The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress

She followed the cab driver up to the regal black front door with its gleaming brass knocker and banged it twice. It was opened almost immediately—and not by Victoria.

‘Ah. You’ve brought my jacket.’

Megan looked at Alessandro and scowled.

‘You could have come and fetched it yourself,’ she told him, holding up the precious cargo.

He didn’t answer as he paid the taxi driver, and from the exchange of notes, Megan wasn’t at all surprised that the cab driver had been anxious for her to accompany him with the jacket. The tip looked sufficient to fund a two-week family holiday somewhere hot.

‘Here you are.’ She stuck her hand out. In return, Alessandro stood aside and motioned her in. Megan stayed put. ‘Thanks, but I have to go.’

‘How did I know that you would say that?’ He began walking inside, and knew she had followed him by the slam of the front door. ‘You’ve become very predictable,’ he threw over his shoulder.

‘Where’s Victoria?’ Megan demanded, stopping short by the door and looking past his retreating back for other signs of life.

The hallway was airy and gracious, with gleaming wooden flooring complementing the gleaming wooden banisters that led up the stairs. It was an old house that had obviously been renovated to the highest possible modern standard. Suspiciously, there was no sign of a Christmas tree anywhere. Nor were there any signs of toys, which she would have expected to have seen lying around in the wake of a small, overindulged boy on Boxing Day.

‘At her own house, I would imagine.’ Alessandro turned to look at where she was still hovering by the front door, clutching the jacket which, six months ago, had been so reverently handled by his tailor in the City.

‘Where am I?’

‘At my house, of course. Where else did you imagine I would be?’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here.’

‘I thought I would be delivering this to Victoria’s house!’

‘Did you? Maybe I should explain.’ He walked towards her, reached out and relieved her of the jacket. ‘I don’t do nights at Victoria’s house. She’s of the opinion that Dominic wouldn’t understand the concept of a live-in lover.’

‘Why have you brought me here?’

It was a very good question, and one which Alessandro struggled to answer. Why would he choose to jeopardise his orderly life by courting conversation with a woman who had made it clear that she didn’t want to converse with him? Their recent meetings had been tense and unproductive, but it was as though something bigger than him was driving him on to see her.

He didn’t know whether it was because the guilt he had felt seven years ago when they had broken up had never really left him—was, in fact, resurfacing, forcing him to try and put things right between them—or whether, having once possessed her so fully that she would have jumped through hoops for him, he couldn’t deal with the fact that she now hated his guts. Maybe he needed to convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy she thought he was. Although he couldn’t work out why it should matter. When had he ever cared about anybody else’s opinions? Even an ex-girlfriend’s?

Victoria had no problems with him seeing Megan. In fact, she had been positively encouraging on the subject. But how long before she picked up on the strange electricity that still seemed to connect them? How long before that became a problem?

‘I don’t want you to have a problem with me,’ Alessandro told her bluntly. ‘Yes, I know you think I’m a bastard who dumped you, but, face it, there’ll be times when we bump into one another. You teach Dominic; I am involved with his mother. Therefore I will see you occasionally at school. Presumably.’

He frowned, and wondered why he was having trouble imagining any routine of domesticity with Victoria and her son. He had had no such problem when he had mooted his marriage proposal to her three months previously. At that time he had been comfortable with the notion of settling down with an undemanding, highly motivated wife who would complement his lifestyle, and allow it to carry on with seamless ease.

‘It is ridiculous that we clash every time we meet—and please don’t tell me that it is unavoidable. You’re choosing to make things difficult between us, and I want us to iron out the creases.’

Megan had figured out why he wanted to ‘iron out the creases’. A smooth relationship between them would mean, for him, an easy conscience—and he was right. They probably would bump into one another from time to time as he became absorbed into the routine of family life with Dominic and his mother. The school was very hot on parental involvement, and sooner or later their paths would cross. An atmosphere between them could create all kinds of gossip.