Melanie Milburne - The Italian's Mistress

by The Italian's Mistress (lit)

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  THE ITALIAN’S MISTRESS

  Melanie Milburne

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  Back in his bed... with a vengeance!

  When it comes to Anna Stockton, Lucio Ventressi wants only one thing-vengeance for the way she dumped him!

  Knowing that Anna needs money quickly, Lucio makes her an offer... he’ll stump up if she will... become his mistress for three months. Anna has no choice but to agree to being bedded by Lucio, but she’s surprised to find that his passion is sweet, even if it is born of revenge.

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ANNA stared at her son’s specialist in horror. ‘You mean he’s ...going to die?’

  The doctor’s expression was grave. ‘Without the neces­sary private insurance your son will have to wait a year, if not eighteen months, for his surgery in the public system.’

  ‘But I can’t afford private insurance.’ Anna’s stomach tightened with worry. ‘I can barely afford to feed us both as it is!’

  ‘I realise the difficulties single mothers such as you face,’ he said with little trace of the empathy she craved. ‘But the public system is already overloaded and close to collapsing. Your son’s condition is not life-threatening in the short term—however, the hole in the heart needs to be repaired before permanent damage is done.’ He gave the notes on his desk a small shuffle before adding, ‘If you can raise the necessary funds through some sort of benefactor the surgery could be done within the month at the Melbourne Centre for Heart Surgery.’

  Anna’s heart sank. She could barely afford the tram fare to the city let alone an operation carried out in one of the nation’s premier hospitals.

  ‘How ...much would it cost?’ she asked, unconsciously edging closer to the edge of her seat.,

  He appeared to be doing some sort of mental calculation before he named a figure that nearly sent her off the chair to the carpeted floor beneath her.

  ‘That much?’ she gasped.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Sammy would be in hospital at least ten days, which drives up the costs considerably. And if there are complications...’

  ‘Complications?’ She swallowed the lump of dread in her throat. ‘What sort of complications?’

  ‘Miss Stockton, any surgery carries risks. Delicate heart surgery on a three-year-old child is fraught with difficul­ties—infection, for one thing, not to mention adverse reac­tions to drugs and so on.’ He closed the file on his desk and, leaning back in his chair gave her his version of an encouraging smile. ‘I suggest you go home and ring around all your friends and relatives and hunt for someone who will foot the bill. It’s your son’s best chance of a quick and successful outcome.’

  Anna gave an inward sigh as she got to her feet. As far as relatives went she had very few apart from her sis­ter. . .And her friends?

  When she’d come rushing back from overseas four years ago the last thing she had been thinking about was building a network of supportive friends; all she could think about was putting as much distance as possible between herself and the Ventressi family.

  Hardly a day went past when she didn’t think of her ex­fiance Lucio, and his brother, Carlo...

  No!

  She wrenched her mind away from those terrible mem­ories ... the realisation of what she’d done...those horrible accusations that still rang inside her head if she allowed herself to think back...

  The busy city street was packed with scurrying crowds of people trying to weave their way in and out of shops and businesses, the unseasonable November heat only adding to their general impatience.

  Anna thought longingly of a cold drink. Checking her watch, she saw she had at least an hour before she had to make her way to the tram to take her back to her little son, Sammy, and Jenny, her younger sister.

  She saw a coffee shop in the distance and made her way to it determinedly. Her throat was dry, her cheap cotton blouse wet between her shoulder blades and, as she went past a window, she saw that her blonde hair was lying about her shoulders in limp strands, giving her a dishevelled and totally dejected look.

  There was only one spare table at the back of the cafe.

  It was in a darkened corner and she didn’t see the tall figure until it was too late. He was in the booth next to her table, his dark chocolate gaze trained on her.

  It was too late to get away.

  Far too late.

  He got to his feet with the languid grace she’d come to recognise as a sort of physical signature of all of the Ventressi males and came to stand in front of her table.

  ‘Hello, Anna.’

  His deep velvet voice stroked along her spine, unravelling a host of memories of a time when her life had held a prom­ise of happiness, a promise that had been snatched away soon after with devastating ‘results.

  ‘Lucio...’ How it hurt to even say his name!

  ‘May I join you?’ He took out the chair opposite and sat down before she even had the chance to refuse, if indeed she’d been able to get her frozen mouth into gear.

  ‘How long has it been?’ His eyes ran over her. ‘Three? Four years?’

  His casual comment completely threw her. She could tell him the exact number of days, almost to the minute, could even recall verbatim his very last angry words to her.

  She lifted her chin and met his eyes across the small table. ‘I don’t remember. It was all such a long time ago.’

  ‘Yes, indeed it was.’ He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her flushed features. ‘How are you? You look...harried.’

  She lowered her gaze to the tablecloth in front of her. ‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you.’

  The waitress approached and before Anna could open her mouth Lucio had given her an order—a tall fresh orange juice for herself and a ristretto for him.

  Once the waitress had moved away Anna gave him a frowning glance. ‘I might have wanted something com­pletely different. You could have at least asked me.’

  ‘Did you want something different?’ His expression was indifferent.

  ‘No, but that’s not the point.’

  ‘What is the point?’

  What, indeed? she thought. There was certainly no point in arguing with him—he was always going to win, no matter what tactics she tried to employ.

  She concentrated on the small vase of fresh flowers on the table between them and asked with a casualness she was

  nowhere near feeling, ‘What brings you to Melbourne?’

  ‘I have some business here,’ he answered. ‘Ventressi Developments has expanded to incorporate the market both here and in Sydney. The property boom has worked in our favour. I thought I’d come over and inspect our assets.’

  Her covert glance found his eyes on her and she couldn’t help feeling as if he were inspecting her as well.

  When the waitress returned with their drinks Anna took the opportunity to inspect his features undetected.

  He was still so impossibly handsome, as indeed all the Ventressi males were, even the more unsavoury ones such as his brother, Carlo. But while Carlo was shorter with a tendency to carry excess weight, Lucio was tall and lean, his athletic frame honed to perfection with regular gym ses­sions. His hair was raven black, his eyes equally so, his jaw almost constantly shadowed and his mouth firm and deter­mined. It was a mouth that could soften—she knew that from experience—but it was also a mouth that could slay one alive and that, too, she knew from bitter experience.

  ‘How long do you expect to be in the country?’ she asked, not from any desire to know but more to fill the hea
vy silence that had fallen between them.

  ‘Three months,’ he answered, watching her steadily, ‘maybe longer.’

  She took a tentative sip of her juice, annoyed to see how her hand shook as she put the glass back down.

  ‘How is your son?’

  She almost knocked over the glass at his question. How did he know she had a son?

  ‘He’s...’ She found herself choking on the words. ‘He’s ...not all that well at present.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Are you?’ She lifted her eyes back to his, her expression cynical.

  ‘He’s a child,’ he responded evenly. ‘No child deserves to be unwell. What’s the problem?’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the whole story but she bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from doing so. She reached for her glass once more and took a deep, restorative sip to avoid having to answer.

  The silence hung between them awkwardly.

  ‘How old is he?’ Lucio asked.

  ‘He’s three.’

  ‘Does he ever see his father?’

  Her hand tightened momentarily around her frosted glass.

  ‘No.,

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Sammy is...with my sister.’ ‘I meant his father.’

  Her eyes went back to his uncertainly. ‘I have no idea.’ His indrawn breath sent another chill down her spine. ‘Have you even told his father of his existence?’ he asked. ‘No, but if ever I thought he needed to know I would tell him.’ Not in a hundred lifetimes she wouldn’t. His brother Carlo was the very last person she would tell of Sammy’s existence, even if her or, God help them both, Sammy’s life depended on it.

  ‘How is your sister, Jenny?’ he asked.

  Anna was so grateful for the subject change she snatched on to it with both hands. ‘Jenny is doing really well. She’s finished her first year at university, all High Distinctions.’

  ‘That’s quite an achievement,’ he commented.

  Go on, say it, she thought. Say how much of an achieve­ment it is for a girl who can’t even hear the sound of her own name. But the embittered words didn’t make the dis­tance to her mouth. Instead she schooled her features into an impassive mask and faced him squarely. ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘She’s very well,’ he said. ‘Enjoying her grandchildren immensely.’

  Anna’s stomach instantly hollowed and she couldn’t stop herself from asking, ‘You have children?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not me—my sister, Giulia. She has three now.’

  Anna remembered his sister with a fondness that time and her present troubles hadn’t eradicated. Giulia had been gen­uinely fond of her and Jenny, making them so welcome at all times.

  ‘I thought you’d be married yourself by now,’ she said, staring fixedly at the tiny pearl of an orange seed in the bottom of her glass.

  ‘I don’t hold marriage in a great deal of esteem any more.’

  She could hardly blame him. He had every right to be cynical after what she’d done.

  ‘I have to go.’ She pushed away her empty glass and reached for the bag at her feet.

  ‘No.’ One of his hands reached over the table and cap­tured hers.

  She felt a jolt of electricity pass through her hand at his touch, her heart thumping behind the wall of her chest as his long fingers curled around hers.

  ‘I want to talk to you a little longer,’ he said.

  ‘I have to get back to Sammy,’ she said. ‘I have a tram to catch and—’

  ‘I’ll drive you.’

  ‘No,’ she insisted, trying to extricate her hand. ‘I live too far away and—’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  She wished she could think of an outback town five hun­dred kilometres away to put him off, but her mind went completely blank.

  ‘Where do you live, Anna?’ he repeated.

  She lowered her eyes once more and mumbled, ‘St Kilda.’

  ‘Hardly what I’d describe as too far away,’ he commented wryly.

  ‘It is if you have to walk.’

  ‘You don’t have the money for a car or public transport?’ Her chin elevated a fraction. ‘I have enough.’

  ‘Do you work?’

  ‘Only a man who has never had a child could ask a ques­tion like that,’ she said.

  He ignored her attempt at sarcasm and added, ‘Do you work outside the home?’

  ‘I have two jobs.’

  ‘Quite the career woman then,’ he drawled, releasing her hand.

  Somehow she had never thought of cleaning hotel rooms and working in a bar as particularly good career moves, but then neither had she envisaged herself as a single mother at twenty-five.

  ‘I enjoy being independent.’ She rubbed at her wrist, slanting him a pointed look as she did so.

  ‘I don’t remember that being an issue with you in the past.’

  How she wished he hadn’t mentioned the past! ‘I really have to leave...’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you a little longer,’ he said. ‘Catch up on old times.’

  ‘I have nothing to say.’

  He leant back in his chair and surveyed her features for a lengthy moment.

  Anna fought against the urge to squirm under his scrutiny but it took a mammoth effort, making her feel almost light­headed and spaced out, as if she were in the middle of a very bad dream. Any minute now she expected to wake up and find herself sitting alone in the cafe, not staring at the aristocratic features of her ex-fiance.

  ‘Nothing to say to me after almost four years?’ he asked. ‘Nothing that springs to mind.’

  Something in his dark, unfathornable gaze alerted her to the presence of his simmering anger. She could almost feel it pulsing in the air that separated them; it curled around her, threatening to withdraw the very air from her lungs...

  ‘Excuse me, I have to leave.’ She scraped her chair back and got to her feet, relieved he didn’t stop her this time.

  He rose to his full height and his shadow was cast over her, reminding her of how very tall he was and how very intimidating he could be when he chose to be.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ He dropped some notes on the table and strode out of the cafe leaving her standing staring after him. She watched as he went past the cafe window outside but he didn’t turn her way to see if she were looking at him.

  He didn’t need to, she thought with a little inward shiver—he would have known.

  Sammy greeted her with his usual enthusiasm but Anna was almost certain his lips had a bluish tinge which hadn’t been there that morning when she’d left.

  ‘Hello, sweetie.’ She kissed both his cheeks and then the tip of his button nose. ‘Have you been good for Auntie Jenny?’

  ‘I been berry good,’ he said. ‘I drawed you a pic­ture—see?’

  He thrust a picture under her nose and she bent down to inspect it. He’d drawn four stick figures, three of whom she instantly recognised, she could see herself and Jenny and the smallest was, of course, Sammy himself. ‘Very nice, but who is this person?’ She pointed at the tall figure in the background.

  ‘That’s my daddy,’ he announced. ‘I want one just like Davey’s daddy. Can I have one?’

  Anna was relieved her three-year-old son was far too young to pick up on her very real distress.

  Yes, well, she felt like saying, Davey’s daddy is a mild­-mannered ear nose and throat surgeon, not a sleazy oppor­tunist who would lure me into his bed...

  She swallowed the nausea and gave him a wan smile instead. ‘I’ll have to think about it. Now, why don’t we go and see what Auntie Jenny is up to?’

  Her sister was in the kitchen, poring over a recipe she hadn’t tried before.

  Anna tapped her on the shoulder and she swung around with a smile.

  ‘How did the appointment go?’ She signed the words with her fingers.

  Anna sat down with a defeated sigh and faced her sister, speaking slowly so she could
read her lips. ‘He needs an operation, an expensive operation.’

  ‘How much?’ Jenny asked, the slight distortion of her speech typical of the profoundly deaf, but Anna was used to it and usually understood every word.

  She told her the astronomical sum the specialist had es­timated and her sister visibly flinched.

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Anna said. ‘I just don’t know.’

  ‘I will get a job!’ Jenny signed the words so quickly Anna had trouble following.

  ‘No, what this family needs is a university degree, and you’re the one to get it. I’ll do some extra shifts on the weekends if you can mind Sammy for me. Somehow we’ll get through this... We have to.’

  The city hotel where she worked was fully booked over the weekend. The work was arduous and back-breaking but she was determined to raise the necessary funds for Sammy’s surgery, even if it meant working herself into the ground in the process.

  She stripped the beds in the early check-out rooms first, cleaning the bathrooms and taking in fresh linen and towels. She worked like an automaton, unwilling to allow herself a spare moment in case her thoughts wandered traitorously to Lucio.

  Seeing him the day before had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She hadn’t mentioned it to Jenny. A part of her wanted to, but since she hadn’t even told her sister the full story behind her break-up with him she didn’t see the point in dragging it all up now. It was just too painful.

  When their mother had died just two short years after their father’s death, Jenny had been completely devastated and had gone into a deep depression. The only thing Anna had been able to think of to bring her out of it was a change of scene, so she had organised a budget overseas holiday, taking in the British Isles and most of Europe.

  Even under the tragic circumstances it had been a won­derful holiday and Jenny’s spirits had soon picked up, mak­ing Anna feel it was worth all the expense.

  However when they’d landed in Rome at the tail end of their journey disaster had struck. While she had been trying to book some accommodation at the check-in counter at a cheap hotel, she had left her bag unattended for the briefest moment, thinking Jenny was still beside her. When she had gone to get her purse it was nowhere to be seen; gone too were both their passports, as she’d been carrying all her sister’s documentation as well.