Craving Her Enemy's Touch

His brows lifted suggestively, his expression of smug satisfaction almost too much to tolerate. ‘As I recall, cara, it was you who seduced me.’

She clenched her hands into tight fists, digging her nails into her palms. Pain made her gasp, emotional and physical pain. It was just what she needed to remind her of what was at stake. Not only her brother’s good name and her reputation, but her heart.

‘Don’t flatter yourself. What I did, I did for Seb.’ She flung the first words that came to mind at him, then bit down on any more. She didn’t want to let him know how much she was hurting, how hard she had fallen for him. He must never know. It would give him the trump card.

‘Not because you wanted to, because you couldn’t resist the fire that leapt to life between us the moment we met?’ He loomed over her, trapping her and forcing her to confront this.

‘Okay. So I couldn’t resist the fire, as you put it. But that fire is well and truly out now.’ She pushed his hand aside and opened the door, thankful to see mechanics and drivers busy at work. He’d never pursue her now, not so publicly.

Behind her, she heard him talking rapidly in Italian, heard his footsteps as he marched across the spotless floor of the workshop. She had no idea what he was saying, but it seemed that everyone was ready to do as he asked, waiting for their instruction.

At a loss as to just what she should do now they were here again and with so many curious glances her way, she went over to a car she hadn’t seen here last time. Obviously it was a new prototype for yet another road sports car. The black paintwork shone beneath the bright lights of the workshop and the elegant curves of the wing of the car caught her eye. It was very different from the flashy red one her brother had played a part in. That had been exactly what she would have expected from Seb.

This had more style, as if designed for speed and comfort. The grille at the front was far more sedate, more classical and looked much less aggressive than Seb’s. It was still low and sporty, its power subtly evident, but with a sophistication that made her immediately think of Alessandro. Was this car all his work?

* * *

As he spoke to his team, Alessandro watched Charlie walking towards the car. He saw her head tilt to one side in contemplation as she stood by the front wing, looking along the line of the car. He could almost hear her mind working, assessing the car’s capabilities.

With a few final instructions, he left his team and walked over to where Charlie was now looking inside the latest prototype. This was his design; everything he’d ever wanted in a car was going into it.

‘This looks like it has the potential to be a car in a league of its own.’ Her voice oozed enthusiasm that no amount of animosity between them could disguise. ‘Who designed it?’

He wasn’t about to tell her it was his work, not so soon after the launch of Seb’s car. He’d never intended for her to see it, worried she’d think he’d moved onto a new project before Seb’s car had even been launched. ‘A team effort.’

‘A good one,’ she said, running her fingers along it, just as she had done with the first car. ‘A really good one. Black suits it.’

He couldn’t listen to her praise for his work, even if she didn’t know it as such. This was the woman he’d done nothing but try to protect, the woman who heated his blood, making him want her more than any other. Now she hated him and was about to walk out of his life. But he couldn’t stop her.

‘I have arranged for Giovanni to take you back to the apartment to collect your belongings and then on to the airport.’ He had to keep the conversation on neutral territory. If she continued to talk about the car, he knew his passion for it would show, just as his passion for her could so easily come out.

‘Yes, of course, thank you.’ Her curt tone reminded him of her earlier anger and he knew he was doing the right thing. If he stayed any longer he would tell her anything to disperse that anger which hovered around them and relight the passion they’d shared at the weekend.

The best thing he could do was go. Walk away and never look back.

‘Arrivederci, Charlotte.’

Before he lost control of his emotions he stalked from the workshop, his footsteps echoing loudly across the floor. He could feel her eyes on him, feel the intensity of her gaze, and he reminded himself of her warning that first night they’d spent together.

I don’t do for ever.

Audaciously, he’d echoed her warning, using his first marriage to back up the claim, but had he really meant it? At that moment he had, but now, as he strode out of her life for ever, he knew that it was no longer true. He wanted for ever and he was turning his back on the one woman he wanted. Truly wanted.