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It was a million miles away from the cottage in Wales, in every respect. To start with, it felt as if the whole cottage could have easily fitted inside just that one luxurious room of the villa. And the view outside was equally far removed from Wales. The powder-white coral sand was the opposite of the black rocks and dark grey limestone of the Pembrokeshire coast. And the mirror-like emerald water was totally different from the churning slate grey sea that had nearly cut her off with the incoming tide.
It was almost impossible to believe that it was only a few days since she’d arrived in Pembrokeshire and gone down to the stormy beach to test out that digital camera. So much had happened. So many awful truths had been revealed.
But Marco’s latest accusation had left her reeling.
She could not process the discovery that he believed she had deliberately done something to hurt Bianca. Even the idea that she could do such a thing made her feel sick. That Marco thought it was possible, even after they had spent so much time together, shocked her to the core.
She’d thought that he understood her—that in a short time he had come to know her better than anybody else had ever known her. She’d thought that they were soul mates.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
She had fallen in love with someone who didn’t know her at all. Someone who despised her.
Marco powered through the calm water of the lagoon, trying to work off some of the anger that gripped his body, but it was taking him a long time to feel any better. The glow of exercise fatigue in his muscles started to seem like an unattainable goal—his body was too full of raging energy that needed to be released so he just kept swimming back and forth across the bay.
He had chosen to stay in a sheltered cove where the tranquil water would be ideal for bathing and making love to Claudia. Now he wished he’d chosen somewhere known for rolling surf. He could do with the physical challenge of battling the elemental force of the water.
Finally he headed in to the beach and stood staring back out to where the breakers foamed across the reef, letting the sun dry his body. There was a hollow irony in the fact that he’d selected this location with Claudia in mind—and it wasn’t lost on him. Somehow he had let himself imagine that nothing would have changed between them, that this would be a continuation of their time in the cottage in Wales.
He was an utter fool.
He’d planned to seduce Claudia, make her open up her heart to him, then toss her brutally aside when he had no more use for her.
He’d done that. Everything had gone according to plan. So why was he hammering out his fury in the ocean, trying to swim himself towards exhaustion, rather than enjoying the triumph of this moment?
The distraught expression on Claudia’s face when he’d pushed her away from him flashed through his mind. He’d been so furious that he knew he’d used considerable force. Had she fallen? He’d never looked back to see.
He clenched his fists and exhaled heavily. Why should he care if she’d fallen? The sand was soft—she would not have been injured.
Besides, the whole point of his plan was to hurt her. He wanted her to feel the way he’d felt, back when he’d realised she’d duped him. Four years ago he’d gone in with his eyes open, knowing exactly who she was, and yet somehow he’d fallen for her charms. He’d lowered his defences, letting her play with his common sense and duty to protect his sister. Then she had sent Bianca right into Vasile’s grasp.
Now that the situation was out in the open should not—would not—make any difference to what he did or the way he felt. He’d made up his mind about Claudia long ago and judged her accordingly. He’d set his course and he’d followed it. And he would continue to see it through.
He would not tolerate her messing with his head again, making him question himself. Nothing had changed. Claudia was still as treacherous as his mother and had betrayed them in the same poisonous way. Bianca had been at the mercy of Vasile that night, and it was only the fortuitous intervention of Marco’s friend that had saved her.
By the time Claudia saw Marco walking back up the beach to the villa her mood had completely changed. When she’d first discovered the root cause of his hostility towards her she had been totally shocked. She’d felt sick to her stomach that he could genuinely have believed such awful things about her.
Now a very different emotion was coiling through her, raising her heart rate and creating tension in every single inch of her body.
Anger.
Marco had treated her appallingly. Not only now, but also back when he’d first met her. Every moment of every hour they had spent together had been a lie. He had just been waiting for her to trip up—all the time believing that she was a terrible person. And he had never, ever given her the chance to defend herself.
She heard his steps on the wide wooden veranda and turned to watch him come in through th
e open door.
‘Still here?’ The sarcastic tone in his voice grated across her nerve endings, tightening all her muscles to a whole new level of tension. ‘I half expected you’d be gone.’
‘You brought me here,’ she snapped. ‘I thought this was where you wanted me. Or have you grown tired of your little game?’
She stared across the room at him angrily, noticing a fine dusting of white sand on the bronzed skin of his chest. His hair was still slightly damp and was stiff and spiky with sea salt.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am growing tired of your presence, but unfortunately I haven’t finished with you yet. There is still one more thing to do.’
‘You mean you want to flaunt me in front of Primo Vasile?’ she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. ‘Like some kind of trophy.’
‘Something like that,’ Marco said.
