Page 55 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
What did that say about him?
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to ease the escalating tension there.
She didn’t even dress provocatively to entice him. Despite the massive injection of funds to her new bank account, she still wore the simple, cheap clothes she’d brought with her.
There were no designer gowns or expensive shoes. No new handbags or hairstyles. Not even sexy new lingerie. Each night he found himself discarding her plain cotton night shirts. She didn’t even bother to acquire a skerrick of lace or silk to entice her husband.
And somehow he still found her more alluring than any silkclad siren of his memory.
Swaddled in thick towelling, her hair drying around her shoulders, and her face washed clean of make-up, Carys made his heart thud faster and his libido claw for release.
He told himself he’d come home to spend time with Leo, and he had enjoyed his son’s company. Young Leo had an energy and an enquiring mind as well as an open, loving disposition that made him a pleasure to be with. Yet Alessandro had been distracted time and again by the enigmatic woman at the poolside. She’d been so engrossed in her reading it was clear her husband didn’t hold her interest.
He didn’t understand her.
‘You haven’t been away from the house,’ he found himself saying.
She angled her chin a fraction, in that unconscious gesture of defiance he found ridiculously appealing.
‘I didn’t want to brave the press. I’m not used to that sort of attention.’
Guilt punched him. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He’d been so busy adjusting to his ready-made family while trying to maintain his usual constant work schedule, it hadn’t occurred to him.
‘I’ll arrange for a quick photo opportunity in the next few days. We’ll give them a chance to snap shots of the happy couple.’ He paused on the thought of how inappropriate the phrase seemed. ‘Then the pressure will ease. Tell the staff when you want to go out and security will be arranged. You need have no fear. You’ll be well taken care of.’
‘Thank you.’
Again she avoided eye contact. Frustration returned. He felt an unfamiliar desire to provoke a reaction, any reaction from her. He refused to be ignored.
‘The staff can tell you the best places to shop. No doubt that’s high on your agenda.’ After all, she now had a substantial fortune to spend.
Cool grey eyes met his as she frowned. ‘Why would I need to shop? Do you mean for an outfit to wear for this press session?’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no need. Carlotta already had two extra outfits made for me, a suit and a dress. I’m sure one of them will do. They’re both lovely.’
Alessandro waved a dismissive hand. ‘No doubt whatever Carlotta provided will be suitable. But you’ll want to start enjoying your money and buy a new wardrobe.’ On his instructions one of his secretaries had already provided her with a card linked to her new bank account.
Carys sat back in her seat, her brow clearing. ‘There’s no need. I’ve got plenty to last me till the cooler weather comes. Then I’ll have to invest in a new winter coat.’
‘A new winter coat?’ His voice trailed off. Winter was months away. Summer was just starting. Who did she think she was fooling? ‘With all that money at your disposal you expect me to believe you have no interest in spending it?’
‘I know you’re providing money for expenses, but—’
‘Money for expenses!’ This woman was something else. She reduced her new-found wealth to the status of grocery funds. ‘It’s far more than that, Carys. Remember, I know exactly how much since I’m paying it.’
‘There’s no need to sound so accusing.’ A flash of fire in her eyes sent shards of ice-hot need splintering through him. That only intensified his anger.
‘And there’s no need to pretend your outrageously lavish allowance is a mere pittance.’ The games women played!
Carys stiffened, looking more like an ice queen than the ordinary working girl he’d plucked from drudgery. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Alessandro shot to his feet, trying to work off his anger at her games by pacing the length of the pool and back. This pretence was the sort of thing he abhorred. Next she’d be complaining the funds he provided weren’t enough.
‘Of course you know. You read the prenup in such detail you must have checked every word twice. You have enough money in your personal account now to keep you in Gucci, Versace and Yves Saint Laurent every day of the year.’
Clouds must have passed over the sun, giving the illusion she’d paled.
