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But just now … heat flooded his body and he felt himself becoming aroused again with very little stimulation, at just the thought of what had happened … it had not even occurred to him. He grimaced and ran an angry hand through his hair. She had every right to have that tone in her voice if she thought he acted like that on a regular basis.
He turned from the door and went into his shower, stepping under a punishing cold spray. Why had she been crying? His movements stilled. Could it have been because he’d hurt her? But then he remembered that mind-blowing climax; he’d been certain that it had been exactly the same for her—those moans and sighs hadn’t been of pain. Still, he had a nasty taste in his mouth as he stepped out and dried off.
Alicia didn’t know where she’d had the confidence to get off that bed so coolly, put on her skirt and leave the room without the awful shaking gripping her body. What had just happened to her … was so huge … that she couldn’t acknowledge it or dwell on it. She stood under the hot shower, letting the water sluice down over her skin. She didn’t even have the energy to wash her hair and had to keep twisting when the water hit a still too sensitive patch of skin. She remembered the feel of his hand on her scar, the vulnerability she’d felt, and hurriedly stopped that train of thought.
She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of protection and, to be honest, she was surprised that she’d only thought of it in that split second at the door. He seemed like the kind of man who would be concerned about something so fundamental, especially when he’d been so adamant when she’d accused him of fathering Mel’s baby. He’d been certain, and only a man who protected himself would be that certain. Not that she’d given him the benefit of the doubt, of course, she had to concede.
And, had he seen her tears? Did he know that he’d moved her to tears with his body? Moved her to tears because she’d never experienced such pure, primal pleasure in her life? Because for the last year she’d cut off an emotional part of herself that she’d thought had been lost for ever. She’d had to, in order to survive.
But just now, here, this man had made her feel again. She remonstrated with herself, she’d wanted to feel alive again and now she didn’t know if she could take it. She’d played a game that she’d thought, stupidly, she’d be sophisticated enough to handle but it had shown her nothing but her weakness.
Alicia towelled herself quickly and then climbed under the covers of her bed. Her body still throbbed and pulsed in secret places. And, even though she’d just washed, the scent of him lingered.
Before she fell into a sleep of physical exhaustion, her head in turmoil, the lingering thought remained, How was it possible that this man, above any other had given her back something so precious? When another man, just like him, had taken it away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’VE booked everyone into a small boutique hotel for the next two weeks. It’s owned by a friend of mine f
rom France. He would have been here to host us himself but he and his wife are having another baby any day now.’
‘You’re talking about Xavier Salgado-Lezille?’
Dante nodded at Derek O’Brien, who shook his head mock mournfully. ‘They had twins only a couple of years ago …’ He pretended to shudder and winked at Alicia who forced a smile. ‘I’m glad ours are all grown up, that’s all I can say.’
His wife laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be scaring them, Derek. You are the quintessential doting father of four girls; you’re fooling no one.’
Then she said in an aside to Alicia, ‘All the girls are busy this summer working or getting ready for college; otherwise they’d be here in force to support us …’
Alicia murmured something polite and looked out of the window of the people carrier and swallowed an inexplicable lump in her throat, wishing she could tune out the conversation, hating feeling so emotional. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—meet Dante’s laser like gaze opposite her and wished she’d worn her sunglasses.
They were on the way to their Cape Town hotel which was in the trendy area of Camps Bay, near the beach. And she’d finally understood what Dante had been talking about when he’d mentioned the media interest—the airport in Milan had been mobbed. She’d even recognised the faces of the reporter and photographer who she had contacted that awful first night. And, when they’d arrived into Cape Town, another scrum had been waiting for them. She’d been too scared to do anything but cling on to Dante’s hand as he had guided them through the crush, ignoring questions. Alicia had felt as if they’d see through her in a second. That someone would call out, What on earth are you doing with her?
She could feel some of the tension ebbing away already as they passed through the pretty city, and she’d been so relieved to find them sharing Dante’s plane with Derek and chatty Patricia. But she knew there wouldn’t be much respite as he had said they would be sharing a room here. She’d managed to avoid any meaningful contact today but had caught Dante’s eye several times and, along with the inevitable heat flaring between them, had been a look—a look that said she wouldn’t escape.
As soon as they arrived, Alex, Dante’s assistant, appeared, apologized to Alicia and commandeered Dante for the rest of the day to set things up. Alicia faked her dismay and Dante gave her a very pointed look as he walked away. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and went to explore their suite. The luggage had been delivered already and Alicia shook her head wryly. This was what extreme wealth did. The suite was huge, with a deck balcony that looked out over the beautiful beaches of Camps Bay. It was simply stunning.
Alicia felt quite emotional as she took it in, thinking about the difference between here and where she’d been up until a few weeks ago.
She busied herself unpacking and decided a couple of hours later to go downstairs and check out the surroundings. She was standing at the reception desk waiting for a map when she heard a voice behind her and it sent shivers of recognition down her spine.
‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Alicia Parker. Isn’t the world the smallest place?’
Alicia turned around slowly. A tall woman stood behind her, long black glossy hair, an over-made-up face, hard blue eyes. Her stomach fell. Of all the places and all the people. She couldn’t even pretend to smile—what was the point? There was no love lost between them. As student nurses and then nurses together, this woman had fought a continuous battle with Alicia, whether it had been in exams or going for jobs.
Alicia had had to give up trying to be friendly and make her see that she wasn’t interested in being her number one competitor. And then, unbeknownst to Alicia until far too late, it had finally culminated in the ultimate competition—for a man—except in the end they’d both suffered equally.
‘Serena Cox.’
The woman smiled nastily and gestured to a small rotund man at the other end of the reception desk. ‘Serena Gore-Black now. I’m married to Jeremy.’
Alicia looked at the man fleetingly. She knew he was from Dante’s company in London. She’d exchanged pleasantries with him at Lake Como; they’d talked a bit about Melanie but Alicia had been careful not to mention Paolo and he seemed not to have heard anything. She couldn’t believe this twist of fateful coincidence; it was too cruel.
‘That’s … nice.’
‘And you’re here with?’
‘Dante D’Aquanni.’
