Claiming His Secret Love-Child: The Marciano Love-Child / The Italian Billionaire's Secret Love-Child / The Rich Man's Love-Child. Maggie Cox
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too far too soon. He had plenty of time; after all, the Arlington project would take several months to complete. He would no doubt have numerous opportunities to convince her to be his mistress again. He would have to be patient, that was all. He had waited this long; he could wait a little longer.
He reached for his keys and gave her a twisted smile. ‘Come, tesore mio,’ he said. ‘I have found out what I needed to know in any case.’
Scarlett wanted to ask him what he meant, but she had a feeling she already knew. She followed him out to his car and sat in a miserable, guilt-stricken silence as he drove her back to her tiny flat.
He walked her to the door and waited until she had unlocked it, before he bent down to press a barely-there kiss to both of her cheeks. ‘Sweet dreams,’ he said. ‘I will see you soon, no?’
Scarlett’s throat was almost too tight to reply. ‘Y-yes…’
Once Roxanne had left a few minutes later Scarlett went into her son’s bedroom. One of his little arms was flung over the edge of the bed, the other clutching a matchbox car close to his face. She gently unpeeled his little fingers, her heart contracting painfully when she found a shiny-black Maserati lying there…
‘Phone for you,’ Roxanne said when Scarlett came inside the studio the next morning. ‘It’s Alessandro. By the way, I told him you’re not involved with Dylan. And you can stop looking at me like that. He asked and I answered.’
Scarlett was still scowling as she picked up her extension. ‘Hello, Scarlett Fitzpatrick speaking.’
‘So you have decided to concentrate your efforts on the biggest return, eh, cara?’
‘That is a despicable thing to say,’ she said, turning her back on Roxanne.
‘Are you missing me, cara?’
Scarlett felt her heart miss a beat at that low, velvet drawl, her stomach crawling all over again with desire.
He suddenly laughed, the deep rumble sending tiny shivers of reaction to the core of her being. ‘You cannot help yourself, eh, Scarlett? You want me even though you do not want to do so. It is the same for me. I did not think I would feel this way about you, but I do.’
Scarlett held her breath. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I am saying I want to see you tomorrow night when I get back from Melbourne.’
She flattened her lips together, stalling as she tried to withstand the temptation.
‘I will come to your house, if you like,’ he offered. ‘My flight back to Sydney is not a late one.’
Her hand tightened on the receiver. She wanted more time to prepare Matthew for a visit from his father. She wanted Alessandro to know for certain he was Matthew’s father when they met for the first time. She had been lucky before, as Matthew had been fast asleep in bed and Alessandro hadn’t seemed to notice the photos on the wall unit, but if he came around for any length of time…
‘Umm…I don’t think that’s such a great idea,’ she said, knowing it sounded pathetically lame. ‘I’d rather meet on neutral ground.’
‘I will book a hotel room and then no one will disturb us.’
‘No! That’s sound so…so terribly tacky,’ she said and releasing a breath of resignation, added, ‘I’ll come to your house…after I’ve put my son to bed. But I insist on making my own way there.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘If you insist.’
‘What about Velika Vanovic?’ she asked after a tiny but tense pause.
‘What about her?’ His tone was impersonal and cool.
‘She’s your current mistress, isn’t she?’
‘She is not relevant to us, Scarlett.’
‘Are you still seeing her and sleeping with her?’
‘Why are you so interested?’ he asked.
‘I don’t like sharing.’
He laughed again. ‘You are so delightfully transparent. I like that about you. I like it a lot.’
‘And yet you think I lied to you about our son.’
The silence this time was taut as a wire strained to its limits.
‘I will see you tomorrow evening, Scarlett,’ he said in a curt tone.
‘I might not be here,’ she said with reckless abandon. ‘I might change my mind at the last minute.’
‘You will be there,’ he said, and ended the call before she could contradict him.
Roxanne came over to Scarlett’s desk. ‘Let me guess, you want me to babysit again, right?’
Scarlett bit her lip and nodded.
Roxanne gave her shoulder a tiny squeeze. ‘You’re doing the right thing, honey,’ she said. ‘You have to sort this out one way or the other, and now’s the time to do it.’
The following evening Scarlett stood on the doorstep of Alessandro’s house with legs that trembled as she heard his footsteps approach the front door to answer her summons.
She clutched her folder to her chest and forced her eyes to meet his as he opened the door. ‘I have some preliminary mock-ups for you to look over,’ she said, nervously moistening her mouth.
‘Come and show me what you have been up to,’ he said with an unfathomable smile.
Scarlett followed him to where he had drinks and nibbles set out and, pushing her reservations to one side, took a glass of white wine and sat next to him on one of the sumptuous leather sofas. She took a tiny sip, trying not to notice how close his thigh was to hers. She could see the bunching of his muscles as he leaned forward for the bowl of crisps, her stomach beginning to prickle with desire at the thought of those long, strong legs entrapping hers, the way they had done in the past.
‘Do you want some?’
Scarlett blinked at him vacuously.
He smiled as he held the bowl under her nose. ‘You have gone all glassy-eyed on me, cara,’ he said. ‘What is going on in that beautiful blonde head of yours, mmm?’
Scarlett wondered he couldn’t see what was going on for himself. She felt as if her need for him was written all over her skin, every fine pore ached to feel the glide of his hands on her flesh. Her cheeks felt hot, indeed her whole body felt as if it was smouldering, and she knew one touch from him would send her into flames.
She put her glass on the coffee table and began to get to her feet. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come here tonights…’
One of his hands came down over hers and held her fast. ‘No, Scarlett,’ he insisted. ‘Do not leave.’
Scarlett looked at their joined hands and felt a feathery sensation run up her spine. Her breasts began to tighten beneath the soft lace of her bra as his thumb began to stroke her wrist, her pulse going like a threshing machine as he pulled her closer to bring his mouth into contact with hers.
She tasted wine and salt and sex, a devastating combination that left her with no hope of resisting. It was as if her body was specifically programmed to respond to him and him alone. She kissed him back without reserve, her tongue tangling with his in a sensual dance of dangerous desires finally unleashed. She felt the increasing urgency in him as he pushed her back to the cushioned comfort of the sofa, his weight coming over her, his erection nudging at her intimately as his hands went to her breasts.
She drew in a sharp little breath as he shaped her through the thin fabric of her dress—but her breathing stalled altogether when he deftly unzipped her and unclipped her bra, so he could have his mouth on her bare skin. His lips closed over one tight nipple, making her back arch, and her toes curl so much her shoes fell