‘No,’ he ground out as she pulled him towards her, wrapping her legs about him, taking him deep inside her. For the last time he made her his, the passion all-consuming.
His release was swift and she clung to him as he buried his head in her damp hair. ‘Il mio amore,’ he murmured softly in Italian as he kissed her neck, not knowing what he was saying, his thoughts translating to words involuntarily as passion took over.
Was it his way of saying goodbye? He didn’t know, but was grateful the words of love he’d voiced in his language hadn’t appeared to have been understood, or even heard.
* * *
Charlie smoothed down the white dress she’d arrived in yesterday and glanced around the room one last time, not sure if she was checking for forgotten items or committing it to memory. Both, she told herself, because there wouldn’t be any coming back. It was over. In just two more days she’d be back in England, back to her life. The moments of passion they’d shared would be locked away for good.
She walked around the room, her sandals tapping slowly on the wooden floor. She could still hear the soft words of Italian Sandro had spoken as they’d made love that one last time. She hadn’t understood much of it, but one phrase now replayed over and over in her head.
Il mio amore.
My love.
She shook her head in denial. It must have been in the heat of the moment, something he said to every woman he made love to and nothing more. She clung to this idea, knowing she didn’t want it to be anything more. Especially not from Alessandro.
They might have put aside their differences for a weekend of passion, enabling them to explore the explosive attraction that had been present from the very beginning, but as soon as they returned to Milan those differences would return. They would engulf them and mock her for her weakness at giving in to lust, because lust was all it was, all it ever could be.
As she thought of returning to Milan, she knew that, deep down, she could never forgive him for failing to ensure that the prototype that Seb had crashed that night was fit to drive. Their differences encroached like a menacing shadow. What had she done? Not only had she slept with the man responsible for Seb’s death, but had enjoyed a whirlwind affair. One that had jumbled her emotions and tied her in knots.
Quickly she grabbed her bag and left the room, not daring to look again at the bed which had been the focal point of so much pleasure, so much passion. She should be ashamed of herself. And, deep down, she was, but at least she’d got it out of her system, cleansed away the irrational desire she’d felt for him the instant her eyes had met his. There wouldn’t be any what ifs when she returned home. But there would be recriminations.
Her heels clipped down the marble stairs, echoing around the vast hallway, and she paused as she saw Alessandro stood by the door, keys in hand, looking as desperate to get back to normal as she was.
Despite her bravado and knowing this was how it should be, her heart sank. If things had been different, if she didn’t hold him responsible for Seb’s accident, would they have been leaving as lovers too? She swallowed down the thought, straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on.
‘It is time to go, no?’ Her step faltered briefly at his heavily accented question, or was it a statement? Whatever it was, it was right. It was time to go, time to leave their passion within the luxury of this villa.
‘It is,’ she said and continued down the stairs, her chin held high. ‘Time to get back to reality.’
CHAPTER TEN
CHARLIE HAD NEVER been so tense. The drive back to Milan had been almost silent, with the exception of a few attempts at polite conversation which had withered like flowers in parched earth.
She followed Alessandro into the apartment, trying not to notice the masculine scent of his aftershave, which trailed tantalisingly in his wake. She might have decided to distance herself from him but her body was having a hard time accepting it.
‘I will book into a hotel, if you can recommend one close by.’ She forced the words out, knowing it would be for the best. What they’d shared over the weekend had no place in the present and certainly not the future. She’d made it very clear to him she wasn’t looking for more than a passing distraction and he’d made it easy, setting the time limit and taking her away.
But now they were back in Milan. Back with their problems. All she wanted was to get through the next two days and leave—but not until she’d found what she’d come to Italy for. Answers.
He turned to face her, his expression set in a hard mask, his eyes unreadable. ‘That will not be necessary. The room you occupied on the first night is ready for you.’
Her room was ready for her. Didn’t that tell her enough? He’d obviously instructed his housekeeper to put the few things she’d left behind back in the room Seb had once used, effectively removing her presence as a lover from his apartment. It was what she wanted, what she needed, so why did it hurt so much?
‘Under the circumstances, it would be best if I stayed in a hotel.’ She forced herself to believe her words. After all, she had little hope of him doing so if she didn’t.
‘No.’ The word snapped from him as he tossed his car keys onto the marble worktop of the kitchen in an irritated fashion. ‘The circumstances, as you so nicely put it, are that we are back after a weekend away. Our weekend of fun is over. It was not a for ever arrangement and nothing more than an affair.’
‘All the more reason I stay in a hotel, don’t you think?’
He looked at her sternly and the hard businessman he was showed through. ‘You said it wasn’t for ever, so why do you need to leave? The weekend affair we agreed on is over, now it is back to business.’
‘Very well,’ she relented, but knew she had to go back to England sooner than originally planned. Once their meeting at the test track was over tomorrow she would be on the next plane home. She’d walk out right now, if only she had the answers she needed.
Resigned to staying in his apartment one more night, she walked over to the windows, looking out at the Duomo. When she’d first arrived its magnificence had captured her imagination, now she just looked blankly at it. So much had changed in just two days, but each mile they’d driven on their way back to Milan had wiped out their weekend, kiss by kiss. They were back where they had started, but the simmer of sexual tension was now tinged with regret. At least for her it was; for Alessandro it had been replaced by indifference.
With a small sigh she turned and absently looked at the newspaper neatly placed on the ornate desk which occupied the corner of the living area. Already a photograph of her and Alessandro arriving at the launch party had a front-page position. The few words written beneath were incomprehensible and she turned the page. Maybe more of the launch would be on another page.
She froze.
The image which leapt to life from the page scorched her with hot memories. She and Alessandro were there, in the paper. Not the happy smiles of their arrival, but the passionate kiss against the car. The kiss that had happened after everyone had left.
She looked down at the picture, which sparked with passion, showing lovers locked in their own world, oblivious to everything, even the intrusion of the photographer. When and how had this been taken? Then her body chilled. Had Alessandro known of this? She recalled his intent as he’d taken her in his arms, the way he’d rendered all thought impossible as his lips had claimed hers.
He hadn’t kissed her because he’d wanted to, because he’d been unable to resist, but to set up the perfect photo opportunity. One that would show to the world he wasn’t in any way to blame for Seb’s accident, that she and her family had more than given their stamp of approval to a car which had taken the life of a young driver.
‘Did you know about this?’ She closed the paper, unable to look at the sizzling photograph a moment longer. He approached the table, a frown on his face, and s
he looked up at him, hostility masking her shock.
‘Sì. It is what I requested.’ His calm words did little to soothe her jangled nerves. So he had set her up, used her like a pawn in his game. Not only did her presence at the launch suggest she didn’t blame him or the Roselli company, it showed an intimate moment she had no wish for the world to see.
She blinked in surprise. ‘What you requested?’
‘Come, Charlotte—’ his accent lavished her full name as he looked down at her, having glanced briefly at the paper ‘—a front-page photograph of us together is exactly the sort of advertisement I’d hoped for. You brought glamour and style to the occasion and, of course, your family’s blessing.’
‘What about this?’ Furiously she dashed back the front page and watched as he looked down at the photo of their passionately hot kiss. ‘Did you request this?’
He scanned the words beneath the photo, words she didn’t understand. His silence was almost too much as he placed one palm on the desk, leaning down to read. The suspense of what it all meant was wrapping up with her initial anger until she thought she might explode. ‘Did you?’
‘No.’ He shook his head, continuing to study the piece. ‘Not this.’
‘What does it say?’ Anger overtook the suspense, filling her mind and her body. He’d set her up. He’d used her. Had that been his intention even as he’d entered her home and tried to convince her to go to Milan? She swallowed down the sour taste of deceit, determined not to let her feelings out. She had to remain calm.
He turned to look at her, his eyes locking with hers, but the brown of his were devoid of any emotion and her stomach lurched sickeningly. What had she done—to herself and to Seb? She’d sullied Seb’s memory and her reputation into the bargain, falling into the worst trap imaginable.
* * *
Alessandro looked into the confusion of her eyes and tried to push back all the guilt he’d so far managed to keep at bay. She was angry, there wasn’t any denying that, but she also looked scared and he didn’t blame her.
‘It says your passion shows your approval of the car which claimed the life of your brother.’ He didn’t translate word for word what had been written beneath that blisteringly hot photograph. He didn’t think her anger would allow him enough time, so quickly he’d summed it up, leaving her to draw her own conclusions.
‘What’s next, Sandro? A photo of me, naked in your pool?’ The accusation in her voice cut hard and deep. Did she really think he was that callous?
What could he say? This photograph alone went against everything he’d said to her that day in her cottage. He’d persuaded her to come to the launch in Milan, telling her Seb had wanted it. Now, thanks to a rogue photographer, something he would swiftly sort out, she thought he’d set her up.
‘That will not be possible. You would not have been seen by anyone.’ He pushed the image of her swimming naked aside. Now was not the time for such heated recollections.
‘Damn you, Alessandro. You tricked me into swimming with nothing on, even had the nerve to come out in your trunks. What will the next headline say?’ Her eyes were sharp, her expression strained as she pressed her lips tightly together, expectantly waiting for his answer.
He clenched his fists against the urge to hold her, pull her towards him and calm her. Instinctively he knew that would be the worst possible thing to do. She was pushing him further away, something he was certain she would have done even without the help of the newspaper report.
He glowered at her, his pulse racing erratically. ‘I did not trick you at all. Your swim this morning will remain between us.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ The words fired from her like bullets and she stepped closer to him, chin lifted and standing so tall with indignation he would hardly have had to lower his head to kiss her lips. The temptation was great, but he resisted.
‘Have I lied to you, cara?’
Of course he’d lied to her. From the night of the accident and the moment he’d discovered the truth, the real reason Seb had crashed, he’d been lying to her. But they were lies to protect her and Seb, to keep the Warrington name out of the papers. They were lies he had to continue with. He’d made a promise, first to Seb, then to her father and he would keep both of those promises. He was a man of honour, whatever the cost.
‘If you can set up publicity like this—’ she flicked the paper, not taking her eyes from him ‘—then you are capable of anything, any lie, just to get what you want.’
He shook his head slowly, admiring the fire of anger emanating from her, not wanting to dampen the passion. But her passion was something he could no longer have; there were too many secrets, too many lies between them.
She made a sound that was like a growl and put her hands to her face, fingers splayed over her eyes. Then she dropped her hands, letting them fall with a slap against her as exasperation got the better of her. ‘I was stupid ever to have believed you—or trusted you.’
He shook his head and reached for her, desperate to offer some comfort at least. She flinched, stepping back out of his reach.
Her eyes, angry and glittering, searched his face, finally narrowing in suspicion. ‘You’ve done nothing but lie to me, Sandro; since the moment you arrived at my cottage it’s been nothing but lies.’
‘Dio mio! How can you say that?’ Exasperation coursed through him and he pushed his fingers through his hair, unable to comprehend the circles she was spinning around him. Circles that made the temptation to tell the truth almost too much.
‘Because of this.’ She snatched the paper from the desk, shaking it in front of him. ‘You used me. This has nothing at all to do with Seb. You’re just trying to ease your conscience, ease your guilt over the accident.’
‘My conscience is clear, Charlie.’ It was—he was doing this for Seb.
‘Charlotte.’ Her voice cracked like a whip as she corrected his use of her name, glaring up at him. ‘And once again you are lying. I don’t believe Seb really asked for me to be at the launch. It was you who wanted me there all along; you were just preying on my emotions.’
‘Seb did ask for you to be there; that much is true.’ Her anger lacerated him but he stood firm against it, holding the truth inside.
‘That much? So you are lying about something?’ Her voice lowered in suspicion and she looked at him through narrowing eyes.
He had to think fast, keep ahead of her suspicions. ‘I have not lied, but certain things need to remain out of the limelight.’
‘Like this?’ She stabbed at the photo of them kissing and inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d almost blown it, almost revealed there were things he was holding back on. Her anger fizzed around him, preventing her from thinking in any rational kind of way.
* * *
Charlie couldn’t take any more and tossed the offending newspaper back onto the desk, glaring angrily at the man she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with.
Fall in love?
Panic rushed through her faster than any car she’d ever driven. She couldn’t love him. Not Alessandro Roselli. Not the man she blamed for Seb’s accident and the man who had cruelly tricked her and used her emotional weakness for his own ends.
‘You can’t run and hide from this, Charlotte.’ Alessandro’s words filtered through the hazy fog of anger and shock that obscured just about everything. Hadn’t he used that phrase earlier? Then he’d been referring to love. Now it was truth. She sensed he was keeping something from her—and she was sure it wasn’t love, despite his murmured words of endearment just hours ago.
‘I don’t run.’ She stood in the doorway of the room she’d used the first night at his apartment, swallowing down the bitter taste of reality, refusing to admit any such thing to him.
‘Then what are you doing now, cara?’ His words were softer, coaxing and cajoling. She was runni
ng, she was hiding; they both knew it, but she’d never admit it to him. Especially as it was love she was running from. She had no choice. This man didn’t love her and never would. He’d agreed to the weekend affair for exactly the same reasons as she had. He didn’t do love.
‘I’m not the only one running or hiding, Alessandro.’ She spoke calmly even though her heart was thudding painfully in her chest and her knees were suddenly weak.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘What is it you want to say, Charlotte?’
She ignored the way he used her name, the way his accent caressed it, keeping herself focused on what she really wanted. ‘You are hiding the truth of Seb’s accident.’
‘I’ve told you all there is to tell,’ he said, his eyes searching her face.
‘We both know that’s not exactly true.’ She lifted her chin in a show of defiance, looked him in the eye and continued. ‘You told me what you want me to know.’
‘It wasn’t the car, Charlotte.’
‘So it was the driver. It was Seb.’ She wasn’t about to let this go now. Whatever the truth was, she had to know.
‘It was. I’m sorry.’ He reached out to her but she flinched.
‘Don’t.’ The word was spat out as she battled with the idea that the accident had possibly been Seb’s fault and that Alessandro, for whatever reason, wasn’t going to tell her.
‘You should talk to your father,’ he said quietly, seemingly indifferent to her anger.
‘I intend to. Right now.’ She turned and moved into her room, purposefully keeping the door open. She wanted him to see her ring her father, watch whilst she asked for the full facts.
Angrily grabbing her phone from her bag, she dialled the number. It rang out before going to answerphone. But she wasn’t beaten yet. ‘If you will excuse me,’ she said tartly as she began to shut the door, ‘I have packing to do.’
With that she turned her back on him, resolutely shutting the door behind her. She dropped to sit on the bed, all the fight deflating from her. Outside, a nearby bell tower chimed the hour and she fought against threatening tears.
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