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‘I do owe you an explanation,’ Marco said. ‘Let’s go somewhere and talk.’ His dark gaze slid down her in a way that made her think he wanted to do more than talk.
For a split second Claudia wondered what had made him call out her name when he’d spotted her in the street. He could easily have watched her walk away and she would have been none the wiser that they had passed by so close to each other. But now, the way his eyes were burning right through her clothes gave her an answer that made the pieces of her broken heart weep.
It was still just about sex.
And, shockingly, the look in his eyes told her that he wanted to pick up where they’d left off.
‘It’s too late for that,’ she replied stonily, folding her arms resolutely across her chest.
Then suddenly the horrible realisation that she’d spoken the truth in more ways than one slammed into her like a lead weight. It was only a matter of days until she would have to marry Primo Vasile.
She slumped back against the shop window, hardly aware of the constant stream of shoppers brushing past her. Even if she was foolish enough to want to hear Marco’s explanation, it made no difference what he had to say for himself. Because, even if her wildest dreams had come true and Marco had genuinely been in love with her, she could never be with him again.
Because she was committed to Vasile now. And if she didn’t go through with her wedding to him, he would report her father’s crime to the police.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Marco said, stepping close so that his broad shoulders shielded her from the crowd of people that had built up in the bottleneck of the shop doorway. Then he slipped his arm around her waist to guide her out
into the street.
A shiver ran through her as he pulled her tight to his body and she drew in a shaky breath. For a moment the sheer pleasure of being held close to him took over, mercifully blotting everything else out.
But she wasn’t in love with him any more. She couldn’t be. No sensible, self-respecting woman would love a man after he’d dumped her so decisively. But the intervening time—and common sense—had done nothing to dull her physical awareness of him.
‘Let me go.’ She stopped suddenly, slipping out of his grip before he could react. Then she turned to look him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say—it won’t change anything.’
That was the simple truth—and the sooner she faced up to it the better. Whatever he said wouldn’t change the fact that he had callously discarded her four years ago. And it wouldn’t change the fact that she had to marry Primo Vasile.
‘Then let’s not talk about the past,’ Marco said.
He stared down at Claudia’s deceptively innocent face.
He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want to discuss the night he’d left her in Wales—her reluctance to talk about it was further proof of her guilt. Another nail in her coffin.
It was obvious that he’d discovered she was in league with Primo Vasile. That she’d callously set Bianca up, then purposefully taken Marco out of the country to ensure his sister was alone and vulnerable.
His blood ran cold as he remembered the phone call he’d received from Ricardo that night in Wales. It had been a monumental stroke of luck that Marco’s friend had come across Vasile and Bianca before something truly awful had happened.
‘Let’s not talk at all,’ Claudia said, turning to walk away from him.
‘Wait.’
A bolt of fury shot through him. He wasn’t finished with her yet—how dared she walk away from him? He reached out and caught her arm, spinning her round so that they were face to face once more. He stared down at her and a strange feeling hit him in the chest.
Suddenly, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.
He remembered only too well the afternoon that Bianca had introduced them. The minute he’d laid eyes on her at that high-society Turin wedding, he’d felt his blood quicken with desire. Dressed simply, with her long hair falling in natural waves around her shoulders and her pale English skin glowing in the Piedmont sunshine, she was a rare beauty. So refreshingly different from the chic Italian women he knew.
He had taken her slim hand in his and gazed down into her incredible eyes, experiencing an exquisite rush of pleasure as he’d anticipated getting to know her.
Then Bianca had told him her name.
Claudia Hazelton.
Like an unexpected icy wind scouring his skin, he had known at once who she was. Had known that eight years earlier her family had destroyed his.
But, as he’d started to talk to her, he’d been impressed by her openness and simple charm. He’d resolved not to judge her, based on a family background she’d had no control over, and he’d suppressed his natural suspicions of her, taking the time to get to know her.
It hadn’t been long until they had fallen into bed, where he’d discovered to his great pleasure that she was a virgin. As the days had gone by, Marco had increasingly let down his guard, distracted by the extraordinary delights of spending time with her—making love and simply being together.
