The stupid milk had a hole in the carton. Only a small one, because Kate hadn’t realized until she was three blocks from the market. By then, enough milk had leaked out that it had weakened the paper of the bag, bursting a hole in the base sending three eggs and a lovely fennel bulb onto the footpath. The eggs had cracked and the fennel landed in something suspiciously moist but she’d put it back into the bag and gripped it underneath. Her arms ached by the time she reached the front door to her apartment building.

It was propped open, which wasn’t unusual on Monday nights. Signora Verdi from the upstairs flat had her grandchildren every Monday evening while their parents caught up for a child-free dinner. The noise was always loud in Kate’s apartment – the sounds of dozens of feet scampering in the cramped space, laughing and fighting, and playing for hours and hours. Kate loved it. She would listen and imagine how different her own childhood might have been with a little more noise and frivolity.

When she reached her apartment though, a sense of fear began to tremble in her gut. She couldn’t have said what provoked it, but her instincts were going haywire. Her heart was pounding as she shifted so that she could lift her phone from her handbag and juggle it in one hand whilst still keeping a tight hold of the groceries. She dialed her boss’s number out of desperation – Melania was ill with tonsillitis but she was still the best person to go to in a crisis. Well, except for … she swallowed. Benedetto.

Did she even have his number? With surprise, she realized she didn’t. Which meant she had no way of contacting him, even if she wanted to.

Her fingers shook a little as she slid the key into the lock.

All day she’d had the strangest sense that something bad was about to happen. And all day she’d told herself that she was overreacting. That her emotions and nerve endings were supercharged. Nothing else.

But now, some ancient source of adrenalin had kicked up a gear.

She took in a deep breath and then pushed the door inwards, her whole body coiled for action. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. Everything was different, and yet somehow the same. The lamps had been switched on in the lounge area, casting the room in a soft, warm glow, and another bunch of flowers had been added to the coffee table. No, not flowers. They were blossoms. Orange blossoms, she’d have guessed, from where she stood.

And there was a beautiful smell that had nothing to do with flora. It was food. Something savoury and delicious that made her stomach grumble. Kate hadn’t eaten all day. The errant thought broke through her confused mind; she shook her head to dispel it and took another step into the apartment.

Benedetto was in her kitchen, his business shirt pushed up to the elbows, and the tie removed from his neck. He looked dangerously dark and wickedly sexy, with his hair flopped a little over his forehead and his dark eyes meeting hers broodingly.

Kate stared at him as she placed the sodden bag of groceries onto the bench. Her mouth was dry and her tongue thick.

“What …” she swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

He reached into the fridge and pulled a bottle of wine out. He poured some into a glass and handed it to her.

She didn’t move to take it; he placed it onto the bench.

“How did you get into my apartment, Benedetto?” She pushed, her voice shaking.

His smile was lopsided. “I told you it would not pose any difficulty.”

“You broke in?” She demanded huskily. “To make some kind of point?”

“No.”

Her eyes drifted beyond him suspiciously, to the pans that were on the small electric stove.

“I don’t understand …”

“No.” He walked across the small apartment to the windows. She stayed where she was, planted to the small bit of floor just beside the kitchen bench, but she watched him.

He nodded towards the windows and she noticed that shining brass knobs had been added. “What is that?”

“Security.” He flattened the note of disapproval from his voice. She should have seen to this months ago.

“Security?” She repeated, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”

“Your apartment was not safe.”

“So you … made it safe?” A frown furrowed her brow. “I don’t get it. Why?”

He ignored the question. “You also have an alarm system. There is a switch on one side of the bed. If you press it twice, it will alert a private security company. They will send a guard to check on your safety.”

“Benedetto,” she shook her head. “This is too much. I’m only renting here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. And you’ve gone to all this trouble and expense. It’s … completely unnecessary.”

“Are you moving somewhere?” He asked, stalking back across the room to stand at her side.

“No,” she shook her head, then shrugged. “Not that I know of. But, I mean … you’re missing the point.”

“What is the point?” He was close now and her equilibrium was boxing itself in.

Her frown deepened. “You had no right.”

“You do not think so?” He lifted a hand and brushed a clump of her silvery blonde hair from her cheek. “You do not think it is important to me to know that you are safe?”

“No.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“Then you’re wrong.” He brushed her cheek then lifted her wine and placed it into her hand. “Dinner is almost ready. Sit with me while it finishes cooking.”

“You made dinner?” She murmured in disbelief.

“Si.” That smile of his once more sent her heart lurching painfully. “This surprises you.”

“Si,” she repeated, sipping her wine. It was delicious. Buttery and floral, and crisply chilled.

He lifted his own wine and put an arm around her shoulders so that he could guide her to the armchair. He sat down first and then tapped his lap. At her look of hesitation, he reached a hand up and pulled her down. She didn’t resist. After all, her whole body was craving the closeness he offered.

He pressed his lips into her neck and then lifted his face to hers. “I don’t want you to get hurt, cara.”

She had another sip of her wine and then forced herself to meet his eyes. “I don’t think you know what you want,” she said thoughtfully.

“Oh?” His hand was rubbing the sensitive flesh of her upper thigh rhythmically and she felt a growing sense of confusion.

“On Friday night, you were so … adamant that this was just about sex. And even yesterday, you told me you wanted to see me again, but only if I understood that you’d never care for me other than … physically. And yet, here you are, some billionaire burglar in my apartment, fixing locks and making meals. I don’t get it.”

He couldn’t help the twisting smile at her words. “Perhaps I feel responsible for your safety,” he suggested in a throaty murmur. “You are, after all, a guest in my city.”

“I am safe,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Cazzate.” His accent was thick when he swore. “Why do you do this, cara? Any woman in her right mind would be scared witless about living here. A terrible part of the city, with inadequate security. And yet you rail against my attempt to make you safer. Why?”

She swallowed. He’d never understand. Someone like him couldn’t know the thrill she got out of tempting danger and beating it. Her eyes were enormous in her face as she shook her head.

“Your … interest is completely misplaced,” she said seriously. “And dinner? Why would you bring me food?”

“Recompense for the bruschetta we did not share yesterday morning.”

Kate pursed her lips in frustration. “You’re still doing it. You’re saying one thing and acting completely the opposite. This whole time you’ve been trying to push me away with your words but pulling me closer with how you act. I don’t get it.” She swallowed, furious at the tears that made her throat ache. “I don’t get why you can’t just tell me what you want.”

“What do you want?” He flipped the table on her easily, but it only frustrated Kate more.

“I want you to do what you say. Yesterday was meant to be goodbye for us. So what are you doing here?”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He pushed, the arrogance of his tone showing that he knew she was.

“I’m confused. That doesn’t mean I’m not … God! Stop … making this so hard for me.”

“You are beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, staring up at her dainty features with a sense of appreciation that should have terrified him. Only those eyes stopped him from feeling anything too deeply. Those eyes were such a reminder of who she was that he knew he could never be in any real danger of truly caring for her.

“I’m not angry,” she retorted.

“You should be. I’m being an arsehole to you.”

Her laugh was short and sharp. “At least you realize it.”

“The truth is,” he murmured, wondering just how he would ever be genuinely honest with her. “I saw you and I knew I wanted to be with you. I thought one weekend would be enough. That you’d be out of my system. That’s how it is for me.” His smile was distracted.

“You just … sleep with women and then forget all about them.”

He shrugged. “More or less.”

“Charming,” she snapped, but her heart was breaking with the certainty that soon, she would be one of the Forgetten Women.

“I am being truthful with you.” At least on this score. “I cannot give you the guarantee you want. I cannot – will not – promise that I will still feel this way in a week. I am not going to lie to you, cara. But I want you now. In this moment, you are all I can think of. I want you to come to my apartment. Not because this place is a disaster waiting to happen. I put locks and an alarm here so you would understand. I am not scaring you into my life. I am empowering you to make the choice based purely on what you want. So? Will you come to me and stay for as long as it suits us both?”

“I…” She shook her head. Confusion was making speech impossible.

“All you have to think about is whether or not you truly want to say goodbye to me; to end this. If you want me to go, I will. I will walk out that door and never bother you again.”

She thought then of how she didn’t even have his phone number. Their next goodbye would ring with a sense of finality, if she let it.

Her words were husky when she spoke. “I don’t want you to go.”

His eyes flared with unmistakable triumph. The brief insight she’d had of him as a normal, even slightly-insecure man, disappeared completely. He was in charge once more, confident and ruthless.

He sipped his wine then placed the glass down carefully. “In answer to your questions, Kate,” and the way he said her name sent goose bumps leaping along her spine. “Your body obsesses me.”

She ignored the dull ache of betrayal. “My body, huh?”

“Si.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, then gripped her hips. “Stand up.”

She was too confused to say anything. When she was with Benedetto, Kate felt as though she plunged from desperate despair to delight in the space of a nano-second.

His fingers moved with slow determination, unbuttoning her shirt and peeling it from her body. “The first time I saw you, I wanted to do this.”

“To do what?”

“To slowly, ever so slowly, remove every item of your clothing.”  He dropped the shirt to the ground, and every cell of her body was so sensitized that it sounded with a heavy thud.

His hands lifted to her breasts, and through the sensible cotton of her bra, he cupped them, holding their weight in his palms. Kate sucked in a deep breath as arousal fanned in her stomach.

“Your breasts are stunning.” He unclipped her bra and slowly guided the straps down her arms, spreading fires of lust as he went. But he didn’t drop it to the floor. He ran it through his hands and then half-smiled. “I liked binding your wrists.”

She swallowed. Uncertainty gulfed her. Confusion, too. “I … liked that as well.” Her eyes sought his. “I hadn’t done that before.”

“No.” Again, the corner of his lip lifted in a sign of sardonic contemplation. “You said you hadn’t done anything like this before.”

She nodded. “You know it’s true.”

Now he added the bra to her shirt. She stood before him, naked from the waist up, and so beautifully youthful that his chest heaved. He ignored his misgivings. He wanted her because he desired her. This, now, had nothing to do with Augustine.

His mouth descended on one of her pale pink nipples, and he rolled his tongue around its firmness, sending shockwaves of pleasure humming all the way to the pit of her stomach. Her fingers crept to his shoulders and dug in hard, reminding him of the day before when she’d scored his back.

He wanted her to touch him all over, but what he wanted even more than that was to teach her body that his was its commander.

Benedetto ran his fingers over her other nipple, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger, his speed increasing as her whimpering reached a keening pitch of desperation. “You are mine.”

The words of dark possession surprised them both, but he was better able to conceal the emotion. He ran his hands down her sides to the waistband of her sensible pants. He undid them with a slowness that belied the desperation in his gut. As the pants loosened, he crouched down before her, so that he could gently glide them down her legs.

She was cold, but hot. So hot, as if the fires of hell were leaping through her. She ran her fingers through his dark pelt of hair and tilted her head back.

Euphoria was close.

Benedetto’s fingers chased her underwear, disposing of it finally, so that she was naked in the middle of the room like a very fair angel.

His mouth against her abdomen shot blades of warmth through her. She moaned and moved her hands more quickly through his hair, needing him with an urgency that made her weak at the knees.

“Benedetto,” she whimpered, “Please.” She wasn’t even sure what she needed. Him, yes, but something else. Something more. Insanity was wrapping around her.

“Your body is mine,” he said, more calmly this time. “And I will make sure you never forget me.”

She didn’t want to forget him. She didn’t want to go a single day without experiencing him. Without feeling this. She nodded though, because the statement seemed to demand an answer.

“I do not know if you are convinced,” he murmured, and now he brought his lips crashing against her most intimate, aching core. She bucked in a visceral, physical response, as desire surged through her. “Ben…”

“Kate,” his laugh was without humour. Gently, he spread her legs further apart, and he reached behind so that he could cup her arse as he tasted the sweetness of her soul.

It was too much pleasure. Kate could hear her strangled sounds of need but she was powerless to silence herself. “Please,” she cried out, as lightning bolted inside of her. She was losing herself completely; control was not in her grip. She stopped fighting it, and let the sensation overwhelm her, as it had been bound to from the beginning.

It was an exhausting wave of pleasure. She felt weak and tingling all over. There were no words that could explain it to him, and so she didn’t attempt to find any.

He stood and scooped her up in his arms in one motion, carrying her to her bedroom.

“This damned bed,” he scowled, his eyes dark as they studied her nakedness.

She didn’t smile. Something was shifting inside of her, as it always did with him. Kate had, at one time, believed love to be a static concept. You loved someone. Or you didn’t. But she hadn’t understood that love grew and changed, until she knew Benedetto.

His face was harsh planes and angles, his eyes were focused only on her physical body, and yet she felt an invisible string of connection binding around them.

“Turn over,” he commanded, standing over her as she squirmed onto her stomach.

He placed the tip of his index finger on one of her heels and slowly, teasingly, began to move it the length of her body. When he reached the curve of her backside, he slowed, tracing circles on each delightful orb before moving onwards, to the small of her back, along the ridges of her spine, and finally to her shoulders. Here, he paused, straddling her hips and keeping his hands against her flesh.

She expelled a soft breath and he smiled. She was his.

He didn’t want to examine why that mattered so much.

All of the reservations he had about this woman – this young, innocent woman – were dwarfed by his need for her.

He moved his hands slowly, rhythmically, massaging her shoulders and moving his hips gently, showing her that he was aroused by her. She felt his hardness and moaned; Benedetto brought his lips to her shoulders and kissed her gently, then nipped her with his teeth. He ran his mouth down her back, pausing when he felt with his tongue a small crenulation in her otherwise flawless flesh.

“What is this?” He rotated his hips, wanting to take her, but prolonging his pleasure by delaying his possession.

Kate stilled beneath him for the smallest of moments – such an infinitesimal reaction that he had no chance of noting it.

“A scar,” she murmured, pushing the memories of that day far down into the dark recesses of her mind she never prodded.

“I can see that.” He ran his finger over it, a frown on his lips. “What from?”

It had been a horrible day. Her sixteenth birthday, a time most other teenagers enjoy being made to feel special and on the cusp of adulthood, had been marred for Katherine Beauchamp by her father. As always, his rage had burst out of nowhere, and as always it had been blindingly ferocious. In fact, that had been one of his worst.

“An accident,” she demurred.

“You are evading the question.”

He was heavy, and when she tried to swivel beneath him, so that she could lie on her back and look up at him, she realized she was trapped.

“No,” she said with a shrug designed to mislead. “I just don’t even really remember.”

Benedetto couldn’t have said how he knew she was lying, but some kind of ancient instinct was flaring to life. Kate, though, had shut him down, and he knew her well enough to know that words alone would not convince her to drop her guard.

He kissed the scar once more and then resumed his sensual exploration of her body.

“I want to take you like this,” he murmured, easing his weight from her just enough to guide her onto her knees. Kate was putty in his hands; he could have modelled her into any shape and she would have complied. Her trust in him was complete.

She heard him unbuckle his jeans and smiled.

“I want you to, too.”

He pushed his pants off impatiently, sliding protection on to his arousal with a sense of desperation.

She stayed where she was, propped on her knees and elbows, her body perfectly poised to take him. It was too much; something grated across his chest, flexing in his heart.

He ignored it. This wasn’t about feeling anything but pleasure. And pleasure, with Kate, was guaranteed.

His fingers were firm on her hips as he held her still, and his erection, as he plunged into her, was hard as steel. She made a groaning sound of completion as he thrust into her again, his hands reaching around to cup her breasts as again and again he took her, sending shockwaves of delight spasming through her.

His body taunted hers, bringing her to the precipice of orgasm before slowing down again, building the waves bigger and bigger until she couldn’t bear it. “Benedetto,” she flattened her face into her pillow, her moans increasing in intensity until she could barely breathe.

And this time, he pressed into her and held her tight as she came crashing back to earth; her body shook with the force of the sensation and he held her and caressed her, all the while he moved gently in time with her pleasure.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, the words strangely haunted.

Love was an ache in her chest, and Kate had never known love. Not really in any form. She felt vulnerable and powerful, all at the same time.

Her smile was slow-spreading. How could it get better each time they slept together?

“You are mine,” he said simply, pulling out of her. “Turn over.”

He was demanding and commanding, and she loved him all the more for it. She did as he said, dropping to the bed and rolling to her back. His hands captured her wrists and pinned them above her head; now he thrust into her again and his eyes held hers.

Kate let hers fan shut, to allow the renewed pleasure to engulf her, but Benedetto stopped moving. “Look at me,” he murmured. “I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

She swallowed, but blinked up at him.

“Why?”

An excellent question. For looking into her eyes, Benedetto knew how sick his need for vengeance truly was. He thrust into her, and stared at Kate, but he only had to look at those eyes to feel satisfaction at the man he was hurting. Each and every time he possessed her, each time her body yielded to his, was another fleck of insult to the man who’d killed his father.

“Your eyes are why I feel this,” he said simply, and with complete truth.

Kate bit down on her lip. It didn’t completely make sense, but then, perhaps something was lost from Italian to English. Maybe he’d meant something else? She didn’t really care. Not when everything felt so good. The whole world seemed brighter and more sharply focused.

He pumped into her, and when they began to explode simultaneously, he cried out into the air. He had never known a satisfaction like it, for in exploring this intense pleasure, he was finally carrying out his act of revenge, and Benedetto relished that.

As her breath returned to normal and her eyes still hung on his, he lowered his face, so that their lips were only an inch apart.

“You will come home with me tonight.”

Her nod was slow. It was the right decision, and yet it filled her with fear. She knew with a degree of absolute certainty that she would come to regret it.

She just didn’t know how soon.

 

 

* * *

 

Augustine was getting old, but adrenalin made him feel youthful and alive. He jammed his phone into his pocket with a sense of fury that he was finding increasingly difficult to curb. The closer he got to his bitch of a daughter, the more it became a ground swell, threatening to engulf him.

So she’d fallen into bed – literally – with Arnaud. Did she know that he was using her?

Was his own daughter trying to hurt him, too?

He wouldn’t put it past her. And after all he’d done for her. Raising her on his own, paying a fortune for her education, giving her every advantage in life.

He’d known she would turn out like this, and he’d done his best to curb the worst in her. But she had proven unbreakable.

His fist clenched involuntarily by his side.

He had looked for her for a long time. He had searched and he had waited, certain that one day she would stumble and he would find her.

How she had evaded him he could not have said. But she would not evade him for much longer. The doors to the airport swished open automatically as he approached and he scanned the row of uniformed drivers waiting to meet their human cargo. His own name was emblazoned on a board. He moved towards it with purpose.

The waiting was about to come to an end.