Public Wife, Private Mistress - Page 6

The ultimate status.

If the pain hadn't been so great she would have laughed. 'I like living like this. And I was never your wife, Rico,' she said shakily, brushing aside the fiery red curls that threatened to obscure her vision.

The gesture caught his attention and his shimmering black gaze fixed on her wild mane of hair with almost primal fascination. The tension in the room suddenly increased. For a moment both of them had forgotten Chiara, too absorbed in each other to make room for the pressures of the outside world.

'I married you.'

Clearly he thought it was the biggest honour he could have bestowed on her and she suppressed a bitter laugh.

How could she have forgotten his unshakeable arro­gance?

'An impulse that we have both lived to regret.' Stasia wished he'd stop staring at her hair. She recognized that look in his eyes and it was all she could do not to groan out loud. She knew he was seconds away from sliding a possessive hand into her tangled curls and exposing her throat to the heat of his mouth. The seductive stroke of his fingers in her hair had always been a prelude to the most incredible mind-blowing sex. Her breathing quickened. She did not want to think about that now! 'It wasn't a marriage in the proper sense. Marriages are about sharing and we never shared anything except sex.'

Incredible, blisteringly exciting sex, the memory of which stilt deprived her of sleep.

His gaze shifted reluctantly from her hair and settled on her pale face and she knew that his thoughts were running in the same direction as hers. 'I am not here to relive every painful moment of our disastrous marriage. But. like it or not. until the divorce is final you are still my wife,' he delivered, his slightly thickened tones be­traying his physical response to her. 'As my wife I need you back in Italy. Don't misunderstand me-—I have no intention of resurrecting our relationship in any shape or form. This visit isn't personal.'

Pain shafted through her.

Not personal.

She had known that, of course. So why did hearing him state the truth feel so brutal? Why did it hurt so much?

'Of course it isn't personal. Why would I even think that it might be?' Five minutes he'd been in her house. Five minutes and she was ready to scratch and claw until she drew blood.

He just made her so angry. 'Our marriage was never personal. That was the problem. What we had was legalized sex.'

She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the streaks of colour appear high on his cheekbones. She could almost taste his own anger. And yet he didn't deny it. How could he when they both knew it was the truth? The sex had been amazing but their relationship had never been any deeper than that. At least, not for him. For her it had been everything.

He was the love of her life.

Which made the whole situation so much more de­pressing.

'I'm not here to discuss our marriage.' His tone was a cold warning to change the subject and if she hadn't been so miserable and so furious with him she would have laughed at his complete inability to tackle anything emotional.

'Of course you're not. You'd prefer to divorce me without discussion,' she threw back angrily. 'You prefer to communicate through lawyers in sharp suits.'

His anger matched hers. 'You were the one who walked out on our marriage.'

'Because we didn't have a marriage! You didn't trust me! You didn't share with me! Every decision that had to be made, you made it without so much as a flicker of consideration for my opinion. And T hardly ever saw you! Which makes it all the more incredible that you're here now when you could have sent one of your min­ions. It must have been incredibly difficult for you to bring yourself to see me in person.'

His jaw was set hard. 'I'm not afraid of difficult.'

'Then why have you been communicating through lawyers, Rico?'

‘Dio, this is not the time for this discussion!' He looked at her with blinding hostility, his body language blatantly antagonistic. 'And I'm not asking you to come back to Italy for me.

I'm asking you for Chiara.'

The burning anger was rapidly replaced by shame.

She'd forgotten Chiara. How could she have done that? How could being with Rico drive everything else from her mind?

'Naturally I'm sorry she's been injured,' she muttered stiffly, 'but I can't see why you want me in Italy.'

'You are part of the family.'

Astonishment diluted her anger and her mouth fell open. 'You're seriously pretending that you want me by your sister's bedside? What is this? A sudden show of family solidarity?'

Tags: Sarah Morgan Billionaire Romance
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