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‘I should be getting back to work.’ She drained the remainder of her orange juice and made to stand up.
Without thinking, Alessandro reached out and circled his hand around her wrist.
Chase froze. Really, it was the most peculiar sensation...as if her entire body had locked into place so that she was incapable of movement. His fingers around her wrist were as dramatic as a branding iron and she felt her heart pick up speed until she thought it might explode inside her.
‘Not so fast.’
‘I’ve answered all your questions, Alessandro!’
‘What the hell was in it for you?’
‘Nothing! I...just made a mistake! It was a long time ago. I was just a kid.’
‘A kid of twenty and already hitched. I didn’t think that kind of thing happened any more.’
‘I told you...we were in love...’ Chase looked away and shook her hand free of his vice-like grip. ‘We didn’t see the point of waiting.’
‘And your families both joined in the celebrations?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s dead now, anyway, so it doesn’t matter whether they joined in the celebrations or not.’
‘Spoken like a true grieving widow.’ Why did he keep getting this feeling that something was out of kilter? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had his ego been so badly bruised eight years ago that he would rather look for hidden meanings than take her very simple tale of treachery at face value?
‘It’s been years. I’ve moved on.’
‘And no one else has surfaced on the scene to replace the late lamented?’
‘Why is this all about me?’ Chase belatedly thought that she might turn the spotlight onto him. If there was one thing to be said for going into law whilst simultaneously detaching yourself from most of the human race, it was that it did dramatic things to your confidence levels. Or maybe it was just her ‘flight or fight’ reflex getting an airing. She stared him squarely in the face and tried not to let the steady, speculative directness of his gaze get to her.
‘What about you?’ she asked coolly. ‘We haven’t said anything about what you’ve been up to...’
‘What’s there to say?’ Alessandro relaxed back, angling his body so that he could cross his legs. She really did have a face that made for compulsive watching. It was exquisite, yet with a guarded expression that made you wonder what was going on behind the beautiful mask. Even as a much younger woman, she had possessed that sense of unique mystery that had fired his curiosity and kept it for the duration of their strange dalliance.
And now, yet again, he could feel his curiosity piqued.
‘I’m an open book.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘I don’t hide who I am and I don’t make a habit of leading anyone down the garden path.’
‘And is there a special someone in your life? Is there a Mrs Moretti dusting and cleaning in a house in the country somewhere and a few little Moretti children scampering around outside? Or are you still only into the fast and furious relationship without the happy ending?’
‘My, my. You’ve certainly become acid-tongued, Chase.’
Chase flushed. Yes she had. And there were times when she stood back and wondered if she really liked the person she had become. Not that she had ever been soft and fluffy, but now...
‘I don’t like being trampled.’
‘And is that why you think I brought you here? To trample over you? Is that what you think I’m doing?’
Chase shrugged. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘We’re exchanging information. How could that possibly be described as trampling all over you? And, in answer to your question, there is no Mrs Moretti in a country house—and if there were, she certainly wouldn’t be dusting or cleaning.’
‘Because you have enough money to pay for someone to dust and clean for you. Are you still working twenty-four-seven? Surely you must have made enough billions by now to kick back and enjoy life?’
She used to listen, enraptured, as he’d told her about his working life: non-stop; on the go all the time. The lectures, he had said, were like comic relief, little windows of relaxation. She had teased him that, if giving lectures was his form of relaxation, then he would keel over with high blood pressure by the time he was thirty-five. She was annoyed to find herself genuinely curious and interested to hear what he had been up to. Having anything to do with Alessandro Moretti was even more hazardous now than it had been eight years ago.
‘None of my business,’ she qualified in a clipped voice. ‘Am I free to go now?’
Alessandro’s lips thinned. He had found out precisely nothing. None of his questions had been answered. His brain was telling him to walk away but some other part of him wanted more.
