Mistress Material. Sharon Kendrick
Читать онлайн книгу.
thunder with dread and excitement.
Her room was on the first floor, at the opposite end of the corridor to Salvatore’s, and she hurriedly pushed the door open, aware of Pasquale’s footsteps, of the soft sound of his breath, of that strange, elusive masculine scent, still so startlingly familiar, even after seven years.
She turned to face him, her chest heaving, her almond-shaped amber eyes narrowed like a lioness’s. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said.
His face was infuriatingly enigmatic. ‘I agree,’ he returned. ‘You are injecting an element of farce into my simple request that we talk.’
She thought of the intimacy of the room just behind them. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But not here.’
He smiled, but the smile did not reach his cold, glittering eyes. ‘Oh? And why not—or can I guess? The presence of a bed bothers you, does it, Suki? Are you afraid of what might happen if you’re alone in a bedroom with me?’
She swallowed. All those nights she’d spent imagining how she’d behave if she ever had the misfortune to see him again. She had planned to ignore him, look down her nose at him. In her wilder fantasies she had even been prepared to pretend not to recognise him at all, planning to stare at that dark, handsome face with bemused bewilderment, although looking at him now she knew that that would have been asking a little too much of her general acting ability.
It had certainly not been her intention to let him know that his presence still had the power to disturb her. Profoundly. And wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now?
Taking a deep breath, she switched into superficial hostess mode. Giving him the bright smile she normally reserved for the lens of a camera, she waved her hand invitingly.
‘Forgive me,’ she said, sounding deliberately insincere, and saw from the cold twist of his mouth that her insincerity had been noted. ‘I’ve been under a lot of strain recently—working too hard—you know how it is.’ She glanced down at the waterproof watch on her wrist and gave him a cool, self-possessed smile. ‘I can give you—ten minutes. Is that time enough?’
‘Plenty,’ he said abrasively, and followed her into the room.
He walked over to the window, where the balcony overlooked the poolside, and there was silence for a moment as he stared down at people tearing apart the glistening red lobsters which the waiters had now produced, at women delicately devouring the sweet pink flesh as they tried not to smear their lipstick. Suki felt a shiver of unknown origin tingle its way up her spine.
‘How’s Francesca?’ she asked suddenly.
He tensed immediately and his face was like granite when he turned around to capture her in a cold, dark stare.
‘Do you care?’
‘Of course I care! She was my best friend—before you pulled her out of school and forbade me ever to see her again!’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That was a decision I have never regretted. I did not approve of the company she was keeping.’
Suki lifted her chin. ‘By that I suppose you mean me?’
He gave her a steady look. ‘Yes, Suki—I mean you.’
‘The bad influence,’ she observed acidly.
He gave a low laugh. ‘Precisely. I had no intention of letting my sister start copying the kind of behaviour you were indulging in. Young girls are notoriously affected by what their peers do. And whilst you might have considered it perfectly normal to sleep around I had no intention of letting Francesca do the same.’
Sick at heart, Suki turned away from those dark, intent, judgemental eyes. He still thought of her as nothing more than a tramp—so why bother defending herself? Indeed, how could she possibly defend herself when he spoke nothing more than the truth?
‘Is that what you’ve come here for?’ she asked bitterly. ‘To go over the past? You’ve made it clear what you think of me—not that I care what you think any more—’
‘Did you ever?’ he interrupted softly. ‘Or was I just one more virile male for you to wrap those beautiful legs around?’
Suki hesitated painfully, the cruel censure behind his words making the erotic image they created disintegrate immediately. Her amber eyes glittered as she found herself speaking without bothering to analyse her words. ‘Of course I cared! You were the older brother of my dearest friend—I was a guest in your house, and you threw me out! Hustled me away like some criminal—flown away at high speed, my holiday cut short. Having to explain to my mother...’
A look almost of pain crossed his face. ‘What,’ he said, very softly, ‘did you tell your mother?’
Her eyes were amber ice. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she told him scornfully. ‘Your telephone call to her managed to allay any worries she might have had. I don’t know how you managed it, but you certainly sweet-talked her into thinking that everything was just fine and dandy. I certainly wasn’t going to enlighten her with the truth—that you kicked me out of your bed and out of your house within a few hours!’
‘Dio!’ he swore raggedly. ‘Must you put it quite so—crudely?’
‘I’m sorry if it’s crude,’ she said deliberately. ‘But it’s the truth. It’s horrible, it’s something I’d rather forget—and I will tell you for the last time that I’m simply not interested in rehashing the past—if that’s why you’ve come.’
He stared at her for a long moment of consideration before shaking his head. ‘That isn’t why I’ve come,’ he told her.
‘What, then?’ she asked him in bewilderment.
‘I’ve come to ask you to do something for me,’ he said simply, but as she was caught up in his direct stare the substance of his words drifted away like gossamer on a breeze because the soft, dark blaze of his eyes had the power to confuse her, to merge the years and send her mind racing back to a time almost eight years ago—the first time she had ever set eyes on Pasquale Caliandro...
‘ARE you sure they won’t mind?’ asked Suzanna hesitantly as, with a flick of charcoal, she completed the small portrait she’d been doing of her friend, just as the plane began to make its final descent towards Rome airport.
‘Who?’ Francesca was too busy batting her eyelashes outrageously at the uniformed male flight attendant to pay much attention to her schoolfriend.
‘Your family, of course.’ Suzanna flicked her pale auburn plait back over her shoulder. ‘It’s very kind of them to invite me to stay with them.’
Francesca shrugged. ‘They don’t care who I invite—they’re never around. Papà’s always working and is away a lot on business, and my stepmother’s away in Paris, apparently. She’ll probably be trawling the streets looking for gigolos—’
‘Francesca!’ exclaimed Suzanna in shocked horror. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Aren’t I?’ queried Francesca with unfamiliar bitterness. ‘She’s twenty years younger than my father. She spends his money like water, and she flirts with anything in a pair of trousers,’ she finished, in disgust.
‘So why does he stay with her, then?’ asked Suzanna softly.
‘Because she’s beautiful. Why else...?’ Francesca’s voice tailed off momentarily, and when she spoke again it was with her customary, rather sardonic verve. ‘Which only leaves big brother—and he’s worse than any jailer. But at least with you there you can be my alibi.’
‘Alibi?’ echoed Suzanna uncertainly.
‘Sure.’ Francesca’s dark eyes flashed. ‘He tries to stop me going out with boys, so I don’t