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“I don’t mean about my broken engagement. I mean I don’t want to talk to you. Period.”
His brow furrowed. “Then why are you here?”
Her heart flipped. He was too handsome for his own good. Why was he still in suit pants and a shirt? “You’re wearing a suit.”
“I’m wearing half a suit.”
“Right. Why?”
“What else should I be wearing?”
“It’s late. Early.” She shook her head, sipping her own drink in an attempt to bring moisture back to a parched mouth.
“I had a thing tonight. I only got home an hour ago.”
Her heart began to beat faster. “Alone?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
Her lips twisted in a knowing smile. A hint of her own foolishness made acid burn inside her mouth. “Avoiding the question?”
“Simply holding you to your own rules.”
“If there’s some woman upstairs in your bed then I’ll leave.”
“Would that bother you?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
He came to stand in front of her, breaking her gaze away from the skyline of London.
“It was a work dinner. I’m here alone.”
Her stomach swished. “I don’t care.” She frowned. That was a lie. She cared, but only because she wanted this one night with her ex-husband. The night they’d never had. For one whole year she’d been married to Massimo and not once had he made love to her.
Sam’s desertion had broken her, but not because she loved him. Because she’d thought he would make her happy for the rest of her life. And if she couldn’t be happy, she was at least going to be satisfied.
She’d thrown herself at Massimo enough times in her life – what was once more? The possibility that he’d turn her away again, just as he had during their marriage, was one she didn’t particularly want to consider.
“Then why did you ask?”
She cleared her throat, feeling as anxious as she had been on their wedding day. Except then there’d also been delirium, an overarching sense of happiness and anticipation. She’d loved Massimo back then – what a naïve fool she’d been.
“I just presumed you’d have company.” Her lips twisted into a smile that was laced with remembered pain. “You are ‘billionaire bachelor’ Massimo Montebello, after all.”
“If memory serves, it was you, and not me, who had difficulty with the idea of monogamy during our marriage.”
“Monogamy? How can a sexless marriage be considered anything approaching monogamous? Monastic, more like.” His eyes narrowed at her response, his expression assuming a mask of control that only a few people would have known to fear. Massimo didn’t let his emotions control him but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel, and feel deeply.
“Regardless of the state of our marriage, you were the one who broke our marriage vows.”
Her cheeks flamed pink. She’d wanted him to believe that. God, but she’d been so angry, so furious with him. She’d snapped, desperate to make him jealous. She’d chosen the most public it-spot in Rome and made sure the paparazzi lenses had a perfect view of her being kissed by a famous Italian race car driver.
What the cameras didn’t capture was how brief the kiss was, nor her reaction afterwards. All the news outlets had run a version of that kiss, each of them suggesting she was having an affair with the athlete.
“I’m sure you were no paragon of virtue,” she snapped, lifting a hand to her temple and pressing her fingertips there.
“On the contrary, I think I was beyond virtuous.”
