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Upstairs, Lydia darted into the bathroom and ran a brush violently through her tousled hair, while at the same time trying to clumsily clean her teeth. She was all fingers and thumbs as she shed her nightwear and yanked a pair of jeans and a vest top from a drawer. How could she be calm and controlled?
Downstairs was the guy who had won her trust and made her love him. Downstairs was the smooth, slick operator who knew how to fake romance and act as if he was serious. But it had all been a con. She had been the victim of his cruel, demeaning charade! A dupe, awoke for macho males who got in touch with their crude masculine selves by comparing the number of notches on their bedposts. She zipped up her jeans with a trembling hand. Unfortunately, she had been so hurt and angered by that betrayal she had made herself a victim all over again.
She had fallen for the stupid suggestion that she might take revenge and at least emerge with her pride intact. The consequences of that final foolish impulse had pretty much destroyed her modelling career.
So what was Cristiano Andreotti doing in Wales? Why had he come to see her’? A solution? She couldn’t see why he would wish to help her in any way. When she’d left his Georgian mansion with Mort she had struck a blow at Cristiano’s ego.
There had been nothing else to take aim at, she acknowledged painfully. Cristiano Andreotti did not have a heart or a conscience. Had he come to gloat over more of her unending misfortunes? Slowly, Lydia descended the stairs. ‘What do you want with me’?’ she asked defensively.
‘What do most guys want’?’ Cristiano traded, smooth as glass, while he scanned the silvery pale waves tumbling round her oval face, her luminous blue eyes and her sultry lips, which were slightly parted to show the moist inner pink. He wasn’t really listening’, he was rejoicing in her visual allure.
Hot colour flooded her cheeks. The direction of his gaze was not lost on her, and she shot him a look of loathing. At least you’re not pretending to be a nice guy any more! ‘ Dark eyes flaring to gold, Cristiano inclined his arrogant dark head in acknowledgement. ‘but you would take ad vantage of a nice guy. I’m much more your style.’ in your dreams ! ‘ Lydia slung back at him.
‘How often does Mort Stevens figure in yours now? ‘ Cristiano riposted without skipping a beat.
That merciless retort made her blench, and she semi-turned away, presenting him with a view of her delicate profile. ‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.’
Sideways on, her slender build made her look disturbingly fragile. Without hesitation he reached out and closed his hands over hers.
In surprise, she gasped, ‘What the heck’. ‘ just checking… ‘ Having scanned her arms for any suspicious marks that might have indicated drug abuse, and satisfied himself that that was not her problem, Cristiano released her again.
‘I do not do drugs…1 never have and 1 never will! ‘ she protested furiously.
‘Happy to hear it.’ But she needed to eat more, Cristiano reflected as his attention skimmed from her narrow white shoulders to the pert outline of her small breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He tensed, infuriated by his own thoughts and behaviour.
What was he? A schoolboy again? Since when had the female form entertained the slightest mystery for him?
‘Did you only come here to insult me? ‘ ‘No, there is always purpose in what I do. You’re facing a prison sentence.’
Taken aback by that unequivocal assurance, Lydia snatched in a sharp breath. ‘You don’t know that. . how could you? You know nothing about it ‘ scrimps that entail cash and deception and female of-fenders always attract a more severe punishment,’ Cristiano murmured silkily. ‘Defrauding a charity was not a good idea particularly one engaged in raising funds for disadvantaged children.’
Her skin felt cold and clammy. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘divert you in debt? Were you being pursued for payment? You stole a very large amount of money, but I don’t see much evidence of ill-gotten gains.’
That Cristiano had no doubt of her culpability cut across Lydia’s tender skin like a whiplash.
A painful tide of colour lit her face. On the strength of rumour, he had decided that she was guilty as charged.
‘Why should you care either way’?’ she queried, throwing back her pale head, her chin at a truculent angle.
Cristiano surveyed her with eyes as cool and hard as tempered steel. ‘I don’t. But |can keep you out of prison… ‘ She stiffened, eyes widening, while a crazy little leap of hope surfaced somewhere inside her. ‘And how could you possibly do that’?’ ‘By repaying the money you took with the addition of a handsome donation to oil the wheels of charitable forgiveness,’ Cristiano explained softly.
‘It wouldn’t be that simple ‘ ‘Don’t be foolish. I never talk about what 1 can’t do.’ His wide, sensual mouth curled. CA discreet approach has already been made to the director of the Happy Holidays fund, and the response to that particular suggestion has been a very positive one.’
Her restive fingers clenched in on themselves with fierce tension. ‘But why would you offer to replace the missing cash’?’ deliriously because 1 want something in return,’ Cristiano delivered, soft and low, his dark drawl as erotic as velvet trailing over silk.
Her heart jumped behind her breastbone. She met bold, dark golden eyes shaded by luxuriant black lashes. Breathing normally became a distinct challenge. His lean dark features were wholly intent on her. Something that felt like a tiny hot wire was pulling taut in her pelvis. It was a sensation that fell somewhere between pleasure and pain, and the surge of heat that followed made her tremble.
His sizzling, sexy smile slashed his beautiful mouth.
“And I do believe you will enjoy giving it to me,’
Lydia was finding it impossible to concentrate. ‘l’m afraid 1 don’t understand ‘ ‘Don’t you’? I’m offering a pretty basic deal. 1 want you in my bed ‘
Shock roared through her, leaving her light-headed. ‘1 don’t believe you ‘ ‘of course you would have to throw yourself heart and soul into the role of being my mistress ‘ oh, this doesn’t make sense ‘ His brilliant eyes were ice-cold. ‘lt makes perfect sense.
Watching you endeavour to meet my every wish and need will provide me with considerable entertainment. I’m not an easy guy to please.’
Lydia had turned bone-white. ‘You can’t despise me and want me like that at the same time.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s
immoral! ‘ she gasped.
‘When did 1 say 1 was moral’?. ‘ ‘I can’t believe your nerve. 1 can’t believe you can approach me with such a proposition’ Lydia lanced back at him, burning with furious mortification. ‘Maybe you don’t have any standards, but 1 do ‘ ‘I don’t steal,’ Cristiano proclaimed, in a super-soft undertone.
‘Maybe 1 don’t either. But you’re only interested in trying to take advantage of the fact that I’ m in trouble, and I think that is disgusting! ‘ ‘l have made a fortune from opportunism, ‘Well, you lucked out when you met me because l’d sooner go to prison than sink to the level of being your mistress ! ‘ Shimmering dark golden eyes connected with hers.
‘1 don’t think so.’
The force field of energy he projected was all around her, like an invisible web of silent intimidation. Unable to break the hold of his compelling scrutiny, she felt his anger’, and it somehow soothed the ache deep down inside her. ‘1 know so.’
As she stepped past him, he curved a light hand to her spine and stilled her. He bent his handsome dark head and the cool, irresistible power of his sensual mouth claimed hers. It was everything she had secretly feared, everything she had ever craved.
With the utmost gentleness he let his tongue steal between her parted lips and explore the moist interior. He delved deeper. She moaned low in her throat, heard her own plaintive cry of surrender and acceptance, and wanted to die of shame. But still she couldn’t break free of the fierce physical excitement that controlled her.
That inner conflict made her quiver, as though she was in the eye of a storm.
Cristiano stepped back. He had not held her. He had not given her that much excuse to succumb. ‘Answer the phone…’ ‘ Only when she was separated from him did the world crowd back in on her again, and she heard the phone’s insistent shrill. She surged in a feverish rush to answer it.
Fighting to rescue her smashed composure, but nowhere near strong enough to meet Cristiano’s appraisal, Lydia snapped a damp palm round the receiver. It was her solicitor. She stiffened in dismay when she learned that the police had requested a meeting today, rather than in four days’ time, as had been previously arranged.
