what had happened, but soon afterwards she had returned to England and he didn’t know if she had coped okay. He should have phoned her to see how she was, his conscience pricked. But at the time it had seemed better to make a clean break, and if he was honest his pride had been hurt by her decision to leave him.
‘How are you?’ he asked gruffly.
She looked surprised by his softer tone. ‘I’m fine...thank you.’
‘It’s been a long time since we last saw one another.’ Irritated with himself for his uncharacteristic lack of savoir faire, Sergio stalked over to the bar. ‘Would you like a drink?’
There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and, without waiting for her to reply, he popped the cork, filled two tall flutes and held one out to her. With obvious reluctance, she crossed the room and took the glass from him.
‘To old acquaintances, or perhaps I should make that to unexpected visitors,’ he said drily. ‘Why did you interrupt my party, Kristen?’
Kristen took a gulp of champagne and felt the sensation of bubbles bursting on her tongue. ‘I’ve already told you that I wanted to talk to you...about something important.’ She bit her lip, finding it impossible to utter the statement, By the way, you have a three-year-old child who you’ve never met.
Sergio nodded towards the sofa. ‘In that case, you had better sit down.’
Sitting seemed the safest option when her legs felt like jelly. Kristen sat, and immediately sank into the soft cushions. She tensed when he sat down next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He extended his arm along the back of the sofa and she couldn’t restrain the little quiver that ran down her spine as she imagined his long, tanned fingers stroking her exposed nape where her hair was swept up into a chignon.
An awkward silence fell until he said abruptly, ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Kristen’s heart missed a beat and, to steady her nerves, she took another gulp of champagne.
‘I...’ While she was searching for the right words she made the mistake of looking at him, and whatever she had been about to say died on her tongue when she discovered that he was looking at her in a way that convinced her he was remembering her naked. The bold glitter in his eyes was inappropriate and outrageous, but the damning heat in her breasts as they swelled and strained against her suddenly too-tight bra was even more shocking.
‘As you probably know, the Castellano Group owns many hotels around the world,’ Sergio was saying. ‘Staff issues would normally be dealt with by the Hotel Royale’s manager, but I will try to be of help.’ He frowned. ‘I admit I am puzzled to find you working as a waitress, Kristen. As I recall, you left me to return to university and finish your studies.’
For a few seconds Kristen stared at him blankly, before realisation dawned that he had mistaken her for a waitress. She glanced down at the plain black skirt she had bought to wear to her mother’s funeral. As far as Sergio was aware, there was no other reason why she would have been at his private party.
He made the past sound so black and white, she thought bitterly. It was true she had left him to go back to university, but only because he had made it clear that in the long-term there was no place for her in his life. His offer for her to be his temporary mistress had not been enough to persuade her to give up everything she had worked for.
She darted a glance at his hard-boned face. There was no point in raking over the cold embers of their relationship. Everything had been said four years ago. Sergio had wanted her, but only on his terms. As much as she had loved him, she had been angry at his refusal to make compromises and ultimately his intransigence had been proof that he had not cared about her.
Sitting beside Kristen, Sergio inhaled the light floral fragrance of her perfume and he felt a sharp stab of desire. He tried to remind himself of the reason he had brought her to his suite. She owed him an explanation for the fiasco in the function room and he was determined to discover the reason she had interrupted the party. But, as he glanced at her and their eyes met, he was finding it hard to think about anything other than the fact that she was even more desirable than she had been four years ago.
Kristen stiffened when Sergio stretched out his hand and brushed a stray tendril of hair off her cheek.
‘You are even more beautiful than I remember.’ His deep voice caressed her senses like rough velvet. ‘Your eyes are the bright blue of a summer sky and your hair is the colour of ripe corn.’
From any other man the statement would have sounded corny, but Sergio’s sexy accent turned the words to poetry. It would be too easy to drown in the molten warmth of his eyes, to fall beneath his spell. Kristen trembled with anger, yet she could not deny the savage, shameful excitement that shot through her. At the party Sergio had been about to announce his engagement to another woman. How dared he now turn his effortless charm on her?
Determined to appear composed, even though she felt anything but, she finished her champagne and hoped he didn’t notice her hand was shaking as she placed her glass on the coffee table. ‘I should leave,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m sure Miss Denholm would be devastated if she knew you had invited me into your suite to...to...’
‘To what, cara?’ he drawled. ‘You asked to speak to me and I simply agreed to your request.’
‘You were flirting with me,’ she snapped, stung by the amusement in his voice. ‘You had no right to call me beautiful.’
‘Why not, when it’s the truth?’
Sergio stared at the pulse jerking at the base of Kristen’s throat before returning to linger on her mouth, and watched as she moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. The anger he had felt earlier had been replaced with a primitive desire he could not control. She was as tightly wound as a coiled spring and he could almost taste the sexual awareness in the air. Four years was a long time and he had had plenty of other women since Kristen. But none had made his gut twist with raw need like she had done. Like she still did.
His senses were so finely tuned to her that he knew she was going to jump up from the sofa and, before she had time to move, he caught hold of her wrist and forced her to remain seated.
‘Let go of me!’ She was breathing hard, drawing his eyes to the thrust of her breasts beneath her high-necked blouse. There was something very tantalising about the row of tiny buttons that were fastened right up to her throat. He would never have the patience to unfasten each one, Sergio thought, sexual hunger corkscrewing through him as a memory came into his mind of her small, pale breasts with their rosy tips.
‘You are despicable,’ Kristen told him hotly. ‘You’re meant to be hosting a party to celebrate your engagement to a beautiful debutante.’
In truth, Kristen had forgotten about the party, but now guilt joined the gamut of emotions churning inside her. She knew full well that Sergio’s emotions were a barren wasteland, but presumably Felicity Denholm was under the illusion that he cared for her. ‘That poor woman...’
‘I’d save your sympathy if I were you,’ Sergio said drily. ‘Don’t believe everything you read in the gutter press. The engagement story was pure fabrication.’
Kristen swallowed. ‘You mean you’re not going to marry Lady Felicity?’
‘You know my feelings about marriage, cara.’
Oh
