The Italian's One-Night Love-Child

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Authors: Cathy Williams
Tags: Fiction
marry the two personas. The gorgeous, sexy man who had whisked her away to a tropical idyll and the icy stranger looking at her with shuttered eyes and a cruel curl on his lips. She had to remind herself that she would never have glimpsed the gorgeous, sexy man if he had met her as Bethany Maguire. She might not have met the icy stranger, but she would bet her limited savings that Mr Indifferent would have been in ample supply.
    ‘I never said that the turreted mansion belonged to my parents,’ she told him. ‘I only said that there was certainly one in my home town and there is.’
    ‘I’m afraid I find it hard to appreciate the fine line of distinction between an outright lie and an economical use of the truth.’
    ‘You’re only finding it hard because you don’t even want to try.’
    ‘And why should I? But you were right when you said that there was no point going over old ground. It’s not going to get either of us anywhere. So let’s move on to another topic, shall we?’ He delivered an icy smile that sent flutters of real fear racing through her body. Cristiano, seeing that, broadened his smile and relaxed. He had wondered why he had bothered to make the trip but now he knew. Yes, he had needed to see her face to face so that he could exorcise some of his built up fury with her for lying to him and with himself for being taken in by her deception. He had also, he now realised, felt the urge to close what he considered unfinished business because what they had was unfinished.
    The two weeks they had spent in Barbados had been tantamount to a complete, reckless breakdown of his self-control. He had been like a straight A student who had decided to play truant. Naturally, she had been blissfully unaware of that, had not known that that was the first time in his life when he had breached his own rigidly self-imposed boundaries. Cristiano wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to achieve that feat but achieve it she had and, by the time they had returned to Italy, he was by no means ready for her to vanish from his life. Seeing her again here had had the negative effect of reminding him why he was still so damned hot for her. He had expected to feel nothing for her but derision and contempt. And sure, she was little more than a cheap liar, but the knowledge hadn’t gone very far to extinguishing the flare of attraction he had neither sought nor courted but which was, it seemed, still there and very firmly alight.
    Even looking at her now across the width of the sitting room, folded into the chair like a kid with the long sleevesof her oversized jumper pulled right down so that she could catch the ends between her slender fingers, was alternately rousing and enraging him.
    Like a mathematician addressing a convoluted problem, Cristiano brought his finely tuned and coolly logical brain to bear on the illogical situation. How better to put an end to his anger and frustration than by just taking what had been summarily denied him? Could he pretend to overlook the little matter of her outrageous deception until he got her into bed and sated his hunger for her, which was still running through his veins and sabotaging all his efforts to get his life back on track?
    He’d have to think about that one but he relaxed for the first time since he had set foot in the house. Just having a solution to hand, even if he decided not to put it to use, went some way to reestablishing his control over proceedings which, with the appearance of her parents, had taken a definite knock.
    Also, he quite liked the nature of his solution. He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of her face from his head, or the memory of her moaning under him, on top of him, in the massive circular bath at his house in Barbados, in the pool, in various parts of the house and several times on his private stretch of beach where only the moon and the stars had witnessed their inexhaustible passion. It would be sweet revenge, not that he applied such a

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