by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
‘So you have.’ With a lift of his broad shoulders he shrugged off her interjection. ‘But was I mistaken about the fact that you made no mention at all of any thought of divorce?’
A second tanned finger joined the first to count off another argument.
‘Or that you agreed to act as my wife in public and in private?’
‘I…’
Amy buried her face in her hands as the memory of her own foolish behaviour came back to haunt her. She hadn’t had the courage to be straight with him from the start and as a result she had fallen headfirst into a deep, dangerous trap that she hadn’t even seen yawning beneath her until now, when it was far, far too late.
‘You agreed to stay in my home. You wore the clothes I bought for you,’ Vincenzo continued relentlessly, bombarding her with evidence like the counsel for the prosecution until she felt physically bruised and battered by his attacking tone. ‘And not just the clothes—the jewellery.’
His voice dropped an octave, became a deep, husky whisper.
‘You still wear it now.’
Defensively Amy’s fingers flew to her neck, clutching at the diamond necklace she had forgotten was around her throat. Silently she cursed the moment of weak vanity that had driven her to putting it on in the first place.
‘You even made it plain that you wanted what was due to you—the four extra stones,’ Vincenzo explained harshly when she frowned her confusion at his meaning. ‘For the years of our so-called marriage.’
‘Exactly!’ Amy jumped on the let-out clause she thought he had given her. ‘Our so-called marriage! What is there to make you think..?’
‘You kissed me.’ Vincenzo dismissed her interjection with a contemptuous flick of his hand. ‘More than that…“Cenzo!…Cenzo!”’
To her horror he mimicked her own reaction earlier with near-perfect accuracy, capturing the breathless tone, the hungry urgency, in a way that had the hot blood flooding into her face, burning her skin.
‘Stop it! Stop it, you monster!’ She stamped her foot hard to emphasise her words. ‘I don’t want to hear this!’
‘I don’t give a damn what you want or don’t want!’ Vincenzo tossed at her, his sudden complete stillness, the taut, antagonistic stance of his tall, lean body somehow even more disturbing than the restless, predatory prowling of just moments before. ‘I’m telling you what happened. How it seemed to me—and how it will seem to any judge who hears my side of the story. And we haven’t covered everything yet.’
‘Oh, I’ll bet we haven’t!’ Amy muttered cynically, twisting the narrow belt of her robe round and round in her hands until it had formed into wild, tangled knots. ‘So what else it there? What other nasty little stories do you have to tell?’
‘Nothing but the truth about the way you melted into my arms. The way you went up in flames when I kissed you; turned into a wildcat when I touched you. The way you came with me here—came willingly—more than willingly to your bedroom—to that bed.’
Reluctantly Amy’s shadowed eyes went to the duvet on the bed, seeing again the creases in the blue cotton cover, the unmistakable evidence of the passion that had gripped her such a short time before. A passion that was now so dead and cold that she couldn’t recall ever having experienced it. A passion that made her sick to her stomach even to contemplate.
‘Nothing happened,’ she muttered ungraciously, stubbornly keeping her head averted, avoiding his eyes, unable to face the look of cynical contempt she knew must be in them.
‘Nothing?’ Vincenzo echoed mockingly. ‘Niente? I wonder would a judge see it that way? Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t sleeping with your estranged husband negate any separation there has been, meaning you have to start all over again?’
‘We didn’t sleep together!’ Amy protested furiously. ‘I told you—nothing happened! We…’
‘And what about your prospective fiancé?’ Vincenzo cut across her outburst as if it had never been, blithely ignoring the way she had swung round to face him again, the black glare she turned on him. ‘What would he think if he knew that when you were here, supposedly asking for a divorce, for your freedom so that you could marry him, you actually fell into my arms?’
‘I did not!’
‘Kissed me like I was the only man in the world?’
‘No-o!’
‘Enticed me, seduced me. Came on to me in a way that no man with red blood in his veins could resist. What would he think if he knew that tonight, when he thought you were safe and sound in your modest, innocent, single bed, in fact you were all over me for all you could get?’
‘No!’
Driven beyond endurance, Amy launched at him, hand held high, palm flattened, ready to slap the cold contempt from his eyes, the callous sneer from his beautiful mouth. She didn’t care that she had led him into this. That by inventing her own story of a fictitious fiancé she had given him the ammunition he needed; she only wanted to silence his hateful taunts.
But fast as she moved, Vincenzo’s reactions were quicker. Acting on instincts that went deeper than thought, his own hand came up, catching her wrist and holding it still, suspended in the air just inches away from his face.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ he murmured, holding her furious blue gaze with his own hypnotic dark eyed stare. ‘Don’t you like the truth?’
‘Those disgusting thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth if they tried!’
The way one black brow lifted, questioning her assertion, only incensed her further, making her fight to free herself from his imprisoning hold, only conceding defeat when it became obvious that her struggles were worse than useless against his strength.
‘So you’re claiming that your behaviour had nothing to do with the discovery that I now own all of Ravenelli Enterprises? That I’m now a much wealthier man than you ever dreamed possible?’
‘I’m claiming nothing!’
With an effort Amy forced herself to meet his cold-eyed glare head on. She couldn’t weaken now or he would move in for the kill, pouncing on her as a tiger jumps on its weakened prey.
‘I’m not giving your foul suggestion the distinction of considering it, never mind bothering with an answer. It’s not worth it!’
‘And your would-be fiancé? What’s his name?’
What’s his name? David’s was the only one that came to mind and she didn’t hesitate. The two men would never come up against each other anyway.
‘It’s David—David Brooke—but he wouldn’t worry about anything like that. He wouldn’t even ask.’
‘He must have great faith in you,’ Vincenzo drawled cynically. ‘Either that or he’s a blind, besotted fool. I wonder which one it is.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Amy flung the words into his shuttered, watchful face, her chin lifting defiantly. ‘What a pity you’ll have no way of finding out because if I have my way you’ll never, ever meet him.’
The words were barely out of her mouth when a sound from across the room brought her head whipping round to stare in disbelieving horror in the direction of her handbag, discarded on the floor in the heat of the passion that had gripped her such a short time before.
Earlier that evening, she had tried to phone David again, this time at home, but had only managed to connect with his answering machine. After leaving a message she had fully intended to switch off her mobile again, but had obviously forgotten to do so. And now, with the worst sort of timing possible, David was ringing her.
Chapter Seven
‘AREN’T you going to answer it?’
‘What?’
Amy turned slowly back to Vincenzo, struggling to focus her dazed, shocked eyes on his still, watchful face.
‘The phone,’ he repeated with a touch of irritation. ‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’
‘Oh—no. It’ll be nothing important.’
She had thought she’d sounded convincing, indifferent enough to distract his attention. But some unwary movement, some flicker of a response she coul
dn’t hide at the thought of Vincenzo confronting David about their supposed relationship had given her away, alerting his suspicions at once.
‘It’s him!’ he declared sharply. ‘Il fidanzato—the so-special David!’
‘No…’ Amy began protestingly. ‘No, you’re wrong. It wouldn’t be…’
But she was speaking to empty air. Before she had time to register he had moved, to realise his intent, Vincenzo had released his grip on her wrist, dropping her hand unceremoniously, and was already on the other side of the room, snatching up her handbag.
‘No!’
Heedless of the way that her belated reaction revealed her earlier response for the lie it was, Amy launched herself across the blue carpet after him, her hand outstretched to grab the bag from him.
She was too late. Finding her mobile by the simple expedient of upending the bag over the bed so that all its contents tumbled out on to the quilt, Vincenzo snatched up the phone and thumbed the button that switched it on.
‘Si?’ he barked into the receiver.
The momentary silence, a look on Vincenzo’s listening face, told its own story. Amy could just imagine David’s stunned reaction, hear his shocked, ‘Who is that?’ and the thought was enough to bring her up sharp, pausing momentarily in her headlong rush. And that in its turn was long enough to give Vincenzo time to add to the problem, stirring things deliberately.
‘My name is Vincenzo Ravenelli,’ he drawled, forcing Amy to wonder whether the cynical amusement in his voice was as obvious to David far away in England as it was to her here in this room. ‘Yes, she’s here…’
The swift glance he slanted in Amy’s direction, the wicked glint of a cruel amusement in his dark eyes broke through the shock that held Amy frozen, sparking off a hot anger that had her lurching forward again.
‘How dare you? You have no right—that’s mine!’
She tried to snatch the phone from him, only to be thwarted by a swift side-step, a half turn to the right so that her hand landed impotently on his shoulder instead of on the mobile.
‘Would you like to speak to her?’ Vincenzo continued imperturbably, addressing the other man with an easy warmth that made it seem as if they were long-term friends. Amy’s blood pressure shot skywards just imagining what David must be thinking, how he would be taking this. ‘Just a moment…’
Turning round again, he held the phone out to Amy with a smile that set her teeth on edge.
‘He wants to talk to you. It’s David…’
‘I know damn well who…Oh, hi, David!’
Amy adjusted her tone hastily, bringing the volume down as she moved towards the window, as far from Vincenzo as possible. She was painfully aware of the fact that David would pick up any hint of her mood, and the last thing she wanted was for him to realise just how uptight she was.
But David wouldn’t have noticed. He was too intrigued by the reception his call had received.
‘Just who the hell was that?’ he demanded as soon as he heard Amy’s voice.
‘He’s—his name’s Vincenzo Ravenelli…’
Silently Amy cursed the sudden attack of nerves that put the unwanted shake into her voice. She knew the impression it would give to the dark, silently watchful man on the other side of the room. She turned to look at Vincenzo again, switching on an icy glare.
‘This is a private conversation,’ she hissed. ‘Do you mind?’
She should have known there was no point in trying to appeal to his better nature, mainly because he didn’t have one. He didn’t try to disguise the fact that he was listening to every word, settling himself on the bed, and lounging back against the pillows with every appearance of enjoyment. He even switched on a wide, brilliant smile. One that Amy determinedly ignored—it was either that or throw something at him—as she turned her attention back to the phone.
‘I know what his name is.’ David’s voice was tart. ‘He told me that. But who is he?’
‘He…’
In spite of herself, Amy couldn’t suppress the swift sidelong glance that slid in Vincenzo’s direction. When she met the full force of his cold-eyed, expressionless stare, her heart skipped a beat painfully, and she dropped her gaze again as she struggled to find an answer.
‘He’s—just someone I met.’
Out of the corner of her eye she caught the slight movement as Vincenzo’s dark head lifted, watchful and attentive. She could just imagine what his quick, incisive brain would make of that; the sort of thoughts that must be clicking over inside his head, considering, assessing…
‘Ravenelli.’ Realisation had struck David. ‘Do you mean the Vincenzo Ravenelli?’
‘Mmm. That’s right.’
‘You’re moving in some pretty exalted circles!’ David was obviously impressed. ‘That guy is seriously loaded.’
‘I’m sure…’
It suddenly occurred to Amy that she was playing this all wrong. She had let Vincenzo wrong-foot her from the start by answering the phone himself. Now she badly needed to regain some of the ground she had lost—and fast.
‘It’s good to hear from you.’
She suddenly changed her tone, putting a new enthusiasm, a breathless excitement into it.
It was a good job that Vincenzo couldn’t hear the other man from where he was sitting. David was clearly taken aback by this unexpected declaration.
‘Well—I just wanted you to know the good news. We got the Randerson contract.’
‘Oh, David, that’s brilliant!’
‘Yes, it’s something of a triumph. But there’ll be a lot of paperwork and this temp just isn’t up to your standards. So I was wondering when you’re coming home.’
‘I…’
When would she be able to go home? She had been so sure that this would be easy to deal with but things had turned out so very differently from the way she had expected.
A swift glance at Vincenzo warned her that her hesitation, her obvious uncertainty, had drawn his attention. She didn’t want it to make him suspicious of the truth.
‘I’ll be home just as soon as possible. I’ll give you a ring when I know my flight details.’
‘I suppose that will have to do.’ David was clearly none too pleased. ‘I’ll see you.’
With the connection safely severed, Amy decided a little extra improvisation was called for.
‘Goodnight, darling,’ she murmured huskily. ‘Sleep well.’
For extra measure, she blew several long kisses into the receiver. She even considered trying an affecting little sigh of regret as she switched off her phone, but decided that would be taking things just too far.
And she was thankful that she hadn’t bothered as she heard Vincenzo stir behind her, stretching luxuriously and linking his hands behind his head.
‘He knows nothing about me, does he?’
The mobile phone dropped from Amy’s hand to land with a thud on the carpet. Face white, she turned slowly to face him, feeling as if the floor was not quite steady under her feet, a disturbing buzzing noise in her ears.
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she bluffed, terrified he had seen straight to the heart of her subterfuge, revealing it as the pretence it was.
Vincenzo’s hard mouth curled into a cruel little smile.
‘Your precious David. The so-special Mr Brooke. He was stunned—shocked when I answered the phone…’
‘Of course he was! He was expecting me…’ Her voice faded before the slow, adamant shake of Vincenzo’s dark head.
‘It was more that that. The last thing he anticipated was speaking to another man, and most definitely not an Italian. And he’d never heard my name before. Which he should have done if you’d ever mentioned it to him.’
‘I don’t like to talk about our marriage,’ Amy protested. ‘I made a mistake…’
‘It’s not that you don’t like to talk about our marriage,’ Vincenzo inserted smoothly. ‘The truth is that you never have. If you had, then at least this man who you claim wants to marry you would
have known my name. And you wouldn’t have had to lie to him.’
‘I…’
“‘Just someone I met”,’ Vincenzo tossed at her, shooting down in flames her attempt to dodge the issue. ‘So tell me, innamorata, does this poor fool who thinks you’re here on a pleasure trip even have any idea that you already have a husband?’
Amy didn’t honour that question with a reply. What was the point? He knew the answer already.
‘I see!’
It was a sigh of satisfaction.
‘I almost feel sorry for the sucker. He’s obviously totally deceived by you. You have him dangling on a string, whispering lying sweet nothings over the phone to keep him quiet…’
‘He’s my fiancé!’
But her panicky vehemence was a mistake. Vincenzo’s mood changed abruptly, his face hardening as he swung upright, all the indolent amusement fading from his eyes.
‘Correction, cara,’ he snapped. ‘He is nothing to you while you are still my wife. And you are still my wife.’
‘Not from choice! You can’t hold me to our marriage if I want to be free! You have to let me go, Vincenzo…Vincenzo!’
But Vincenzo wasn’t listening. He had suddenly developed an unexpected and concentrated interest in the contents of her handbag, still lying in a tumbled heap on the end of the bed. It was only as Amy saw the long, bronzed fingers sort through the untidy heap that she realised just what he had seen, exactly which item he was reaching for. Her heart stopped dead, then turned over sharply, making her head swim nauseously.
‘Leave that alone…’
But once more she was too late. Even as she pushed herself into action, dashing forward across the room, Vincenzo’s grip closed over the object of his search, lifting it swiftly. A tiny moan of despair escaped her as she saw him flick open the small, dark red passport and study what he found inside.
When he finally looked across at her again she felt the force of his glare as if it had been a physical blow, striking her hard in the chest and driving all the breath from her lungs that she gasped out loud in distress.
‘Amy Redman,’ he said, his voice so cold that she fully expected to see the two parts of her name form in letters of ice in the air between them, frozen solid. ‘Amy Redman.’