Public Wife, Private Mistress

'In this case the truth is not an option.' The words were dragged out of him and he looked like a man who was well and truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. 'The doctors are insistent that she should have no shocks. That everything around her should be as calm as possible. She shouldn't be subjected to any stress.'

So what exactly was he suggesting?

Stasia gave a short laugh that held not a trace of humour. 'And we both know that Chiara was hardly devastated by the failure of our marriage, Rico. Let's not play games here. She was delighted when our re­lationship failed. Being reminded of the truth is hardly going to send her into a decline.'

Rico's mother made a sound of protest but neither Stasia or Rico spared her a glance.

It was as if they were the only two people in the room, their eyes locked together as the conflict built between them.

'Unfortunately for us, Chiara is living at a different point of our relationship,' Rico growled, everything about his body language suggesting that he was finding this whole situation as difficult as she was. 'And we are not going over old ground again now. Dio, do you think we don't have enough stress at the moment without dredging up bad feeling from the past?'

Her heart started to beat more rapidly. 'So what are you suggesting?' Fuelled by nerves that she didn't un­derstand, Stasia couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her tone. 'You want to play happy families? You want to put that wedding ring back on my finger?'

There was a long pulsing silence and then Rico re­leased a long breath. 'If that's what it takes, then yes.'

CHAPTER FIVE

Stasia stared at him in shocked silence. That was the one response that she had not expected. Finally she found her voice. 'You can't be serious.'

'Dio, would I joke about such a thing? My lawyers have virtually completed the paperwork necessary for the divorce. Do you think I want to prolong it?'

If he'd intended to hurt her then he succeeded ad­mirably.

Even his mother looked slightly startled by his lack of tact.

To give him his due, Rico swore softly and ran a hand over the back of his neck, righting for control. 'That was uncalled for and I apologize,' he muttered and Stasia tossed her head back, her hair gleaming like a beacon under the bright hospital lights.

'For what, Rico? Being yourself?' She would have died rather than let him see the effect he had on her still. Died rather than let him see that he had the ability to wound her deeply. 'But

I think your reaction more than proves that your suggestion is utterly ridiculous. You can put the ring back on my ringer but we'll never act like two people who love each other. It's a totally ridiculous proposition.'

With a grim expression on his handsome face, Rico turned his gaze on his family. 'Chiara would like some company.'

He didn't order them to leave but his meaning was perfectly clear. He wanted to talk to Stasia without an audience.

They left like lambs, no one daring to question him. They never questioned him.

Stasia watched them leave in incredulous disbelief and then turned to him, eyes blazing. 'Do you know your problem?'

'No—' Rico caught her gaze with burning black eyes every bit as mocking as her own '—but I feel sure that you're about to tell me.'

She ignored the warning in his silky tone. Ignored the signs that indicated the slow build of his temper. 'No one has ever said "no" to you. You stride through life, always the one in control, always the one making decisions, crashing through obstacles like a bull. Well, I've got news for you—' she drew several short breaths, trying to get air into her starving lungs '-—I am not one of your pathetic groupies who hang around with their tongues hanging out, just waiting to be given a morsel of attention from your illustrious self. I'm not one of those irritating, perfectly groomed women who say "yes" to you all the time

.'

He stepped towards her so quickly that she didn't see it coming. 'We both know that I can make you say "yes" any time I please, cara mia’

'Don't call me that.'

Conscious of his superior height and every inch of his throbbing masculinity, her heart pounded and she took a step backwards, then wished she hadn't when she caught the sardonic lift of his black brows.

'Afraid of me, Stasia?' He stepped closer, the move­ment deliberate and designed to provoke. 'Or are you moving away because you don't trust yourself to resist me?'

He was just so arrogant. So maddeningly sure of himself.

'I'm not afraid—I just don't approve of men who use their size to intimidate women. It's a low trick.'

He threw back his head and laughed in genuine amusement, a rich, dark sound that coiled around her insides and cranked the tension even higher. 'You ex­pect me to believe that I intimidate you? You, with your sharp tongue and those flashing eyes that dare me all the time? Tell me one thing that you're afraid of. Just one thing!'