tear. She was the toughest, strongest woman he’d ever met.
‘Go after her.’ Santo was by his side, smooth and in control, somehow managing to be the perfect host while talking to his brother in a low voice. ‘Go now, because she’ll be out of here in minutes.’
‘She’s complicated.’
‘All women are complicated. I don’t pretend to understand any of them but I do know one thing—’ Santo scooped a glass of champagne from a passing waitress ‘—if there is such a thing as love, then that woman loves you. Move. I’ll cover for you.’
Cristiano stood in frozen silence, remembering the look on her face during the photographs.
Longing. And intense sadness, as if the situation was sucking her down and drowning her.
And that didn’t make sense.
Why would she be sad if this was what she wanted? If she no longer had feelings for him, why did she find all this so stressful?
It came to him in a single blinding flash of comprehension and he pressed his fingers to his forehead, his hand unsteady, the shock of it rocking his composure.
No matter how vehement her denials, it was obvious now that she
did
love him. It was also obvious that loving him was scaring her to death. She was running because she was afraid of giving in to those feelings. She didn’t want to forgive him because she was afraid to forgive him.
Afraid to trust him again.
Behind him he heard the music start, whoops of laughter and knew that soon there’d be dancing.
Propelled by an anger directed towards himself as well as her, Cristiano strode into the villa with the subtlety of the police carrying out an armed raid. The door crashed shut behind him and Laurel flew from the bedroom, eyes wide.
‘What’s happened?’
Just in time, Cristiano thought grimly, noticing the small suitcase lying at the foot of the enormous bed. Santo had been right. A few minutes later and she would have been gone.
Driven by a burning determination to unveil the truth, he didn’t pause in his stride. Instead he just walked right up to her and backed her into the wall, planting his arms either side of her so that she was caged and completely at his mercy.
Now try and run. Now try and get out of that, my beauty.
The intensity of the rage building inside him was shockingand she must have seen something in his face because her eyes widened.
‘What the hell is
wrong
with you?’
She squirmed against him but he pressed her back, using just enough of his superior strength to stop her running. She was like an animal caught in a trap, twisting and panting as she struggled to free herself, sobbing with frustration when his only response was to hold her tighter.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He fisted his hand into her hair, feeling the dark mass dislodge itself and tumble over his wrist.
So silky, so soft.
‘You’re not leaving this room until you’ve admitted how you feel.’
‘Right now? Tired of being around you.’
‘You’re lying. You want this as much as I do—’ He brought his mouth down to hers because he couldn’t help himself, all the anger, the desperation, the raw emotion transmitting itself in that one physical act. He kissed her as if he’d never touched her before and never would again, as if she was the air he had to breathe to stay alive, the blood that kept his heart pumping. Her mouth was warm and sweet, the taste of her going straight to his head and pouring through his senses. Like a dangerous drug, she seeped through him, turning anger to another equally potent emotion.
He was dimly aware that she’d stopped thumping him and was now clutching him, her slim fingers locked in his shirt as her mouth opened under the pressure of his. Heat ripped through the two of them, searing the last of his control, and he scooped her up without thought or hesitation and carried her the few strides to the enormous bed that overlooked the private pool and, beyond that, the gentle curve of the beach. It was possibly the most idyllic setting
‘Go after her.’ Santo was by his side, smooth and in control, somehow managing to be the perfect host while talking to his brother in a low voice. ‘Go now, because she’ll be out of here in minutes.’
‘She’s complicated.’
‘All women are complicated. I don’t pretend to understand any of them but I do know one thing—’ Santo scooped a glass of champagne from a passing waitress ‘—if there is such a thing as love, then that woman loves you. Move. I’ll cover for you.’
Cristiano stood in frozen silence, remembering the look on her face during the photographs.
Longing. And intense sadness, as if the situation was sucking her down and drowning her.
And that didn’t make sense.
Why would she be sad if this was what she wanted? If she no longer had feelings for him, why did she find all this so stressful?
It came to him in a single blinding flash of comprehension and he pressed his fingers to his forehead, his hand unsteady, the shock of it rocking his composure.
No matter how vehement her denials, it was obvious now that she
did
love him. It was also obvious that loving him was scaring her to death. She was running because she was afraid of giving in to those feelings. She didn’t want to forgive him because she was afraid to forgive him.
Afraid to trust him again.
Behind him he heard the music start, whoops of laughter and knew that soon there’d be dancing.
Propelled by an anger directed towards himself as well as her, Cristiano strode into the villa with the subtlety of the police carrying out an armed raid. The door crashed shut behind him and Laurel flew from the bedroom, eyes wide.
‘What’s happened?’
Just in time, Cristiano thought grimly, noticing the small suitcase lying at the foot of the enormous bed. Santo had been right. A few minutes later and she would have been gone.
Driven by a burning determination to unveil the truth, he didn’t pause in his stride. Instead he just walked right up to her and backed her into the wall, planting his arms either side of her so that she was caged and completely at his mercy.
Now try and run. Now try and get out of that, my beauty.
The intensity of the rage building inside him was shockingand she must have seen something in his face because her eyes widened.
‘What the hell is
wrong
with you?’
She squirmed against him but he pressed her back, using just enough of his superior strength to stop her running. She was like an animal caught in a trap, twisting and panting as she struggled to free herself, sobbing with frustration when his only response was to hold her tighter.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He fisted his hand into her hair, feeling the dark mass dislodge itself and tumble over his wrist.
So silky, so soft.
‘You’re not leaving this room until you’ve admitted how you feel.’
‘Right now? Tired of being around you.’
‘You’re lying. You want this as much as I do—’ He brought his mouth down to hers because he couldn’t help himself, all the anger, the desperation, the raw emotion transmitting itself in that one physical act. He kissed her as if he’d never touched her before and never would again, as if she was the air he had to breathe to stay alive, the blood that kept his heart pumping. Her mouth was warm and sweet, the taste of her going straight to his head and pouring through his senses. Like a dangerous drug, she seeped through him, turning anger to another equally potent emotion.
He was dimly aware that she’d stopped thumping him and was now clutching him, her slim fingers locked in his shirt as her mouth opened under the pressure of his. Heat ripped through the two of them, searing the last of his control, and he scooped her up without thought or hesitation and carried her the few strides to the enormous bed that overlooked the private pool and, beyond that, the gentle curve of the beach. It was possibly the most idyllic setting
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