Afterwards, exhausted, she thought she might have actually lost consciousness. She certainly didn't remember another thing until she awoke much later to find herself alone in the bed with the cringe-making knowledge that once again she had allowed him to whittle away at what bit of pride she had left by letting him make love to her.
And not only make love-which was bad enough-but she'd also let him twist her into such knots by getting her to confess her crimes to him while he got away without confessing a thing about his mistress and his son!
His son. The tears began to sting. Throwing herself onto her back, she stared fiercely at the ceiling in an effort to stem the threatening flood. How could she let him do this to her? How could she go on letting him do this to her? She had to get away from him, she knew that now, because she couldn't fight this sexual empowerment he had over her and each time she gave in to it she lost a bit more of herself.
She brought an arm up with the intention of covering her stupid watery eyes-but as she moved the backs of her fingers touched something and, turning, she saw a folded slip of paper lying on the empty pillow beside her head. With her heart lodged in her aching throat, she lifted the piece of paper up then lay there just staring at it.
She was afraid to read it. Really scared because he had never done anything like this before and all she could think was it had to have something to do with Vanessa and that little boy. Mouth-fingers trembling, she made herself open it out.
'I love you', it said. That was all, nothing fancy, no hearts and flowers, or trumpeting fanfares, just those three words scrawled in bold black pen.
She curled into a tight ball beneath the duvet and cried her eyes out with the note pressed against her breasts.
Getting showered and dressed was an effort. She throbbed and ached and trembled too much to be efficient at anything. Back in the jeans and the cream top and her hair brushed, she pushed open the bedroom door with the intention of going to the kitchen and making herself a fortifying drink before she had to face him again-but it wasn't to be.
One of the doors through to his office had been left spread wide open and the first thing to hit her was the sound of Xander's voice tearing into someone in cut-throat Italian. As her feet drew her unwillingly towards that open door the next thing to hit her was Xander himself wearing one of his dark business suits and looking as razor-sharp as the sound of his voice.
The sun had come out since she'd last seen him standing behind his desk like this, and sunrays were playing across his jet silk hair and the deep bronze sheen of his skin. Angry as he was, he looked magnificent, all-powerful, all-masculine, all hard, dark lines of lean musculature. Animal, sexual, so utterly magnetic that her breathing feathered in her chest and brought her feet to a halt as a wave of helpless, hopeless love swept through her on a shimmering wave of anguished defeat.
Why him? she asked herself painfully. Why did I have to fall for a man like him? Why did he have to leave a note on her pillow spelling out words he had never once said to her" face? Guilt? Remorse? Damage control? She couldn't believe those words. How could she believe them when Vanessa and that poor little boy stood in the way?
She went to turn, needing to slip out of sight before he saw her because she just wasn't ready to face him, but as she went to move another voice spoke angrily and her heart sank.
She'd thought he was talking on the telephone. He was always on the telephone! Maybe she uttered the strained little laugh she could feel clogging up her throat because Xander's dark head whipped round.
'Nell...' the hard, husky rasp of his voice scored a shudder right down her spine as still she tried to escape from this. 'No, don't go...' He was already striding round the desk while she hovered reluctantly, several feet into the sitting room. The sound of his swift footsteps sounded in her head then his hand caught her arm just above her elbow. He tried to turn her but when she dug in her heels he stepped around her and reached for her other arm, holding her still in front of him. She could feel his tension, the hot simmer of his anger as his harsh breath scoured the top of her head.
'Look at me,' he husked.
But there was no way she was going to look at him. She stared at the knot in his silk tie instead. His fingers flexed then began to slide upwards, they reached her shoulders and used them to tug her closer, then moved on to bury themselves in her hair at the defensive curve of her nape. It only took the light stroke of his thumbs beneath her chin to have it lifting.
Once again her breathing feathered as she found herself flickering a dancing glance over his face. Tension packed it, strain, the simmering anger glinting in his eyes. As she fluttered her eyes downwards again she was suddenly caught by the difference in his mouth. Held tight though it was, the fuller bottom lip still protruded more than it should. It looked darker-swollen; a hot tug deep inside her abdomen reminded her how urgently she'd sucked and bitten that swollen bottom lip-clung to it in the wild throes of-
A tense hiss of air left his throat. 'I know what you're thinking but I don't want you to think,' he said fiercely. 'I want you to stay calm and for both our sakes trust me, agape mou. I can explain myself-'
'With little notes left on pillows?' It was out before she could stop it.
'Little notes left on pillows can be read and reread,' he pointed out. 'If I said those words out loud they would be swallowed up by too many conflicts rattling around in your head right now.'
Well, he was oh, so right about that. 'I can't do this any more,' she told his shirt front. 'You play games with me, Xander. You make me feel like your stooge.'
'You are not the stooge around here, cara. I am someone else's stooge. But it is going to stop.' It sounded more like a threat than a promise. 'All I need from you is your patience. I can explain this.'
'Will you stop saying that? And don't you dare kiss me!' she protested when he started to lower his head. 'You think you can just kiss away every objection I put up against you but you can't. I-'
'If you two are going to start that again I may as well leave you to it.'
As if in a daze, Nell looked around, saw his mother, dressed goddess-style in wine-red silk-appear in view. She blinked, stunned that she could have so easily forgotten that Gabriela was even there! Then she became aware of other things, like the way she and Xander were standing in the doorway, almost wedged there by his rock-solid, unyielding stance. Her hands were on his chest, palms flat, fingers splayed. His still curved her slender neck. But worst of all her hips were resting against his hips. They didn't need to be pressing that close to him but they were as if they couldn't help themselves.
A rush of colour burned into her cheeks. As if he knew why it did, Xander slid his hands down her tense back to her hips and crushed her even closer, then did what she'd told him not to do and kissed her on the mouth.
'Don't so much as move another foot near that door, Madre,' he murmured with cool threat as he lifted his head again. 'It is judgement day, and you will not get out of this building until you have paid your dues to my wife.'
Judgement day? Pay her dues? Nell stared up at him with a mind gone blank.
He ignored the look, and suddenly he was all sharp and businesslike again. 'In here, I think.'
Looping an arm around Nell's shoulders, he turned her into the apartment then led her over to a chair then pressed her down into it.
'Don't tremble so much,' he scolded quietly. 'I...'
He kissed her fiercely-again.
'Oh, stop it, caro,' his mother snapped out impatiently as she appeared on the threshold of the apartment. 'Can't you keep your hands off her for five minutes? Helen is not going anywhere, as apparently I am not. Dio, Helen,' she added with a small shiver. 'How can you stay in this soulless place? I always hated it. Demitri never managed to get me to stay here once.'
'Did he ever get you to do anything you didn't want to do?' her son shot back at her.
'Oh, that's so unfair!' Gabriela protested. 'And so typical of you, Alexander, to always take your father's side!'
'You made him miserable-'
'I made him happy!' his mother angrily declared. 'How dare you, with your own marriage hanging in the balance by what I choose to reveal here, stand there and judge mine?'
They were suddenly back to fighting across the width of the sitting room, and doing it- in English this time so Nell could at least understand the words if not the reasons for them. Looking from one face to the other, she couldn't decide which of them was going to catch light first. Xander was a proud Greek by birth but a hot-tempered Italian by nature, and she wondered if he had a clue as to how much like his mother he was?
'I can judge because I had to live with it.'
'Poor little rich boy, so badly treated,' his mother mocked. 'Helen, what is that top you are wearing?' Gabriela turned her attention away from her angry son to toss some derision her daughter-in-law's way instead.
'Leave Nell out of this,' her son hissed as Nell cringed into the chair feeling like a rag doll suddenly.
'I think she's already very much in it.'
The fact that her dry point hit home showed in the way Xander stiffened his elegant shoulders.
'Maybe you're right.' He took in a deep breath, then next thing Nell knew he had moved to stand behind her chair and his hands were settling on her shoulders in a possessive act no one could mistake. 'Congratulate us, Madre,' he then murmured dulcetly. 'Nell and I are going to have a baby, which means that you are going to be a grandmother...'
CHAPTER TWELVE
GABRIELA went so white that Nell thought she was going to faint on them and tried to rise to her feet to go to her. 'Remain where you are.' Xander's hands kept her seated.