Our Little Secret Read online

I sense her frown following me and I know she wants to probe further. Even I can feel the words rising up within me.

  ‘Dani never mentioned that you lived here.’

  ‘Can I get you something to eat, drink? I ordered plenty in case you hadn’t eaten.’

  ‘I’m okay, thank you.’

  I pour the coffee and hear the click-clack of her sandals as she approaches, closer and closer. I keep my attention fixed on the coffee.

  ‘I wonder why she never said anything. It feels like a big—’

  ‘We left when I was seventeen.’

  I flick her a look and see her eyes widen at my abrupt interruption. I wince into my coffee as I take it up, breathing in the familiar aroma and forcing my shoulders to ease and my voice to soften before I look back to her.

  ‘Dani was just a baby; it was never home for her.’

  ‘But the UK was?’

  ‘In the beginning, then the States.’ I sip my coffee and tell myself it’s okay to reveal this much, though I can feel my heart race and my discomfort rise. ‘We flitted between the two until she finally settled in the UK with our mother and completed her education.’

  ‘But you, where do you live? From what Dani tells me you spend your time hopping from country to country. Or are you saying this is it now, you live here? A secret hideout from your family once we all leave?’

  Her smile blooms on the last question. She’s teasing me, trying to lighten the heaviness in the air, in me.

  ‘I hope so,’ I answer truthfully. ‘It will be nice to have more of a base. Much of my work can be done via technology these days; location isn’t so important.’

  So long as Marianna steers clear. I travelled the globe distancing myself from my mother. I don’t plan to welcome her here once this is all said and done. She and her series of lovers and her ridiculous theatrics can stay well away.

  ‘I think it makes for a very beautiful home, all the more so with the memories of this week. Dani will love visiting you here...when you finally tell her.’

  ‘I will...after the wedding, when it’s too late for her to have a meltdown.’

  ‘She’ll only berate you out of love.’

  Warmth floods my chest from nowhere and I smile. ‘Si, that much is true.’

  The atmosphere changes, eases and she opens her mouth to say something and closes it again. I sense more probing. I don’t know what it is about her, or why I feel like the past is rising to the surface, but it has me needing to busy myself with something. Anything.

  ‘You sure I can’t offer you a coffee while we talk? A pastry, even?’ I swap my coffee for a cornetti and offer it to her. ‘These really are to die for, especially the cream-filled variety.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. And we really should talk about your mother.’

  ‘It’s still early.’ I hate the way my hackles rise with the mere mention of her. ‘Even my mother can’t have caused that much mischief by now that we need to get straight on it; she hasn’t been here a day yet.’

  She gives a weak grimace.

  Oh, Dio, here we go...

  I drop the pastry back on its plate. ‘I take that back. What’s happened?’

  I fold my arms and perch on the table edge, my eyes glued to Faye’s anxious frown and the way she chews the corner of her lip. Does she even know she’s doing it? Running that full, swollen bottom lip underneath her teeth and making it blush scarlet...

  ‘Dani was in a bit of a tizz this morning.’

  ‘A what?’ I’m trying to focus on her words but all I can see is her luscious lips. It’s almost an offence that she should gnaw on them as she does. I would more than willingly gnaw on them for her.

  ‘A tizz, you know...?’ She flaps her hands about, pulling my attention away from her lip’s reddened state and making me focus on her dramatic physical display as if it explains it all. I shouldn’t be finding this entertaining, I really shouldn’t, not when it all leads back to Marianna. But my lips still twitch, and I get the feeling I could listen to Faye all day. Mother at the heart of it or not. ‘You know, a flap. A bit of a state. Are you laughing at me again?’

  ‘No.’ I straighten up some more and gesture with one hand. ‘Continue.’

  Her eyes narrow; she doesn’t believe me. Her soft humph confirms it.

  ‘I’m listening,’ I add for good measure.

  ‘Like I was saying...’ Her eyes are still narrowed. I’m forgiven enough for her to speak but not so much that she’s at ease. ‘Apparently your mother texted her this morning to complain about her room, something to do with it being tucked too far away, and that her bed...her bed was...was...’

  Her cheeks pink up, contrasting with the colour of her dress in the most intriguing way, and, Diavolo, I’ll never criticise mustard-yellow again. Not when it works such magic with her complexion.

  And focus, Rafael.

  ‘Her bed?’ I prompt.

  She chews the corner of her lip again, her eyes working hard to steer clear of me now. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s the size of her bed as such, more the fact that she seems quite put out at having to sleep there alone...you know...’ She gives me a quick look. ‘No plus one?’

  ‘Her and me both.’ I smile slightly. ‘I’m sure she can survive.’

  ‘Well, yes... I don’t feel the need to parade a man around with me this week either, but she’s the mother of the bride. Maybe she feels like she ought to have someone.’

  ‘She’ll have her mother and her sister, our cousins, the family.’

  ‘Yes, the family.’ She pulls the slightest face. ‘Only, I thought...’

  ‘You thought?’

  She lifts her chin a little. ‘I get the impression that she doesn’t get along with them...not all that well, anyway.’

  ‘And that is her own fault,’ I say. She’ll hear no sympathy from me. ‘If she made an effort once in a while, actually cared about someone other than herself, then maybe things would be different.’

  Faye’s eyebrows almost touch the ceiling. I know how I sound: hard, unyielding.

  And, again, I’ve revealed far too much.

  ‘What I mean is...’ I try again. ‘She will be surrounded by family, and isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be about?’

  ‘Family and loved ones aren’t necessarily the same thing.’ Her eyes are hooked on mine, probing deep, exposing. ‘I just think that maybe it would help her relax if she was able to have a friend, perhaps. Dani just wants her guests to be happy. She’s no bridezilla, but she does have an ideal in her head, which surely includes her mother being happy. And I know she wouldn’t mind if your mother were to have someone; in fact, she expected her to bring—’

  ‘I rejected him.’

  Her brows are up at the ceiling again. ‘You rejected him?’

  ‘He’s younger than Dani, Faye, so yes, I refused to let him join us.’

  ‘He...what?’ Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets but then she shakes her head and swiftly recovers. ‘Right, well, perhaps if she was to invite someone less...contentious...surely that—?’

  ‘No,’ I snap, my anger quick to fire in the face of Marianna. ‘My mother doesn’t get to bring someone. She doesn’t get to have everyone running around making her happy. This week isn’t about her and her petty antics. This is Dani’s week and, as much as I think the whole wedding a foolish stunt, I—’

  ‘Foolish?’ she interjects, her frown severe in the face of my sudden anger. ‘You mean to say you still don’t approve?’

  Her crystal-blue eyes narrow further and I can see her concern, see her love for my sister and her desperate desire for this week to go well, all in that one look. I can also see her concern that I’m not the wedding’s greatest fan. I put that look there.

  I press away from the table and close the distance between us. I don’t think about my intention until my finge
rs are beneath her chin, tilting her face up.

  Her eyes widen onto mine, the move surprising her just as much as it does me.

  ‘Scusi, bella.’ It comes out so much softer than I intended, but this close I can’t draw a full breath. Everything seems to catch and ignite—the air around us, between us, inside me. ‘My family brings out the worst in me.’

  Her lashes flutter as she inhales softly. ‘But it also brings out the best.’

  Her reassurance is a whisper and I know she’s speaking of my grand gesture, my purchase of the venue itself. I fight the urge to run my thumb over her lower lip, to feel her appreciation in the warmth of a kiss, to caress her cheek, to comb my fingers back through her hair that flows so freely around her. And then I realise that she’s freed it from the ponytail it was in outside. Is it a sign? Is it a physical move for what she wants deep down? To let go and give this desire between us free rein...?

  ‘I think Dani’s hoping this week will go some way to healing your fractured family, Rafael.’

  Rafael. I love my name on her English tongue. It’s enough to ease the burden of her words.

  ‘And if I can help to smooth the way a little, please use me, please tell me what I can do.’

  I want her to do so much, but none of it revolves around making the wedding a success, healing my family or the greater good. None at all.

  ‘Our priorities are the same, Faye.’ I feel the connection pulse in the air between us, holding us captive, but I need the first move to be hers. She has to drive this. We’re in my room, my domain, because I asked her to come here. The rest has to be driven by her.

  ‘Are they?’ She doesn’t look as though she believes me, and it goads me, regardless of how close to the truth she is.

  ‘Si.’ I nod. She has to understand that I love my sister, regardless of my mother and the anger that exists. Regardless of how much I loathe marriage. I want Dani and Tyler to be happy. ‘We both want this week to be about Dani and Tyler; we want it to be perfect for them. How I feel towards my mother and weddings in general doesn’t come into it. I want them to be happy.’

  She gives a relieved sigh—or is it more wistful, dream-like? ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I want too.’

  ‘No blunders, no disruption, no family fallouts.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You clearly know my family well enough to realise it won’t be easy, that they’ll need constant watching over...taming, even.’

  She gives a sympathetic smile, her shrug small. ‘Families are never easy; even the strongest ones have their moments.’

  ‘Be that as it may, it will take effort on our part. We can’t afford to be...distracted.’

  She frowns. ‘Distracted?’

  ‘Si, by this...’ I gesture between us, my eyes resting a beat too long on the nervous pulse ticking in her throat that I want so much to kiss, to tease with my tongue, to nip with my teeth. ‘It is distracting, no?’

  ‘I’m not sure—’ She breaks off, all flustered, and I laugh softly.

  She raises her hand to her throat and brushes her fingers over that pulse point as she avoids my eye.

  ‘You want me.’ I wait for her eyes to meet mine. One beat, two... ‘As I want you.’

  Her lips softly part, the colour returning to her cheeks. I stay silent, daring her to deny it, and she rewards me with a look that roams all over my clothed state before she nods. The action is so contained and I wonder at her restraint. The power of it. I compare it to the Faye I met last night, the one who’s now caged inside her, and I want to release it. I want the seductress back.

  ‘You remember what you said to me beside the pool? That you were a damsel in distress, a lady in need?’

  Another nod.

  ‘That you’ve not had fun in far too long?’

  She nods again as her lashes flutter. Her cheeks heat further, but not with shame. No, I see the need flaring in her eyes, the thirst I want so desperately to quench.

  ‘That you have a week ahead of being the perfect maid of honour?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And so one night of fun would be almost like a reward upfront?’

  She laughs now, the sound low and breathy. ‘Yes, but that was before I knew who you were.’

  ‘Is who I am a problem?’

  She steps back, the shake of her head weak. ‘You know it is. It complicates things.’

  ‘Not if we keep it discreet.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  ‘It is that simple.’

  She wets her lips, the sheen that now covers them luring me closer.

  ‘If you’re as affected by this as I am, we can’t go on...what is the word you English favour...pussyfooting?’

  ‘Pussyfooting?’ I love how her lips quirk at the corners, her eyes sparkle.

  ‘Si.’ I carry on walking towards her as she continues back, the wall only a few steps away. She’s running out of space, but I don’t need much more. ‘I say we satisfy this need here and now.’

  ‘Now? But your mother—’

  ‘Can wait a few more minutes.’

  Her brows lift and her eyes sparkle more. ‘Minutes?’

  ‘I’ll sort her room issues before she has to sleep another night in her current one. As for her...loneliness, if she wants to choose someone respectable to join her, I have no issue with it.’

  ‘And that’s what you’ll tell her?’ She’s pressed up against the wall now, her palms flat against it, her chest rising and falling with each elevated breath.

  ‘I will.’ I plant a hand onto the wall above her head and look down into eyes that are so blue, so hot, so fiery. ‘Happy?’

  She gives a soft scoff. ‘It’s not me you need to ask.’

  ‘Marianna will be happy with whatever I tell her.’

  ‘Do you always call her by her name?’ Her sudden frown takes me aback. ‘Never Mum or Mamma?’

  ‘Mum? Mamma?’ I almost choke at the suggestion, thrown by the very idea, let alone the oddity, of her question. And then I realise she’s still probing, still trying to understand the Perez family better, to understand me better. ‘It bothers you?’

  Her stare is bold as she works hard to read me and I fight the urge to look away. I refuse to be scared of what she might see: the truth.

  ‘I just can’t imagine calling my mother by her first name.’

  ‘Then you clearly have a very different relationship.’

  ‘Had.’ It blurts out of her and her cheeks lose some of their colour.

  Cazzo. ‘Had?’

  ‘She died a couple of years back.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’ Her crystal blues swim with pain but she doesn’t look away; she doesn’t hide it from me. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any upset.’

  She shakes her head, her breath vibrating through her body. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Still...’ I hold her eye. The silence beats with growing awareness, our bodies edging closer. I cup her cheek and her lips part ever so softly. ‘You were both lucky to have what you so clearly did, cara mia.’

  Her lashes flutter. ‘What does that mean?’

  I stroke her cheek with my thumb. ‘What?’

  ‘Cara mia. You called me cara mia. Doesn’t it mean...?’

  My thumb stills as her voice trails off. She’s trying to deduce the meaning while I reel with it.

  I did call her cara mia. And I meant it. It has many connotations and can mean many different things, but all of them are deeper than what we have here.

  And who are you trying to convince?

  Dio. I barely know the woman. And yet, I know how much Dani loves her and how much she loves Dani in return. I could blame it on that. A mutual love for my sister.

  But that has nothing to do with the heat pounding my veins or the pain I felt in the face of
hers.

  ‘It can mean many things—“my dear”, “my beloved”. It’s a term of affection.’

  ‘I thought so.’ Her smile is small. ‘A little early for that, though, don’t you think?’

  ‘I can’t pretend to know what you went through losing your mother, but I do know just by looking at you how much it hurt, and I am sorry for that pain.’

  She shakes her head, her eyes wide, as if she’s heard something monumental, unbelievable even, so the last thing I expect is to have her hands suddenly clawing through my hair. Then her lips are on mine and they are just as hungry, just as forceful. I lose it all in a groan and press my body up against hers, my fingers deep in her hair as I do what I’ve hungered for all night and all morning.

  Only, this is so much better than fantasy.

  ‘Rafael.’ She tears her mouth away and her eyes blaze up into mine. ‘Promise me, this will go no further.’

  ‘I won’t speak a word of it.’

  She searches my gaze. ‘Dani, Tyler...they can’t know.’

  ‘Lo prometto. I promise.’

  ‘Perfecto,’ she rhymes, pulling my mouth back to hers, her clear blue eyes sparking into mine and drawing me in mind, body and soul...

  I only hope I can move on as easily as my promise suggests, because right now I feel as if I’m drowning in her with no hope of rescue.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE TASTES DELICIOUS. Seriously delicious.

  He’s not taken a bite out of the glazed goodness on the arrangement beside us and I’d warrant he tastes better. And no matter how deeply we kiss, how much my tongue twists with his, I can’t get enough. I can’t.

  But an annoying little voice full of apprehension reminds me that there’s been no one since Bobby, and no one other than Bobby, for too many years to count.

  What if I’ve forgotten how this works? What if I’m being too desperate, too eager? Am I really ready for him to see me naked?

  What? He saw you naked last night and it didn’t bother you then.

  But then I had the confidence of alcohol and he was just a sexy stranger.

  I break away. Words flutter past my lips, rambling, disorientated, as he traces kisses along my jaw, his fingers buried in my hair. ‘It’s been a long time, Rafael.’ Breathe. ‘I’m not... I don’t know...’