‘This is assault—’
‘No—’ Alessio’s voice was icy cold as he released the man ‘—what you do is assault. Remember that, because you’re starting to annoy me.’ His handsome face a mask of disdain, he flicked some dirt from the sleeve of his perfectly cut designer suit. ‘And I’m not at my best when I’m annoyed.’
‘You can’t threaten me.’ Blustering and glancing towards his colleagues for support, the photographer cast a wary glance at the hard set of Alessio’s features. ‘You can’t touch me.’
Alessio’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘No?’
‘I suppose you think I should be scared because you’re some hotshot lawyer.’ The man was sweating now and Alessio studied him with cool contempt.
‘No,’ he said softly, ‘not because of that.’ He reached forward and straightened the man’s collar carefully. ‘Because I’m Sicilian.’
The man swallowed. ‘Are you threatening me?’
Alessio smiled. ‘Certainly not.’ His eyes lingered on the man’s face until the photographer paled and started to shift uncomfortably.
‘That’s coercion,’ he muttered and Alessio lifted an eyebrow.
‘What is?’
The man backed off. ‘If you ask me that girl’s crazy to have anything to do with you. You’re bloody lethal.’ But the pack of paparazzi all withdrew slightly as Alessio slowly reached into the inside pocket of his suit.
‘You want a story?’ Laughing at their complete lack of spine, Alessio withdrew a piece of paper and toyed with it for a moment. ‘This story should give you a comfortable retirement.’ And with that he flicked the paper carelessly towards the banks of photographers, smiling at the resulting mayhem.
Let them take pieces out of each other. He had better things to do.
Turning his back on them, he took the steps to the front door two at a time and buzzed Lindsay’s flat.
* * *
The crash of her front door opening roused her from her inertia and Lindsay sat upright in bed, clutching the duvet to her chest, frozen in horror.
They’d broken her door down—
Fumbling for her phone, she was about to call the police when Ale
ssio strode into her bedroom, his eyes glinting dark as anthracite, his mouth a grim line.
Her first emotion was one of unutterable joy.
And then she realised that he wasn’t here because of her. He was here because of him. Because of the newspapers.
It only took a glance for her to realise that he was positively vibrating with anger.
‘Y-you broke my door down.’ He looked so impossibly handsome that it was all she could do not to fling her arms round him.
‘What was I supposed to do? You didn’t answer the doorbell.’ He made it sound like a perfectly logical action given the circumstances, and for the first time in days she almost laughed.
‘I didn’t answer the door because I didn’t want to see anyone. And you’ve let the press in—’
‘There are eight security guards planted outside your door,’ he growled. ‘The press won’t be bothering you again.’
Lindsay gave a strangled laugh. ‘Eight? You don’t think that’s overkill?’
‘No, I do not. And you should have more concern for your own privacy.’
‘What was I supposed to do? I’m not a billionaire, Alessio. I’m just—me.’
The phone rang again and she tensed, bracing herself for the usual. The ansaphone clicked on and yet another client left a message cancelling their next appointment. Wishing he hadn’t witnessed that, Lindsay gave a fatalistic smile. ‘You see? I can’t afford security guards even if I wanted them. I no longer have a job.’