’re forcing the kids to focus on science and math and disregarding the kids who were born to be artists, actors, musicians. It’s just wrong.”

Enda smiled at her. “Maybe you should come along, meet Raffaelo, and be our consultant on the inside.”

“Love to.” Ama hid a grin, obviously realizing what he was up to, but Jackson cleared his throat.

“I don’t see why that would help.”

Ama turned cold eyes on him. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

Enda saw the anger in Jackson’s eyes. His father did too, apparently, because Mac changed the subject hurriedly. “Jackson, I was going to ask you. I got a call today from that interior designer you told me about. She was under the impression that you have arranged for some work to be done.”

Jackson nodded. “I have. All of the bedrooms, except yours, Dad, because I know you’ve just had it remodeled.”

“Excuse me?” Amalia looked bemused. “All of the bedrooms?”

Jackson nodded, his smile smug. “Yes, darling, all of them. I thought we could take a penthouse at a hotel while the work is being done.”

Ama flushed angrily, and Enda narrowed his eyes at his brother. He was trying to force her to share his bed. Asshole. Ama picked up her wine and sipped it casually. “A single room will be okay with me. Or I can stay with a friend.”

There it was. In the open. With those simple words, Ama had outed the sham of her marriage to both Olivier and Macaulay. If she had shouted, ‘I’m not sleeping with Jackson,’ at the top of her voice, it couldn’t be more obvious. Enda watched Jackson’s face turned from red to purple and suddenly felt afraid for Ama. He knew of old what Jackson’s temper was like.

 

Penelope …three years ago, she had borne the brunt of Jackson’s temper and what had happened had scarred everyone …

To be continued.

 

Get your copy for only .99c or Free with Kindle Unlimited.