The Italian's Baby Bargain: The Italian's Wedding Ultimatum / The Italian's Forced Bride / The Mancini Marriage Bargain. Kate Walker
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Ten
ALESSANDRO had been ripping off his clothes with flattering speed when she’d run, laughing, into the bathroom. She had called his name and got no response, and then waited, her heart pounding with anticipation. But when after several minutes the door to the shower cubicle remained closed Sam didn’t linger. After shampooing her hair with unnecessary vigour she stepped out.
‘Obviously I’m not as irresistible as I think,’ she told her image in the steamy mirror. ‘Oh, my, do I have a problem.’
Of course there was a problem—and it wasn’t restricted to talking to herself! Casual she could do—casual was fine—but casual wasn’t living for the brief moments they shared. It simply wasn’t healthy when for most of the time she was just going through the motions, waiting for him to call or like tonight, ring her doorbell.
The fact was she wanted more, and more was something Alessandro didn’t want to give. If he knew how she felt Sam suspected he would run a mile. There was a choice, of course. There was always a choice. She could come clean, tell him how she felt and watch him walk away. Or she could accept what she had.
What was called a lose-lose situation.
Wrapping a towel sarong-wise around her still damp body, Sam stalked back into the bedroom. The first thing she saw was Alessandro. He was actually pretty hard to miss, standing in the middle of the room doing his dark, brooding stare thing into the middle distance.
Well, at least he hasn’t fallen asleep, she thought as she walked straight past him and sat herself down at the dressing table. Maintaining a stony silence, she ostentatiously removed his jacket from the back of the chair and dropped it in an untidy heap on the floor. The provocation provoked no reaction. He just stood there, in the same state of semi-undress as he had been when she left.
But something had obviously occurred to put him in such a vile mood, since he had walked into the room looking at her as though she was water and he was a man who’d spent the last ten days walking through a desert.
She lifted a brush and then with a sigh set it down. ‘Are you going to tell me what I’m supposed to have done now…?’
In the mirror their eyes clashed, stormy green with cold, implacable brown.
‘Why do you assume you have done something?’
‘Maybe something to do with the fact you could cut the atmosphere in here with a knife, but mostly because you’ve got your judge, jury and executioner face on,’ she told him sweetly. ‘You know, this makes me really sick,’ she observed. ‘I’ve waited an entire week for you to contact me.’ Which makes me the sort of pathetic idiot I swore I’d never be. ‘And now you are here all you can do is look at me as though I’m…’
‘Dio mio, do not take that tone with me!’ His unbuttoned shirt billowed as he strode across the room, revealing the sleek, toned lines of his bronzed torso. Taking hold of the back of her swivel chair, he stood there, glaring at her in the mirror.
Sam, who didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on, glared right back.
‘If you don’t like it you know what you can do!’ The least a part-time lover could do was be civil when he did deign to put in an appearance. This no-strings, no-explanation thing sounded great in theory, and maybe it worked for some people, but Sam had come to appreciate that she wasn’t one of them.
If I had an ounce of guts I’d tell him it’s over. Only where Alessandro was concerned she had the backbone and moral fibre of an invertebrate. How many times had she seen and silently sneered at friends who were willing to make concession after concession for their boyfriends? I’d never do that, she had thought, from her position of moral superiority. And look at me now!
‘Don’t think I won’t.’
Empty threats…is this what I’ve been reduced to…?
‘Good!’ she snapped, thinking, I might be able to do better than ‘good’ if I had the faintest idea what we were fighting about.
‘I suppose you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this?’
As he bent across her the scent of his warm body caused Sam’s nostrils to flare. ‘What…?’ she said, picking up the creased piece of paper he had slammed down on the dressing table. Her eyes widened as she recognised Jonny’s cheque, which she had shoved in her bag and forgotten about.
‘What is that?’
‘A cheque.’
A harsh expletive was torn from Alessandro’s throat. ‘I know it’s a cheque,’ he growled. ‘Do not be evasive.’ His dark, angry eyes glared back at her from the mirror.
Sam, who had Jonny’s secret to guard, had every intention of being evasive for as long as she could—although the expression on Alessandro’s face suggested that wouldn’t be very long.
She shrugged. ‘If you know, why ask?’
His lean face was drawn into savage lines of anger as he spun her chair around and, curving his big body towards her, planted a hand on either arm.
Sam’s eyes lifted as his shadow fell across her.
‘A cheque for a large amount of money, made out to you, from my sister’s husband. What is Jonny doing, giving you money?’ he demanded in a low, driven voice.
‘Are you trying to intimidate me…?’ If I had any sense at all, she thought, he’d be succeeding. It was pretty obvious from the scorching anger etched into every glorious line of his incredible face that he was just about combustible!
‘I am trying to extract a straight answer from you,’ he gritted back grimly.
‘What were you doing going through my bag?’
He looked outraged at the suggestion. ‘I wasn’t. The damned thing was sitting there on the bedside table. It fell on the floor, I picked it up and…’ He stopped, the muscles of his brown throat visibly working as he recalled the moment when he had realised what he held in his hand. ‘What is Jonny doing giving you money, Samantha?’
Sam shrugged, his judgemental attitude causing her to respond with more provocation than was probably sensible. But actually she didn’t feel sensible. She felt absolutely fed up that he so obviously didn’t trust her. The injustice of it made her want to scream.
‘I don’t owe you any explanations, Alessandro.’ He had certainly never offered her any, she thought resentfully. ‘You’re my lover, not my keeper, and that,’ she warned him, ‘could change at any moment. And anyway,’ she added, ‘it wasn’t a gift, it was a loan.’
The semantics caused his lips to spasm derisively. ‘You will not take money from another man.’
‘I did n—’ She stopped, her eyes narrowing. ‘Another man? Does that mean you’re offering?’
‘Would that not smack of payment for services rendered?’
There was no pause for thought between the intention and the action. Her arm went back in a curve, released, and her hand made contact with his cheek. Alessandro, a look of stark incredulity on his face, straightened up, breathing hard.
Shaking, Sam too scrambled to her feet, pushing her chair backwards against the dressing table. ‘Look what you made me do!’ she accused, appalled by her own actions.
‘I made you?’
‘Yes, you made me!’ she yelled back. ‘You, with your nasty insinuations and always believing the worst.’
‘Are you going to tell me what that money is for?’
Sam shook her head, her expression blank. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘No problem. I will ask Jonny.’
Panic flared in Sam’s eyes. ‘You can’t