a slight shrug. ‘If she can hurt me emotionally, she will.’ The need to be free of him was paramount, and she turned to leave, only to have a detaining hand catch hold of her arm and pull her back to face him.
Any escape could only be temporary. It was there in his eyes, the latent anger a silent threat should she continue to thwart him.
‘Let me go.’ The words left her throat as his head lowered, and she turned slightly so that his lips grazed her cheek. Then she cried out as he slid his fingers through the thickness of her hair, and his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was nothing less than a total possession of her senses.
A muffled groan of entreaty choked in her throat as he brought her even closer against his hard, muscular frame, and when he finally lifted his head she stood quite still, bearing his silent scrutiny until every nerve stretched to its furthest limit.
His hands slid with seductive slowness to her waist, then cradled her ribcage, the pads of each thumb beginning an evocative circle over the hardening peaks of her breasts in a movement that was intensely erotic.
She had to stop him now, before she lost the will to move away. ‘Sex in the office, Stefano? Whatever will Renate think?’ she taunted softly. ‘Or maybe she’s accustomed to her boss’s…discreet diversions?’
His eyes narrowed, and a muscle hardened at the edge of his jaw. ‘Watch your foolish tongue.’
Carly laughed, a soft mocking sound that was the antithesis of anything related to humour. Gathering courage, she added with unaccustomed cynicism, ‘I imagine many women shared your table as well as your bed in the last seven years.’
His eyes stilled for a second, then assumed a brooding mockery. ‘You want me to supply a list, cara?’
For one heart-stopping moment she looked stricken. The thought of that long, superbly muscled body giving even one other woman the sort of sexual pleasure he gave her was sickening. To consider there had probably been several made her feel positively ill. Suddenly she’d had enough, and was in dire need of some breathing space—preferably as far away from her inimical husband as possible.
If she didn’t leave soon, the ache behind her eyes would result in silent futile tears, and without a further word she turned and left the room.
Within minutes of reaching home she crossed to the phone and dialled Sarah’s number. At the sound of her friend’s voice she clutched hold of the receiver and sank down into a nearby chair for a long conversation that encompassed an exchange of news as well as providing a link to normality.
‘You must bring James to dinner,’ Carly insisted as Sarah exclaimed at the time. ‘I’ll check with Stefano and give you a call.’
‘Lovely,’ the other girl declared with enthusiasm. ‘Give Ann-Marie a big hug from me, and tell her I’ll visit tomorrow.’
Dinner was a strained meal, for Carly found it difficult to contribute much by way of conversation that didn’t come out sounding horribly banal. In the end, she simply gave up, and pushed her food around the plate before discarding her cutlery to sip iced water from her glass.
Stefano, damn him, didn’t appear a whit disturbed, and he did justice to the dishes Sylvana provided before finishing with fresh grapes, biscuits and cheese.
Carly sat in silence during the drive to hospital, unwilling to offer so much as a word in case it ended in a slanging match—or worse.
There was such a wealth of resentment at having witnessed the touching little departure scene between Angelica and Stefano that afternoon—and unabating anger. It almost eclipsed the joy of witnessing Ann-Marie’s pleasure in their visit, and the expressive smile when Stefano presented her with yet another gift.
‘I’m getting spoilt,’ Ann-Marie concluded, hugging the beautifully dressed doll close to her small chest, and her eyes gleamed when her father leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
The words held such poignancy that Carly had to blink fast against the threat of tears.
‘My pleasure, piccina.’
‘What’s a piccina?’
‘A special endearment for a special little girl,’ he responded gently.
It was almost eight when the Mercedes pulled into the driveway leading to Stefano’s elegant home, and once indoors Carly made her way through to the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’ It was a perfunctory query that incurred his narrowed gaze.
‘Please.’
Her movements were automatic as she filled the percolator, selected a fresh filter, then spooned in a blend of ground coffee-beans.
‘Would you prefer yours here, or in the lounge?’
‘The lounge.’
Damn, that meant she’d have to share it with him, yet if she opted out he’d only be amused, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.
Five minutes later she placed cups and saucers, sugar and milk on to a tray and carried it through to the informal lounge. Placing his within easy reach, she selected a chair several feet distant from where he was seated.
‘We’ve been invited out to dinner tomorrow evening,’ Stefano informed her with indolent ease as he spooned in sugar and stirred the thick black liquid in his cup. ‘Charles Winslow will be there with Kathy-Lee.’ His eyes seared hers, darkly analytical in a manner that raised all her fine body hairs in a gesture of self-defence.
‘And Georgeanne?’ She arched a brow in deliberate query. ‘I’m not sure I want to go.’ The thought of standing at his side for several hours playing a part didn’t figure very high in her order of preferred entertainment.
‘Most of the men present will have their wives or partners in attendance,’ he drawled, and she said sweetly,
‘Why not invite Angelica? I’m sure she’d delight in the opportunity. Then you could have two women vying for your attention.’
One eyebrow slanted in quizzical mockery, although anything approaching humour was sadly lacking in his expression. ‘I’ll ignore that remark.’
A crazy imp prompted her to query, ‘Good heavens, why? It’s nothing less than the truth.’
His expression didn’t alter. ‘Watch your unwary tongue, mi moglie,’ he cautioned in a deadly soft voice.
‘Don’t threaten me,’ she responded swiftly, feeling the deep-rooted anger begin to surge to the surface.
‘Warn,’ he amended with quiet emphasis.
‘There’s a difference?’
His eyes lanced hers, silent and deadly in their intent. ‘Give it up, Carly.’
‘And concede defeat?’
‘If you want to fight,’ Stefano drawled with dangerous silkiness, ‘I’m willing to oblige.’ He paused deliberately, then continued, ‘I doubt you’ll enjoy the consequences.’
