Mistress To a Latin Lover. Jane Porter

saw the taut, determined look on Maximos’s face, his cheekbones jutting harshly, his jaw set. Emilio saw it, too, and smiling idly, he touched Cass’s neck before running his hand through Cass’s hair.

      Reaching their end of the table, Maximos spoke to the man seated on Cass’s right. The man stood and walked away, vacating his seat for Maximos.

      Maximos pulled the now empty chair out and sat down.“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, leaning forward, looking Emilio in the eye.

      Cass felt Maximos’s shoulder brush her breast and she shivered, nerves tightening.

      “I am.” Emilio smiled, relishing the cat and mouse game he and Maximos were playing. “Your sister is beautiful. I’ve never seen her look better. She’s all grown up, isn’t she?”

      Maximos didn’t even glance his sister’s way. “Adriana’s just twenty-one.”

      “A woman.”

      Maximos’s jaw thickened. “And you like other men’s women.”

      Emilio laughed. “Not necessarily. But I do like women.” He clapped his hand on Cass’s knee, and rubbed his palm in circles over her kneecap. “Especially this one.”

      Maximos didn’t answer and Emilio’s hand moved higher on Cass’s leg, sliding over her knee to her thigh. “She’s gorgeous, my Cass, isn’t she?”

      Cass couldn’t bear it. She reached for Emilio’s hand, lifted it from her leg. “Stop.”

      The look Emilio gave her was hard enough to cut glass. “Maybe it’s time we went home and went to bed. You’re sounding a little tired, love.”

      “I’m fine,” she protested.

      “No, you’re a bitch, and I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” Emilio shoved his chair back and stood. “I’m going to go get a real drink. Something better than this cheap table wine.”

      He stalked off and Cass watched him go, insides twisted.

      There was a long moment’s silence and Cass stirred uneasily. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, or how to make amends at this point. But she did need to make amends. This whole evening had been awful, and an embarrassment for Maximos.

      “I’m sorry,” she said at length, tugging on the lapels of Maximos’s coat, cold despite the jacket’s protection. “I’ve behaved badly, and your poor family, having to suffer through this show Emilio and I’ve put on…” Her voice faded and she swallowed. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

      Maximos regarded her steadily. “I was surprised to see you here with him. I didn’t even know you two knew each other.”

      “We met in April, just after—” She broke off, surprised at a new thought. Quickly she counted back. She’d met Emilio in April at an advertising awards dinner, a dinner held three days after the miscarriage. Three days.

      Maybe their meeting hadn’t been by chance.

      Maybe Emilio had found out about the miscarriage and intended for them to meet…

      It was bizarre to think about, but made sense in an awful sort of way.

      “I need to go,” she said, reaching for her purse and rising. “This is—was—the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t know what I was thinking, and you’ve every right to think I’ve gone completely mad. Maybe I have.”

      Maximos rose, too. “I’ll take you back to the palazzo.”

      “No.” She smiled quickly to soften her refusal. “I’ll get a cab. I’ll be fine.”

      “I can’t send you back unchaperoned. I don’t trust Emilio and I don’t want you returning to the palazzo alone.”

      “Maximos—”

      “I saw the bruises on your arm. He hurt you earlier, didn’t he?”

      Her mouth opened but no sound came out.

      Maximos shook his head in disgust. “That’s why I wrapped you in my coat. I didn’t want anyone staring at the bruises. They were so dark. It was obvious you’d been hurt.”

      Hot emotion rushed through her and she had to look away for a moment to keep from crying. “I thought you were ashamed of me appearing virtually naked at your sister’s dinner.”

      “Ashamed of your body? Impossible.” He leaned toward her, kissed her temple. “But maybe it was a bit daring for my grandmother’s tastes.”

      Cass smiled wanly. “I didn’t want to wear it.”

      “I suspected as much.” He reached into his pocket for his car keys. “Let me just let Sophia know I’m leaving. I’ll be right back.”

      In the car Cass stared out the window as Maximos drove. She watched the neighborhoods pass by, the yellow streetlights glowed like topaz at night, the old city dark and mysterious, the narrow streets nearly deserted as the car approached the Guiliano palazzo. “How long have you been seeing Sophia d’Santo?” she finally asked, gathering her courage.

      “Emilio talked about her.” But it was a statement, not a question.

      “He said she’d been your companion for years.”

      Maximos didn’t immediately reply but Cass felt him tense. He didn’t like this subject.

      “She is beautiful,” Cass added quietly, her insides feeling as if they were on fire. She didn’t know why she had to talk about Sophia now. Was it jealousy? Envy? Probably.

      “Yes.” Maximos didn’t take his eyes from the road.

      “And young.”

      His dark brows pulled. A small muscle in his jaw tightened. “I’ve known her nearly thirteen years.”

      Her chest squeezed, her heart aching. “Do you love her?”

      “Cass—”

      “I need to know, Maximos. I need to understand.”

      “Understand what?”

      Her shoulders lifted, fell. “Why you didn’t love me.”

      “Christ,” he swore beneath his breath, palms pressing hard against the leather covered steering wheel. “Women. You’re all impossible.”

      Cass folded her hands in her lap, nails dug into her skin. “Would you marry her?”

       “Cass.”

      “Is that why you only saw me part-time? Because the rest of the time you were with her?”

      Maximos pulled over to the side of the road and turned in his seat to look at her, and even in the dim light of the interior his expression was fierce, forbidding. “I was not with her. I care about Sophia, but I do not love her and would not marry her.”

      Cass looked at him, seeing the strong proud lines of his face in the shadowed light of the car interior. “So she’s never been your lover?”

      “No!” His voice thundered in the car. “No. Any more questions?”

      Cass looked away. “Not at the moment.”

      “Good.” He started the car and resumed driving. The rest of the brief trip was finished in silence. But as Maximos pulled up in front of his family’s palazzo, the house having passed from one generation of Guilianos to the next for nearly five hundred years, Maximos broke the silence. “You’ve changed,” he said tersely. “You used to be strong. Optimistic. You’re so insecure now.”

      Insecure. That was one way of putting it. “Things were different then,” she said.

      “Not that different.”

      Cass almost laughed out loud, thinking he was joking but as she caught sight of his