The Marakaios Baby

It had been an elaborate dance of words, their talk of business concerns and obligations, veiled references to other places, other people—every careful remark setting out just what their affair would and wouldn’t be. Both of them, Margo had thought, had been clear about their desire for a commitment-free relationship.

‘I didn’t think you wanted to get married,’ she said.

Leo shrugged. ‘I decided I did.’

‘But you didn’t at the beginning, when we met. You weren’t interested then.’ She’d felt his innate sense of distance and caution, the same as her own. They had, she’d thought, been speaking the same language, giving the code words for no commitment, no love, no fairytales.

‘People change, Margo. I’m thirty-two. You’re twenty-nine. Of course I’d think of settling down...starting a family.’

Something clanged hard inside her; she felt as if someone had pulled the chair out from under her and she’d fallen right onto the floor.

‘Well, then, that’s where we differ, Leo,’ she stated, her voice thankfully cool. ‘I don’t want children.’

His eyebrows drew together at that. ‘Ever?’

‘Ever.’

He stared at her for a long, considering moment. ‘You’re scared.’

‘Stop telling me what I feel,’ she snapped, raising her voice to hide its tremble. ‘And get over yourself. I’m not scared. I just don’t want what you want. I don’t want to marry you.’ She took a breath, and then plunged on recklessly. ‘I don’t love you.’

He tensed slightly, almost as if her words had hurt him, and then he shrugged. ‘I don’t love you. But there are better bases for a marriage than that ephemeral emotion.’

‘Such as?’

‘Common goals—’

‘How romantic you are,’ she mocked.

‘Did you want more romance? Would that have made a difference?’

‘No!’

‘Then I’m glad I didn’t wine and dine you at Gavroche, as I was considering, and propose in front of a crowd.’

He spoke lightly enough, and yet she still heard an edge to his voice.

‘So am I,’ she answered, and held her ground as he took a step towards her. She could feel the heat rolling off him, felt herself instinctively sway towards him. She stopped herself, holding herself rigid, refusing to yield even in that small way.

‘So this is it?’ he said softly, his voice no more than a breath that feathered her face. His silvery gaze roved over her, seeming to steal right inside her. ‘This is goodbye?’

‘Yes.’ She spoke firmly, but he must have seen something in her face, for he cupped her cheek, ran a thumb over her parted lips.

‘You’re so very sure?’ he whispered, and she forced herself to stare at him, not to show anything in her face.

‘Yes.’

He dropped his hand from her face to her breast, cupping its fullness, running his thumb over the taut peak. She shuddered; she couldn’t help it. He’d always affected her that way, right from the beginning. A single, simple touch lit a flame inside her.

‘You don’t seem sure,’ he murmured.

‘We have chemistry, Leo, that’s all.’ She forced the words out past the desire that was sweeping through her, leaving nothing but need in its wake.

‘Chemistry is a powerful thing.’

He slid his hand down to her waist, his fingers splaying across her hip. Sensation leapt to life inside her, low down, sparks shooting through her belly.

‘It’s not enough,’ she said through gritted teeth.

She ached for him to move his hand lower, to touch her with the knowing expertise her body had once revelled in. Still she didn’t move, and neither did Leo.

‘Not enough?’ he queried softly. ‘So you want love, then?’

‘Not with you.’

He stilled, and she made herself go on—say the words she knew would hurt them both and turn him from her for ever. She had to...she couldn’t risk him breaking down any more of her defences. She couldn’t risk, full stop.

‘I don’t love you, Leo, and I never will. Frankly, you were just a fling—something to while away the time. I never intended for it to be serious.’ She let out a laugh, sharp and high, as Leo pulled back his hand from her hip. ‘Honestly—a proposal?’ She made herself continue. ‘It’s almost funny... Because I’d actually been planning to end it when we met in Rome next week.’ She took a quick breath and went on recklessly. ‘The truth is, I’m seeing someone else.’

He stared at her for a long, taut moment. A muscle flickered in his jaw, but that was all. ‘How long?’ he finally asked, the two words bitten off and spat out.

She shrugged. ‘A couple of months.’

‘Months—?’

‘I didn’t think we were exclusive.’

‘I’ve always been faithful to you,’ he said in a low voice.

‘I never asked you to be,’ she replied with another shrug.

She could hardly believe she was actually fooling him—didn’t he see how she trembled? And yet she knew he was taken in. She saw it in the way everything in him had gone dangerously still.

Then a cold little smile played about his mouth.

‘Well, then, this really is goodbye,’ he said, and before she could answer he pulled her towards him and kissed her.

She hadn’t been expecting it, the sudden press of his mouth on hers, knowing and sure, a delicious onslaught that had her insides flaring white-hot even as her mind scrambled frantically to resist.

But Leo had always been impossible to resist, and never more so than now, when he was utterly, ruthlessly determined to make her respond to him. His tongue slid inside her mouth as his hands spanned her waist, fitting her to his muscled body perfectly.

She kissed him back, gave herself up to the rush of sensations that left her dizzy with longing. The feel of Leo’s hands on her body was so intense it almost hurt—like touching a raw nerve. He slid his hands under her tee shirt, discarding the flimsy bit of cotton with ease. And then her yoga pants were gone too. She kicked them off, needing to be naked, too enflamed by desire to feel either exposed or ashamed as she stood before him, utterly bare, her breath coming in pants and gulps.

Leo stood in front of her and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She saw a predatory gleam in his eyes, but even that could not cool her desire. Was this his revenge? His punishment? Or simply his proof that she desired him still? Whatever it was, she’d take it. She’d welcome it. Because she knew it would be the last time she’d hold him in her arms, feel him inside her.

He shrugged his shirt off. The crisp white cotton slid off his shoulders, revealing his taut six-pack abs, the sprinkling of dark hair that veed towards his trousers. With a snick of leather he undid his belt and then kicked off his trousers, and he too was naked.

He came towards her, taking her in his arms in a way that was possessive rather than sensual. When he kissed her she felt branded. Perhaps she always would.