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‘I didn’t have you down as a prude, Mr Sforza,’ she snapped back. ‘Not given your well-documented fondness for scantily clad women. But then it doesn’t surprise me in the least that you’re a hypocrite. After all, you are the head of a multinational corporation—so it’s sort of a prerequisite, isn’t it?’
Massimo shrugged casually, but the intensity of his gaze made her breathing jerk. ‘I’m not a prude. You caught me off guard. You see I don’t generally discuss business with naked women. But then I don’t tend to frequent strip joints.’
Her eyes glittered brighter than the Sardinian sun. ‘I’m not a stripper,’ she said frostily. ‘And we are not doing business. This is my home and I can walk around in it any damn way I want.’ She paused, her face twisting with scorn. ‘Besides, unlike some people, I don’t have anything to hide.’
Her pulse leaped as his face darkened with anger.
‘Oh, you think nudity equates to honesty, do you? Interesting. In that case, I’ve got nothing to hide either.’ Eyes glittering, he slid off his jacket and tossed it disdainfully onto a nearby rose bush, showering petals in every direction.
‘Hey!’ Flora took an angry step towards him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He glanced at her and instinctively she tensed as she saw the hostility in their cobalt depths. ‘Me? I’m showing you the purity of my soul.’ Holding her gaze, he slowly began undoing the buttons on his shirt.
She gritted her teeth. ‘Really? You’re really going to do this?’
Flora stared at him helplessly. This couldn’t be happening. Surely he wasn’t going to take all his clothes off in front of her just to prove a point? She watched in silence, a knot forming in her stomach, her heart beating frantically as he tugged his shirt off and threw it on top of his jacket. Meeting her gaze, he pushed his belt through the buckle and undid the top button of his trousers.
‘No!’ Turning round, she grabbed a faded sundress from the stone slabs and pulled it over her head in one swift moment.
‘And I thought I was the prude!’
She heard the note of triumph in his voice and turned to face him with wide, scornful eyes. ‘Not wanting to see you naked doesn’t make me a prude. It’s just a matter of taste. I know you must find it hard to believe, but I don’t actually find you attractive enough to want to see you naked.’
‘Oh, I can believe that. I’m clearly a little young for your taste. Perhaps I should come back in thirty years.’
Flora frowned. ‘Thirty years?’ she repeated stupidly. ‘Why would that make any difference?’
Massimo shook his head. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, cara. We both know I’m rich enough for you. But you like your men old and rich, don’t you, Miss Golding? Or should that be Miss Gold-Digger?
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Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘How dare you?’ She stepped towards him, her hands bunching at her sides. ‘You know nothing about my relationship with Umberto.’
Her stomach muscles clenched, the knots inside pulling tighter. He was disgusting! A monster. Coarse, cold-blooded and corrupted. How could she have thought he was attractive? And he was such a hypocrite! Barging into her life and her home and judging her like that. Her breath felt sharp in her throat. Not just judging, but destroying something good and pure—sullying the memory of what had been innocent with his vile insinuations.
Scowling, she lifted her chin. Let him think what he wanted. She knew the truth. That she and Umberto had shared not passion but friendship, and a mutual desire to hide: she from her family’s claustrophobic love and he from the knowledge that his artistic powers were fading.
‘Just for the record, I don’t have a problem with your age. Just your character! Umberto was twice the man you could ever hope to be, and you will never be capable of understanding what we shared. But it certainly wasn’t his bank account.’
He smiled coldly. It was the smile of someone to whom such an outburst was a sign of weakness and imminent surrender. ‘The lady doth protest too much. Although in your case...’ he raised his eyebrow mockingly ‘... I think “lady” might be pushing it somewhat, don’t you?’
Leaning over, he picked up his jacket and reached into the inside pocket. He pulled out an envelope and held it out to Flora.
‘Save your self-justification for someone who cares.’ His face hardened. ‘“Just for the record”, I don’t care who you sleep with or why. I just want you out of here—and, despite your damning little speech about my character, I think if you look inside that envelope you’ll find that I understand pretty much everything about you, Miss Golding.’
His icy, knowing smile made her stomach flip over. She glared at him but he held her gaze.
‘I like playing games as much as the next man, cara, but you don’t have to play games with me anymore. And this is a game, isn’t it? You holding out for more and me giving you what you really want?’
She stared at him in silence. His blue eyes were as deep and tempting as the Tyrrhenian Sea.
‘Come on, cara,’ he said softly. ‘Umberto was a rich man, but accept my offer and you’ll be a far richer woman.’
Flora stared at the envelope in silence. A rich woman! She could almost picture the cheque: could see that authoritative swirling signature.
He watched with grim satisfaction as she hesitated momentarily and then took it from him. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’
She looked up at him, hating the note of triumph in his voice. ‘No,’ she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his face. And then with slow deliberation she tore the envelope in two and threw it at him. ‘I don’t need to. You see, there’s nothing you can offer me that I will ever want. Except never to see your vile, arrogant face again!’
