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Because even as she stared at the enthralling landscape, even as she tried to see the upside of this Christmas Eve, thethunk-thunk-thunkof Alessio’s boxing gloves as they connected with intent on the punching bag gave ample testimony that she’d swapped one emotionally charged arena for another.
The opposing characters might be different, but the theatre was the same. Which begged the question—was there something wrong with her?
Was she destined to fight futile wars with people she let close? And yes, Alessio Montaldi had slipped beneath her guard, had imprinted himself on a vital part of her she knew wouldn’t fade away easily.
Even now, after he’d warned her off voicing her opinion about his great and noble plan for avenging his parents, her heart continued to ache for him. Had ached after he’d walked off and left her in the dining room. She would’ve retreated and hidden away in her bedroom if that hadn’t felt like a cowardly thing to do.
She’d relocated herself to the cinema room instead, attempting to distract herself with a classic Christmas movie she could barely focus on, eachthunkmaking her stomach churn. Making her hate herself for her inability to shut it out and—
‘I can hear you thinking from out here,’ he observed from the doorway.
Giada tried not to show that he’d startled her. That every cell in her body now screamed at his proximity.
Instead, she forced a shrug. ‘Then, by all means, remove yourself,’ she said with tart resignation. Because as much as she wanted to brush away or bury yet another confrontation with someone else she...she cared about, the same bruising sensation arrived. Then deepened. Branding pain and despair into her soul because Alessio Montaldi signified high stakes. She’d given him her body. And, she feared, a lot more besides.
Otherwise, would she bethisdisconsolate? Would she experience this perplexing urge to stand her ground and surrender at the same time?
‘I could, but I fear it would just follow me around,’ he said.
And because she was weak and needy, she turned on the lounge seat she’d thrown herself on at some point she couldn’t remember and stared at him as he ambled towards her.
‘Would you throw some more clothes on, please?’
He didn’t bother answering, only smirked as he stopped beside her, a towering display of masculinity frying a shameful number of her brain cells as he slowly unwound the protective bindings around his hands.
‘Is that why you’re hiding in here? Because my half-dressed state bothers you?’ he taunted.
‘Not at all. I’m just giving you space.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re discontented with where I stand on certain issues and how we ended things this morning’
‘You’re wrong,’ she countered heatedly. Because admitting it to herself was one thing, blatantly exposing her vulnerabilities was quite another.
‘I propose we put that to one side. I don’t wish to be locked in battle with you.’ His gaze fixed hard on hers, a sincerity glowing within that made her protest wither away. Made her realise something else.
This was unlike her fights with her mother. Truce-calling never came into play with Renata. They tended to fester underneath every conversation until they eventually parted ways, then inevitably picked up where they’d left off at their next meeting. Always worse, never better.
She exhaled now, her roiling insides settling a little.Better.‘I don’t want that either,’ she confessed, much to her surprise and alarm.
He nodded, then without ceremony tossed away the binding and stretched out on the leather seat next to her.
She gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
One arm propping his head, he watched her in that unnervingly intense way. ‘Making up. I’m told it can lead to all sorts of delectable outcomes,’ he rasped, his accent slightly thickening.
Exasperation was timely in diluting the turbulence caused by his nearness, his seeming geniality, and the furnace blazing in his eyes. ‘And you wouldn’t know because no woman has ever disagreed with you, of course.’ Her droll tone emerged a little acerbic, fuelled by the jealousy twisting inside her.
A very masculine, very smug smile graced his lips. ‘Exactly so. My past experiences have been much more agreeable. But you’ll be pleased to know I find your spirit quite stimulating.’
She jerked upright, dragging her fingers through her hair that had come loose. ‘Alessio, this is a—’
His fingers meshing into her hair stopped her words cold. Or perhaps it stopped ithot. ‘This really should’ve been my first clue,’ he rasped, his eyes following his fingers through her hair. ‘It was very different a few months ago. And it has a wildness to it that is quite captivating,’ he murmured throatily.
‘I can alter it if you want to forget that I’m not my sister,’ she said much too bitterly.
Displeasure flashed gold flames in his eyes. ‘Touch it and Iwillput you over my knee and spank that delicious bottom.’
Her nostrils fluttered, a decadent thrill rushing through her that shocked her even more than his salacious words. Because thatrushsuggested she wanted him to do just that. Which was preposterous, wasn’t it? She wasn’t into kinky stuff...of any kind.Yet?‘Still threatening me with corporal punishment, I see. How primitive of you.’
