The Mistress That Tamed De Santis. Natalie Anderson
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become this remote statesman again. Did he feel guilty? Was he upset that he’d sullied the memory of his dead lover because he’d felt up the tart from the nightclub? Was that what this was?
Fury burned but oddly pity was entwined with it. She felt sorry for herself. Sorry for him. Sorry this whole moment had started.
But she only had to look at him to know any attempt at conversation would be futile. He’d scorched any sense of connection or compassion. There was simply nothing left. Yet he remained standing like a statue in the middle of her room, staring at her with that damned unreadable expression.
In the end she could only whisper, ‘You behaved like a human.’
His nostrils flared but he didn’t reply. He swiftly turned and strode to the door.
‘You didn’t want to be seen,’ she called scornfully as this next rejection scalded her all over again.
He still didn’t hesitate. He just walked out without a word, rapidly descending the stairs.
Bella closed her eyes until the sound of his footsteps receded completely. She understood anyway. He’d rather risk being seen leaving her club than staying another second in her company.
He didn’t want to be near her ever again.
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