His wife.
His woman.
A virgin.
* * *
They dined on lobster bisque and luscious tiger prawns with saffron and almond rice. The tangy white wine Lara sipped was the perfect complement to the food and to the situation. She sizzled with life, her skin hot to the touch. The wine seemed only to feed her energy and her awareness of every movement and moment.
She'd done it. She'd seduced Dante to the point where he hadn't had a clue about her secret. She'd successfully hidden the small flinch when he entered her and managed to follow his lead so well he'd lost himself inside her.
A shiver of pleased accomplishment zipped through her.
No need for explanations or any chance of pity.
She was a woman now. Completely and fully. She knew what all the fuss and chatter was about. She'd had sex. Glorious, amazing sex.
Glancing at her husband across the table, her blood thrummed in her veins and arteries. She managed to nibble at the edge of a piece of coconut and vanilla cream pie, but her entire focus was on him.
Dante.
He lounged in his chair, his Mediterranean skin showing bronze in contrast to the white cotton of the shirt he'd slipped on after they'd left the bed. He looked out at the deep night sky and so she had the chance to trace the strong arch of his nose, the slant of his cheekbone, the firmness of his jaw and chin.
Her husband was magnificent.
Her nipples tightened beneath the light cotton dress she'd thrown on for dinner. She wanted him again and again and again. There was no shame in her for this. He was magnificent in bed; everything she could have possibly dreamed of and more. There was a complete thrill in seeing this dominant, commanding man surrender to her allure. Utterly. The way he'd shuddered and groaned and let go …
The tightening between her legs told the story.
A woman could become addicted to him.
Which she would not allow herself to do. She was using him, exactly as he was using her. Why shouldn't she enjoy this while it lasted? She only needed to protect her emotions and feel everything with her body, not her heart.
She could do that. Certainly.
"Lara." Her husband turned his head and stared at her, a slight frown on his brow.
Licking the last of the cream off her lips, she looked at him. His dark eyes followed the movement of her tongue and his hand fisted on the table before relaxing.
A thrill of accomplishment swept through her. She had him. This man who wanted to appear completely in control at all times, wasn't in control when he was with her.
His mouth firmed and his gaze met hers. "First, I need an explanation."
"An explanation of what?"
"Nine years of marriage." His determined stare never left her face. "Tell me what happened."
"Why are you interested in my marriage again?" Her heart slid to her feet. Had she been wrong? Had he noticed that tiny flinch? Her hand tightened around the fork and she glanced away from his obsidian eyes, staring instead at the fluffy cream of the pie. "It has nothing to do with you."
"Nine years." His voice turned hoarse. "And the ass never made love to you?"
"I don't know what you're talking-"
"Don't lie." His hand lifted in a straight, short cut of rejection. "I know you were a virgin tonight. So tell me what happened with that idiot."
Bloody hell. She hadn't been successful. She hadn't been aggressive and seductive enough to blot out her secret from his awareness. Laying the fork gently on the plate, she managed a shrug she hoped was nonchalant. "He wasn't interested."
A dark silence met her answer. Lara focused on the diamond on her hand, then on the strands of silver thread weaving through the cotton of her dress.
"He was gay." His stark words hit her with a punch.
She jerked her head up. "How did you-"
"It's the only possible answer. No man could live with you for nine years and not take you to bed unless he was gay." His hands were fisted on the teak of his chair. His black eyes blazed with pure, holy hell.
Whipping her head around, she stared out at the sea, remembering. Remembering her first honeymoon night when she'd been so scared and sad. But defiant. She'd been ready to take Gerry into her bed and show everyone she was a woman, not a child. Not merely a stupid student who couldn't make sense of the words on the page. Not just a pest of a girl who had to be shipped away from her home, left with English relatives who had no use for her ignorance.
Gerry had never come to bed. Never.
"Say it." The man across the table kept at it, kept bringing these awful memories to the forefront of her brain. "Tell me."
"All right." Her hand shook as she brushed her hair from her shoulders. "Gerry was probably gay."
"Probably?" Disbelief rang in Dante's voice.
"I have no idea. I never did." She returned her focus to the shadowed sea. "We didn't talk about it."
"But..." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands open, then close. "But why did you stay with him?"
Now that was a question she could answer easily. Glancing back at him, she forced herself to keep her gaze on his as she delivered the truth, the ugly truth she'd known at the age of eighteen. "I had nowhere else to go."
"What?" His eyes widened, the white rim contrasting with the dark iris. "You could have come home to Italy with one phone call."
"Really?" The old hardened pain pumped anger into her veins. "After the phone call I received from you coming back from my honeymoon?"
You have been a fool, Lara. You have made a huge mistake and disgraced your father. How could you have done such a thing without consulting your family and your friends here?
She remembered every word. As if it were only yesterday, she heard the disapproval in his voice, the disappointment in his tone, the disgust in his words.
"I was angry that day when I discovered the news of your impetuous marriage. I admit that." He flung his linen napkin on the table. "But you should have known you could have called your father and he would have come to take you home. At any time in those nine years."
"Papa is old-fashioned." The aching memories, the memories she didn't want to live through again, came crashing down on her. The countless times her hand had hovered on the phone, wanting to make the call for escape, release from the prison she'd put herself in. Still, she'd never done it. Somewhere in those first few months of marriage, she'd lost the last of herself in the endless barrage of words, Gerry's words of condescension and condemnation. "He would have been horrified I'd run away from my husband."
"No." Her new husband's voice was sure and short. "He would not have if you'd told him."
Told him she'd been a fool. Told her father she'd been a stupid, silly girl who'd fallen for the first gentle word a man had given her after Dante's rejection. "This doesn't matter anymore. It's over."
Another silence fell and a gurgle of tears bubbled in her throat. Because it wasn't over, was it? Now Dante knew how stupid she'd been. Now he knew how inexperienced sexually she was. Her old marriage still scarred her in so many ways and now it had bled into her new marriage.
Why should she care? She hated this new marriage as much as her old one. Right?
Right?
A sigh came from across the table. "I can see this upsets you. So we won't talk of it anymore."
Not talking about it wouldn't make the scars go away, but she had to admit she wanted to forget about all of her past and even her present. "Thank-"
"For now."
His two words cracked at her control. Her present husband wasn't going to let this go without a fight. Another one of their fights. "Forever. My past marriage is over and done with."
Silence echoed between them, the only sound the soft wash of the sea waves on the sandy shore. She tried to focus on the pie, tried to pull herself back to where she'd been mere minutes ago: excited, thrilled, lusting. However, she couldn't find her way back to that happy place. She was too mired in the ugly memories and emotions. Too filled with the knowledge her present was even uglier.
"I need to apologize." His deep voice was rough and ragged.
"What?" Lara yanked her gaze up from the pie and stared in stunned confusion at him. He had so much to apologize for, yet she couldn't for the life of her figure out which of his many sins he was addressing.