a change of clothes.’
‘That was thoughtful of him.’
Ana inclined her head in what could have been a nod or a shrug. Her expression remained bland as she waited for Meghan’s dismissal.
‘Where did they come from?’ Meghan asked, her curiosity piqued.
‘The clothes?’ Ana’s mouth thinned in disapproval. ‘They belong to Signor di Agnio’s wife.’
‘What?’ Meghan stared at the housekeeper, her eyes wide with shock. Alessandro was married? ‘His wife?’ she repeated.
Ana inclined her head. ‘Paula di Agnio. She lives in Rome.’
Married. Somehow Alessandro had forgotten to mention that little detail. Did he think it wasn’t important? That she wouldn’t care?
Meghan closed her eyes. Liar. She’d begun to believe Alessandro was different, that even if he only wanted sex at least he was honest about it.
He was a liar, like all the rest.
Like Stephen.
And she’d fallen for it, begun to believe his tender little act, because her heart and body still cried out for understanding, compassion.
Love.
No. Not that. Not that any more. Ever.
‘Is there anything else you need, signorina?’ Ana asked diffidently. ‘There are toiletries in the bathroom. A toothbrush, deodorant—whatever you require.’
Meghan opened her eyes, blinking the room back into focus from behind the thick haze of tears that had come unbidden. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice came out rusty, and she cleared her throat. ‘I’ll be down shortly. Thank you for everything.’
Ana nodded, her expression still diffident, and left the room.
Meghan stared at the bundle of clothes. His wife’s clothes. Did he actually think she would wear them? Could he judge her any lower?
Her mind still reeling from the housekeeper’s unexpected news, Meghan dressed in her outfit from the previous night with numb, blunt fingers.
In the luxuriously appointed bathroom she found all the necessary toiletries, and was glad to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she stepped into the hallway she felt protected again, hardened enough to do battle.
To find out just what Alessandro had been keeping from her.
Her resolve wavered slightly when she stepped into the lounge and saw him waiting there. He turned when he saw her, and the spontaneous smile of affection and admiration made Meghan’s heart stumble. Then his expression darkened.
‘Why are you wearing your clothes from last night? Your … uniform?’
‘Ana told me where the other clothes came from,’ Meghan replied, her voice choked.
‘Oh?’ Alessandro’s expression became guarded, a shutter closing over his eyes, turning them almost black, and Meghan’s heart sank.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were married?’
‘What?’ He stared at her incredulously, before suddenly laughing aloud, the sound pure and clean, filling the room. ‘She told you that?’
‘She said the clothes belonged to Signor di Agnio’s wife.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded slowly, the laughter gone, not even an echo. ‘Well, they do—but to a different Signor di Agnio’s wife.’
Meghan stared at him in confusion. ‘Who? Your father’s?’
‘My father is dead.’ He bit out the words. ‘The Signor di Agnio Ana was referring to is my brother. He was married to my sister-in-law, Paula.’
‘Was?’ she repeated uncertainly. ‘Are they divorced?’
‘No, my brother is also dead.’ He paused, his eyes like iron as Meghan stared at him, unsure how to respond. ‘This was his villa,’ Alessandro continued. ‘I use it for business purposes now.’
‘Oh.’ Meghan felt a blush crawl up her throat. ‘I thought …’
‘I know what you thought, gattina.’ Amusement glittered in his cool eyes. ‘You can sheath your little claws, because now you know Ana was just making trouble.’
‘Why would she—?’
He cut her off swiftly, with a chuckle and a shake of his head. ‘Da tutti i san—you insist on thinking the worst of me at every turn! Married! What next?’
‘I couldn’t help it,’ Meghan mumbled. ‘Maybe I misunderstood the Italian …’
‘Oh, really?’ The look he gave her was far too perceptive. ‘Tell me, this relationship you were in? Was the man married?’
Meghan’s mouth was dry, her lips numb. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she finally managed.
He shrugged. ‘Whoever he was, he has a lot to answer for. Now, I’m starving, and there is a full day before us. One without arguments, I hope. Why don’t you get changed into the clothes that do not belong to my wife—a woman who does not yet exist—and meet me in the kitchen?’
The humour lighting his eyes made Meghan smile ruefully. Somehow Alessandro had dispelled the tension that had thrummed between them. She felt light, almost happy.
‘All right,’ she agreed, and hurried upstairs.
Back in the bedroom, Meghan tugged on a pair of designer jeans, a bit loose in the waist, but otherwise fitting her well, and a black cashmere turtleneck sweater. A leather belt fitted snugly around her hips, and she pulled her hair back with a clip.
She glanced in the mirror and was surprised to see her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling.
She looked like a woman on the brink of adventure. A woman desired.
Instead of the usual plunging fear in her belly at this thought, Meghan felt a warm tingling. A glow.
Smiling to herself, she headed down to the kitchen.
Thankfully Ana had disappeared, leaving them alone at the round pine table set in a comfortable nook overlooking the pool, still covered, and the terrace set with loungers and pots of flowers.
‘It must be beautiful here in the summer,’ Meghan said a bit wistfully, and Alessandro slotted her a thoughtful glance.
‘It is. Now, eat.’
The food set before them was a feast. Meghan hadn’t been overly fond of the Italian breakfasts she’d encountered so far, but set before her now was an array of mouthwatering dishes.
One eyebrow raised, Alessandro handed her a steaming bowl of eggs scrambled with mozzarella and basil. ‘I prefer the full English breakfasts I had at school—done the Italian
