Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child

by Annie West

  He frowned. He had no time for emotions.

  Lust, yes. He was no stranger to physical desire. That was easily assuaged. But the disturbing sensations churning in his belly were unfamiliar, caused by something more complex.

  A knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the interruption to his unpalatable thoughts, Alessandro put down his cup and turned as the butler crossed the foyer.

  Alessandro was surprised to register his shoulders stiffening, locking as tension hardened his stance.

  Since when had he, Alessandro Mattani, experienced nerves? Even when the specialists had shaken their heads over his injuries, referring to complications and a long convalescence, all he’d felt was impatience to get out of hospital. Especially when he’d learned the impact his accident, so soon after his father’s death, had caused.

  The commercial vultures had begun circling, ready to take advantage of the mistakes his father had made in those last months and of Alessandro’s incapacity.

  ‘Ms Wells, sir.’ The butler ushered her into the sitting room.

  She stood as if poised for flight, just inside the door. Once more that shock of connection smacked him square in the chest. He rocked back on his feet.

  Jerkily she lifted a hand to smooth her hair, then dropped it as she caught his scrutiny.

  Tension, palpable and vibrating, strung out between their locked gazes.

  Carys Wells looked out of place in the opulence of Melbourne’s most exclusive hotel suite. Unless, of course, she was here to provide a personal service to the occupant. Delivering a message or bringing room service.

  Alessandro’s thoughts jagged on the sort of personal service he’d like her to provide.

  It didn’t matter that he knew any number of more beautiful women. Clever, high achievers who combined chic style, business savvy and an eagerness to share his bed.

  Something about Carys set her apart.

  Her curves would horrify the perpetually dieting women he knew in Milano. Her dark hair was severely styled, if you could call scraping it back into a bun a style. Her make-up was discreet, and she wore a sensible navy suit that no woman of his acquaintance would be seen dead in.

  Yet the way her face had lit with emotion earlier hinted at a more subtle attractiveness. And those legs…The sight of her shapely calves and trim ankles in high heels and dark stockings tugged at his long-dormant libido.

  Alessandro’s hands flexed. He wanted to explore further, to discover if her legs were as sexy all the way up.

  Instinct—or was it memory?—told him her legs were superb. Just as he knew he’d found pleasure in her neatly curved figure and her deliciously full lips.

  Belatedly he dragged his gaze from the woman who’d lured him halfway around the world.

  The way she sidetracked him was unprecedented. One way or another he had to get her out of his system.

  ‘Grazie, Robson. That’s all for tonight.’

  The butler inclined his head. ‘There are refreshments on the sideboard should you require them, sir, madam.’ Not by so much as a flicker did he indicate he knew the woman before him to be a co-worker. Then he moved silently away towards the kitchen and the staff entrance.

  ‘Please—’ Alessandro gestured to the nearby lounge ‘—take a seat.’

  For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to accept. Finally she walked across the antique carpet to sit in a cavernous wing chair. The glow of lamps lit her face, revealing a tension around her pursed lips he hadn’t noticed before. She looked tired.

  Alessandro flicked a look at his watch. It was very late. He’d become accustomed to working long into the night, fuelled by caffeine and his own formidable drive.

  Conscience niggled. He should have left this till tomorrow. But he’d been unable to ignore the edgy frustration that drove him relentlessly. He was so close he couldn’t rest till he had answers from her.

  He’d already been stymied once. Alessandro had confronted her at the ball only to find he’d been robbed of composure and even the power of speech by a shocking blast of recognition. He’d frozen, the one thought in his atrophying mind to hold her and not let her go.

  The completeness of that instant of vulnerability had stunned and shamed him. Never had he felt at such a loss. Not in business. Definitely not in his dealings with women.

  Now he was himself once more. It would not happen again.

  Alessandro Mattani did not do vulnerable.

  He thrust aside the momentary doubt at his tactics and strode across to the sideboard.

  ‘Tea, coffee?’ he offered. ‘Wine?’

  ‘I don’t want anything.’ She sat straighter, her chin hitched high in unspoken defiance. That spark of rebellion brought colour to her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle.

  Alessandro paused, watching fascinated as she transformed from drab to intriguing in an instant. Then he turned, poured himself a small measure of cognac, and took a seat opposite her.

  All the while she watched him with those luminous eyes that had captivated him the moment he saw her.

  What did she see? Was she cataloguing the differences in him? It surprised him to discover how much he wanted to read her thoughts. Know what she felt. Did she too experience this gnawing tension, like an ache between the ribs?

  ‘I see you’ve noticed my scar.’

  The wash of colour along her cheekbones intensified, but she didn’t look away. Nor did she respond.

  Alessandro wasn’t vain enough to worry about his marred face. Besides, it was his wealth and position as much as his looks to which women responded. They might say they wanted a man of charm or kindness, but he knew how fickle they were. Neither marriage vows nor ties of blood between mother and child could hold them when they found someone who offered more wealth and prestige.

  That didn’t bother Alessandro. He had both in abundance. If ever he wanted a woman permanently he’d have his pick. Some time in the future. Not now.

  He swirled the fine brandy in its glass, inhaling its mellow scent.

  ‘Am I so repulsive, then?’ He shot her a look that dared her to prevaricate.

  Repulsive? Carys wished he were. Then maybe she could tear her gaze away. Her heart hammered. She struggled to hide her shortened breathing as she felt the tug of his potent masculine aura.

  It had always been the same. But she’d prayed time and common sense would cure her of the fatal weakness.

  She met his intense moss-green gaze, recognised the way his thick dark lashes shadowed his eyes. His eyelids dropped as if to hide his thoughts. The familiarity of that expression, as much as its banked heat, made her insides squirm in mixed delight and distress.

  ‘You got me here to talk about your looks?’ Carys had more sense than to answer his question.

  To her horror she found him more attractive than ever. Even the scar leading from just beneath one straight black eyebrow up to his temple failed to detract from the beautiful spare lines of his leanly sculpted face.

  She gripped her hands tight in her lap, alarmed to discover that, when it came to pure animal attraction, Alessandro still exerted a power she couldn’t deny.

  Just as well she had more sense than to succumb to it. She was cured. Surely she was.

  ‘You keep staring at it.’ He lifted the brandy to his lips. Carys watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed and her pulse tripped crazily. She’d rarely seen him in formal clothes, but they only enhanced his magnetism.

  Alessandro had been an enigma, suave and sophisticated, impossibly elegant even in the most casual clothes, even without clothes. But at the same time there’d been something earthy and all-male about him. Something innately stronger than the varnish of wealth and centuries of good breeding.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  Heat flared in her cheeks as Carys realised she was imagining him naked, long-limbed and strong. She tore her gaze away.

  She might despise him, but she was still woman enough to respond to his sheer sex appeal.


  ‘Nothing. I was just thinking about how you’ve changed.’ It was only half a lie.

  ‘Have I altered so much?’ She sensed movement and turned her head to find him leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s been…’ Just in time she stopped herself. He didn’t need to know she recalled to the day how long it had been. ‘A while. People change.’

  ‘How have I changed?’

  Carys wondered at the intensity of his stare. She felt it like the caress of a jade blade across her skin, smooth but potentially lethal.

  ‘Well, there’s the scar for a start.’

  She closed her lips before she could blurt out questions about his health. Had he been in an accident? Or, her thudding heartbeat faltered, had it been surgery?

  Sternly she told herself she didn’t care.

  ‘I’m in excellent health now.’ The murmured words surprised her. How had he read her mind?

  ‘Of course you are,’ she said too quickly. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’ If he was ill he’d be in Italy, under the care of the country’s top doctors, not summoning her to his room in the early hours to talk about…what did he want?

  Carys’ nerves spasmed in denial. There could only be one reason for his presence. Only one thing he wanted.

  Her son.

  Surely Alessandro’s presence here meant he’d decided belatedly that he wanted Leo after all.

  Alessandro didn’t do things by halves. If he wanted something he’d take it all. And surely any normal Italian male would want his own son?

  Fear wrapped icy fingers around her heart. If she was right, what chance did she have of stopping him?

  ‘How else have I changed?’

  Carys frowned at this fixation with his looks. The man she’d known had been careless about that, though he’d dressed with the instinctive panache of one who’d grown up amongst a chic, fashion-conscious set.

  ‘You’re paler than before. And thinner.’

  When they’d met, he’d been on a skiing holiday, his olive skin burnished dark golden-brown by the alpine sun. His body was all hard-packed muscle and rangy height. Carys had looked into his dancing green eyes and sensuous smile that made her feel she was the only other person on the planet. Without a second thought she’d fallen for him like a ton of bricks.

  Now he seemed pared down, but that only emphasised his spectacular bone structure. The way he moved made it clear he hadn’t lost his whipcord strength and abundant energy.

  He lifted the brandy to his lips again, but not before she read a wry grimace. ‘I’ve been working long hours.’

  Such long hours he’d stopped eating?

  Carys looked away, silently berating herself for caring.

  ‘Some things don’t change, then.’

  Those last weeks, Alessandro had used work as an excuse not to be with her. At first she’d thought there was a problem with the business, or with Alessandro assuming its control after his father’s death, but her tentative questions, her attempts to understand and offer support, had been firmly rebuffed.

  The company was fine. He was fine. She worried too much. He just had responsibilities to fulfil. She remembered the litany.

  Methodically Alessandro had shut her out of his life, day by day and hour by hour. Till their only communication was during the brief pre-dawn hours when he’d take her with a blistering-hot passion that had threatened to consume them both.

  Until she’d discovered it wasn’t just business taking him away. That he’d had time for other things, other…people. How gullible she’d been, believing he’d be content with the naïve, unsophisticated woman who shared his bed…

  ‘Being the CEO of a multi-national enterprise requires commitment.’

  ‘I know that.’ She’d given up worrying about the ridiculous hours he’d begun working. Given up trying to understand what had happened to the charming, attentive man with whom she’d fallen in love. That man had worked hard too, but he’d known how to switch off. How to enjoy being with her.

  Her stomach churned. Whatever they’d once shared was over. He’d left her in no doubt she’d never live up to his exacting standards.

  What was she doing here?

  Her throat closed as the futility of their conversation swamped her. This could lead nowhere, achieve nothing but the reopening of painful wounds.

  Carys shot to her feet. ‘It’s been…interesting seeing you again. But I have to go. It’s late.’

  The words were barely out of her mouth when he was before her, looming so close she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. His gaze licked like flame across her skin.

  Instinctively she stepped back, only to find her way blocked. Heat engulfed her as her brain processed frantic messages. Of surprise. Of anger. Of excitement.

  ‘You can’t leave yet.’

  ‘I can and will.’ She refused to play the fool for him again. ‘We’re finished.’

  ‘Finished?’ One straight brow quirked up, and his mouth curved in a tight, unamused smile. ‘Then what about this?’

  He snagged her close with one long arm so she landed hard against him. Then he lowered his head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘ALESSANDRO!’

  Her voice was scratchy with surprise as she said his name for the first time, making him pause. Yet the sound was familiar. He felt it deep in his bones.

  She was familiar, the way her body melded to his, all feminine enticement as he pinioned her to him.

  He’d tried to hold back. Go slow. Behave sensibly.

  But from the moment she’d walked in everything had changed. His caution, his adherence to the niceties of social behaviour had melted away. Now he operated on raw, primal instinct that overrode logic and convention.

  He held her satisfyingly close. With her breasts cushioned against his torso, her hips pressed against him. He felt anticipation surge.

  When she’d arrived, looking weary yet defiant, he’d questioned his need to confront her tonight. But those doubts disintegrated as her body softened against his and he heard the tell-tale hitch in her breathing.

  There might be fire in her eyes, but the way she fitted against him belied her indignation.

  This was mutual.

  He had no conscious recollection of her but his body remembered her. The stirring in his loins told its own tale of familiarity and desire.

  He looked down into grey-blue eyes, darkening with sparks of azure and indigo, and felt he was falling through mist, towards a bright sunny place.

  He inhaled her spicy soft cinnamon fragrance and his brain cried Yes! This is the one!

  ‘Alessandro!’ Her voice was more determined now, like her hands pushing at his chest. Yet that underpinning note of hesitancy betrayed her.

  He lifted one hand to palm her face. Her cheek was soft and pale as milk. Her eyelids fluttered and drooped then snapped wide open.

  ‘You have no right to do this. Let me go.’ Yet she’d stopped struggling, merely stood straighter and unyielding in his embrace.

  ‘No right?’ He swiped his thumb across her mouth, tugging at her lower lip, feeling its luscious pad and the moist heat of her breath against his skin.

  Her mouth opened and those eyelids flickered betrayingly.

  Tendrils of fire twisted and coiled through his body, unfurling and spreading as he watched her response to that simple caress.

  He widened his stance, surrounding her with his thighs and pulling her closer to his pelvis.

  The promise of bliss was a primitive tattoo in his blood, pounding heavier, faster, demanding action. Yet Alessandro reined in the impulse to demand more. He had to know, to understand, as well as feel.

  ‘You give me the right when you respond to me that way.’ Again he slid his thumb along her mouth, this time pressing deeper till he felt her tongue slick against his finger.

  He stiffened, every muscle clamped tight at the roiling surge of need that engulfed him.

  Madonna mia! How potent was this wo
man, that the mere touch of her tongue could splinter his control?

  Surprise darkened her eyes. She felt it too.

  ‘I’m not…doing anything,’ she protested in a hoarse voice that told its own story. Suddenly she was pushing at him again, trying to lever herself away.

  ‘Carys.’ He loved the sound of her name on his tongue. Just as he anticipated, he was addicted to the taste of her lips. ‘Would you deny me? Deny this?’

  Deftly he slid his hand round to cup her head, feeling the silky weight of her hair against his palm. Then he drew her close, bending to meet her lips.

  She turned her head, refusing access to her mouth. His senses filled with the velvet softness of her skin, the sweet temptation of her body’s perfume, as he brushed his lips below her ear.

  Her restless movements stopped instantly. Arrested by the same sensations that bombarded him? Desire and heady bliss?

  He slid his mouth over her neck, then up to her ear, circling the delicate lobe with his tongue.

  She started in his arms as if zapped by the same jolt of energy that skewered him to the spot. Through the pounding in his ears he half heard, half felt her sigh.

  ‘You can’t deny this,’ he murmured.

  Her skin tasted clean and sweet, like spring flowers made of flesh. Hungrily he nuzzled the corner of her jaw, the edge of her chin, the beauty spot beside her mouth.

  Bracing to pull back just a fraction, he looked down into her face.

  His lips curved in a tight, satisfied smile when he saw closed eyes, lips parted invitingly, as if urging him to claim her.

  Her hair had started to come down as she tried to avoid his grip. Now, looking at the long strands of wavy silk falling across his wrist, he realised it wasn’t black as he’d thought in the ballroom. It was darkest brown, tinged with sparks of russet fire.

  An image filled his brain, of rich dark hair spread over plump white pillows. Of his hands threading through its satiny splendour, splaying it out like a radiant sunburst.

  Not just an image.

  A memory!

  Of Carys, lying sleepily in bed with him. Of her lazy smile, so dazzling it rivalled the brilliance of the snow-lit scene visible through the window above the bed.