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‘You’re right,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I am afraid. Afraid I might get sent to prison for beating you to death. As if I’d sleep with you after how you’ve treated me! You are literally the most arrogant, insensitive person I’ve ever met.’
His eyes were cold. He let the silence grow and swell between them until it felt as if it was bruising her.
Finally, he shrugged. ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it. I’m not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before.’
Her whole body was trembling, as though the fury and outrage inside was trying to burst through her skin. ‘Which is what, exactly?’ she snapped.
He gave her a speculative look. ‘Sleep with a rich man to make your life easier.’
With satisfaction he watched something flutter across her eyes even as her hands curled into fists. How far could he push her? And how hard would it be to make her forget her anger and give in to the tension that had been building between them ever since that first day in the garden?
He gritted his teeth. For his sake, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long. His self-control was already being severely tested.
Flora felt fury sweep over her skin. ‘You’re not only rude, you’re wrong. Your girlfriends might act like that, but I’m not that kind of woman.’
‘Oh, I think you’re exactly that kind of a woman,’ he said softly. ‘But don’t get me wrong. I’m just making sure we understand one another. It doesn’t actually matter to me what kind of woman you are. After all, men and women don’t need to like or respect one another to have sex. You of all people must know that.’
She felt her breathing change, anger layering on top of the pain. ‘No. They don’t. But they have to like and respect themselves—and I wouldn’t be able to do either if I slept with you.’
There was a glint in his eye but his voice was surprisingly calm when he spoke. ‘As you wish. And now I really do have work to do, so enjoy your breakfast.’
He turned and walked out of the kitchen
before she had a chance even to register that he was leaving. For a moment, still seething with resentment, she stared after him in stunned silence. And then she shivered. Maybe she should have just taken the money and gone...
Her mouth tightened. But why should she have to give up her home? Whatever he might like to imply, he couldn’t force her to her leave. She had the law on her side. And she had the measure of him now.
Stepping out into the garden, she blinked. Only that was proving less of a help than a hindrance—now she knew just what she was up against. Knew that he would use every weapon at his disposal to get his way. Unfortunately what she hadn’t realised until now was that his most effective weapon was himself.
* * *
Hunched over a tray of seedlings in the greenhouse, Flora blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and, looking up, stared resentfully at the beautiful honey-coloured palazzo. It had only been five days since Massimo Sforza had moved into the building but already she knew that he had changed her life. And she was not sure it would ever be the same again.
Her once peaceful home was now filled with a succession of painters and plumbers—and, of course, his glossy-haired, expensively clad entourage. And that was just the men, she thought sourly.
Standing up, she arched her back and let out a long, slow, calming breath. Why did all the women employed by Sforza have to look like extras from a Victoria’s Secret show? Surely it couldn’t be a prerequisite of working there: that would be vile, not to say illegal. She pursed her lips. Although what would a bit of male chauvinism really matter to a man like Massimo?
Wiping her hands on her shorts, she picked up the tray and slid it into the rack, her face darkening. She’d been determined to ignore his existence, or at the very least treat it with the indifference it deserved. But it was proving hard when everywhere she looked there was some reminder of his presence: a pair of carelessly discarded cufflinks on the kitchen table, a sleek black sports car parked in the drive...
Flora sighed softly. Her life and her home were no longer her own. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
At least not if her brother was to be believed.
Freddie ran his own law firm in London and, having sat and stewed in a mixture of misery and frustration, she’d finally rung him and given him an edited version of what was happening.
Thankfully, he had a big case on and was more distracted than usual. Unfortunately he’d simply confirmed her suspicions that she had two choices: stay or leave. But somehow hearing it from him had seemed to snap it into focus.
‘The law’s on his side,’ Freddie had said, the grim note in his voice underlining her plight. ‘Technically, he should have notified you...’
He’d paused, and she’d gripped the phone tightly, willing him to present her with some watertight legal argument that would wipe that smug smile off Massimo’s handsome face.
‘And...?’ she prompted, and heard him sigh.
‘Not and—but! But it just won’t be worth pursuing it. For a start it’ll take so long to come to court, and secondly—on paper, at least—he’s a good landlord. I mean, you said he’s doing all the repairs you wanted.’
Flora stared tiredly down at her bare feet. He was. And some she hadn’t even asked him for—like installing a gleaming stainless steel cooker with a baffling array of dials and programmes.
‘I’m sorry, Flossie!’
