Enthralled by Moretti

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Airheads? Bimbos?’ Chase dropped into the brief silence. She smiled tightly. ‘Women who are never ashamed to admit that their only ambition is to hunt down a rich guy and bag him even if it means a lifetime of doing exactly what he wants her to do?’ The stuff of nightmares, she thought bitterly.

  ‘There’s absolutely nothing about a woman like that I can’t handle, and you’d be surprised how easily they’ve slotted into my lifestyle.’

  ‘Because they make sure to always tell you what you want to hear and do what you want them to do?’

  ‘Some might say that a compliant woman is preferable to a liar.’ He noted the swift surge of colour that flooded her cheeks. ‘You have succeeded in persuading me, however, that there’s something to be said for a woman with a brain.’

  ‘I have?’

  ‘You have,’ Alessandro drawled. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Chase—agile though your mind is, and challenging though your conversation can be, you’ll never be a contender for the vacancy—just in case your thoughts were heading in that direction.’

  ‘They weren’t!’ Chase was mortified to think that he might have spotted some weakness in her armour that she hadn’t been able to conceal. ‘You’re not dealing with an idiot, Alessandro. I know the rules of this game as well as you do.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Why would you have thought any differently?’ Just like that, his dark eyes had turned cool and assessing, reminding her that the so-called rules of this particular game were different for both of them, despite what she might say to the contrary. Reminding her, too, that his red-hot passion had changed nothing of what he fundamentally felt towards her.

  ‘Look around you and tell me what you see.’

  ‘We’re in your kitchen.’ Chase frowned, confused and flustered by the softly spoken question that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. ‘I can just about make out the little garden at the back, and I can see where the pool is... Look, why are you asking me this?’

  ‘What you see all around you is evidence of my wealth,’ Alessandro inserted smoothly. He killed dead the passing twinge of hesitation at the thought that he might offend her. He reminded himself that no matter how good the sex was, and how much he might occasionally enjoy her rapier-sharp mind, she was still a woman whom he had met going by the name of Lyla; who had strung him along and lied to him; who had dumped him unceremoniously and who, certainly, he would never have clapped eyes on again had fate not decided to deliver her to his premises. At the end of the day, whether he offended her or not was immaterial.

  ‘But,’ he continued as she stared at him, perplexed, ‘I guess you were aware of the extent of my bank balance the minute you walked into my London place.’

  ‘I don’t see what your bank balance has to do with anything,’ Chase said tautly.

  ‘No? Let’s just say that I wouldn’t want you to start getting any misplaced ideas.’

  ‘Misplaced ideas about what?’ But she knew what he was talking about now. Well, it didn’t take a genius to join the dots, did it? She should be enraged, but instead she was deeply hurt, cut to the quick.

  ‘This is all about the sex—and it’s great sex, I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that I’ve somehow forgotten the person you really are. I think this is a good point at which to remind you that you’re a visitor in my life. You won’t be getting your hands on any of this...’ He gestured broadly to encompass the visible proof of his vast wealth.

  He couldn’t have thought of a more pointed way of humiliating her but she pinned a stiff smile to her face. She hoped she looked suitably amused and unimpressed. She hoped that whatever expression she was wearing revealed nothing of what she was actually feeling.

  ‘Do you think I would actually want to be anything other than a...what did you call it, Alessandro?... visitor in your life?’ Her heart contracted, squeezed tight with pain. ‘You might have all...’ she mimicked his gesture ‘...this. You might have the fabulous house on a fabulous coastline in a fabulously beautiful country, and you might have a house in London big enough to fit ten of mine, but I’ve never pursued money and I certainly would never, ever, set my sights on getting hold of someone else’s by...’

  ‘Fair means or foul?’ He took his time standing up, flexing his muscles while watching her. Then he leant across to place his hands flat on the arms of her chair. ‘I felt it a good idea to make sure we were both still singing off the same song sheet.’

  ‘I could never be serious about someone as arrogant as you, Alessandro.’

  ‘And yet you gave such a misleading impression eight years ago.’

  ‘Will you ever forget that?’

  ‘It’s been imprinted on my mind with the force and clarity of a branding iron.’

  So much for thinking that he was becoming indifferent, Chase was forced to concede. So much for thinking that revenge was a dish in which he might no longer be interested. ‘You weren’t arrogant then.’ She met his stare levelly. She wasn’t prepared for the feel of his mouth against hers as he crushed her lips in a driving, savage kiss that propelled her back into the chair.

  Her hands automatically rose to push him away. How the hell could he think that she might be interested in having him touch her when he had just insulted her in the worst way possible? And yet her body responded, went up in flames like dry tinder waiting for the burning match. Reluctant hands softened to cup the nape of his neck.

  In one easy movement, he scooped her off the chair and into his arms.

  ‘Alessandro!’

  He was heading up the stairs, towards the bedroom with its shuttered windows and thin, cream voile curtains, pale wood and wicker furniture.

  ‘We’ve talked enough.’

  ‘You called me a gold-digger! Do you...?’ She was breathless as he kicked open the bedroom door. ‘Do you honestly think that I...I get turned on being insulted?’

  ‘I didn’t call you a gold-digger. I warned you of the pitfalls of becoming one. And, no, you don’t get turned on by being insulted. You just get turned on by me...’ He unceremoniously dumped her on the bed and shot her a wickedly sexy smile as she scrambled into a sitting position to glare at him. ‘I’m sick of talking.’ He stripped off his black polo shirt and flung it to the floor. ‘Get naked for me.’

  Chase continued to glare but already her flustered mind was forgetting the hurt inflicted and keening towards the feel of his hands on her body. Still, she didn’t rush to obey, but as he led the way, removing his shirt then his jeans, she could feel herself melting.

  Their love-making was fast and urgent. She wanted to lose herself in it and forget the things he had told her, the coldness in his voice when he had reminded her of what their relationship really was all about. Did he honestly imagine that she was the type of woman who could look at someone else’s possessions and work out how she could get her hands on them? Yes, of course he did. The distance between a liar and a gold-digger was very small.

  She wanted to make love until she lost the hurt, and she did. She touched him, kissed him, dominating him in one move before yielding in another. She caught a glimpse of his back at one point and saw the marks of where her fingers had scored into his skin. He ordered her to talk dirty to him and she wondered how she did it so easily when she hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to say. It was a complete release of all her inhibitions and it turned her on. It turned her on even more when he talked dirty back to her.

  This was what it was all about—having sex. The most amazing, fulfilling sex she could ever imagine. It was all he wanted and, if it wasn’t all she wanted, then that was something she would just have to live with.

  Her orgasm was long and deep and filled every single part of her body. It dispelled all her dark thoughts. It made her feel as though she was soaring through space, out of reach of anything that might hurt her. She longe
d for it to last for ever. In fact, she closed her eyes and kept them firmly shut even after Alessandro rolled off her. He was breathing as unevenly as she was. She could picture every inch of his face, every line, the sweep of his dark lashes, his gleaming black eyes that could make her body go up in flames with a single glance. She had absorbed all the details and stored them in her head with the efficiency of a state-of-the-art computer housing data.

  ‘Are you going to fall asleep on me?’

  ‘I’m dozing.’

  ‘Should I be flattered that I can send a woman to sleep?’

  ‘Actually...’ Chase opened her eyes reluctantly and propped herself on her side so that they were facing one another on the bed, front to front, her breasts brushing his chest. ‘I was thinking...’

  What would happen if she ever told him the truth about how she felt? Would she find it liberating? ‘About work. How much I’ll have to get done when I return. I may even go in tomorrow evening after we’re back. Have I told you about the work that’s due to start on the shelter? Beth keeps asking if I’m sure that the costs will be covered.’ She ran her finger lightly along his shoulder blade, tracing muscle and sinew. ‘She has a morbid fear of bailiffs banging on the front door because she hasn’t been able to pay her creditors.’

  Alessandro frowned. As pillow talk went, it left a lot to be desired, yet he realised that he should be feeling relieved. He had laid down his dictates and she hadn’t blinked an eye. In fact, he need not have bothered. She had no interest in taking things between them beyond their natural course. Thank God. And, to prove how misguided he had been in imagining that she might get a little too wrapped up in this, here she was now, chatting about work. Did it get less romantic?

  But who the hell wanted romance? ‘I need a shower,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘Are you okay? I shouldn’t have mentioned the shelter. I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t trust you...’ She sat up, slightly panicked by his sudden mood swing, and it occurred to her that this was something she would have to get accustomed to if she decided to stick it out. He didn’t care about her. Why should it bother him if he was dismissive, if he decided to have a mood swing?

  ‘You clearly have a way to go if you think that I would ever back down on my word, despite my assurances.’ Alessandro eased himself off the bed. ‘I can bring the flight forward if you have work issues. In fact, might not be a bad idea. I have a couple of major deals about to reach boiling point. I need to be back sooner rather than later. A few hours makes all the difference sometimes.’

  Suddenly backed into a corner, Chase nodded brightly. ‘I’ll begin packing while you’re in the shower.’ She waited for him to relent, to tell her that they should stick to the original timetable; what did a few hours matter? He didn’t.

  And what happened with them when they returned? It was a question she was reluctant to ask.

  * * *

  It hovered at the back of her mind for the remainder of the night and through into the following morning. Flights had been rescheduled and still nothing was said and she refused to weaken. His mood had disappeared as fast as it had come. On the surface, everything was bright and breezy. When she looked back at the villa from the back of the limo as they were driving away, she felt a pang of intense sadness that she would never see it again.

  He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and she acknowledged that he was probably projecting ahead, thinking about those deals of his that wouldn’t go away unless he was on the scene to sort them out.

  The silence between them became oppressive but it was only when they had touched down at Heathrow that she turned to him and said lightly, ‘So, what happens next...?’

  Alessandro had had no idea how tense he had been until she asked that question. He had been infuriated with himself for not much liking her air of casual insouciance. Did the woman give a damn one way or another? But now, his keen ears tuning in to a thread of nervousness in her voice, he was satisfied that she did, and that did wonders for his ego.

  ‘I’ll call you.’ He curved a sure hand on her cheek and bent to place a hungry kiss on her lips.

  Chase was ashamed of the enthusiasm with which she returned his kiss. If she could have, she would have dragged him off to the nearest hotel room and picked up where they had left off in Italy. Instead, she pulled away with a sigh. ‘I’ve never had much time for those women who hang around waiting for the phone to ring.’

  Alessandro laughed. Her kiss conveyed a thousand messages and all of them were good. ‘I haven’t had enough of you by a long shot. I’ll call you tomorrow. Save you doing too much waiting by the phone...although, if you do find yourself waiting by the phone, then give my imagination something to go on. It would work if you waited there in your birthday suit...’

  * * *

  So what if she hadn’t said anything? Would he have posed the question himself? Would he have wanted to know what happened next? Was this going to be her destiny for the foreseeable future—a day-to-day existence, only coming alive when Alessandro was around; not daring to breathe a word of how she really felt; living in fear of the phone calls stopping, grateful for whatever crumbs continued to drop her way? Was this what she had spent the past eight years working towards?

  She took a taxi back to the house. She couldn’t face the vagaries of the underground.

  It was a little after two in the afternoon by the time she was paying the taxi driver. A thin, annoying drizzle had started, accompanied by a gusty wind, and as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys there was nothing on her mind other than getting inside the house and out of the rain.

  She certainly wasn’t expecting the man that stepped out of the shadows at the side of the house. When he spoke, all thoughts of the rain, getting inside and even of Alessandro flew out of her head. She gaped in horror as he smiled and pulled his hoodie down a little lower so that most of his face was in shadow.

  ‘Long time no see, Chase. Been anywhere exciting...?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHASE WOKE WITH a start to the sound of her alarm going off. She had a few seconds of intense disorientation and then memories of the afternoon before broke through the barrier of forgetfulness and began pouring through her head. She had no idea how she had managed to get through what remained of the day, how she had managed finally to get to sleep.

  She began getting ready for work on autopilot, showering, fetching her smart grey suit from the wardrobe, twinning it with a crisp white shirt. When half an hour later she looked at her reflection in the mirror, on the surface she was the same diligent, nicely dressed professional her colleagues would be expecting back at the office after a few days in the sun, with a companion or companions unknown.

  Under the surface, she was barely functioning.

  She had not expected to return to her house and find Brian Shepherd on her doorstep. In fact, she had not expected ever to have set eyes on Brian Shepherd again, but then didn’t bad things have a habit of bouncing right back? Wasn’t it true what they said, that you could run but you couldn’t hide?

  She had foolishly imagined Brian Shepherd to be nothing but a distant memory from the bad old days. ‘Blue Boy’ had been his nickname, because of his bright-blue eyes. He had been Shaun’s closest friend growing up, the one who, from the age of ten, had shown him all the clever ways they could break and enter houses and all the tricks of the trade for getting their hands on valuable scrap metal. Six years older than Shaun, he had been his mentor until finally she and Shaun had moved to London, leaving behind Blue Boy for good. Fat chance, as it turned out.

  And now he was back.

  ‘Heard you were doing well for yourself,’ he had said, inviting himself into her house and scanning it with the shrewd eyes of a born petty thief. ‘Heard you found yourself a replacement for Shaunie.’

  She had flinched every time he had reached out
to touch one of her possessions but past experience had taught her that any sign of weakness would be a mistake with Brian Shepherd. She knew all about his temper.

  There had been no need to ask him how he had found out about Alessandro. He had volunteered the information with relish: a friend of a friend of a friend had spotted them together on their little love-bird holiday in Italy. At the airport, of all places. Wasn’t it a small world?

  ‘Angie—Angie Carson. Remember her? Fat cow. Took a picture of the both of you. On her phone. Bet you never spotted her! Probably wouldn’t have recognised her cos it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Anyone would think you were ashamed of all your old mates...’

  He didn’t remove his hoodie the entire time he was at the house, prowling through from room to room, touching and picking things up and turning them round in his hands, as though trying to figure out what they were worth.

  Chase remained largely silent until, eventually, when she could stand it no longer, she asked him what he wanted, because of course he would want something.

  Money. He was in a bit of a tight spot. Just enough to tide him over, and he knew she could lay her hands on some, because they’d driven off in a flash car and the luggage...

  He gave a low, long whistle and eyed her up and down in a way that made her stomach lurch. Nice luggage. Expensive. Angie had been impressed. Snapped a few pics of that on her phone and all.

  So, just a bit of money, spare change for a bloke who could zoom off in a chauffeur-driven limo with all that nice luggage in the boot. Angie had gone off with her mates but he was betting that, wherever that flash car had driven to, it wasn’t going to be a one-star dump with dodgy air-conditioning.

  So, what did she say? Did she think that she could spare an old friend a bit of loose change? Maybe, he said, he could persuade her. He knew where she worked...had done a little digging after those photos fat Angie had shown him...