Married for Amari's Heir Read online

“You didn’t speak fast enough,” he said, his voice hard.

  “Rocco...”

  “Trouble in paradise—a shame,” Leon said. “If you have a different answer than your minder here,” he said, directing the words at Charity, “do come and look for me before you leave.” He turned and walked away, leaving Rocco standing there vibrating with rage.

  “I don’t need you to answer for me,” Charity said, her voice low.

  “I gave you a gift, I can do whatever I like,” he said, knowing he was being unreasonable and not caring at all.

  “I will give it back if that’s how you see things. It was my understanding that gifts came without strings attached.”

  “How would you know, as this is the first one you have ever received?”

  For a moment, he saw hurt, deep and raw flash through her dark eyes before she put her mask back on, leaving her face smooth, unreadable. “I regret telling you that,” she said.

  He wanted to tell her not to regret it. He wanted to apologize. But he didn’t know what that would accomplish. Only a few moments ago she had looked at him as though she wanted something from him, something emotional and deep. And just now he had proven he was not the man to give her that. It was for the best.

  Decadence he could give her. Pleasure he could give her. Clothing, jewelry, he could give her. As for the rest? He didn’t even know what the rest was.

  “I wish I could give you something more substantial than that regret,” he said, and in this instance he was being truthful. “Sadly, I feel if you’re looking for anything more than physical satisfaction with me, regret is all you will find.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. I wonder if it’s the same for Leon. Something to consider, as I seem to have an open invitation.”

  Rocco slid his hand up her spine, taking hold of the back of her neck. “Tell me, cara, do you want the father of your child arrested and sent to prison for murder?”

  Her eyes flared wide. “No.”

  “Then do not tempt me to kill Leon Carides.” Charity opened her mouth to speak, but he decided he was done talking. “Shall we dance?”

  “That is...not what I expected you to say next.”

  “Does it matter what you expected? Come and dance with me. It is not a request. Or have you forgotten that I still hold the power in this arrangement?” He was being an asshole, and he knew it. But he couldn’t seem to moderate his own behavior at the moment, and that was disconcerting.

  “How could I forget, as you’re so good at reminding me?”

  She was angry with him, but she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. Allowed him to pull her close, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She even wrapped her arms around his neck, feigning compliance. But he knew that it wasn’t real. Knew that she was only pretending to be brought to heel. Probably so she could get close enough to him to strangle him.

  He slid his hand down the curve of her lower back, to her ass, pushing her more tightly to him, allowing her to feel the arousal that was coursing through his body in spite of his anger. He was hard for her. But then, he was always hard for her.

  She drew her head back, anger glittering in her eyes, even while her pupils expanded, her desire for him evident, as evident as her anger. Fine. He didn’t care if she liked him. He only needed her to want him.

  “You don’t seem to care,” he said, moving them both in time with the music.

  “Of course I care. A prisoner can never forget she’s in jail.”

  The light of challenge in her eyes spurred him on. “But you are not in jail, my dear, or have you forgotten? You could be. But you are not.”

  She lifted her chin, her expression haughty. “Am I supposed to get on my knees and thank you?”

  “It all depends on what you intend to do while you’re down there.”

  “Ensure that you’re incapable of fathering any more children?”

  “Oh, we both know you won’t do that. That part of my body is far too valuable to you. As you have proven over the past week. Repeatedly.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You might not like me, Charity. But you can’t resist me.” He was driven to push her now, to strike out at her because the whole experience with Leon had burned him deep down in his chest and since he had no idea how to heal that pain, he had decided to keep on burning everything until he went numb.

  “Keep talking. A few more well-placed phrases and I bet I’ll be able to resist you permanently.”

  “We both know that isn’t true. If you couldn’t resist me that day at The Mark, you won’t be able to resist me now.” He said it as if it was a certainty, but really, it was a question. And he hated himself for feeling the need to ask it.

  But he needed to know that he had her. That no matter what, she wouldn’t turn away from him. That he was as irresistible to her as she was to him.

  “You seem determined to push me until I can.”

  “Does it seem that way? That is not my intent.” Or perhaps it was. Something, anything to get a handle on his control.

  Why did this woman test it? Shatter it?

  “Then maybe you could try being nice for a while,” she said.

  “I don’t know how to be nice,” he said. “I’ve never had to be.”

  “You can start by not making death threats to men we meet at parties. And then you can finish by not behaving as though you have the right to control my actions.”

  “I don’t think you understand, cara. You are mine.” He raised his hand and cupped her cheek. “And when someone tries to steal what is mine I do not respond kindly. Leon was treading on dangerous ground.”

  “But I’m not an object, Rocco. He isn’t going to just pick me up and make off with me.”

  “He might. He is a wealthy man. He would have a lot to offer you.”

  “I thought I was priceless, Rocco. Why are you acting as though I can be bought?”

  “You seemed interested,” he bit out.

  “I’m not. Not in a man who won’t hold my hair when I throw up the morning after he’s spent the night holding me in his arms. And I’m insulted that you would think I might be tempted to go with him.”

  He looked past her. “Why would I ever think differently? I don’t know you.”

  “That’s insulting,” she said, her voice soft. Wounded. It touched him somewhere down deep, and he realized he was not yet numb. No matter how much he wished he were. “You know me better than anyone.”

  Her words hit him with the force of a slap. “Do I?”

  “How can you ask that? You’re the only man I’ve ever been with. You know that.”

  “In my experience sex has nothing to do with how well you know someone.”

  “Maybe not to you. But it does to me. I already told you why I was never with another man. I told you...I feel like you’ve been standing by watching as I discover who I am. How could you not know me?” Her eyes were luminous, filled with emotion.

  Her words grabbed ahold of something inside of him and twisted hard. “I want to show you something.”

  The open emotion transformed into a near-comical scowl. “If it’s your penis I’m going to go ahead and say no thank you.”

  He laughed, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn’t sure how he could be so angry, aroused and amused all at once. He was not sure how he had wound up here, feeling like this, with a woman he had intended to hate. “Well, I will probably offer to show you that after. But that is not what I meant.” He didn’t know why he was making this offer, except perhaps as some kind of desperate last attempt to undo the damage he had done over the past half hour. To try and recapture the look on her face when he had given her the necklace. The look he had never deserved, the look he had proved he didn’t deserve only moments afterward.

  Truly, feelings made no sense. And he was
getting tired of having them.

  “Okay, you can show me something,” she said, her expression softening. “Anything.”

  Her words flooded his chest with a burst of warmth. “We’ll just finish this song then.”

  And for the rest of the dance, he held her close. And they didn’t say anything. And for a few moments at least, he thought she might not just want him, but she might like him, too.

  * * *

  Charity wasn’t sure what had transpired between her and Rocco at the gala tonight. Yes, they had fought, but in some ways she felt closer to him now than she had before they had left the house. He had given her a gift. He had insulted her. He had made her feel things. Had made her angry, had made her happy, had made her sad. Like a miniature relationship ecosystem all contained in the ballroom of a hotel.

  And now they were back at the villa. And she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. There had been something strange in his tone when he’d told her he had something to show her. Strange enough that she’d been an idiot and tried to defuse the tension with humor.

  Because she was still uncomfortable when things got close to the bone. When things got real, authentic. She was so accustomed to slipping on different masks, using them to shield her from anything unpleasant, that she seemed to default to it easily.

  “What is it you want to show me?” she asked, pausing in the vast entryway.

  “My things,” he said, the bland note in his voice betraying more than outward emotion. Because he was like her. He put a mask on most especially when he was feeling deeply. And that was what he had done the moment they had walked inside.

  This was important to him.

  She frowned. “What things?”

  “All of them. Of course, you’ve been living in my home for the past week. So you have seen some. But...just come with me.”

  He walked on ahead of her, down a hallway she had never gone down before. Because she had had no reason to. She wrapped her arms around her waist to try and keep herself warm. Because for some reason she felt an unaccountable chill.

  Rocco stopped in front of a set of double doors. He turned to face her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. There was a keypad by the door and he entered in a series of numbers quickly, and she heard a lock release.

  “Internal security?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I told you, no one steals from me.”

  Of course, that was very like her father. To rip off a man who clearly had more than just your average issue with being stolen from. But on the heels of that thought came another one. One that ripped through her like a ravenous beast. There was a reason for this.

  She flashed back to what he had told her about when his mother died. When they had taken him from his home, when they had taken all of his things... She looked up at him, a wave of horror washing over her. He looked away from her and pulled the doors open.

  She moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head between his shoulder blades. She was shaking, and she hadn’t even seen what he was about to show her. “You don’t have to,” she said, her heart thundering fast now.

  She wasn’t sure if she was trying to spare him, or her.

  Because when she saw, once all of the pieces that she had been collecting of him were complete, once she was able to fit them all together, the vague yearning that was in her chest would be complete, too. Would turn into something else. Something she didn’t want to think about.

  “I want to show you,” he said, his voice rough.

  He released his hold on the door and stepped out of her embrace, walking into the room.

  There was framed art on the wall, figurines in glass cases, vases. Coin collections, swords mounted onto the wall. Basically anything that could be considered collectible was here, except for cars. Though, she knew he had his share of those in his garage. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.

  “I collect things,” he said, “expensive things. Any expensive thing really. I told you already, when my mother died I lost everything. I spent most of my life with nothing that belonged to me. My bedrooms were shared with other children. And more than that, they were temporary. I had no family. I had nothing. I felt helpless. Like there was nothing keeping me from drifting out to sea. As I became more successful, I realized that I could fix that. I bought myself a house. Now I own four houses. And I have my own bedroom in all of them. And nobody sleeps in them but me.”

  Charity realized then that she had never spent time in his room. Always when they slept together it was in her room. Her stomach twisted. And he continued.

  “And I began to collect things. Things to replace what I lost. To make me feel like I was here.” His dark eyes met hers. “I protect what belongs to me.”

  She kept thinking of what he had said at the gala. That she was his. That she belonged to him. It had seemed offensive, dismissive and minimizing. But she could see now that to him it meant something much deeper than it would to anyone else.

  These things, these things that belonged to him, he protected above everything else. He prized them.

  She turned in a circle, trying to take in the vast collection. “It’s amazing,” she said.

  “Is it?” he asked. “I confess, I don’t enjoy what I have in here very often. Though, I frequently check to make sure it’s all still here.”

  His words made her feel as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart and squeezed it tight. She could barely breathe. She looked at the far corner of the room and saw a pedestal, with a glass case over the top. But she couldn’t tell what was underneath it.

  She took a step forward, her breath catching when she recognized what was beneath the glass case. Army men. Little green plastic army men that had no value. At least not monetary value.

  “Rocco...”

  He looked away, color staining his cheeks. “They were my favorite. They were the things I missed the most. Except for my mother. But...they were what I missed the most that I could replace.” He looked back at her, his dark eyes hollow. “So, now you see.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  And she was certain they weren’t just talking about the collection.

  “Rocco...”

  He closed the distance between them, his expression fierce, pulling her hard up against his body, cupping her cheek with his large warm hand. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Whatever you were going to do. Kiss me instead.”

  So she did. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him with everything she had in her. He sifted his fingers through her hair, holding her tightly to him as he kissed her deep, hard. He was shaking, and she was sure that she was, too. He moved his hand down to cup her chin briefly, then trace the line of her throat with his fingertips, before they came to rest on the jewel at the center of her necklace.

  “Perfect,” he said, his tone intense. “And mine.” And she realized, through the haze of her arousal, that he didn’t mean the necklace. “If only I could keep you here as securely as I do everything else I possess.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest, fear joining the desire that was roaring through her. She had a feeling he was sincere. That he would lock her in a glass case if he could, and yet, she didn’t want to run from him. Because that would mean being without him. And she didn’t want that, either.

  She had been right about understanding him. Had been right about what it would make her feel. Or rather, understanding him had given her a name for her feelings.

  She was afraid that she loved him. And worse than that, she wanted him to love her back.

  She was a stupid girl. She had wanted her father to love her, had wanted the love of her mother, a mother who had never even been there. Wanted too the love of a grandmother who had only ever taken her in sporadically so that she
wouldn’t end up sleeping alone on the streets.

  For so much of her life, she had craved the love of people who wouldn’t give it to her. And now, she was adding one more to the list.

  Rocco.

  The father of her child. Her lover. The only man who knew her at all.

  Her heart suddenly felt too big for her chest, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed. Her head ached, her body ached.

  Maybe none of them love you back because you don’t deserve to be loved back.

  She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against the insidious voice that was shouting loudly inside of her. Finally putting into words what she had always believed in her heart to be true.

  Surely if she were lovable, someone would’ve loved her by now.

  She was a thief. She was guilty. She had stolen from this man who prized his possessions above all else. This man who had lost quite enough.

  He could never possibly feel the same for her as she did for him, not knowing the extent of what she was.

  No. She wouldn’t think of that now.

  Anyway, this moment wasn’t all about her. This was about him. He had given her so much of himself in this moment. And she had to honor that gift.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, words pouring out of her now. “I’m sorry I stole from you. I had no right to take anything from you. And I have no excuse. I can’t hide behind my father. I can’t hide behind my upbringing. Because I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. I’m sorry,” she said, repeating the apology over and over again.

  She didn’t care if he could use this against her. Didn’t care if she was giving him evidence to put her in jail forever. All that mattered now was that she make it right. In the only way she could. She couldn’t return the money, but she could admit what she’d done. Could confess it all to him, lay herself bare, as he had just done for her.

  “I know it was wrong,” she said, more for her now than for him. “And I’m not going to do it again. I’ve changed. I really have.” She had to believe it. She needed to say it, because she needed it to be true.

  “I know you stole the money,” he said, his dark eyes meeting hers. “It doesn’t matter.”