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The men returned before Erin could respond and the woman switched to being sweetness and light again, going as far as to suggest that Erin join her for lunch the following week.
Erin smiled and thought, Over my dead body.
Francesco, one hand lightly in the small of her back, bent his head to speak in her ear as they left the other couple. ‘See—I told you everyone would love you.’
Shivering in response to the warmth of his breath on her neck, she lifted her head and smiled serenely. ‘So you did, but you’re prejudiced … at least,’ she amended, ‘I hope you are?’
Deep down she had never been able to believe that a man like her lethally handsome husband could really be satisfied with someone as ordinary as her and the evil seeds of distrust the other woman had planted in Erin’s mind fed on this self doubt.
Of course, she accepted that there must have been other women in Francesco’s life—her husband was a very sensual, passionate man. But after the brunette’s malicious comments Erin found it hard not to wonder when she saw a beautiful woman look at Francesco—was there some secret message in her smile?
When she found herself on the brink of asking a particularly lovely woman if she had ever been Francesco’s lover Erin knew she had let things get out of hand. She excused herself and took refuge in the ladies’ room.
It was unfortunate that when she emerged a short while later almost able to laugh at her paranoia, the first thing she saw was her husband locked in a passionate embrace with a tall, leggy blonde.
As Francesco came up for air, his dark, sleek hair dishevelled from the clinch, his eyes met Erin’s over the woman’s shoulder. If he had displayed some sort of remorse or guilt that would have been something, but instead he rolled his eyes and gave a wry grin as if inviting her to share the joke. The humour died from his face to be replaced by concern and puzzlement as he saw Erin’s expression.
As he bodily put the tipsy blonde away from him and took a step towards her Erin gathered her long skirts in one hand and fled, not caring about the startled and speculative looks her exit drew.
Francesco caught up with her outside.
His initial concern quickly turned to annoyance when she rashly accused him of humiliating her.
‘Do not be ridiculous,’ he recommended curtly. ‘Diane is totally harmless. She has just had a little too much to drink. If I wanted to embark on an illicit affair I would hardly advertise the fact to five hundred people who know me.’
‘Have you ever slept with her?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, but it was too late. Francesco’s expression had frozen into one of icy displeasure.
‘What I did before we were married is none of your business.’
‘But what you do after is.’
‘I am not your father, Erin.’
The soft words stopped Erin in her tracks. ‘This has nothing whatever to do with my parents’ marriage.’
He angled a dark brow. ‘You’re not stupid; I don’t think you really believe that.’
Erin shook her head. ‘I want to leave,’ she said, flinching away when he touched her shoulder.
Francesco looked down at her, disdain and anger etched on his patrician features. ‘We will not leave yet.’
‘You can do what the hell you like!’ she yelled back. ‘I’m leaving. You stay; I’m sure you won’t be lonely.’
‘Dio!’ he breathed. Eyes narrowed, he stood there, the angles and planes of his face thrown into sharp relief by the lights illuminating the tree behind him.
‘You seem determined to push me into another woman’s arms,’ he observed in a voice that seemed clean of all emotion. ‘Be careful, Erin—you just might get your wish,’ he warned before turning and striding towards the façade of the brightly illuminated building without a backward glance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ERIN physically shaking in reaction to the row, had hailed a cab and returned to their hotel suite; by this time doubts about the moral high ground she had claimed had crept in. Her selfrighteous anger had been the only thing holding back the tears and when that had dissipated the floodgates had opened and she had flung herself on the bed and wept.
Examining her tear-stained face in the mirror when the storm had subsided, she had forced herself to look at the evening’s events through Francesco’s eyes.
It had not made pleasant viewing!
‘You’ve got a problem,’ she told her reflection.
Still, problems had solutions, and Erin gave the matter a lot of serious thought as she stood under the reviving spray of the shower.
