Unmasked (19 page)

She kissed him on both cheeks.

‘Are they here?’ he asked her.

‘
Si
,’ she said. ‘He is painting. She is with him.’ Elena picked up little Marco. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You want to do this?’

‘I have to know.’

‘
Poverino
.’ Elena took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

TWENTY

At that very moment Emma was stretched out naked on Marco’s divan. They had been awake since dawn having spent the night in the studio. Three days had passed since seeing David at the marina. She had gone to the bar that night, waited for Marco till closing and then climbed on the back of his scooter and put her arms around his waist. Now she was in his studio once more, on his island. She had succumbed. She would never escape again.

Emma rolled over onto her stomach and laid her head on her hands. Marco had only just left
the divan. He had made her come twice, first with his tongue, then his cock, and now he was painting again. Marco had been painting all morning. The voodoo was broken. He could fuck and paint, paint and fuck.

During that time she had crossed the courtyard twice to pee. She went furtively, nude. She didn’t want to wear clothes again. At dawn they had swum naked in the sea. There was salt and now come on her skin. She would never wash again, either. He might wash her if he so desired. A basin, some soap, a jug, hot water. She’d be a Degas. Emma was going to be Marco’s muse, his mistress, his lover, toy, plaything, whatever, until he grew tired of her. She was emotionally exhausted. She was all flesh, nothing more. Flesh that would rot one day. She felt a desperate need to make every use of her flesh before it fell from her bones.

And she only thought of David three times a minute now. It was getting better. Soon it would be two.

Emma lay on her stomach and even though Marco’s warmth was still on her skin she yearned for him to return. She reached out to the chest on which lay the remains of the breakfast he had
brought to her. Brioche, coffee, milk. She tore off a small bit of the brioche. The melted chocolate within stained her fingers. As she ate it she felt even hungrier.

Three days. Three days of hedonism. Three days of endless pleasure.

‘Marco, will you work tonight?’

‘I never work at that bar again.’

Emma kissed her own hand, licking the chocolate off her fingers and tasting him there.

‘What will you do?’

‘I do nothing.’

‘But Elena will throw you out.’

‘
Si
, and they will take you away from me.’

‘I won’t go.’

‘It will come. I know this. I no surprised. I have you now. That is all. That is all.’

‘You have me now.’

Emma closed her eyes.

‘Emma … Emma.’

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. Elena’s face was looking down on her.

‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and shut her eyes.

‘Your husband is here.’

Emma’s eyes opened wide. She lifted herself onto her elbow. Someone had thrown a blanket over her. She held it to her breast and looked around the studio.

‘Where is Marco?’

‘He is outside talking with your husband.’

‘Stop calling him my husband.’

‘OK. David is here. He wants to talk with you.’

‘I don’t want to talk to him,’ she said and rolled away from Elena, who was sitting on the edge of the divan. Then she turned back, ‘How did he know I was here?’

‘I told him.’

‘You told him? Why would you do that?’

‘He loves you and only you.’

‘Oh, I can’t believe it!’

‘He does.’

‘I mean I can’t believe he has sent you in to tell me that.’

‘He didn’t send me. I came. I want no fight. I want you to understand.’

‘Understand what?’

‘He came to Italy to find you.’

‘No, that isn’t true.’

‘It is. He came for you. He give up his job. He sell house. He leave your friend. He come here, and he find you. He say I was an accident. He say he couldn’t keep his hands off me. You know? He say you understand.’

Emma closed her eyes again, her head was spinning.

‘He say you spoke with his friend.’

‘Sebastian?’

‘
Si
, Sebastian. And you hear a wrong thing. He not know better. David not tell him the truth.’

‘Can you get Marco, please, Elena? Keep David out.’

Elena left Emma alone. Emma couldn’t think. She just couldn’t think. The rush of love she felt was so overwhelming, her mind was overcome. Her ears pounded with the beat of her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, rolled onto her side and hugged her knees. There was nothing she could do, she knew no other feeling like the love she felt for David. There was nothing comparable, but she couldn’t go back, she knew this instinctively. She had done it once, she couldn’t do it twice.

‘Emma?’

He was in the studio.
David
was in the studio. She wasn’t ready. She was naked. She was in her
lover’s bed. This was not how she had envisioned their first meeting. She had imagined she would be seated in one of the restaurants along the parapet. She had imagined Marco would be beside her. Their first meeting would be brief. He would not have accepted their offer to join them. Tense smiles. Frustration. Unexpressed thoughts, unexpressed desires. Their second meeting would have been warmer. She would have met him on the beach, or the esplanade, both alone, she in her bikini looking fabulous. Maybe a sarong. He would be casual, carefree and then gone. She would have been left wanting more. He might have touched her arm or kissed her briefly on the cheek. That would have been the second meeting. The third would have been …

‘Emma?’

Her thoughts were interrupted. She couldn’t breathe. She wriggled under the blanket and hugged herself into the tiniest ball she could make. He had to be perfect or be nothing at all.

She heard one of the easel legs scrape the floor. He was passing through the wall of paintings, he was probably at the foot of the divan.

Emma recited over and over in her head – don’t speak, don’t speak, don’t speak, don’t speak …

‘Emma, I want to be your partner.’

The lump in the middle of the divan moved slightly.

She couldn’t think. All her head was telling her was no, no, no, no. Her heart was dancing. The deep tone of his voice reverberated within her, trapped in her ribcage. Yet there was pain in his tone. Scars. She wanted to apologise for ever coming into his life. He had quit his job, sold the house he was so proud of and had lost the wife she had pretended to be. Why should he give up everything he was? She had stolen his dreams from him. She had no rightful claim to his love.

She couldn’t look at him. She knew how ravenous her heart was. It would do anything to have him.

‘Do you know what that means?’ she asked from within the blanket.

‘I know more than I did and am willing to learn.’

The lump was still and silent.

‘I caught up with Paul. He was brutal.’

No movement.

‘Don’t reject me out of hand. Test me. I am resilient.’

‘How brutal?’

‘He told me about the night before our wedding.’

‘And you still came after me?’

She heard David’s feet shift on the stone floor.

‘You don’t deserve this,’ she said.

‘I know one thing: I love you. This knowledge sustains me. Do what you will.’

Emma moved under the blanket and popped her head out. He was standing at the foot of the divan, wearing board shorts and a tight blue t-shirt. He was very tanned. He was larger than she remembered. She couldn’t look him in the eye, there was too much intensity in his face.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said, consciously leaving off the endearment ‘baby’.

Emma hadn’t known she was. She wiped the tears away hastily and looked up. His eyes met hers and she recognised in them something she had long forgotten: his strength, his will.

‘I will be me,’ she said. ‘I cannot be anyone else.’

‘And I will be me.’

‘I’ll hurt you,’ she said. ‘I have done and I’ll do it again.’

‘And I’ll hurt you, too.’

Emma lay her head down.

‘I want so much,’ she said, wearily.

‘I want more.’

She was suddenly exhausted. She wasn’t seeing the man before her as much as the man she had left. She smelt the leather from his BMW. She could feel the polished wood floors under her bare feet. The expensive cotton sheets.

His words sounded like bravado to her.

‘What do you know about me?’ she asked.

‘Everything and nothing. I want to meet you, the real you.’

Emma rolled over onto her back and lifted herself up on her elbow, holding the blanket to her breast. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s the only thing I am sure about. I have discarded all my certainties. I come to you unencumbered.’

‘You certainly know what to say.’

‘You have given me a lot of time to think.’

‘And what did you tell Elena to make her so compliant?’

‘The truth. I told her I used her to get close to you.’

‘And what did you tell Sally?’

‘I told her what she already knew, that I loved you more than life itself.’

‘And that you would do anything to get me back?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about. I want a partner not a disciple.’

Then David turned. The door to the studio had opened.

‘I give you five minutes, like you say.’ Marco rounded the edge of one of the paintings.

‘
Scusa
, Emma, I not know what to do. He want so bad to talk. Elena say it OK. I let him in.’

David and Emma were staring at Marco as though he were a stranger to them.

‘I think you want this,
si
?’ he said, sitting on the edge of the divan. ‘You want talk with him.’

He reached out and touched her cheek. He was so naturally affectionate.

‘He wants me to be his,’ she said to Marco.

‘How many men you want?’ asked Marco, smiling.

Emma laughed. ‘All of them.’

‘
Si
, I think so.’ He looked from Emma to David, following her gaze. ‘You like this one?’

‘I love him.’

‘You love him?’ asked Marco, at the same time as David asked, ‘You love me?’

‘
Si
. I love him,’ Emma said, her eyes on Marco, ignoring David for the moment.

David took a step towards her and leaned forward but was halted by the palm of Emma’s hand.

‘But love is not enough. It wasn’t enough then and it isn’t enough now.’

Emma reached out her hand and drew Marco to her, her eyes locked with David’s all the while. Her painter understood what she wanted. He tore away the blanket, exposing her naked flesh to her husband, spread her legs, unbuttoned his jeans and lay on her. Emma threw her legs around him as she felt him enter her.

David did not move. He looked down at her without a change of expression. Emma kept her eyes on his while she could but Marco’s thrusts became too much and she closed them and gripped him more tightly. She was moaning now. Marco knew what she liked. He had found the spot, and she was lifting her hips to meet him. When Emma opened her eyes David’s gaze was on her still. His expression had changed slightly. There was more darkness in his brow. Marco’s thrusts quickened. Emma was staring at David. Her moans were louder. She could feel an orgasm but knew she wouldn’t reach there. Marco held her more tightly and bit down on her neck. He was thumping into her now. And then it came, he blew into her and
groaned long and loud. He rolled off her and lay on his back.

Still looking up at David, Emma repeated, ‘Are you still sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ask me to dinner.’

David was about to speak when she added, ‘Ask me to dinner on that yacht. Me and Marco. Tonight. Ask us both and another couple too. I don’t care who. Will you do that?’

TWENTY-ONE

David welcomed them onto the yacht at a few minutes after eight. The evening was very warm. He was dressed casually; a pair of chinos and a navy blue shirt; his feet were bare. And Emma thought he looked very handsome. She had few options when it came to clothes so had borrowed a dress from Elena. It was black, cotton, loose, flouncy even, neither too casual nor too formal and it was a size too small for her. Marco had gone for black, too. His shirt was open at the neck and Emma thought he looked every bit the barman. A sexy barman, but a barman all the
same. As they were dining at sea, both had opted to wear thongs, which they kicked off once they were aboard.

David handed them both a glass of champagne, shook Marco’s hand and leaned in to give Emma a kiss on the cheek. Emma took his face in her hands and, locking eyes, kissed him lightly on the lips before letting him go. David stared at her for a moment and smiled. He then excused himself, leaving Marco and Emma on deck for a moment, giving them the chance to appreciate the vessel they had just boarded.

Marco let out a low whistle, dropping himself onto the cushioned bench that bordered the sunken deck they were standing on. Emma, though she had seen it up close at the marina, only now realised just how large the yacht was. She had noticed David hadn’t bowed his head to get through the door leading to the lounge. Sebastian had been right, it was titanic.