Our Little Secret Read online

  Rachael Stewart adores conjuring up stories, from heartwarmingly romantic to wildly erotic. She’s been writing since she could put pen to paper—as the stacks of scrawled-on pages in her loft will attest to. A Welsh lass at heart, she now lives in Yorkshire, with her very own hero and three awesome kids—and if she’s not tapping out a story, she’s wrapped up in one or enjoying the great outdoors. Reach her on Facebook, Twitter (@rach_b52) or at rachaelstewartauthor.com.

  If you liked Our Little Secret, why not try

  The Last Affair by A.C. Arthur

  The Love Cure by Cara Lockwood

  The Player by Stefanie London

  Also by Rachael Stewart

  Mr. One-Night Stand

  Mr. Temptation

  Naughty or Nice

  Getting Dirty

  Losing Control

  Unwrapping the Best Man

  Discover more at Harlequin.com

  OUR LITTLE SECRET

  RACHAEL STEWART

  For you, Mum.

  I think Raf would’ve been right up your street.

  Shine bright, crazy lady!

  xxx

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Last Affair by A.C. Arthur

  CHAPTER ONE

  Castello d’Amore, Tuscany

  ‘YES, TYLER. YES!’

  I trap a groan as Dani’s lustful cry breaks through the stone walls. Again.

  I mean, it’s her wedding week. The rustic and seriously lavish Tuscan castle in which I lie is her chosen venue, her dream escape, and I’m lucky enough to have come along for the ride, all expenses paid. And, as I’m maid of honour, my room is just as fabulous as the leading lady’s, my bed is just as huge and as luxurious and my veranda, with the views over the glorious Tuscan hillside, is heaven.

  So the least I can do on day minus one of seven is cope with the all-night romping next door. Only...

  I roll over and look to the open balcony doors, the light drapes that blow in the breeze and the soothing view beyond. All cast in moonlight, it’s just as beautiful as it was this morning when we arrived, high on in-flight bubbles and Dani’s excitement.

  No, I shouldn’t be blue. I should be happy, buoyed up on her excitement and the seven days of fun ahead.

  But then I zone in on the untouched pillow beside me and the deep ache inside resonates. I finger its softness, press my palm into it where Bobby’s head would have been and feel torn between longing and loss.

  I long to have the good back—the sex, the passion, the companionship. Hell, I want to be the person I was before our marriage became stale, before I started sleepwalking my way through life on some kind of autopilot.

  ‘Yes, Tyler! Yes, just there, just... Oh, yes!’

  I want that.

  Not even Bobby and I quite reached those heights.

  It’s been a year since our divorce, two since our separation, and nothing, not even a sexy encounter in a club, has resulted in anything more.

  Truth is, I don’t want a drunken fumble with nobody special, an awkward date that leads to an even more awkward goodbye, and I sure as hell don’t want to deliver a fake orgasm in order to protect a guy’s ego. I left all that nonsense behind in my teens. But I really don’t want to be here either: twenty-eight, divorced and very much single.

  Not to mention horny.

  Such a great combo when you’re situated next door to at-it-like-rabbits.

  ‘Fuck, Dani, you’re the best, just like...argh!’

  It’s as if they’re doing it on cue now... I fist my hand in the vacant pillow and drag it over my head, wrap it around my ears and scream into it.

  There. Can’t hear them now.

  Only, my mind is replaying Tyler’s gruff exclamation, Dani’s reciprocal moan, and my skin is prickling up, my nipples tightening against the delicate fabric of my silk cami. Their unashamed lovemaking, a tease to my neglected body. And I know there’s no faking it for Dani; she’s told me far too often and in far too much detail.

  They’re great in and out of the bedroom and have known each other since she was in nappies. Tyler would have been... I do the maths, my trail of thought proving a good distraction from the squeaking bed springs next door...seventeen. He would have been seventeen-ish. And, yeah, put like that, it’s a bit ick. But he’s best friends with her seriously older brother and it took a full-on seduction by Dani to get him to succumb.

  Now I smile, my head shaking as I ease the pillow off my face and remember the lengths Dani went to. Gotta give my bestie credit; she knows how to get what she wants. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

  They would have married two years ago if not for her big brother’s misgivings. ‘Misgivings’ being an understatement. Tyler sported a black eye for weeks following that revelation.

  If not for the black eye, I’d have thought the big brother was a myth. A legend. More fictional than real. No photos, no appearances, nothing. He’s not attended any of the parties or family gatherings over the years, not even their engagement. The engagement of his only sibling and his best friend! I mean, what kind of weirdo doesn’t turn up to such an event? Especially when he’s been the man of the family since they lost their father when Dani was a child.

  He cited work as the excuse, but really, is it too much to expect that the guy sack off such commitments for his little sister...?

  At least he’s had the good sense to commit to the wedding. Verbally, at least. Dani still has me on standby to give her away. Unorthodox, yes, but after her family’s no-show today I’m plugging as many holes as I can.

  We were supposed to have had dinner together. Me, the bride, the groom, the mother of the bride and her brother. Both mother and brother were missing. So hell, yeah, maid-of-honour-cum-father-of-the-bride? I can totally rock that. I can even do the mother malarkey if need be. And if Tyler wants to distract Dani from her elusive family by delivering a night of...

  ‘Oh, baby, yeah, just like that, suck it, yeah...’

  My sex-starved body pulses, tuned in, turned on, and I toss the pillow aside. I can’t stay for this. It’s weird. Too weird. ‘Time to get some air.’

  I thrust myself out of bed and pull on my robe. It’s sheer but it beats walking through the castle at night in my silk cami and shorts. The entire ensemble is brand-new and an indulgence too far, but one I couldn’t resist when I saw this place in the online brochure and fell in love. The stifled romantic in me clawing its way out and taking over for a rampant few hours of online shopping fuelled by wine.

  And now is the best time to enjoy the castle and its grounds. Tomorrow the place will be teeming with the other guests. Right now, it’s just me, Tyler and Dani, plus the odd very obliging member of staff. I can stroll through the grounds in the subdued evening heat and really take it in: the sounds of nature, the glistening pool, the row upon row of vines and the tall Tuscan Cypress trees, so slender and majestic as they map out the pathways and the curving driveway.

  Yes, perfect and soothing to my over-active body that is too willing to respond to the activity next door!

  From its ice bucket, I lift the half-drunk bottle of bubbly Dani
gifted me as she bade me goodnight and hook my sandals in my fingers so as not to make a sound on the polished marble floor.

  I pull open the door and make my way past their room to the winding staircase that leads down to the triple-height entrance hall. It’s grand in both size and antiquity, and the portraits on the stone walls flaunt stories of people and years gone by.

  Suddenly I feel as if I’m trespassing. My breath feels too loud in the vast space and my heart pounds in my ears as I clutch the bottle and sandals to my chest. It probably has more to do with the fact that I’m wandering around in the dead of night, wearing nothing more than fancy lingerie, than it does with the foreign surroundings. And I know I’m being silly. It is, after all, exclusively ours for the week and tonight I’m free to do what I want.

  Tomorrow I can throw my focus onto making these seven days all about my best friend and her happiness. The perfect week. The perfect wedding. The perfect maid of honour.

  Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

  And in a venue such as this...

  The heavy wooden door creaks as I open it and the breeze carries with it the scent of the rambling rose that decorates the stone archway, adding to the romantic ambience and making me smile.

  Yes, perfect. Nothing can ruin this week.

  Nothing at all.

  * * *

  ‘Basta! Enough, Marianna! You get in my car, alone, or so help me—’

  ‘So help you what, Rafael? I’m your mother, not some employee that you can order about.’ She gives a flustered laugh, her face pinking up as she tries to smile at her latest toy boy and, Diavolo, I’m over age differences—Tyler and Dani have put that one to bed. But this one... I look to the man-child she has hooked on her arm and he has the common sense to back up a step.

  ‘Hey, no sweat,’ he says, more to me than to her. His smile is one-sided and so cocky it makes my blood boil. ‘You get yourself off and we can hook up when the wedding is over.’

  ‘No!’ my mother protests, her attempt to down-play my rule forgotten now. ‘This is my daughter’s wedding and I get to bring whomever I want.’

  She stares at me, just enough of a crease in her otherwise Botoxed brow to tell me she’s displeased. Seriously displeased.

  That makes two of us.

  I step forward, and in spite of her statuesque height I still dwarf her. ‘Do you honestly think that turning up with a boy younger than your daughter is acceptable?’

  Her laugh is wry now, pitched and grating. ‘Like you would refuse a twenty-year-old on your arm.’

  I glare back at her and she wavers on the spot, her eyes flitting between her toy boy and me, before she straightens her spine and flicks her false golden waves over her shoulder.

  ‘I have a right to have a partner with me, Rafael.’

  I don’t even blink. ‘You have a right to a partner who is presentable to a room full of your daughter’s nearest and dearest...’ Which will include Nonna, her mother, and Aunt Netta, her sister... I’m quick to shake off the image of that particular showdown before it takes hold. ‘Not some...ragazzo.’

  I flick him a look. It’s not even his fault. My mother still has her looks and, thanks to the knife and her injection regime, looks half her age. But this is Dani’s wedding and I won’t let her ruin it. Not via embarrassment, drunken debauchery or any other such nonsense my mother is prone to.

  She’s ruined enough of my sister’s life already.

  ‘I am not going without—’

  ‘It’s my car, my rules and you will, if you want to see Dani married.’

  The familiar shudder returns. Married. But it’s what Dani wants, and I trust Tyler to look after her, to do right by her. But married...the holy state of matrimony... No. Just no.

  I stop my teeth from grinding and stare Marianna down. Watch as she blusters anew, assessing me for weakness and finding none. I’m cold, I’m ruthless and people do as I say. My mother included.

  I see the second it registers, the high colour deepening beneath the thick layer of make-up as her shoulders sag and she blows out a breath.

  Acceptance. Finally. Grazie a Dio.

  My own shoulders ease, the throbbing ache in my skull ramping up now the tension has eased.

  Painkillers, a nightcap and sleep. That’s what I need.

  I just need to keep it all ticking along nicely for seven days. No drama, no mishaps, no mess.

  I should have been at the castle hours ago. I should have been there to greet Dani and Tyler. Instead, I’m here, collecting my mother from the arms of her latest lover before she can bring this humiliation to my sister’s wedding.

  Not a great start.

  I scowl at her back as she fawns over him now and says goodbye.

  What I wouldn’t give to have a normal mother. Not some ex-model with a non-existent heart and delusions of grandeur that well surpass her own income. Not to mention her string of lovers...

  Seven days. She just needs to go without for seven days.

  I certainly am. No plus-one. No distraction.

  This week is all about Dani.

  Keep one woman under control and the other happy.

  Simple.

  Or so it should be...but the emerging headache and our family history tell me it will be anything but.

  * * *

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been outside, but I have no wish to go back in. Not even the distant rumble of a car on the private driveway some time ago could pull me away from this little oasis, with the buzzing cicadas and crickets in the air, and the pool lapping over its infinity edge just beyond my feet.

  I could lie here all night on the linen-draped cabana, a mattress as big and as soft as the one inside beneath me, the starry sky peeking through the latticed, vine-covered roof above. There’s just something so peaceful about the music of nature and the gentle ripple of the water, all softly lit and glowing aquamarine. The temptation to dive right in and cause ripples in the calm water, swim until my muscles ache, until I’m fatigued enough for sleep, calls to me.

  I trail a lazy hand over my front. I really should have worn my bathers. I doubt the chlorine would be kind to my silk lingerie...but there’s always skinny-dipping. It’s what Dani would do for sure. Me...?

  It’s what I would have done. Pre-Bobby. Pre-marriage. Pre-grief.

  I roll onto my front and force away the melancholy. I want to keep hold of this magical moment. This feeling of freedom, of just living and enjoying the world. I look at the water still calling to me and my lips curve up. I could so do this...

  You haven’t got the nerve.

  My smile dies. It’s Bobby’s voice in my head now.

  When did you get so boring?

  Hell, I don’t know, Bobby, maybe when my mother died and I realised life wasn’t made of roses. Maybe when you told me to wear the high-cut dress and the opaque tights, to downplay the make-up and the attempts at seduction, effectively killing off everything that was sexual about me. Maybe then!

  I suck in a breath full of the Tuscan air: wildflowers, herbs and the distant sea.

  Am I boring, though? Would the old me really have stripped off and dived right in? The one that existed before Mum died, before I got the promotion that set me above Bobby, before our hasty marriage took a turn for the worse...?

  Yes! Bloody hell, Faye, yes! You were that woman. You were fun, you were adventurous!

  And, Christ, it’s Dani in my head now. Telling me to forget Bobby, to be me again...and I’m going to start right now.

  I push up off the bed and pad to the water’s edge, letting my robe hang loose. The breeze coaxes it off my skin to the floor. I toe the water. It’s balmy. Inviting.

  I glance up towards the castle and see only darkness, save for the subtle lights that weave through the many paths that feed down the hillside. Spikes of blackness reaching up into the moonlit
sky as the cypress trees separate the pool area from the rest of the grounds and help to create a secluded little oasis. A sheltered, private oasis.

  And, right now, it’s all mine.

  * * *

  The castle is quiet now that Marianna has enjoyed a nightcap—the best she could find in the bar, having turned her nose up at my grappa—and hastened to her room.

  I’m finally alone with my thoughts and the place I call home surrounding me: Tuscany. I don’t get to come here as much as I should, and I miss it. I miss the sense of belonging that comes when I’m standing amongst the vines, breathing in the Tuscan earth that I spent my childhood exploring. It gave me what I needed—a place to run to, a safe place to avoid the chaos at home.

  I stroke my hand over the rough stone wall that surrounds the veranda on which I stand. It grazes my fingers—rough, solid, safe. I look out at the castle’s grounds and the rolling hillside beyond; yes, this is home. And this castle is now mine. A purchase I wouldn’t have made so soon if not for Dani’s wedding and her dream to marry in a venue such as this.

  Am I mad to buy it and then live in it for seven days with a family as messed up as ours? Who even does that?

  I sip at my grappa. Seems the answer is me, thanks to Dani’s disillusioned view. She would have been better off eloping than insisting on even this small, intimate affair. But then Dani never did suffer the same reality as me. She didn’t have to grow up with our parents at each other’s throats. Their failed attempts at living together in harmony followed by bouts apart. But they never could stay away. They loved each other regardless and, if that’s what love does to you, then frankly they could keep it. It’s a fate worse than death.

  Not in my little sister’s eyes, though. To her marriage is all roses and happiness, love and laughter, and maybe I envy her just a little for having that outlook.

  I throw back the remainder of my drink and push away from the wall. A restless energy floods my veins that even a day of travel can’t rid me of, and I know it stems from unease about the whole affair and keeping a lid on my family.