both know that you’ll be fulfilling another role quite perfectly. As my mistress .’
‘But, Riccardo—’
‘No, say nothing more—for I will not countenance your objections. It is the perfect solution,’ he had mused. ‘My mother would not tolerate me bringing a lover into the house—but nobody need ever know that you are fulfilling a duel role so effectively, cara mia . You can provide me with sweet delight to distract me from all the stultifying details of the forthcoming wedding.’
‘But why, Riccardo?’ she had breathed. ‘I mean, why me ?’
Almost impartially, he’d studied her and it was then that Angie had realised how cold a colour black could be—for his eyes had looked positively icy as they flicked over her distressed face.
‘Because you have unlocked a certain, inexplicable hunger in me, cara mia —and I see no reason not to feed that hunger until we are both satisfied. You have already decided to leave my employment, so lets make sure that when you do it is with no lasting regrets on either side.’
He had made it sound so impersonal —as if he were dealing with something rather than someone . Like a man who had just conducted an audacious boardroom coup. Defiance had reared its head. ‘And if I object?’
Arrogantly, he had pulled her towards him—brushing his lips over hers in an almost negligent kiss, which had soon had her shivering beneath it.
‘You won’t object,’ he had boasted softly. ‘You want me far too much to dare to object.’
She had tried. Oh, she had tried. Overriding her hungry body’s screaming protests, Angie had shaken her head and whispered no . And that was when clever Riccardo had played his trump card. If she agreed to the trip, he would let her leave his employment as soon as they returned to England.
‘But I don’t have a job to go to!’ she had objected.
‘What if I give you six months’ full salary—and we’ll call it a bonus for all your hard work?’
For a moment Angie had hesitated—some instinct making her feel uneasy about the deal. Was such an agreement wrong? And yet, wouldn’t she at least be able to preserve her sanity this way and didn’t she deserve some kind of bonus for all the hours she’d put in for him over the years? In the end, she had shrugged her shoulders and agreed and he had kissed her again, taunting her—telling her that her body could not deny how much she wanted him.
Picking up her suitcase, Angie stared in the mirror at her pale face and the set of her lips. It was true. She did want him—but her desire wasn’t straightforward, like his. Hers was complicated by feelings—intense feelings for him which wouldn’t seem to die, no matter how high-handed and hateful he could be. And surely she needed to work on herself—to try to cure herself of an unrequited love which could never have a happy ending.
In the end, it was that thought which convinced her to agree with Riccardo’s outrageous plan. She only knew the man she saw most days in the office—in his guise as highly successful businessman. She’d never seen him wearing anything other than a suit—or nothing at all. But surely if she was with him for a whole week—then she would see him for what he really was. An arrogant man with many flaws who was undeserving of her love.
She prayed that would be the case—because the alternative was terrifying. And what she couldn’t bear would be the thought that she might become one of those sad women who carried a torch for someone who didn’t care. The kind of woman who wasted her life, pining for someone who never even gave them another thought.
Her doorbell rang. Angie gave one last, nervous flick of her hair. That would be Marco. Riccardo had flown out to Tuscany yesterday afternoon—so at least she would be spared travelling with him. But she still had Marco to face. She hadn’t seen Riccardo’s driver since he had dropped his boss off after the Christmas party, when he must have sat outside
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