were dark and framed by such thick, long lashes that it was as if nature had decided to emphasise such an unusually striking feature with extra care. Other men might have used those lashes as an effective screen for his emotions, but not Alessio Capelli. His gaze was direct and unflinching and she suspected that the reason he never felt the need to conceal his emotions was because he’d never actually experienced an emotion of any sort in his life.
He dealt with facts and numbers. And they were big numbers if the rumours were correct.
Feeling eighteen rather than twenty-eight, Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘Hello, Alessio.’
His fists dropped to his sides and his eyes didn’t leave hers. Then he slowly removed each of his gloves and dropped them onto a nearby bench.
‘You’ve chosen a romantic venue for a reunion, Lindsay.’ He spoke in perfect English, but in every way that mattered he was pure Sicilian. The dark good looks, the arrogance, the simmering volatility barely held in check by the veneer of sophistication that surrounded him like another skin—all products of his ancestry.
A wicked thrill of pleasure that he hadn’t forgotten her was immediately replaced by dismay.
Flouting the powerful messages from her brain about not responding to him, her insides tumbled with excitement and her knees weakened. This was why she didn’t trust herself around him—every second that she was in his company, her life became a battlefield. She was instantly trapped in a vicious conflict between what her body wanted and what her brain wanted.
The layers of protection she’d built around herself melted away in an explosive blast of raw chemistry. Her grip on the present slipped, and her mind twisted the highly charged sexual attraction into the ugly, destructive monster she knew it to be.
Terrified by the sudden glimpse into her own vulnerability, Lindsay reminded herself again that this was about Ruby. Ruby was the reason she was here.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t forgotten me, given the number of blonde women in your life. They must merge after a while.’
Amusement shimmered in his eyes as he reached for a towel. ‘The unexpected is always memorable. You walked away from me.’
And she could tell from his tone that no woman had done that before.
‘There was never the slightest possibility that I’d become involved with you. Unlike you, I think with my head.’
He laughed at that, and Lindsay frowned slightly because over the months she’d managed to forget that he had a sense of humour. And she knew why—that sense of humour made him seen more human and she didn’t want to think of him in that way. It suddenly seemed vitally important to remember that he was cold, ruthless and unemotional. In her head he needed to be as unattractive as possible.
But the smile he gave her was anything but unattractive. ‘So why are you standing in front of me now?’
‘I’m here because I need to talk to you.’ And that was true. But it didn’t change the fact that she was painfully aware of him.
And he knew it.
Alessio Capelli had so much experience with women that it would have been impossible for him not to know and the slow lift of his brow confirmed it.
‘You have flown all the way from England just to talk to me? I didn’t realise you found my conversation so stimulating.’
Lindsay was trying hard to ignore his superior height and the width and power of his shoulders. She hadn’t needed a display of his boxing prowess to be aware of his strength. Strength was woven through his very being; an essential part of the man. Everyone who came up against him crumbled. Physically and mentally he was a titan.
And he made his living from using that strength against others.
Against women.
Suddenly she wished desperately that she could wind the clock back. If she could have done so, then she wouldn’t have chosen Rome for a city break and she definitely would have paid more attention to where she was walking late at night.
Indirectly this whole situation was her fault.
If she’d never met him he would have remained in her head as a professional adversary instead of a man. When their paths had crossed professionally she would have been wearing her protective cloak, instead of which—
‘I tried calling you from England,’ she said crisply, ‘but no one would put me through to you. I’ve travelled here purely because you’re impossible to get hold of. Your staff will never say where you are. How do your clients contact you?’
He wiped his hands on the towel. ‘If you were a client,’ he said evenly, ‘you would have been given a different number to call.’
The same number as his women? Dismissing that thought, Lindsay bit her lip. ‘I told them on the phone that I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter—’
‘Then it’s hardly surprising that they didn’t put you through. They know that I never discuss personal matters.’
‘I said it was urgent.’
‘Which they would have translated as meaning that you were a journalist working to a tight deadline.’ He looped the towel around his neck and Lindsay frowned slightly, wondering what it was like to lead the sort of life where everyone wanted to know everything about you.
‘That was why no one would answer my questions? Because they thought I was a journalist?’
‘I’ve trained my staff to be suspicious. A tiresome necessity driven by being in the public eye.’ A cynical smile on his face, he stooped to retrieve a bottle of water from the floor. ‘I’m intrigued as to what could possibly be important enough to drag you back into my disreputable presence. Hopefully you’ve finally decided to abandon those principles of yours and explore the endless pleasures of emotionless sex.’
‘Alessio—’
‘You’ve no idea how much I’m looking forward to getting you naked, tesoro.’ His dark drawl connected straight to her nerve endings and she felt a flash of heat low in her pelvis.
He was doing it on purpose, she knew he was. Trying to unsettle her.
‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ She struggled to keep her voice level. ‘You have to embarrass me.’
‘Mi dispiace,’ he purred, his eyes glinting wickedly. ‘I’m sorry—unfair of me, I know. It’s just that I just love watching you blush. Your cheeks are the same colour they will be after we’ve had frantic sex.’
‘That is never going to happen. Accept it.’
‘That shows how little you know me. I have a compulsive need to change situations that aren’t to my liking.’ He smiled—a slow, dangerous smile. ‘It’s called negotiation.’
‘Negotiation is when both parties get what they want—it’s supposed to be a win-win situation.’
‘I understand the winning bit—I’m not so good at accepting
