The High-Society Wife. Helen Bianchin

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      Together they entered the large tiled lobby, whose focal point was an exquisite crystal chandelier and a curved double staircase leading to the upper floor.

      She adored the large spacious rooms, with a splendid mix of formal and informal areas occupying the ground level, the exquisite marble tiling and huge luxurious oriental rugs, and the main and guest suites situated upstairs, superbly carpeted in aubusson and furnished with genuine antiques.

      ‘Nothing to say?’

      Gianna paused and turned towards him, aware of his ability to read her so well. Too well for her peace of mind.

      ‘An argument in the car might have proved too much of a distraction,’ she managed evenly, meeting his gaze and holding it.

      One eyebrow rose in silent query, and she went for the direct approach.

      ‘Do you intend seeing her?’

      His expression didn’t change, although she had the distinct impression his body stilled, and for an instant there was something unreadable in those dark eyes.

      ‘Why would I do that?’

      His soft drawl sent shivers feathering down her spine, and her chin tilted a little in defence. ‘Because it’s what Famke wants.’

      ‘Your trust in me is so tenuous?’

      Gianna took a moment to compose the right words. ‘I won’t become a figure of public ridicule.’

      ‘You want a promise of my fidelity?’

      ‘Only if you mean it.’ She turned towards the staircase. ‘Promises can be broken.’ It was as good an exit line as she could come up with.

      Respect, affection, friendship and sexual compatibility formed the base of their marriage. Love wasn’t supposed to enter the equation.

      Yet it had, and she was willing to go on oath that a one-sided love was hell on earth.

      Gianna sensed rather than heard Franco join her as she reached the upper level, and she directed him a steady glance.

      ‘You evaded the question.’

      Together they crossed the spacious central area separating each wing and made their way towards the main suite.

      Gianna entered the room ahead of him and slipped off her evening sandals…a mistake, given it merely accentuated her diminutive height.

      ‘It shouldn’t require an answer.’

      Her chin lifted a fraction, and her eyes were remarkably clear. She held up one hand and began ticking off each finger. ‘We’re joined together in marriage, legally bound in business.’ Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I deserve your honesty in our private life.’

      Something moved in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘Have I ever been dishonest with you?’

      She didn’t have to weigh her answer. ‘No.’

      ‘Accept that isn’t going to change.’

      Reassurance? Possibly. He was no fool, and she indicated as much.

      He moved close and saw the way the pulse at the base of her throat jumped to a faster beat. ‘A compliment, cara?’

      That was the thing…she wasn’t his darling. Merely a convenient partner when she longed for more…so much more.

      There were those among the social clique who imagined she had it all. The trappings of extreme wealth, a perfect job, the ultimate man… Yet she’d willingly give it up in exchange for his love.

      So…dream on, a tiny voice taunted. It isn’t going to happen.

      Franco took hold of her wrists, then shaped her arms to settle on each shoulder. He lowered his head and sought her lips with his own, nibbling a little, teasing until he sensed her breath catch.

      She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, held on for a few seconds, then eased back. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      Stupid question. She knew exactly what he was doing!

      His mouth captured hers, seeking, exploring, and wreaking havoc with her emotions as heat coursed through her veins, bringing her alive as only he could.

      Gianna felt the familiar swirling sensation begin deep inside, and she was scarcely aware of his fingers easing the spaghetti straps of her gown aside, or the zip fastening easing open…until the red chiffon slithered to a silken heap at her feet.

      Lacy red bikini briefs were all that separated her from total nudity, and her body shook a little as he traced the lace, following its pattern with a deliberate finger before easing in to stroke the soft hair curling at the apex of her thighs.

      Acute sensuality arrowed through her body, and she sought the buttons on his shirt, wanting, needing the sensation of skin to skin, to feel and savour his warmth and essence.

      ‘You’re wearing too many clothes.’ Was that husky voice her own?

      He trailed a path down to her breasts and savoured one dusky peak until she groaned out loud.

      ‘Remove them.’

      How had she not noticed he’d already shrugged out of his jacket, torn off his bow tie and toed off his shoes?

      Because she lost all her senses when he kissed her…except one. Sensuality to a heightened degree… invasive and all-encompassing.

      Franco had the power to make her forget who she was, her surroundings. Everything.

      There was only him, his warm musky male scent, the magic of his touch…the heat, the passion, and the wild erotic sorcery he was able to weave with her emotions.

      She barely registered her fingers slipping free the buttons on his shirt, nor did she make a teasing play to draw out the moment, or seek to provoke.

      Need guided the speed with which she dispensed with his shirt, freed him of the fine tailored trousers…and sought the source of her pleasure.

      His indrawn breath as she enclosed him brought a soft sensual smile to her lips, and her fingers slid slowly down to cup him, only to return to create a slow, tantalising pattern that had him grasping her bottom and lifting her high against him.

      Gianna cried out as his mouth closed over her breast and suckled, teasing the tender peak with the edge of his teeth before exploring its soft curve.

      It was almost more than she could bear as his fingers sought and found the aroused clitoris, caressing it until she went wild, swept high by mesmeric primitive sensation.

      Just as she began to ease down, he sent her up again, closing his mouth over her own in an invasive kiss that mirrored the sexual act itself.

      It wasn’t enough, and she wrenched her СКАЧАТЬ