Married for the Italian's Heir by Rachael Thomas

Author:Rachael Thomas [Thomas, Rachael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2016-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

PIPER WATCHED DANTE as he strode across the high-ceilinged living room of the villa. The look on his face was intense her heart beat a little faster. He looked as if he wanted to devour her there and then. The same expression he’d had as they’d entered his hotel room in London.

‘You made a good impression this evening.’ He stopped striding and stood, leaning one arm along the cream stone of the fireplace, and she fought hard against the dark and passionate look which filled his eyes—and the way her body responded.

She couldn’t want him—not after he’d shown his true colours, shown himself to be a sharp and driven businessman who would stop at nothing to achieve his ultimate aims. He was using her and their baby. How could she find such a man attractive when all she’d ever dreamed of was a caring, loving man? He was so wrong for her, and yet being with him felt so right. Just as before, she wanted to be with him in every way possible, to risk everything and feel his kiss, his touch.

She certainly hadn’t been fooled by his subdued and grief-laden voice as he’d spoken of his brother at the dinner table. He’d spoken of how difficult things had been for his mother, bringing up two young boys. Such a revelation had come as a shock, but she hoped she’d hidden it well. After all, as his fiancée she would have known such things.

‘I did my best,’ she said now, and sat down on one of the large, comfortable sofas. She couldn’t stay in the middle of the room, watching him as if she were waiting for something to happen. She was certain that at any moment the tension around them would snap.

‘You were utterly brilliant and you won D’Antonio over. He loved you. He practically melted each time you spoke and you know it.’

There was a caustic edge to his words as they sliced through the atmosphere in the room and she knew right there and then that something had changed. It felt different between them, and she didn’t know what it was.

‘Telling him of your passion for art was a clever move.’

‘It is real, Dante. It is what I would have done if I hadn’t given up university when my father became ill.’

‘A well-played move, no?’

‘I should go to bed.’ She got up. The need to escape both the brooding man who dominated every bit of space in the room and the way her body yearned for his touch and his kiss was overwhelming. She definitely had to go.

‘Tell me about your father’s illness.’

Dante’s words froze her to the spot and she looked at him, still standing without a care in the world, so casually leaning on the mantelpiece of the fireplace.

‘There’s nothing more to tell.’ She fired the words defensively back at him as grief assailed her, rushing back so strongly her legs felt weak. She wanted to sit down, but doing so would mean staying beneath his scrutiny.

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