A Marriage Fit for a Sinner Read online

  Eva’s throat clogged. ‘Maybe you should tell her that? She needs to know you’re proud of her, Father.’

  Her father looked to where her sister stood, and he nodded. ‘I will. And I’m proud of you, too. You’re as beautiful as your mother was on our wedding day.’

  Eva blinked back her tears as murmurs rose in the crowd.

  She turned to find Zaccheo staring at her. Something dark, sinister, curled through his eyes and she swallowed as his mouth flattened.

  I can’t marry him without him knowing! He deserves to know that I can’t give him the family he wants.

  ‘My dear, you need to move now. It’s time,’ her father pleaded.

  Torn by the need for Zaccheo to know the truth and the need to protect her father, she shook her head, her insides churning.

  Churning turned into full-blown liquefying as Zaccheo stepped from the dais, his imposing body threatening to block out the light as he headed down the aisle.

  She desperately sucked in a breath, the knowledge that Zaccheo would march her up the aisle himself if need be finally scraping her feet from the floor. He stopped halfway, his gaze unswerving, until she reached him.

  He grasped her hand, his hold unbreakable as he turned and walked her to the altar.

  Trembling at the hard, pitiless look in his eyes, she swallowed and tried to speak. ‘Zaccheo—’

  ‘No, Eva. No more excuses,’ he growled.

  The priest glanced between them, his expression benign but enquiring.

  Zaccheo nodded.

  The organ swelled. And sealed her fate.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘GLARING AT IT won’t make it disappear, unless you have superhero laser vision.’

  Eva jumped at the mocking voice and curled her fingers into her lap, hiding the exquisite diamond-studded platinum ring that had joined her engagement ring three hours ago.

  ‘I wasn’t willing it away.’ On the contrary, she’d been wondering how long it would stay on her finger once Zaccheo knew the truth.

  The reception following the ceremony had been brief but intense. Six hundred people clamouring for attention and the chance to gawp at the intriguing couple could take a lot out of a girl. With Zaccheo’s fingers laced through hers the whole time, tightening commandingly each time she so much as moved an inch away from him, Eva had been near-blubbering-wreck status by the time their limo had left the hall.

  Once she’d stopped reeling from the shock of being married to Zaccheo Giordano, she’d taken a moment to take in her surroundings. The Great Hall in the Guildhall was usually booked for years in advance. That Zaccheo had managed to secure it in a week and thrown together a stunning reception was again testament that she’d married a man with enough power and clout to smash through any resistance.

  Zaccheo, despite his spell in prison, remained a formidable man, one, she suspected, who didn’t need her father’s intervention to restore his damaged reputation. So why was he pursuing it so relentlessly? Throughout the reception, she’d watched him charm their guests with the sheer force of his charisma. By the time her father had got round to giving the edifying toast welcoming Zaccheo to the Pennington family, the effort had seemed redundant.

  She watched Zaccheo now as the car raced them to the airport, and wondered if it was a good time to broach the subject burning a hole in her chest.

  ‘Something on your mind?’ he queried without raising his gaze from his tablet.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. She started to speak but noticed the partition between them and Romeo, who sat in the front passenger seat, was open. Although she was sure Romeo knew the ins and outs of the document he’d been asked to witness yesterday, Eva wasn’t prepared to discuss her devastating shortcomings in his presence.

  So she opted for something else plaguing her. She smoothed her hands on her wedding dress. ‘Do I have your assurance that you’ll speak on my father’s behalf once you hand over the documents to the authorities?’

  He speared her with incisive grey eyes. ‘You’re so eager to see him let off the hook, aren’t you?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be, if it was your father?’ she asked.

  Eva was unprepared for the strange look that crossed his face. The mixture of anger, sadness, and bitterness hollowed out her stomach.

  ‘My father wasn’t interested in being let off the hook for his sins. He was happy to keep himself indebted to his betters because he thought that was his destiny.’

  Her breath caught. ‘What? That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Very little of my father’s actions made sense to me, not when I was a child, and not as an adult.’

  The unexpected insight into his life made her probe deeper. ‘When did he die?’

  ‘When I was thirteen years old.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ When he inclined his head and continued to stare at her, she pressed her luck. ‘How did he—?’

  ‘Zaccheo,’ Romeo’s deep voice interrupted them. ‘Perhaps this is not a subject for your wedding day?’

  A look passed between the friends.

  When Zaccheo looked at her again, that cool impassivity he’d worn since they’d left the reception to thunderous applause had returned.

  ‘Your father has done his part adequately for now. Our lawyers will meet in a few days to discuss the best way forward. When my input is needed, I’ll provide it. Your role, on the other hand, is just beginning.’

  Before she could reply, the door opened. Eva gaped at the large private jet standing mere feet away. Beside the steps, two pilots and two stewardesses waited.

  Zaccheo exited and took her hand. The shocking electricity of his touch and the awareness in his eyes had her scrambling to release her fingers, but he held on, and walked her to his crew, who extended their congratulations.

  Eva was grappling with their conversation when she stepped into the unspeakable luxury of the plane. To the right, a sunken entertainment area held a semicircular cream sofa and a separate set of club chairs with enough gadgets to keep even the most attention-deficient passenger happy. In a separate area a short flight of stairs away, there was a conference table with four chairs and a bar area off a top-line galley.

  Zaccheo stepped behind her and her body zapped to life, thrilling to his proximity. She suppressed a shiver when he let go of her fingers and cupped her shoulders in his warm hands.

  ‘I have several conference calls to make once we take off. And you...’ He paused, traced a thumb across her cheek. The contact stunned her, as did the gentle look in his eyes. ‘You look worn out.’

  ‘Is that a kind way of saying I look like hell?’ She strove for a light tone and got a husky one instead.

  That half-smile appeared, and Eva experienced something close to elation that the icy look had melted from his face. ‘You could never look like hell, cara. A prickly and challenging puzzle that I look forward to unravelling, most definitely. But never like hell.’

  The unexpected response startled her into gaping for several seconds before she recovered. ‘Should I be wary that you’re being nice to me?’

  ‘I can be less...monstrous when I get my way.’

  The reminder that he wouldn’t be getting his way and the thought of his reaction once he found out brought a spike of anxiety, rendering her silent as he led her to a seat and handed her a flute of champagne from the stewardess’s tray.

  ‘Zaccheo...’ She stopped when his thumb moved over her lips. Sensation sizzled along her nerve endings, setting her pulse racing as he brushed it back and forth. The heat erupting between her thighs had her pressing her legs together to soothe the desperate ache.

  She hardly felt the plane take off. All she was aware of was the mesmerising look in Zaccheo’s eyes.

  ‘I haven’t told you how stunning you look.’ He leaned closer and
replaced his thumb with his lips at the corner of her mouth.

  Delicious flames warmed her blood. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice shook with the desire moving through her. More than anything, she was filled with the blind need to turn her head and meet his mouth with hers.

  When his lips trailed to her jaw, then to the curve between her shoulder and neck, Eva let out a helpless moan, her heart racing with sudden, debilitating hunger.

  His fingers linked hers and she found herself being led to the back of the plane. Eva couldn’t summon a protest. Nor could she remind herself that she needed to come clean, sooner rather than later.

  The master bedroom was equally stunning. Gold leaf threaded a thick cream coverlet on a king-sized bed and plush carpeting absorbed their footsteps as he shut the door.

  ‘I intend us to have two uninterrupted weeks on the island. In order for that to happen, I need to work with Romeo to clear my plate work-wise. Rest now. Whatever’s on your mind can wait for a few more hours.’ Again there was no bite to his words, leaving her lost as to this new side of the man she’d married.

  She stood, almost overpowered by the strength of her emotions, as he positioned himself behind her and slowly undid her buttons. The heavy dress pooled at her feet and she stood in only her white strapless bra, panties, and the garter and sheer stocking set that had accompanied her dress.

  A rough, tortured sound echoed around the room. ‘Stai mozzafiato,’ Zaccheo muttered thickly. ‘You’re breathtaking,’ he translated when she glanced at him.

  A fierce blush flared up. Eyes darkening, he circled her, tracing her high colour with a barest tip of his forefinger. Her gaze dropped to the sensual line of his mouth and she bit her own lip as need drowned her.

  She gasped, completely enthralled, as he dropped to his knees and reached for her garter belt, eyes locked on hers. He pulled it off and tucked it deep in his inner pocket. When he stood, the hunger on his face stopped her breath, anticipation sparking like fireworks through her veins.

  He lightly brushed her lips with his.

  ‘Our first time won’t be on a plane within listening distance of my staff.’ He walked to the bed and pulled back the covers. He waited until she got in and tucked her in. About to walk away, he suddenly stopped. ‘We will make this marriage work, Eva.’

  Her mouth parted but, with no words to counter that unexpected vow, she slowly pressed her lips together as pain ripped through her.

  ‘Sleep well, dolcezza,’ he murmured, then left.

  Despite her turmoil, she slept through the whole flight, rousing refreshed if unsettled as to what the future held.

  Dressing in a light cotton sundress and open sandals, she left her hair loose, applied a touch of lip gloss and sunscreen and exited the plane.

  They transferred from jet to high-speed boat with Romeo at the wheel. The noise from the engine made conversation impossible but, for the first time, the silence between Zaccheo and Eva felt less fraught. The strange but intense feeling that had engulfed them both as he’d undressed her on the plane continued to grip them as they raced towards their final destination. When she caught her hair for the umpteenth time to keep it from flying in the wind, he captured the strands in a tight grip at the base of her neck, then used the hold to pull her closer until she curved into his side. With his other arm sprawled along the back of their seat, he appeared the most at ease Eva had ever seen him.

  Perhaps being forced to wait for a while to tell him hadn’t been a bad thing.

  She let the tension ooze out of her.

  Despite the shades covering his eyes, he must have sensed her scrutiny, because he turned and stared down at her for endless minutes. She felt the power of that look to the tips of her toes and almost fell into him when he took her mouth in a voracious kiss.

  He let her up for air when her lungs threatened to burst. Burying his face in her throat, he rasped for her ears only, ‘I cannot wait to make you mine.’

  By the time the boat slowed and pulled into a quiet inlet, Eva was a nervous wreck.

  ‘Welcome to Casa do Paraíso,’ he said once the engine died.

  Enthralled, Eva looked around. Tropical trees and lush vegetation surrounded a spectacular hacienda made of timber and glass, the mid-morning sun casting vibrant shades of green, orange and blue on the breathtaking surroundings. Wide glass windows dominated the structure and, through them, Eva saw white walls and white furniture with splashes of colourful paintings on the walls perpetuated in an endless flow of rooms.

  ‘It’s huge,’ she blurted.

  Zaccheo jumped onto the sugary sand and grabbed her hand.

  ‘The previous owner built it for his first wife and their eight children. She got it in the divorce, but hated the tropical heat so never visited. It was run-down by the time I bought the island from her, so I made substantial alterations.’

  The mention of children ramped up the tension crawling through her belly and, despite her trying to shrug the feeling away, it lingered as she followed him up the wide front porch into the stunning living room.

  A staff of four greeted them, then hurried out to where Romeo was securing the vessel. She gazed around in stunned awe, accepting that Zaccheo commanded the best when it came to the structures he put his stamp on, whether commercial or private.

  ‘Come here, Eva.’ The order was impatient.

  She turned from admiring the structure to admire the man who’d created it. Tall, proud and intensely captivating, he stood at the base of a suspended staircase, his white-hot gaze gleaming dangerously, promising complete sexual oblivion.

  Desire pulsed between them, a living thing that writhed, consumed with a hunger that demanded to be met, fulfilled.

  Eva knew she should make time now they were here to tell him. Lay down the truth ticking away inside her like a bomb.

  After years of struggling to forge a relationship with her father and sister, she’d finally laid the foundations of one today.

  How could she live with herself if she continued to keep Zaccheo in the dark about the family he hoped for himself?

  Her feet slapped against the large square tiles as she hurried across the room. His mouth lifted in a half-smile of satisfaction. She’d barely reached him when he swung her into his arms and stormed up the stairs.

  And then the need to disclose her secret was suddenly no longer urgent. It’d been superseded by another, more pressing demand. One that every atom in her body urged her to assuage. Now. Before the opportunity was taken from her. Before her confession once again found her in the brutal wasteland of rejection.

  His heat singed where they touched. Unable to resist, she sank her fingers into his hair and buried her face in his neck, eager to be closer to his rough primitiveness.

  Feeling bold, she nipped at his skin.

  His responding growl was intoxicating. As was the feeling of being pressed against the hard, masculine planes of his body when he slowly lowered her to her feet.

  ‘I’ve waited so long to be inside you. I won’t wait any longer,’ he vowed, the words fierce, stamped with decadent intent.

  Arms clamped around her waist, he walked her backwards to the vast white-sheeted bed. In one clean move, he pulled her dress over her head and dropped it. Her bra and panties swiftly followed.

  Zaccheo stopped breathing as he stared down at her exposed curves.

  As he’d done on the plane, he circled her body, this time trailing more fingers over her heated skin, creating a fiery path that arrowed straight between her thighs. She was swaying under the dizzying force of her arousal by the time he faced her again.

  ‘Beautiful. So beautiful,’ he murmured against her skin, then pulled her nipple into his mouth, surrounding the aching bud with heat and want.

  Eva cried out and clutched his shoulders, her whole body gripped with a fever that shook he
r from head to toe. He moved his attention to her twin breast while his fingers teased the other, doubling the pleasure, doubling her agony.

  ‘Zaccheo,’ she groaned.

  He straightened abruptly and reefed his black T-shirt over his head, exposing hard, smooth pecs and a muscle-ridged stomach. But as intensely delectable as his torso was, it wasn’t what made her belly quiver. It was the intriguing tattooed band of Celtic knots linked by three slim lines that circled his upper arm. The artwork was flawless and beautiful, flowing gracefully when he moved. Reaching out, she touched the first knot. He paused and stared down at her.

  It struck her hard in that moment just how much she didn’t know about the man she’d married.

  ‘You seem almost nervous, dolcezza.’

  Eva struggled to think of a response that wouldn’t make her sound gauche. ‘Don’t you feel nervous, even a little, your first time with a new lover?’ she replied.

  He froze and his lips compressed for a fraction of a second, as if she’d said something to displease him. Then his fingers went to his belt. ‘Nerves, no. Anticipation that a long-held desire is about to be fulfilled? Most definitely.’ He removed his remaining clothes in one swift move.

  Perfection. It was the only word she could think of.

  ‘Even when you’ve experienced it more than a few dozen times?’

  She gasped when his fingers gripped hers in a tight hold. When he spoke, his voice held a bite that jarred. ‘Perhaps we should refrain from the subject of past lovers.’

  Hard, demanding lips slanted over hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, fracturing the last of her senses. She clung to him, her body once again aflame from the ferocious power of his.

  Cool sheets met her back and Zaccheo sprawled beside her. After an eternity of kissing, he raised his head.

  ‘There are so many ways I wish to take you I don’t know where to begin.’