The Affair: Week 8 Page 6

  “A little late?” Emma asked, surprise temporarily making her forget the anxious topic. “She told me you wouldn’t be returning that night.”

  “She lied,” he stated flatly. “She was likely lying about whatever it was that she said to spook you as well.”

  Emma recalled the official-looking birth certificates. “I wish she was lying,” she whispered. An image of Vera waving those pieces of paper in front of her face sprung up in her mind’s eye. For the first time, she realized Vanni’s aunt had gone and gotten the birth certificates on purpose. She’d known Emma would be at the Breakers, alone and vulnerable, and she’d prepared for battle. Maybe Vanni saw something on her face, because he squeezed her hand. Her gaze flickered to his face.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “It’s just . . . you’re . . . you’re not going to like it, Vanni.”

  “Does it have to do with you?” he asked, his blue-green eyes looking like gleaming crescents as he peered down at her through narrowed lids.

  She shook her head, looking away from his stare.

  “Emma, as long as you’re fine and you’ve given up on this crazy idea about not seeing me anymore, I can take it,” he said. “Everything else is a breeze compared to thinking something had happened to you, worrying I was never going to have the chance to see you again.” His finger brushed across her jaw. “Touch you. Tell you how I really felt about you,” he said more quietly.

  She went still beneath his caress. “And . . . how is that, again?”

  “Are you trying to sidestep the issue?” he asked quietly, humor quirking his mouth.

  “Maybe a little,” she admitted, meeting his stare earnestly.

  A smile quivered on his firm lips. Her love for him swelled like a balloon expanding in her chest, threatening to burst.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said, his fingertip brushing across the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing more important than what’s happening between us.”

  “Really?”

  He looked at her, his heart in his eyes, and shook his head. “You’ve hauled me into the world of the living again Emma . . . kicking and screaming in protest at first, maybe . . . but still . . . here I am. I’m going to stay here, too, as long as you’ll have me.”

  “Forever,” she mouthed, smiling. His fingertip brushed across her lips, and she felt that familiar tug at her core.

  “I love you,” he said simply. “I never thought I’d tell another person that. I thought I knew what that word meant. But I’ve never known this.”

  She stared at him, unable to draw breath.

  “What? Don’t you believe me?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

  “Yes,” she said emphatically. “I love you, too.”

  He cupped her jaw before he leaned down to kiss her. She’d been wrong to think they’d left behind that golden, unfurling sweetness on the sun-drenched beach at La Mer. It spread inside her now in the unlikely setting of a hospital room, all because he was here next to her, taking a risk.

  He lifted his head and plucked softly at her lips with his.

  “Now. Tell me,” he urged.

  And with his breath mingling with hers, and that golden sweetness running thick in her veins, she gathered her strength, knowing his pain would be hers.

  * * *

  She couldn’t read his expression as the truth spilled out of her, no matter how desperately she tried.

  “. . . and Vera showed me the birth certificates, Vanni,” she finished, her voice having gone high as her concern mounted. He just continued to look at her, an unreadable, vaguely stunned expression on his face. “Vanni, I think it’s true,” she whispered, touching his face. “But is it really that terrible? Yes, Cristina bore you, but that doesn’t take away a tiny bit of the love you have for your mother. If anything, I’d think you might love your mom more, knowing how she dedicated herself so completely to you and Adrian, despite the fact that you weren’t hers biologically. And you’re still the same person. Vanni?” she asked, her desperation mounting. “Say something.”

  “That bitch,” he bit out. Emma started at the venom in his tone. “I can’t believe she did that!”

  “I told you, she hated herself for not being capable of being a good mother. Cristina suffered more than you’ll ever know with the knowledge of her lack—”

  “I don’t mean Cristina,” he interrupted. “I mean Vera. She spewed all that at you, and then told you that if you saw me again, she’d tell me about Cristina and . . . what? I’d go into a tailspin? The truth would ruin me forever? And you believed her?”

  Emma’s face went slack. “I believed her, but with good reason. She had the proof. Are you telling me you think she was making it all up? Cristina wasn’t really your biological mother? I was being gullible?”

  An expression of pure frustration and fury tightened his face. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Vera was telling the truth. Cristina was . . . is Adrian’s and my blood mother. My father told me before he died. That’s not why I’m in shock. I can’t believe that Vera has known all these years, and that she used the information to blackmail you. What a fucked-up bitch.”

  He shook his head distractedly, obviously lost in thought. His gaze eventually landed on Emma’s face. He blanched.

  “Jesus,” he muttered heatedly under his breath. He stood and poured her more ice water. “Here. Drink this. You’ve gone white as a sheet,” he said grimly, handing her the water and sitting back on the bed next to her. He waited until she’d taken a swallow. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking the cup and setting it back on the bedside table.

  “You knew? You knew all along Cristina was your biological mother?” she asked, shock ringing in her voice.

  He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. “Just since my father died five years ago.” His gaze sharpened on her. “It wasn’t the most welcome of news, and I can’t say I took it well. Still . . . it didn’t ruin me, even if it did confuse my feelings for Cristina all that much more,” he admitted bitterly. “But that’s not the point. You were willing to keep this from me because you thought it’d hurt me that much? You were willing to sacrifice what’s happening between us because you thought that would hurt me more than losing you?” Stark pain flashed in his eyes. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Emma shook her head, clobbered by the turn of events. Relief swept through her, escalating her emotional state even more.

  He shook his head, clearly as incredulous as she was. “And the worst of it all?” he asked. “It almost worked, what Vera did.”

  “No. Don’t think about that,” Emma said firmly, finding her voice. She reached for him. “It didn’t work. We’re here together.” He held her fast and she squeezed him back. “You know what I’m thinking?” she asked him with a bark of hysterical laughter after a moment, her voice thick with emotion.

  “What?” he asked as he pressed his lips against her neck with feverish intensity.

  “Maybe that car wreck today wasn’t such a random accident, after all.”

  He stilled. His hand rose to cup the back of her head. He pulled her back slowly. Before his face lowered next to hers, she saw the fierce light in his eyes.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. I may have said I doubted you at first, but I was kidding myself. It couldn’t be more clear to me now that you can make miracles, Emma,” he said with grim finality before his mouth claimed hers.

  Epilogue

  One Month Later

  Emma curled up on her side on the cushioned lounger and looked out at paradise. Vanni noticed her smug smile as she stared at him, and raised his eyebrows in an amused query.

  “I think I’m becoming extremely selfish,” she murmured, her voice pitched just above the silken, rhythmic cadence of the waves hitting the beach.

  “I’m trying to imagine how and coming up s
hort,” he replied dryly, moving aside the tray and remnants of the delicious lunch Mrs. Denis had made them. He rolled onto his side facing her, his head perched in his hand. She reached out and traced her finger along his ridged, taut abdomen with languorous sensuality.

  “Really?” she murmured, turning her hand and brushing the stunning ring he’d given her just last night after they’d arrived at La Mer against his belly. His stomach muscles leapt against the gently scraping diamond. They shared a smile. Since Vanni had insisted upon a very short engagement, she’d insisted she didn’t want a ring until they exchanged their wedding vows on the cliffside terrace of La Mer four days from now. Vanni had had other plans, however. Almost as soon as she’d agreed to marry him three weeks ago, he’d hired Angelo Prisatti to design her ring. It was a breathtaking symphony of meticulously wrought platinum and diamonds. Suited for an elven princess, Vanni had teased warmly last night when he’d slid it on her finger and she’d gaped at it in wonder.

  “I think you spoil me rotten,” Emma told him pointedly.

  His lips tilted in amusement as he reached out and delved his fingers into her hair. “Most women would think I was selling them short by not giving them a huge wedding at the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild or the Château de la Napoule.

  “You showed me those places, and several besides,” she reminded him, running her finger over the soft, thin trail of hair that led from his belly button below the waistband of is swim trunks. “You gave me the choice. You know as well as I do that none of them is as beautiful as La Mer.”

  “Certainly none as special to us,” he said, sobering.

  “Vanni?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think that maybe we could live here most of the time?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  She thought he’d be surprised or nonplussed, but instead, a small smile tilted his mouth, as if he’d been expecting her to say it. He pushed slightly on the back of her head and she leaned forward, meeting his kiss.

  “Do you really love it here that much?” he asked next to her lips a moment.

  “You know I do,” she whispered. “But more importantly, I think you do. I know we’ll have to stay at the Breakers at times, with your work.” Emma was even more prepared to stay at the Breakers now that Vanni had insisted upon shunting Vera Shaw away from his home and private life and over to a lower management position at Montand Motorworks, where she supervised the janitorial and cleaning staff. As Vanni had put it, in that position she could do relatively little harm and was directly under the eye of her brother Dean. Both Dean and Vanni agreed after what had occurred with Emma that Vera needed watching.

  “And what about your work?” he asked, cradling her jaw with his hand.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot. There are a few English-speaking nursing agencies here. I’ll find work. Nurses are always in demand.”

  “And you’re sure you want to work?” he asked, nuzzling her nose.

  “Of course.”

  “Being a nurse is part of who you are,” he agreed quietly, meeting her stare. She raised her eyebrows in a silent query, waiting for what he’d say about La Mer. Again, he smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I think it’s time I made La Mer my home. Our home. I don’t feel as tied to the Breakers anymore. I don’t feel like part of me is trapped there.”

  “I’m so glad,” she whispered.

  He dipped his head and covered her mouth again. Warmth swept through her at the sensation of his firm, moving lips. She’d have thought their intense sexual attraction for each other could mount no higher, but she’d been wrong. It seemed to escalate every day, the fire fed by their increasing trust and feelings for each other. When they’d been together during that amazing, magical week at La Mer before, they usually made love after lunch. It was a habit she was looking forward to making a tradition.

  “I’m definitely selfish about one thing. I’m dreading the fact that people will start to arrive tomorrow for the wedding,” she said against his plucking lips a moment later, highly distracted by the feeling of his hand moving along the curve of her hip and ass. “Dean, Michelle, Amanda, Colin, Niki—”

  Something struck her and she rolled back, staring at Vanni’s face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Niki. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before. Because of Cristina, Niki is a relation to you, isn’t he?” she asked.

  Vanni nodded, and she was glad to see how calm he looked. Since he’d revealed to her that he’d known Cristina was his biological mother, her name didn’t come up often between them. Still, Emma didn’t consider Cristina to be a taboo topic for Vanni, like she had before, and she was glad to observe firsthand that she’d been right in her assumption. He seemed quite comfortable as he pulled her back into position close to him, resuming his caress on her naked hip.

  “Cristina was Niki’s great-aunt, so I guess that makes us second cousins or something?” he said, glancing down and watching himself rub her hip.

  “Does Niki know?”

  Vanni shook his head. “I’ve never told another soul about Cristina.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever tell him?” Emma asked quietly, cupping his shoulder.

  “Maybe. Probably,” he amended after a moment. He met her stare, looking pensive. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Okay,” Emma said, sensing his intensity.

  “Take off your bikini first.”

  “What?” she asked, surprised.

  “Just do it,” he directed, the quirk of his brow a subtle challenge.

  She laughed, but did as he asked, then lay on her side next to him again. His gaze moved over her naked body with warm appreciation.

  “Okay?” she asked amusedly.

  “Better than okay,” he murmured, caressing the side of her breast and sweeping it downward over her sensitive side, making her shiver. His hand opened on her hip and he met her stare. “Do you think it was wrong of me, not to grant Cristina forgiveness when she asked it of me?”

  Emma tried to mask her surprise at the unexpected question.

  “No,” she said honestly. “Forgiveness is a state of mind. You know what I’ve told you all along about Amanda and me. If you weren’t feeling it, if they were just words, it would have been wrong to lie about it.”

  He stared out at the sea as he rubbed her hip, the sun-infused water turning his eyes into brilliant cerulean crescents.

  “Vanni . . . do you want to forgive her?” Emma asked.

  His mouth quirked slightly. “It’s too late now.”

  She touched his whiskered jaw, and he looked at her.

  “It’s never too late.”

  She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said out there.” He nodded toward the floating dock. “About me carrying a good load of the guilt for Adrian’s death, and how Cristina knew that, and how she asked for my forgiveness not just for her . . .”

  “But for you,” Emma said, tears burning her eyes. It was a miracle to her, to see him tackling his demons . . . to watch him heal. “That’s why it’s never too late to forgive, Vanni. Because in the act of forgiving another, the forgiver is changed . . . lightened. But it’s not something that you can just say. You have to—

  “Feel it,” he said, nodding. “I understand it’s not black and white, like I thought. And I do. Feel it, I mean. I’ll never love Cristina, but I understand that she was doing all that she was capable of, coming there to mother Adrian and me . . . never really feeling or wanting that role. She was wrong for her neglect, but she was trapped by her selfishness. I think she wished she could have been different.”

  “I know she did,” Emma agreed, stroking his shoulder.

  His gaze flashed up to meet hers. “I never told you this, but the night before you were in that accident, I swam out
again.”

  Her caressing hand stilled. She knew what he meant by “swam out.” He meant that he’d tempted fate again, tested whether or not he would ever be taken like Adrian had been.

  “Something happened to me out there,” he admitted starkly.

  “What?”

  “I remembered more than I’d ever recalled about the day when Adrian died. I’d always thought that I’d let go of him, that I hadn’t held on tight enough, that I wasn’t strong enough to save him . . . but that’s not what happened.”

  She waited, her naked skin prickling with amplified awareness. He looked into her eyes, and a shiver coursed through her.

  “I didn’t let go,” he said. “I was ready to go down with him. He let go of me,” Vanni stated succinctly. “His hand didn’t slip away. He pulled his hand out of mine, and I zoomed to the surface like a balloon.”

  “You mean . . . he intentionally released you?”

  Vanni nodded, a strange, awed expression creeping over his face.

  “It was like he was telling me to . . .”

  “Live,” Emma finished for him.

  His glance at Emma was a mixture of doubt and longing and hope. “Maybe I’m wrong. But that’s what it felt like, when I remembered it out there that morning.”

  “You weren’t wrong. Adrian released you all over again, and this time you felt it. Vanni, that’s amazing,” she whispered.

  His gaze sharpened on her. He cupped her jaw. “No. You’re amazing.”

  “Me? What have I got to do with it?” Emma asked, stunned.

  “Everything.”

  Her lips parted, and suddenly his mouth was covering them, his tongue sliding between them, and he was rolling her on her back and coming down over her, his heat and arousal stunning her. She hadn’t realized as he’d spoken that desire had coiled just below the surface. He was heavy and hard when he lowered his trunks a moment later. He entered her, filled her completely, his fierce gaze on her the entire time. She gasped as he ground their pelvises together, circling slightly with his hips, applying a delicious pressure on her clit.