Текст книги "The Affair"
Автор книги: Beth Kery
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 34 страниц)
“Emma?” he prompted after a moment.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His fingers moved on her scalp. “If I’m only going to have you for a limited period of time, I want you completely, and on my terms. Will you see Dr. Parodas tomorrow?”
She should say no. She was crazy to be considering it. It was a level of intimacy far beyond their agreed-upon relationship. But the mental image she had of him staring up at the ceiling, believing himself to be protected by the darkness, plagued her.
He was so alone, even here, while she was pressed so tightly to him, skin to skin. She wasn’t his savior. She wasn’t much of anything but a very average young woman. And yet, there was that connection she felt to him, a connection she couldn’t entirely explain away by naïve imagination.
“Yes,” she whispered, forcing the word out of her constricted throat. “I’ll do it.”
He fell asleep before she did. Emma lay there, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, entranced by the sensation, lulled by his clean, spicy scent mixing with the subtle perfume of sex, the fragrance heady and delicious. Being in Vanni’s arms cast a spell around her. The last thought she had before drifting off to sleep was that perhaps her entrancement was why she’d agreed to sacrifice so much of herself, when he was offering so little in return.
She awoke in a warm cocoon to the sensation of her sex being cupped in a possessive gesture while a large hand stroked the curve of her hip lazily. Emma realized she lay on her side, facing the windows while Vanni lay behind her, his long, hard body curling against her backside. His cock pressed against her ass, the only thing separating her from his stiff, pulsing erection a thin layer of cotton. Morning light filtered around the luxurious drapes. His fingers moved slightly on her sex and she purred sleepily.
“I haven’t slept that well since I was a kid,” he said near her ear, the deep, raspy sound making the skin of her neck roughen. “But even so, all night I dreamed about this.” His fingers moved again subtly on her pussy. “Are you tender?”
She bit her lip. “I’m fine,” she whispered. In fact, her sex ached with a dull throb. She wasn’t used to having as much sex as she’d had yesterday, nor was she accustomed to Vanni’s forceful, all-consuming manner of lovemaking. His hand stilled between her thighs. She felt his warm breath on her neck when he exhaled heavily.
“You’re lying, Emma,” he said, sweeping the hand that had been cupping her sex up her belly. Emma swallowed thickly when she felt the warm dampness on his fingers. His cock flicked against her backside. She tried to turn to put her arms around him, to assure him that she was fine, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Trust me,” he said near her ear, his voice a dark, seductive threat, “you don’t want to test me. I felt you flinch just now. I’m going to go jump in the shower.”
“No, Vanni,” she protested when he moved away from her. She turned over and reached for him, but he was already standing by the bed. He looked down at her, his face rigid, his blue-green eyes glittering.
“You’ll have to have an exam in less than an hour with Dr. Parodas. Do you really think it’s advisable?” he asked, his handsome mouth quirking, one eyebrow shooting up and giving him a devilish demeanor.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said slowly, but her gaze sunk down his ridged, sun-bronzed abdomen to the vision of his erection tenting his pajama bottoms. “There’s something I should probably confess to, since you were being so honest last night,” she mused, stretching luxuriously so that the sheet slid below her nipples. His gaze darted downward hungrily.
“What?” he asked warily.
“I knew it was apricots.”
When he didn’t respond immediately, her gaze slid up to his face. He wore a storm cloud expression.
“Dammit, Emma, you’re going to pay for that,” he grated out, pointing a condemning finger. He came down on the bed next to her, his mouth set in a grim line, and her heart began to race. She tried to reach for his cock, but he caught her wrists and pressed them to the pillows. She couldn’t help laughing softly, even though he looked so fierce. “Don’t you dare look so smug,” he breathed out, and her laughter faded even though her smile lingered. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you, either.”
He dipped his head, immediately spearing her lips with his agile tongue, sinking into her, taking his fill. Her flesh turned to warm, sweet syrup beneath Vanni’s angry, wild kiss, and she remained completely unrepentant.
Week
FIVE
Chapter 22
The weather was par for the course in southern France when his pilot, Marco, landed. Vanni stared out the window onto a sun-drenched, luminous Mediterranean afternoon. They’d left Chicago in the middle of the night. He’d continued working on the flight, but also slept for almost four hours, which pleased him. Insomnia had become his constant demon as of late. Plus, he’d gotten an unheard-of seven hours of rest the night before, deep, peaceful sleep . . .
. . . with Emma in his arms.
How she could infuse him with energy, make him horny as a teenager, and yet promote a solid night’s sleep at the same time was yet another mystery when it came to Emma.
As they taxied in the private plane at the Nice Côte d’Azur Airport, he fleetly checked the dozens of messages that he’d acquired on the transatlantic flight. When he noticed that Neil Parodas had called recently, he immediately hit redial.
“Neil, I hope I’m not calling too early,” Vanni said when the physician answered on the second ring.
“No, I’m up and about. I was half expecting a call, after seeing you yesterday. We only had a little time to talk in private. That was certainly an unusual visit for you.”
Vanni zipped up his briefcase. Through the window, he saw that Marco was approaching their usual spot for deplaning.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Vanni said, referring to the fact that he’d never brought a woman to his personal physician with a request for blood tests and exams with sexual safety in mind. Of course he and Meredith had gone to him for their premarital blood tests, but this was different. He’d known Neil for almost ten years now. As his private physician, Neil was privy to quite a few personal and intimate details about Vanni. He was one of a handful of people that had earned a place of trust and respect in Vanni’s life.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Neil was saying in his characteristic deep, warm voice that invited trust and confidence. “Ms. Shore is a beautiful young woman. Smart, too. What is it that you wanted to speak with me about?”
“Did Emma happen to mention during her exam yesterday anything about what happened to her when she was a child?” Vanni asked. The plane came to a halt, but he remained unmoving in his seat, staring intently out his window onto the luminous summer day.
“I’m not sure that I know what you mean,” Neil said cautiously. Vanni sensed his unease in talking about another patient.
“Emma and I both signed release forms so that you could discuss our medical conditions to each other.”
“Technically speaking, Van, those forms clear me to talk about the results from the exams and blood draws I did,” Neil said dryly.
“Well this relates to the test results and exam,” Vanni assured. “When Emma was young, she was diagnosed with alpha thalassemia. When she was nine, she had a heart attack because her organs weren’t getting enough oxygen.”
“Emma didn’t mention anything about that,” Neil said, sounding concerned. “Her vitals during the exam were excellent. She’s the picture of health. Are you sure about this?”
“That’s why I’m bringing it all up. Emma is convinced she’s cured of the disorder.”
“That’s impossible,” Neil said unequivocally. “There must be a misunderstanding. Thalassemia is a genetic condition. It’s not a curable disease.”
“I understand that. I looked it up myself. That’s why I’m asking you to check her blood work for indications of the condition, in addition to the other tests we talked about. Like I said, Emma is convinced she doesn’t have the disorder anymore.”
“All right,” Neil said slowly. “I’m confused, though. I spoke to her quite a bit during her exam. Emma seems bright, and she’s very knowledgeable as a nurse. She should know thalassemia is a genetic disorder. It’s not something that can be cured by a pill or something. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned any of this to me?”
“I think she’s learned not to speak of it,” Vanni said, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder so that he could straighten his tie. “People don’t believe her.”
“That’s not surprising,” Neil said. Vanni paused in jerking his tie when he heard the concern in Neil’s voice.
“Neil? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll order the test, Vanni, if you think it’s important. It’s just . . .”
“What?” Vanni demanded, his skin prickling with wariness.
“I don’t know that it’s a good sign one way or another, for you to be so anxious about this girl’s health.”
A prolonged silence fell. Vanni dropped his hand and stared blankly out the window.
“You think I’m being paranoid about Emma? Because she’s the first woman I’ve shown any real interest in since Meredith?” Vanni asked, knowing precisely what Neil was hinting at.
“The thought did cross my mind, yes. It’s not every day you bring a lovely young woman like that to my office.”
Vanni closed his eyes and waited for the upsurge of emotion that usually occurred when the topic of his dead wife arose—when the topic of death in general came up. Neil was one of the few people on the planet who knew how death seemed to have singled out Vanni to plague him, always taking and taking those he loved, always leaving him to suffer the barren landscape of life alone.
But no stabbing pain came this time as he thought of the short time he’d shared with Meredith. He inhaled a full breath of air. The only thing he experienced was a genuine wish to find out if Emma was well.
“This situation has nothing to do with Meredith or the reason I brought Meredith to you. This has to do with Emma, and Emma alone. She’ll be the first to admit she’s an eternal optimist. She believes wholeheartedly that she had this disease and was cured of it miraculously. I just want to check on the facts, that’s all. I want to make sure she’s well.”
“And if she’s not?” Neil asked. Vanni heard the worry in his tone.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’d rather she know than not know, wouldn’t you?”
“Are you sure it’s not your knowledge of whether or not she has a life-threatening condition that you’re concerned about, Vanni?” Neil asked.
“I just want to know. Period,” Vanni replied flatly.
He heard the physician exhale. “Then you will. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the results.”
After he’d hung up with Neil, he stood from his seat and looked up another number on his phone.
“New Horizon Hospice, how may I help you?” a friendly female asked.
“I’d like to speak with the nurse supervisor, Mrs. Ring?” Vanni said, lifting his briefcase. A moment later, Mrs. Ring came on the line and greeted him warmly.
“I’m calling about one of your nurses, Emma Shore,” he said, nodding at Marco as he passed him on the way out of the plane. “I’ve been very impressed by her work ethic and was wondering if I might be able to borrow her from you for a few weeks in the near future?”
That Saturday, Emma left the premises of the electronic repair shop situated in the charming downtown of Cedar Bluff. Ever since Vanni had given her that last toe-curling kiss in his car on Monday morning before he’d dropped her off and left for France, she’d been obsessed with checking things off her to-do list. She’d told herself it was just time to get her life in order, but privately, she knew her recent obsession with organization was a coping skill. She was filling the days of Vanni’s absence, marking time until she could see him again next week. He’d said he’d call her Monday evening when he arrived in Chicago. That promise was like a huge red exclamation mark on her mental calendar.
Ever since he’d left her, she’d managed to drop off all her dry cleaning, pay all the bills, finish her grocery shopping for two weeks, drop off three large bags of old clothes she’d been planning to take to the Salvation Army, and now take her long-broken stereo in to have it fixed.
All of that, and she still missed him so much it was like a hard knot had been tied off in her chest.
To make matters worse, he clearly didn’t miss her at all. He hadn’t called once since he’d dropped her off after their extremely passionate, emotion-ridden time together. Or at least it’d been emotion-ridden for her.
He hadn’t said he would call until he returned.
Still . . . she’d hoped he would. Stupidly. Now that the week of his absence was drawing to a close, she no longer hoped.
But she still ached.
She could have called him as well, she acknowledged fairly as she walked down the street, fingering the angel at her throat. She had his number. Somehow, however, the idea of speaking to him on the phone while he was so many thousands of miles away only made her ache even more.
“Emma!” a woman called.
Emma spun around, peering down the block. She broke into a grin at the sight of a familiar face. She gave the young woman who rushed toward her an enthusiastic hug.
“Hi! I didn’t realize you were coming this weekend,” Emma greeted her friend, Jamie Forrester. She’d gone to nursing school with Jamie. Jamie had gotten married last year and moved to Green Bay with her new husband, although Jamie and she still stayed in touch.
“Scott has a meeting in the city Monday morning, so we just came down for a few nights,” Jamie explained, tucking an errant brown curl behind her ear. “Besides,” Jamie continued in a more confidential tone, “my dad had a medical scare last week. They took him to the emergency room with chest pains. They thought it was a heart attack, but it turned out it was just indigestion. Still, it scared Mom and me. I just wanted to see for myself that he’s okay.”
“That’s understandable,” Emma said, concern tightening her features. She’d met Jamie’s parents several times and liked the warm, friendly couple very much. “Please give Mort my best and tell your mother hello. Are you sure he’s all right? He works too hard.”
“Once a cop, always a cop,” Jamie said, grinning. “But why don’t you come and say hello yourself. I’m meeting my dad over at Joe’s,” she said, pointing at the coffee shop just yards away. “He’d love to see you. He was just asking about you last night. We’ll catch up over a cup of coffee.”
“I’d love that,” Emma agreed.
They found Mort Forrester sitting at a booth in the coffee shop, with a laptop and cup of coffee in front of him. Emma couldn’t help but smile at his likeable appearance—a man with the girth of a linebacker and a graying blond crew cut peering through a pair of nerdy-cool tortoiseshell Poindexter-style glasses while he punched away at his keyboard with thick, round fingers.
“You promised Mom you weren’t going to work this weekend,” Jamie scolded her father. “Look who I found out on the street.”
Mort did a double take upon seeing Emma, grinned broadly, and stood to give her a big hug.
The three of them talked for a while, Emma sitting across from Mort and Jamie, three cups of hot coffee on the table between them. Jamie and she eventually veered off on a girlfriend tangent of conversation while Mort distractedly plucked at his keyboard.
“I can’t believe you and Colin broke up,” Jamie said, sagging back in the booth after Emma had broken the news. Mort looked up from his computer, his daughter’s exclamation snagging his attention. “I thought you two would be together forever.”
“Really?” Emma asked doubtfully as she took a sip of coffee.
“You thought so, too. Once,” Jamie said with a pointed glance.
Emma shrugged, aware of Mort’s shrewd observance. Mort may be a small-town cop nowadays, but he’d served in Chicago Police Department for years and he was a sharp observer of character. “It just wasn’t meant to be. I’m fine about the whole thing.”
“Well, that’s good I guess,” Jamie said. Emma understood her friend’s disquietude. She and Emma used to talk a lot about their love lives while they were in nursing school, and she and Colin had been on a number of dates with Jamie and her husband, Scott. It was always uncomfortable when a familiar couple broke up.
“You really do seem fine with it,” Jamie added after a reflective pause. “When I first saw you out there on the sidewalk, I thought wow . . . what vitamins is she taking? You look fantastic.”
Emma blushed. She’d noticed a special glow to her reflection in the mirror all week as well. It was as if Vanni’s uncommon brand of lovemaking had released some miracle chemical in her body. She felt like a blooming flower. It both embarrassed and pleased her to know that other people could see the results of her transformation.
“Is there someone else?”
Emma blinked at Mort’s unexpected, quietly uttered question.
“No,” Emma said automatically. Vanni didn’t count as some kind of alternative to Colin, who had been a dependable, reliable “boyfriend,” the likes of which Mort and Jamie would approve. She saw Mort’s shaggy eyebrows go up at her emphatic reply. “I mean . . . yes, I did meet someone. But it’s not a serious thing,” Emma assured when she saw Jamie’s expression perk up with interest.
“I didn’t forget about your problem with your landlord, by the way,” Mort said, seeming to intuit her discomfort with the “new guy” topic he’d begun and trying to change it.
“Oh, thank you so much, but everything has gotten better,” Emma enthused, leaning forward with a smile. Mort had promised to guide her through making a formal complaint with the housing commission in regard to her irresponsible and unresponsive landlord. “One day the maintenance man came over and said he was going to take care of every single item on our list,” Emma explained. “Amanda and I were shocked. He did it, too, even though he had to buy quite a few replacement items. I have no idea what came over our owner.”
“He decided to sell, that’s what came over him,” Mort said, nodding at his laptop.
“What?” Emma asked, taken aback.
“Yeah. I was checking out the title to the property while you girls chatted in order to get his name. I thought we could draft a complaint letter for the housing commission while you were here,” Mort said to Emma. He swung around his laptop so that Emma could see the screen. “The title to your apartment complex changed hands several weeks ago. According to the county records, your new landlord is a very wealthy man. From what I know about Michael Montand, he’s got deep enough pockets to get things taken care of at your apartment. I suppose you know who Montand is? Emma?”
Emma heard Mort’s question through what seemed like thick insulation. She stared openmouthed at the property sale document, her gaze glued to the black print. Buyer: Michael G. Montand of 3637 Lakefront Road, Kenilworth, IL. A strange tingling sensation sunk down her tailbone.
“Yes,” she said through a constricted throat, suddenly conscious that Mort was looking at her expectantly. “I have heard of Montand.”
“Michael Montand, the guy who makes those hot, super-expensive sports cars?” Jamie asked.
Mort nodded, taking his computer back when Emma pushed it toward him on the Formica tabletop with numb fingers. She’d seen enough. There was no mistake. The address was familiar. The name certainly was. There was no doubt about it.
Vanni had purchased her home just recently . . . since she’d first met him.
Why had he done it?
“Yep, that’s the guy. Montand cars are some of the best engineered in the world,” Mort was saying. “Montand inherited the company from his father, although he started his own company here in Deerfield. From what I understand, it’s even more lucrative than his luxury car business. He got his father’s brains not only for business, but engineering. Michael Senior could put an engine back together blindfolded and come up with revolutionary mechanical advances in his sleep. I understand his son is even more of a mechanical genius.”
“You say it like you knew Michael Montand Senior,” Emma said, curiosity making her find her voice.
“I did, a little,” Mort said, glancing up at her with sharp blue eyes. “We were both members of the local Lions Club. Montand didn’t come around that much—I imagine he joined to be polite when someone asked him. But I met him a few times. Knew of his reputation and business. Knew about his son, too,” Mort said dryly.
“What do you know about the son?” Emma asked, her pulse beginning to leap at her throat.
“Just rumors, mostly, although I did have a few real-life run-ins with him when he was a teenager,” Mort said in his easygoing manner as he shut down his computer and closed the lid.
“You’ve actually met him?” Emma asked.
Mort nodded. “I’d just become the sheriff here in Cedar Bluff when Montand Junior was finishing high school. He tested the police staff of a few towns along the North Shore when he was young.”
“He was wild, huh?” Jamie asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“He was troubled, that much is certain,” Mort said reflectively, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “His dad and his stepmom had their hands full with him. Some of these rich North Shore kids are spoiled rotten, but Montand had more reasons than some for dabbling in juvenile delinquency, I suppose. He never struck me as a bad kid, just mad at the world. He lost his mother really young, from what I understand, and never got along well with his stepmother.”
“He lost a twin brother, too,” Emma said quietly. Jamie looked over at her in surprise. “I’m familiar with him through a patient,” Emma sidestepped.
Mort nodded thoughtfully. “A twin brother, huh? Well, that makes sense. We brought Montand in one night for underage drinking and getting in a fight with some South Side jerk who boxed part-time. Montand was only sixteen or so at the time. The guy he was fighting was a monster and years older than Montand, but Montand had held his own. In fact, he’d gone ballistic on the guy in the parking lot of some Cedar Bluff dive that’s not open anymore.” Mort shook his head in memory. “That kid had a death wish. He was like a lit firecracker, burning at both ends and inside out to boot. Once he cooled down, though, he was nice enough. He even fixed our busted police radio for us before his dad came in to post bail.” Mort shook his head distractedly. “A twin brother, huh?” he repeated. “I’d never heard anyone say that. I did hear he married young to a girl he met in college. Montand Senior was dead set against the relationship, and was furious when his son brought the girl home and presented her as his wife. Senior tried to get the marriage annulled, but Junior was having none of it. At least that was what the gossip was. And then he lost her, too.”
“What?” Emma asked, praying she’d misunderstood the last detail of Mort’s rambling reflection.
“Yeah,” Mort said, meeting her gaze and nodding sadly. “I don’t remember what the wife died of, but I think she was sickly from the get-go. They couldn’t have been married for much more than a year before she got ill, and then she was gone by the time their graduation date arrived.”
His words pounded in Emma’s stunned brain with the pulse of her blood. “Just goes to show you, I guess. Someone might look at Montand and think he’s got it all—money, good looks, success, glamorous businesses and yet—”
“It’s like life is playing some kind of sick joke on him,” Emma finished dully, recalling Vanni saying similar words that night on Lookout Beach when they’d differed on the topic of death.
“Yeah,” Mort said, taking a sip of coffee. “There’s no fortune big enough that could ever tempt me into that young man’s shoes.”
“Amen,” Jamie agreed fervently.
Mort blinked, seeming to come to himself. He gave his daughter a fond glance and patted her hand that sat on the table. “It was just a much too spicy cheeseburger,” he reassured her under his breath. Jamie grinned up at him wryly and Mort winked.
“So that’s the man who now owns your apartment complex, Emma,” Mort said, dropping his hand. “I hadn’t heard he’d ventured into real estate, but with money like his, I suppose it’s smart to diversify. I’m glad he’s taken care of things so quickly at your place. That bodes well. Maybe Montand has overcome all his adversities and become a decent man. I’d like to think so, anyway. I’ve heard good things about his business dealings. And I liked him as a kid.”
“Emma?” Jamie asked, a strange expression on her face. She set down her cup and placed her hand on top of Emma’s frozen one where it rested on the table. “Are you okay? That glow I was talking about earlier seems to have made a run for it. Your fingers are freezing,” she said, concern etching her face as she chafed Emma’s hand with her own.
Emma forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she lied. “It’s just the air-conditioning.” She squeezed her friend’s hand to reassure her and changed the subject to a safer one. In her head, however, she never left the topic of what Mort had revealed about Vanni. Her attention kept going back to it like it would a sharp wound.
That afternoon when she got home, she received a call from Dr. Parodas’s office. Neil Parodas himself was on the other line, calling to give her the test results from Vanni’s and her exam. He gave the information in such a friendly, amiable manner, it was difficult to be uncomfortable about his knowing the reason for the tests. He proclaimed both of them to be in excellent health. She hung up the phone and stood in her empty kitchen.
Another barrier of intimacy between Vanni and her had been removed. She’d agreed to have sex with him without protection.
She recalled what Mort had told her today about Vanni’s young wife dying. Surely the sympathetic pain she experienced at the information was beyond what it should have been, given how long she’d known him . . . given their agreement? It worried her, that sharp ache when she considered his suffering. His loneliness.
She stared out the window over her kitchen sink and also remembered the other shocking information Mort had given her. Vanni was the one responsible for making sure every item on her punch list was completed with the highest efficiency. He owned her home. He didn’t own her, though. Not if she could help it.
Surely she was a fool for not grasping at every little tidbit of protection she could get in this affair with Vanni Montand?
