Sicilian's Christmas Bride - Page 34

The former tenants had left behind a couple of chairs, half a dozen file cabinets and a small black leather sofa. Dante strode to it and dumped her on it. Then he stood back, folded his arms again and glared.

What had made him think helping her would be a good idea?

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned when she scrambled up against the cushions.

“I hate you, Dante. Do you hear me? I hate you!”

“I’d never have known.”

She sat up straight, mouth trembling. “How even you could do something like this, you—you—”

“Watch what you say, cara.”

“Do not call me that!”

“Is it your habit to attack your clients?”

“If you think I’m going to be party to this—this schoolboy prank—”

“You’re so sure you know everything, Taylor. Is it possible you don’t?”

“I know what you are. That’s all that’s necessary.”

She rose to her feet, tugged down her coat, smoothed her hands over her hair. She was still shaking and suddenly he wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. That he would take care of her.

Except, that wasn’t why he’d brought her here. It was for the child.

And for yourself, a voice in his head said slyly. How come he’d forgotten his vow to sleep with this woman one last time? That would put her out of his thoughts forever. He didn’t need to hear her say she wanted him. Or that she was sorry she’d been unfaithful. He didn’t need to hear the words she’d whispered that night three years ago when she’d begged him to stay with her, to stay in her arms, in her bed.

“Get out of my way!”

She was looking up at him as if she wanted to kill him. Fine. The game he’d planned was one that was best played by sworn enemies.

“We’ll have our meeting first.”

“We’ve already had it. To think you’d resort to such—to such subterfuge, just so you could make a fool of me!”

“Would you have agreed to this appointment if you’d known I was the man involved?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Her eyes filled with angry tears. “Why did you do it? You’re taking my house. My livelihood. What more do you want?”

He wasn’t going to answer. She could tell by the way he was looking at her but it didn’t matter. She already knew the answer. What he’d done to her wasn’t sufficient. He wanted to give the knife one more twist.

How? she thought bitterly. How could she have made love with a man like this? How could she have even believed she’d fallen in love with him? Because she had believed it, yes. That was why she’d left him, because she knew he didn’t love her, wouldn’t love the child they’d created together. She’d left rather than see him look at her as he was looking at her now, as if she had no meaning to him at all.

She took a deep breath, drew what remained of her pride around her like a ragged cloak and started past him.

“Taylor.”

She shook her head. She had nothing left to say to him.

His hand closed on her wrist. “You asked me questions. Are you going to leave before you hear the answers?”

She looked pointedly from his hand to hers. “Let go.”

“I didn’t bring you to New York on false pretenses.”

She laughed. “You didn’t, huh?”

Tags: Sandra Marton Billionaire Romance
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