Castellano's Mistress of Revenge

Excerpt

‘I swore I would one day make you pay for what you did to me, Ava, and that day has come,’ he said. ‘This villa is mine and everything in it—including you.’

She swallowed convulsively as she tried to pull out of his hold. ‘No…No!’

His fingers bit into her flesh. ‘Yes and yes, ma belle,’ he said. ‘Do you not want to hear my terms?’

Ava fought for control of her emotions. She bit the inside of her lip, tasting blood and the bitterness of regret. ‘Go on, then,’ she said, dropping her shoulders slightly.

His fingers relaxed their hold, his thumb moving in a slow caress over the pillow of her bottom lip until every nerve-end was tingling. Ava was mesmerised by his touch. It was so achingly gentle after his flaying words. She felt herself melting, the stiffness going out of her limbs, her body remembering how it felt to press up against his hard, protective warmth.

After a moment he seemed to check himself. His hand dropped from her mouth and his eyes hardened to black coal again. ‘You will be my mistress,’ he said. ‘I will pay you an allowance for as long as we are together. But I would like to make one thing very clear from the outset. Unlike the way you manipulated Cole into marrying you, I will not be offering the same deal. There will be no marriage between us. Ever.’

Melanie Milburne says: ‘One of the greatest joys of being a writer is the process of falling in love with the characters and then watching as they fall in love with each other. I am an absolutely hopeless romantic. I fell in love with my husband on our second date, and we even had a secret engagement, so you see it must have been destined for me to be a Harlequin Mills & Boon^® author! The other great joy of being a romance writer is hearing from readers. You can hear all about the other things I do when I’m not writing, and even drop me a line, at: www.melaniemilburne.com.au’

Castellano’s Mistress of Revenge

By

Melanie Milburne

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my beautiful friend Louise Gordon. You are such a giving soul, so gentle and understanding and so non-judgemental. You have supported me through some very dark times and I dedicate this book to you in honour of our friendship.

Chapter One

‘OF COURSE, Madame Cole, you get to keep the jewellery and any other personal gifts Mr Cole gave to you during your marriage,’ the lawyer said as he closed the thick document folder in front of him. ‘But the Monte Carlo villa and the yacht, as well as Mr Cole’s entire business portfolio, now belong to Signor Marcelo Castellano.’

Ava sat very still and composed in her chair. She had trained herself over the years to keep her emotions under strict control. No flicker of fear showed in her eyes, and no tremble of her neatly manicured hands as they lay elegantly on her lap betrayed her. But, deep inside her chest, her heart felt as if a large hand had closed over it and begun to squeeze it with a brutal strength. ‘I understand,’ she said in a coolly detached tone. ‘I am in the process of making arrangements for my things to be moved from the villa as soon as possible.’

‘Signor Castellano has insisted you do not leave the villa until he meets with you there,’ the lawyer said. ‘Apparently there are things he wishes to discuss with you to do with the handover of the property.’

This time it was almost impossible to control the widening of her eyes as she looked across the wide desk at Monsieur Letourneur. ‘I am sure the household staff will be perfectly capable of giving him a guided tour,’ she said, tying her hands together to stop them from fidgeting with her bag.

‘Nevertheless he insisted on seeing you in person, at 8:00 p.m. this evening,’ Monsieur Letourneur said. ‘I believe he wants to move in immediately.’

Ava stared at the lawyer, her heart starting to flap in panic. ‘Is that legal?’ she asked. ‘The short-term lease on an apartment I had lined up fell through and I haven’t had time to search for an alternative. There’s been so much to do and I—’

‘It is perfectly legal,’ Monsieur Letourneur said with a hint of impatience. ‘He has owned the villa for several months now, even before your husband passed away. In any case, a letter was sent to you a few weeks ago to inform you of Signor Castellano’s intention to take possession.’

Ava felt her insides turn somersaults, not smoothly executed ones, but jerky and uncoordinated tumbles that left her feeling dizzy. She stared at the lawyer, unable to speak, barely able to think. What was she to do? Where was she to go at such short notice? She had money in her account, but certainly not enough to pay for a hotel for days, perhaps even weeks on end whilst searching for a place to live.

Right from the start Douglas had insisted on everything being in his name. That had been part of the deal he had made when insisting she become his wife. Then upon his death there had been so many expenses with the funeral and the outstanding bills he had left unattended to in the last stages of his illness.

‘But I received no such letter!’ she finally said when she could get her thoughts into some sort of working order. ‘Are you sure one was sent?’

The lawyer opened the file in front of him and passed her a copy of a computer-written letter which confirmed her worst nightmare. Somehow the letter must have gone astray, for she had never received it. She stared at the words printed there, unable to believe this was happening to her.

‘I believe you have a history with Signor Castellano, oui?’ The lawyer’s voice jolted her out of her anguished rumination.

‘Oui, monsieur,’ she said with a frown still pulling at her brow. ‘Five years ago…’ she swallowed tightly ‘…in London.’

‘I am sorry things did not work out better for you, Madame Cole,’ the lawyer said. ‘Mr Cole’s wishes were for you to be well provided for, but the global financial crisis hit him very hard, as indeed it did many investors and business people. It was fortunate Signor Castellano agreed to cover the remaining debts as part of the takeover package.’

Ava’s stomach suddenly dropped like a faulty elevator. ‘D-debts?’ The word came out of her parched mouth like a ghostly whisper. ‘But I thought everything had been seen to. Douglas assured me everything was sorted out, that there would be nothing to worry about.’ Even as she said the words she realised how stupid and naïve she sounded. She sounded exactly like the empty-headed trophy wife the Press had always made her out to be. But then didn’t she deserve the slight? After all, she had been a naïve fool to take Douglas at his word five years ago, only to find out within hours of marrying him his word was not to be trusted.

Monsieur Letourneur looked at her gravely. ‘Perhaps he did not wish to distress you with how bad things were towards the end. But let me tell you, without Signor Castellano’s generous offer you would be in very deep water indeed. Every financial institution in the world is jumpy these days. Margin calls are happening almost daily. Signor Castellano has agreed to cover all future requests for payment.’

Ava quickly ran the tip of her tongue across what remained of her lip gloss, tasting a sweet and sour cocktail of strawberries and fear. ‘That seems rather generous of him,’ she said, keeping her shoulders straight and her spine even straighter.

‘Yes, but then he is one of the richest men in Europe,’ the lawyer said. ‘His construction company has grown phenomenally over the last few years. He has branches all over the world, even in your country of birth, I understand. Do you intend to return to Australia now?’

Ava thought longingly of returning to her land of birth, but with her younger sister now married and based in London, she felt it was too far to relocate, especially now. Serena wasn’t back on her feet after suffering from a devastating miscarriage after yet another failed IVF attempt. Ava had not long returned from visiting Serena and had promised to come back as soon as she could to help her through such a harrowing time. But going there now was out of the question. Serena would immediately sense something was up and it would not do her recovery any good to find out about the mess Ava was in. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I have a friend I would like to visit in Scotland. I thought I might try and find a job while I am there.’

Ava could see the cynicism in the lawyer’s eyes as he got to his feet. She supposed from his perspective she deserved it; after all, she had to all intents and purposes been a kept woman for the last five years. No doubt he thought finding a regular job with the sort of perks she had been used to was not going to be easy.

Ava was well aware of the precarious position she was in. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she needed a regular flow of income to help her sister have the baby she so desperately wanted. Her husband, Richard Holt, earned a reasonable income as an academic, but nowhere near enough to cover the expense of repeated IVF treatments.

Ava glanced at her watch as she left the lawyer’s building. She had less than three hours until she saw Marc Castellano for the first time in five years. Her stomach fluttered with feathered wings of fear as her footsteps click-clacked along the pavement.

Fear, or was it excitement?

It was perhaps a perverse bit of both, Ava acceded. She had more or less been expecting him to contact her. She knew he would relish in the opportunity to gloat over the way things had turned out for her. The news of Douglas’s death six weeks ago had gone around the world. Why Marc had waited this long to see her she supposed was all part of his plan to make the most of her very public fall.

The villa was cool after the heat of the summer sun and she released her sticky hair from the back of her collar, rolling her neck and shoulders to try and ease some of the tension that had gathered there.

The housekeeper, an older French woman called Celeste, came towards her from the main reception room at the foot of the grand staircase. ‘Excusez-moi, madame, mais vous avez un visiteur,’ she said and, changing to English, continued, ‘Signor Marcelo Castellano. He said you were expecting him.’

Ava felt a scuttle-like sensation pass across her scalp, like tiny panicked feet tripping through her hair. ‘Merci, Celeste,’ she said, placing her bag on the nearest surface with a hand that was almost but not quite steady, ‘but I was led to understand he was coming much later.’

The housekeeper raised her hands in a what-would-I-know? gesture. ‘He is here now, in there.’ She pointed to the formal reception room that overlooked the gardens and the port and sea beyond.

Ava set her mouth, although her heart gave another flip-flop-like beat. ‘You can leave now,’ she said. ‘I will see you in the morning. Bonsoir.’

The housekeeper gave a respectful nod of her salt-and-pepper head and backed away. Ava drew in a breath, held it for a beat or two before releasing it in a jagged stream.

The door of the reception room was closed, but she could sense Marc standing the other side of it. He wouldn’t be sitting. He wouldn’t be pacing impatiently either. He would be standing.

Waiting.

For her.

Putting one high-heeled foot in front of the other, Ava moved to the door and, opening it, walked into the room.

The first thing she noticed was his smell: citrus and sharp with an undertone of masculine body heat, it played about her nostrils, teasing them into an involuntary flare.

The next thing she noticed was his eyes. They locked on hers within a heartbeat, deep and dark as blackened coal, inscrutable and yet dangerously sexy. Fringed with thick black lashes beneath equally dark brows, his gaze was both intelligent and astute and intensely, unmistakably male. After holding hers for what seemed an eternity, his gaze then went on to sweep over her lazily, leaving a trail of blistering heat in its wake. Flames erupted beneath her skin, licking along her veins, lighting a fire of need deep and low inside her that she had thought had long ago turned to ashes.

He was wearing a dark charcoal-grey finely pinstriped suit, which showcased the breadth of his shoulders and the taut leanness of his frame. His ink-black hair was longer than he had worn it in the past, but Ava thought the slightly tousled just-out-of-bed look suited him perfectly. His crisply white shirt and silverembossed tie emphasised his olive skin, the shiny cufflinks at his strongly boned wrists a touch of class that reminded her of how incredibly successful he had become over the last five years.

‘So, we finally meet again,’ Marc said in that deep, husky male tone that had always made her spine feel watery and unstable. ‘I am sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral or send you a card with my condolences.’ He gave a small movement of his lips which belied the sincerity of his statement. ‘Under the circumstances I didn’t think either would be appropriate.’

Ava pulled her shoulders back to counteract his effect on her. ‘I suppose you are only here now to gloat over your prize,’ she said with an attempt at haughtiness.

His dark eyes glittered meaningfully. ‘That depends on which prize you are referring to, ma petite.’

Ava felt her skin burn as his eyes ran over her again. It had always made her heart skip when he used French endearments in that sexy Italian accent of his.

She wondered if he knew how much it hurt to see him again. Not just emotionally, but physically. It was like an ache deep in her bones; they creaked with the memory of him holding her, kissing her, making her body explode with passion time and time again. She felt the sharp twinge of response even now by being in the same room as him. It was like strings being tugged deep inside of her, reminding her of all the heat and fire of his desire for her, and hers for him.

She had hoped he would have stopped hating her by now, but she could see the fire of it in his eyes, she could even feel it in the stance of his six-foot-four frame, the tension in his sculptured muscles, and the clenching and unclenching of his long-fingered hands as if he didn’t trust himself not to reach out and shake her for how she had betrayed him. If only he knew the truth, but how could she explain it now, after all this time?

Ava raised her chin with a bravado she was nowhere near feeling. ‘Let’s not speak in riddles, Marc. Say what you came here to say.’

He stepped closer. It was only one step, but it halted the breath in her throat. She swallowed, but it only made the restriction tighter. She had to crane her neck, for even in her heels he towered over her. His eyes bored into hers, dark and deep pools of simmering anger.

‘I am here to take possession of this villa,’ he said, ‘and to offer you a job for which we both know you are highly qualified.’

She frowned at him, her stomach curdling with unease, her skin tightening all over with apprehension. ‘D-doing what?’

His top lip lifted, his eyes glittering with icy disdain. ‘Servicing a rich man’s needs. You are well known for it, are you not?’

Ava felt a tremor in her spine as his hatred smashed over her in soundless waves. ‘You know nothing of my relationship with Douglas,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady and controlled.

‘Your meal ticket is dead,’ Marc said bluntly. ‘He’s left you with nothing, not even a roof over your beautiful blonde head.’

‘Only because you took it all off him,’ she shot back. ‘You did it deliberately, didn’t you? There were hundreds if not thousands of companies going for the asking, but you hunted him down and took everything off him to get at me.’

He smiled a victor’s smile, but there was a hint of cruelty about it. ‘I will give you a minute or two to think it over,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will come to see it as the most sensible course of action at this point in your life.’

‘I don’t need even a second to think it over,’Ava said through tight lips. ‘I don’t want your rubbish job.’

A lightning flash of fury lit his gaze from behind. ‘Did your lawyer not explain to you how things are?’

‘I would rather live on the streets than work in any capacity for you,’ she said. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, Marc, but it won’t work. I know you think I deliberately betrayed you, but that’s not the way it was. I knew nothing of Douglas’s business interests. He didn’t tell me he was bidding for the same contract as you.’

His mouth was a thin, flat line of tension. ‘You double-crossing liar,’ he ground out venomously. ‘You did everything in your power to ruin me and you damned near got away with it. I lost nearly everything. Everything, do you hear me?’

Ava closed her eyes in distress. The vibration of his anger in the air was like pummelling blows to her flesh. She could not defend herself against her guilt at what she had inadvertently done to him by marrying Douglas Cole. But given her time again she would still have done it, for Serena’s sake.

‘Open your eyes,’ Marc growled at her.

Her eyes sprang open, the nettle-like sting of tears blurring her vision. ‘Don’t do this, Marc,’ she said, close to pleading. ‘The past can’t be changed by manipulating things now.’

His eyes blazed like twin black bowls of flame as he grasped her chin between two of his fingers, his touch like a blistering brand on her skin. His eyes drilled into hers, holding hers in a duel she could never hope to win. She lowered her lashes, but he countered it by pushing her chin even higher. ‘I swore I would one day make you pay for what you did to me, Ava, and that day has come,’ he said. ‘This villa is mine and everything in it, including you.’

She swallowed convulsively as she tried to pull out of his hold. ‘No…no!’

His fingers bit into her flesh. ‘Yes and yes, ma belle,’ he said. ‘Do you not want to hear my terms?’

Ava fought for control of her emotions. She bit the inside of her lip, tasting blood and the bitterness of regret. ‘Go on, then,’ she said, dropping her shoulders slightly.

His fingers relaxed their hold, his thumb moving in a slow caress over the pillow of her bottom lip until every nerve-end was tingling. Ava was mesmerised by his touch. It was so achingly gentle after his flaying words. She felt herself melting, the stiffness going out of her limbs, her body remembering how it felt to press up against his hard, protective warmth.

After a moment he seemed to check himself. His hand dropped from her mouth and his eyes hardened to black coal again. ‘You will be my mistress,’ he said. ‘I will pay you an allowance for as long as we are together. But I would like to make one thing very clear from the outset. Unlike the way you manipulated Cole into marrying you, I will not be offering the same deal. There will be no marriage between us. Ever.’

Ava felt her heart contract in pain at the bitterness in his tone. He had spoken the words like a business plan. But then, what had changed? Hadn’t he said much the same five years ago? No marriage, no kids, no commitment. And she had been foolish enough to accept it…for a time.

Ava drew in a breath that scalded her throat. ‘You seem very convinced I will accept your offer.’

‘That is because I know you, Ava,’ he said with a sardonic light in his gaze. ‘You need money and a lot of it.’

‘I can find work.’ Pride pulled her shoulders back even farther. ‘I’ve been thinking of returning to modelling.’

A determined look hardened his eyes to black ice. ‘One word from me and there’s not an agency the length and breadth of Europe who would take you on.’

Ava wished she had the courage to call his bluff. But after a five-year hiatus in her modelling career at Douglas’s insistence she didn’t like her chances of being picked up by her old agency, let alone anyone else.

‘I can find other work,’ she said with a defiant look.

‘Not the sort of work that will pay you enough to regularly top up your sister’s bank account.’

Ava felt her eyes widen. ‘You know about that?’

He gave her an enigmatic look. ‘You know the saying—keep your friends close but your enemies closer. I am making it my business to find out everything there is to find out about you, Ava.’

Ava felt as if he had pierced her heart with a long metal skewer. She felt the barb of it right to her backbone; it reverberated throughout her body, making her want to hug her arms around herself, to stop the pulse of pain. But somehow she stood firm, her eyes holding the black fire of his.

‘Please keep Serena out of this,’ she said hollowly.

‘There will be no need for her to know anything other than we are together again,’ he said.

Ava wondered how the news would affect her sister. Serena had out of fierce loyalty never mentioned Marc’s name in her presence over the last five years. She had also kept the secret of Ava’s real relationship with Douglas Cole quiet, so quiet her husband, Richard, was to this day unaware of it. Serena had been too terrified Richard’s conservative family would be totally scandalised by her near-brush with a prison term that only Ava’s actions had rescued her from experiencing.

But returning to Marc on the terms he had outlined was unthinkable to Ava. How would she bear his daily quest for revenge? How could she face that hatred day after day?

She looked up at him again, shocked at how cold and ruthlessly calculating he had become. He had certainly been no angel in the past—yes, he had been strongwilled and proud and had arrogantly insisted on his own way, but he had never been cruel. But what hurt most was that it was her choice to marry Douglas that had brought about the change in him. Of course Marc would think it had been deliberate, but then, unbeknown to her, Douglas had planned it that way.

She twisted her hands, unconsciously fingering the amethyst ring on her finger, a peace offering Douglas had given her during the last months of his illness. ‘I need some time to think about this…’

Marc’s eyes flashed like fast-drawn daggers. ‘You’ve had six weeks.’

Ava blinked at the savage bite of his words. ‘You surely don’t expect me to accept this outrageous offer without some careful consideration, do you?’

His mouth was curled upwards in a sneer. ‘It didn’t take you too long to consider moving on with another man after you walked out on me. Within a month you were living with Cole as his wife.’

‘I am sure you moved on with your life just as quickly,’ she said with a fiery flash of her eyes. ‘In fact you are rarely out of the Press with a starlet on your arm.’

‘I admit I do not live the life of a monk,’ he said, ‘which brings me to another condition of mine on the arrangement.’

‘I haven’t agreed to it yet.’

‘You will.’

Ava ground her teeth at his imperious manner. ‘Let me guess,’ she said, glaring at him resentfully. ‘You want me to be faithful to you while you get to do whatever you like with whomever you like.’

His dark eyes gleamed. ‘You are well trained, I see. Perhaps your time with Cole has finally taught you how to behave.’

She tightened her lips until they went numb, anger bubbling inside her at his assumption of her as a gold-digger. It was so unfair. Why couldn’t he leave the past alone? To come to her now, after all this time, was going to achieve nothing but more heartache for her. It had broken her heart to walk away from him the first time. It had taken every bit of willpower and self-respect to do so. Living as his mistress had been so bittersweet and in the end she had chosen the bitter over the sweet. He had flatly refused to promise her anything but a short-term affair. The concept of marriage was anathema to him; now it seemed more so than ever.

Marc took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘I have drawn up a legal document for you to sign,’ he said. ‘It states how much money I am willing to pay you to cohabit with me. By signing it you will be unable to claim support when our relationship is terminated.’

‘A prenuptial?’ she asked, frowning as her fingers took the envelope from him.

‘Without the nuptials,’ he said, his eyes diamond-hard. ‘No marriage, no children.’

Ava felt her insides twist in pain. Watching her sister go through the agony of not being able to conceive had made her acutely aware of how much she longed to have a baby of her own. To hear Marc state so implacably that he wanted no children struck at the heart of her. She was twenty-seven years old, which was still young enough not to panic, but with her younger sister’s fertility problems she couldn’t quite quell the worry that she too might not be able to conceive naturally.

‘I can assure you I would not for a moment think of bringing a child into such an arrangement as this,’ she said, turning away from Marc to put the envelope to one side.

Ava heard him move behind her and froze. She silently prayed for him not to touch her in case she betrayed herself. The skin along her bare arms crawled with anticipation of his warm, gliding hands. How many times had he embraced her from behind in the past? His hands would move slowly from her hips to her breasts, cupping her, his mouth nuzzling on the sensitive skin of her neck until she would turn in his arms and offer herself to him.

Her mind exploded with images of them together. The passion he had ignited in her was something she had never experienced before even though she had not been a virgin when they had met.

When his hands came to rest on her hips she shuddered. ‘You find my touch abhorrent, or is it that you are still hungry for it?’ he asked, his warm hint-of-mint breath skating past her ear.

If only he knew! she thought as her heart rammed against her sternum like a giant pendulum inside the body of a too small clock. ‘I told you…I…I want some time to think about this,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.

He turned her around to face him, his eyes boring into hers. ‘You haven’t got time to think about it, cara,’ he said. ‘You have debts up to your diamond-studded ears.’ He fingered one glittering earlobe. ‘Did he buy these for you?’

Ava’s breath caught in her throat like a scrap of silk on a savage thorn. ‘Y-yes…’

His hands fell to his sides as he commanded, ‘Take them off.’

She frowned again, her stomach nosediving in alarm. ‘What?’

His mouth was bracketed by lines of steel. ‘Take them off and everything else he gave you. Now.’

Ava pressed her lips together to contain her pulsing panic. Was this really her Marc? The man she had fallen in love with so deeply and irrevocably? He was a stranger to her now, a terrifying stranger with not just revenge on his mind, but the total humiliation of her as well.

She would not give in to him.

She would not.

She tightened her hands into fists by her sides, holding his glacial glare with a feisty flash of her own. ‘No.’ Her voice came out too thready and soft, so she repeated it. ‘No. Absolutely not.’

His pupils flared, his mouth flattening even further. ‘I will give you one minute, Ava, otherwise the deal is off. Keep in mind the massive debts your husband left behind. At last count it was in the hundreds of thousands.’ He set the timer on his watch, his dark gaze holding hers challengingly. ‘Your minute starts now.’

She swallowed back her anguish, the determination in his eyes making the base of her spine rattle in fear. ‘D-don’t do this, Marc…’

A nerve flickered at the side of his mouth. ‘If you will not do it then I will do it for you,’ he warned.

Ava believed him well capable of it. Her hands began to tremble as she tried to remove the earrings, her fingers fumbling uselessly until she felt terrifyingly close to tears. She soldiered on, glaring at him bitterly, hating him with such intensity she could taste the acridity of it in her mouth. Finally she got the studs out and placed them on the coffee table to her right.

‘Now the rest,’ he said, standing with his feet apart, his arms folded across his chest in an authoritarian stance that boiled her blood.

Still glaring at him, she took each of her dress rings off and put them beside the earrings. ‘There,’ she said, arching one of her brows at him. ‘Happy now?’

His black eyes stripped her mercilessly. ‘Keep going.’

Ava’s heart lurched against her chest wall. She sent the point of her tongue out over her lips, buying for time, wondering if he wanted her to crumble emotionally, to beg and to plead with him to stop.

She would not do it.

She would not bend or break, she would not cry, she would not beg.

She raised her chin and locked gazes with him. Bluegrey warred with black-brown for a pulsing moment. ‘All right, then,’ she said with a devil-may-care lift of one shoulder as she loosened the catch on her watch. She slipped it off her wrist and placed it beside the earrings and rings.

She straightened and, giving him a challenging look, slipped off her shoes, kicking them to one side before she reached for the zipper at the back of her skirt. She told herself she had stood undressed in front of hundreds of people before while she had been modelling. This would be no different; besides, he had seen it all before. Her body was no secret to him. He knew every curve and contour and every secret place.