A Pawn in the Playboy's Game

He was finally understanding why his father had been the remote figure in his life, how his grief over the loss of his much younger wife had somehow transferred into distance from the son he had held responsible.

‘I was an old fool,’ Roberto had growled, as uncomfortable with sharing his feelings as his son was, ‘but the longer time went by, the more impossible it became to remedy the damage, and in the end there was just the silence between us. Should have opened up, explained everything. Got pictures of your mother. Loved that woman more than anything in the world. Would have died for her. When you’re ready to forgive the old fool, you’re welcome to see the pictures.’

‘You know,’ Laura said thoughtfully, ‘he never talked about where he lived before he came here. There was always a part of himself that he kept hidden away from all of us.’ Her fingers were still linked through his. This felt like a moment in time she wanted to bottle and keep for ever and it confused her because what they had meant nothing. They were like two ships passing in the night. They didn’t have any sort of relationship. So why did she feel as though her heart was breaking when she imagined his life, growing up, when she saw the bleakness in his eyes? Why did she want to make it all better?

Alessandro shrugged. She could feel him begin to withdraw from her and she panicked at the thought that he might resent the fact that he had confided, that she had seen him with his guard down, as vulnerable as he was ever likely to be. He was a proud man, the lion accustomed to standing alone.

Now she knew why and she felt for him.

‘Did you...come here...to make love to me...because...?’

Alessandro flushed darkly. ‘I wanted you,’ he said gruffly. ‘I don’t analyse things before that. And I should go now, before your grandmother returns home and catches me in a compromising situation with her granddaughter.’ He began buttoning up his shirt but he didn’t take his eyes from her.

He’d never confided in anyone before but he wasn’t sorry he’d done so.

‘I think,’ he drawled, back to his usual self, ‘that the next time we should consider somewhere with a slightly less restricted bed.’

Her heart soared. So there was going to be a next time...

‘When my grandmother bought me this bed...’ she stuck on her jogging bottoms, feeling lighter now because he wasn’t going to waltz off into the sunset and leave her behind just yet ‘...I was twelve. I never imagined I’d need a bigger one because I would one day find myself here with a guy...’

They walked back down the stairs but before they reached the door she rested her small hand on his arm.

‘Are you going to be all right?’

Alessandro looked down into her clear, concerned, green eyes and smiled lazily.

‘Are you feeling sorry for me?’

She immediately removed her hand. ‘I’m sorry for both of you,’ she answered honestly. ‘For all the time you’ve lost.’

‘I’ll go,’ Alessandro said, in that same tone of voice that told her that the confidences were over and would not be returning, ‘before you decide that you need to give me a hug. I’ve never been one who saw the point of hugs when it came to women. So many more exciting things to do and, unfortunately for us, not quite enough time at the moment.’

But something about the sincere sympathy in her open, honest, clear-eyed gaze got to him.

She hadn’t been gushy in her sympathy. She hadn’t tried to plead with him to stay so that she could try to take advantage of his once-in-a-lifetime lapse in self-control. She hadn’t plied him with concerned questions and then offered some repeat sex to take the pain away or any such nonsense.

But, then, she was in a league of her own. She wasn’t part of his London life, wasn’t dating him, wasn’t looking for anything more than what they had, which was a brief and highly enjoyable fling, the result of circumstances more than anything else. She knew his father. In many ways their lives were entwined, which was certainly a situation he had never catered for.

And she was a fantastic lover.

As he drove away, he felt himself harden at the memory of their lovemaking. She was responsive, eager, not trying to impress him with gymnastic skill and not making noises about meeting up soon for an encore.