The Marciano Love-Child. Melanie Milburne

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The Marciano Love-Child - Melanie Milburne


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union of all.

      She wanted to feel the length and strength of him in her hand, to shape him, to feel him tense with pleasure before he exploded with release.

      He pulled back just as her hands brushed tentatively against the waistband of his trousers. ‘Not here, Scarlett,’ he said. ‘We are in full view of the workmen. Why don’t we go back to my house and finish this properly, hmm?’

      The clinical detachment in his tone was all she needed to get her brain back into gear. ‘I don’t think so, Alessandro,’ she said, stepping backwards, disgusted with herself at her lack of self-control. ‘I’ve told you numerous times, I am not interested in revisiting the past with you.’

      His mouth tilted sardonically. ‘You did not give me that impression when you kissed me just then. What on earth would your current lover say if he saw you clawing at me so lasciviously?’

      Scarlett felt as if her shame was emblazoned on every pore of her skin as she stood before him. She had no excuse for her behaviour. She didn’t even understand why she had acted in such a disgraceful way when she hated him so vehemently. She hated him for denying the existence of his son. She hated him for coming back into her life just when she thought she had finally put his rejection behind her.

      She drew in an uneven breath. ‘I’m deeply ashamed of myself,’ she said. ‘I should have known this wouldn’t work.’

      His eyes pinned hers. ‘You are reneging on the deal?’

      She frowned at the steely glint in his gaze. ‘I’m not sure what you are getting at. I told you this was to be strictly business between us. I can’t do this any other way.’

      ‘If you do not want to carry through on your commitment you will have to pay a severance fee,’ he said. ‘It is in the contract you just signed.’

      Scarlett felt her insides drop alarmingly. Her eyes went to the folder he had placed back on the small table. She had momentarily forgotten about the severance clause. It had been one of two that had worried her, but she had assured herself the money would be worth it. Now she wasn’t quite so sure.

      He reached for the document and showed her a sentence just above the section where her final signature was written. ‘Do you want me to read it out to you?’ he asked.

      ‘No,’ she said through tight lips, trying not to look at the words printed there. She had practically signed her life and business away. She would have to pay, and pay dearly, to get out of the contract. She was starting to understand now why he had wanted her and only her. He would no doubt make it impossible to work with him so she would have no choice but to want out of the deal. He had used a thick wad of wordy pages to communicate one sure thing: he was going to ruin her.

      She brought her eyes back to his and glared at him. ‘I suppose you’ve done this deliberately, haven’t you?’

      His expression remained as inscrutable as ever. ‘If you mean to imply that I have coerced you into working for me, then I think you need to examine the wording of the contract a little more closely,’ he said. ‘The terms and conditions are all there in plain English, and I gave you plenty of time to read them.’

      She ground her teeth. ‘I can see how this is going to be run. You want to pick up where you left off four years ago, and the only way you could do it was to lock me into a business deal that will ruin me if I pull the plug. Isn’t that taking revenge a little too far?’

      ‘It is not a matter of revenge, Scarlett,’ he said evenly. ‘About a year or so ago I came to Sydney on business and I visited a colleague who had recently had his penthouse redecorated. I was very impressed with the work and was intrigued, on asking, to find out it had been you who had done the design. I thought it would be interesting to meet you again, to see if what we had was still there.’

      She flung herself away from him in disgust. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ she said. ‘You tossed me out of your life as if I was a bit of rubbish, and never once checked up on me to see if I was all right. I could have been mugged or robbed or even murdered that night, for all you cared.’

      Alessandro felt a familiar sharp needle of guilt stab at him. He had been so furious that night, he hadn’t stopped to think of anything but getting her out of his life. But, after a young female British tourist had been brutally assaulted a year or so ago a few blocks from his house, he’d realised he should have had Scarlett escorted to the nearest bus shelter or train station at the very least. It had been late, and although he lived in a respectable part of the city she very easily could have met with danger, wandering alone at night.

      ‘I hate you for what you did to me back then,’ she continued. ‘And I hate you for what you’re doing to me now.’

      ‘I am sorry,’ he said in a gruff tone. ‘I should have thought of your safety. It was wrong of me to treat you so appallingly.’

      Scarlett turned around to look at him. ‘I had your child, Alessandro, your son,’ she said, her voice catching over the words. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered about him?’

      His face became an unreadable mask. ‘No, for I know he is not mine.’

      She balled her hands into fists. ‘If he was standing here right now you wouldn’t be able to say that with the same arrogant certainty. He has your colouring, and the same eyes and hair.’

      ‘I seem to recall your travelling companion had dark hair and eyes too—or have you conveniently forgotten that little detail?’

      She eyeballed him determinedly. ‘I did not sleep with anyone but you the whole time I was in Italy.’

      He rolled his eyes and sighed with impatience. ‘I am so tired of this conversation.’

      ‘I am tired of you not believing me,’ she threw back in frustration. ‘Will you at least agree to meet him and see for yourself?’

      ‘I do not need to see him.’

      ‘Which means you don’t want to see him,’ she said with an embittered look.

      ‘Yes, that is right,’ he said with a cutting edge to his voice. ‘I do not want to be reminded of your duplicity. Even after all this time it sickens me to think of you lying to me like that.’

      Scarlett felt like screaming, and stalked over to the balustrade on the landing to get control. She drew in some deep breaths, her chest feeling so constricted she felt as if hundreds of tiny sharp knives were embedded between her shoulder blades, nicking at her every time she tried to breathe.

      ‘I will leave you to look over the rest of the building,’ he said into the taut silence. ‘You have my contact details if there is anything you need to check with me.’

      Scarlett turned to look at him. ‘Why do you want me to work for you when you refuse to believe me about your—’

      ‘Do not say it again,’ he cut her off abruptly. ‘I am not the father of your child, and no amount of times you insist to the contrary is going to change that fact.’

      ‘I just want you to meet him to see it for yourself.’

      His brows came together over his eyes in a furious frown. ‘I am warning you now, if you bring him to this work site at any time I will sever the contract myself. You will be responsible for whatever debt is incurred as a result.’

      ‘You can’t do that,’ she said, but there was terror wobbling in her voice at the fear that he could.

      He gave her a gelid look. ‘Go read the fine print, Scarlett,’ he said. ‘Then tell me what I can and cannot do.’

      Scarlett didn’t need to, she already knew.

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