The Italian's Pregnant Cinderella by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-01-08T13:29:20+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE WOMAN WAS a demon.

There was no other explanation for that kiss. The way he’d responded and worse, what he’d said to her as he walked away. This was precisely what he’d wanted to avoid. It was why he’d stashed her away in Tuscany in the first place.

Did you really think she wouldn’t cause problems for you? a harsh voice inside him asked. If you wanted to keep her out of trouble, you should have made sure she couldn’t contact the outside world. A prison isn’t much of a prison when a person has full access to her media contacts, is it?

Cristiano meant to return to Milan. He needed to keep away from this woman who had unaccountably haunted him long before she’d turned up pregnant. But halfway to the helicopter, he thought better of it. Leaving Julienne to her own devices helped no one, least of all him. Especially not when he was stalked by the reporters she’d sent after the family secrets.

Unapologetically.

That was what he told himself, in any case, as he sent for his things and then set up his usual remote office in the villa.

His intention—had anyone asked, which no one would dare—was simply to monitor the situation here. To repress any further attempts to stir up trouble.

Even if he still didn’t know why he’d shared the details of that night in Monaco with her, when he’d never talked about that night with anyone. Much less the guilt and shame he carried with him even now.

And once in the villa, he expected her to show that relentless streak he’d so admired when she’d worked for him. He expected interrogations over his morning cappuccino, demands for further discussions at the end of his work day, or appearances in the middle of conference calls that would cause him difficulties with his colleagues when so many of them knew her.

But Julienne did none of these things.

She appeared at dinner that first night looking fresh and easy, seeming to shine even brighter than before. The smile she aimed his way was sunny, which had the direct result of making him glower.

“The staff tell me that you have insisted on a solitary dinner service every night,” he said, sitting in his usual spot at the head of the grand table, the centerpiece of the formal dining room. “Right here at this table.”

She beamed at him, sitting directly to his right. “There have to be some perks to finding oneself marooned in Tuscany. I decided I might as well make use of your fine staff and your truly excellent cook.”

And when Cristiano could seem to do nothing at all but stare darkly at her, she smiled again, even more sunnily. Then she turned her attention to her antipasti.

He resolved to use this experience—sharing the villa with her, against his will—as an opportunity for some immersion therapy. He did not wish to be haunted, thank you. He wanted her out of his head, his unfortunate dreams, his life. Cristiano felt certain that

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