Free Picture of Innocence by Jacqueline Baird

fault for letting him. He actually
was
the ruthless devil his brother had said, and yet she still could not quite believe it.
    ‘Why?’ Lucy asked. ‘Why are you behaving like an immoral jerk?’
    ‘Oh, please—don’t pretend you are Miss Morality, Lucy. You enjoyed the sex as much as I did,’ he informed her, with an arrogantly inclined head, his glittering dark eyes looking down at her contemptuously. ‘You are exactly like your brother—up for anything at any cost. And
your
brother cost mine his life.’
    ‘But it was an accident,’ she said, confused by the change of subject.
    ‘So the coroner said—but I believe what your brother did was contemptible … tantamount to manslaughter,’ Lorenzo stated, but he saw no reason to prolong the conversation by getting into the details with Lucy. It was over and done with, and he was finished with her. ‘So now you know why I have no desire to do business with Steadman’s. I will
never
forgive and forget—is that plain enough for you?’
    Lucy was stunned by the antagonism in his voice. She had not been mistaken when they’d met in his office and she had the thought his refusal was personal … it
had
been. Her face paled as the full weight of his contempt hit her, and anger almost choked her.
    ‘Yes,’ she said coldly. ‘I always knew, but I forgot for a while.’ Her slender hands clenched at her sides to prevent the urge to claw his devious eyes out. She’d had no chance from the start, she realised bitterly. If the only reason Lorenzo had had sex with her was some perverted form of revenge or payback for her brother’s perceived behaviour, she didn’t know—and cared less. All she
did
know was she was not taking it lying down.
    ‘Damien told me what you said to him after the inquest, blaming him for what happened, but foolishly—knowing how it feels to lose someone you love—when I met you I decided anger and grief had maybe made you act out of character. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but now I see how wrong I was. You really are a ruthless devil. But I
am
holding you to your promise of two months’ reprieve. As you so succinctly put it, I have paid for it—with sex.’ And, spinning on her heel, she walked into the house, slamming the door behind her.
    Lorenzo was stunned for a moment. The fact sheknew about his confrontation with her brother had shocked him—though it was not really so surprising when he thought about it. Not that it mattered any more. He was never going to see her again. He got in the car and left.
    Quivering with rage and humiliation, Lucy threw her keys down on the table in the entrance hall and dashed up the stairs to her flat, trying to ignore Lorenzo’s hateful insults. But every time she thought of him—thought of what she had done with him—she felt cheap and dirty.
    She ripped off her clothes and headed straight for the shower, ashamed and angry. Lorenzo had as good as called her a whore, and she wanted to wash every trace of him off her body. But perversely that same body remembered every touch, every caress.
    Maybe she was fated to be ashamed every time she had sex, she thought hysterically, and finally she crawled into bed and let the tears fall, crying until she had no tears left.
    Monday morning Lucy woke from a brief tormented sleep, hugging her pillow. For a second she inhaled the scent of Lorenzo, and smiled. Then reality hit, and she dragged herself out of bed, telling herself she must change the sheets. She staggered into the bathroom and groaned when she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen from the tears she had shed over Lorenzo Zanelli, and however much she tried to convince herself he wasn’t worth a second thought her body ached for him with every breath she took.
    Showered, and dressed in cotton pants and a tee shirt, she stood in the gallery, a cup of coffee in her hand, and glanced around. Usually it gave her pleasure, lookingover her little kingdom before anyone arrived. She