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‘Is that why you’re doing all of this?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I’m doing all this for my new tenant. Your new neighbour.’
She gaped at him. ‘What new neighbour?’
‘The new tenant who’s moving in today. It was in the email.’ He paused. ‘The one that wasn’t sent.’ He smiled blandly. ‘Don’t look so worried. I hand-picked him myself.’
It took all her will-power not to throw the glass of water at his head. Finally, she said flatly, ‘Let me guess. He’s a drummer in a band. Or maybe he breeds huskies or budgerigars.’
He laughed. ‘Are you saying I’d deliberately pick an antisocial tenant to make your life hard?’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint you but there’s no dogs or birds. Just a nice, quiet businessman.’
Something wasn’t right.
His words nudged each other inside her head and then she knew what it was. She went hot, then cold, and then hot again with horror.
‘No!’ She shook her head, her pupils flaring. ‘No! You are not moving in here. You can’t—’
‘But I can.’
He paused, and her pulse soared as he smiled at her slowly—a dark, taunting smile that sent a shiver through her body.
‘You’re not scared, are you, cara? After all, it’s a big house.’
She felt a jolt, low down, felt suddenly horribly out of her depth. It was a big house but she knew that he would dominate every inch of it. A lump rose in her throat. It wasn’t fair. This house was her home—her refuge from the world. But how was she supposed to feel safe living with a man who looked at her with such absolute focus? Such predatory purpose?
Fear mingling with desire, she stared at him in silence, terrified that he might somehow be able to read her mind as the blue gaze lingered on her hot, flushed face.
Finally, he shrugged. ‘I’ve taken the bedroom next to yours—the blue room.’ Pausing, he smiled coldly. ‘Of course if you don’t like it you can always move rooms. Or move out.’
Her stomach clenched, and she could barely swallow her anger. ‘Over my dead body.’
Massimo smiled coldly. Normally his business decisions were based on logic and reason. But his decision to move into the palazzo had been driven by pure, elemental rage. Flora had defied him and he’d wanted to punish her defiance—to rub his power in her face.
Giorgio had been appalled. His team astonished. It had been reckless and completely out of character. And yet he’d still gone ahead and done it.
His body twitched and he stared at her greedily, a memory of her near naked body stealing into his mind like a cat burglar. For weeks it had been the same story. He’d found it impossible to concentrate, his mind drifting off, distracted by images of a fierce-eyed Flora melting into his arms—
His breathing slowed. And why not, he thought idly. He’d tried money and threats and reasoning with her and none of those had worked. So why not seduction?
He smiled at her, feeling the tug of sexual tension between them. ‘I’d rather be on top of your living one.’
Flora swallowed the lump in her throat. Fear spiked inside her. Until that moment it hadn’t been real—this feeling, this longing. It had just been inside her head: private, shameful. Now it was out in plain sight. His gaze rested intently on her face, and she felt something hot and dry eddy over her skin like the air pushed out of a tunnel by an approaching train.
‘You’re disgusting,’ she whispered.
He studied her face fully, his eyes narrowed, knowing, cruel. ‘Just honest,’ he murmured. His lip curled. ‘You should try it some time.’
Her pulse beat loudly in her head; her mouth was dry. What was the matter with her? Was she really so shallow that her body could simply override what her brain knew to be true? Massimo Sforza might be heart-stoppingly handsome, but he was also a despicable human being.
She walked slowly across the kitchen and stopped in front of him. They were so close that she was dizzily aware of the warmth of his body and the scent of lavender and bergamot that clung to his skin. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes huge as she looked up at him.
‘You forcing your way into my home is a pretty scummy thing to do—and I’d honestly thought you couldn’t sink any lower. How wrong I was! Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t do housework, listen to opera or sleep with men I hate.’
She felt a sting of satisfaction as his smile vanished. After so many months of feeling harried, it felt good to turn on her hunter.
His fine features twisted mockingly. ‘Hate? Oh, you don’t hate me, cara. You’re afraid of me. Afraid of how I make you feel.’
They were inches apart, and she found herself staring helplessly at his full and sensuously curved lips. How could a man with so little integrity have such a beautiful mouth? It was cruel and unfair.
