‘That might not be a lot of money to you but to Orla it’s a fortune.’
‘If it’s worth so much to her then why is she not here? Why has she sent you to deal with it?’
‘Because right now she doesn’t want to leave Ireland. I’m portable—’
‘Did she not want to face me?’ The anger that had been simmering deep inside bubbled to the surface. ‘Or did my sister think sending a beautiful woman in her place would blind me? Is that why you’re here? To tempt me into giving this cottage to her?’
Her eyes widened, dark spots of angry colour forming again over the high cheekbones. ‘Your mind belongs in a sewer.’
‘I’m sure it does.’ He rose slowly to his feet. ‘You were showering when I came to the cottage. Was that deliberate? Were you keeping watch for me? Did my men being with me force you to change your plans? Did you realise then that you had taken on more than you could handle?’
He gave her no time to defend herself.
Stepping to where she had backed herself against the kitchen unit, he continued, ‘Admit it, this is all a bag of lies. What do they call it in English, when a person steals another’s ima
ge and passes it off as their own?’
The colour spread from her cheekbones to suffuse her entire face, the plump lips clamping tightly together as he stared down at her, daring her to tell the truth.
A sudden image came into his head of those plump lips parting for him…
Heat coiled through his loins again and he breathed deeply to drive it away, only to inhale another lungful of her beautiful scent.
Dante gritted his teeth and waved the photograph still in his hand at her. ‘How long did you search for the perfect image that you could use to pretend to be my long-lost sister?’
In one sharp but graceful movement, she snatched it from his hand and stabbed a finger at the toddler’s face.
‘Did you not even look at the boy Orla’s holding?’ she snarled. ‘That’s your nephew.’
‘Of course it is. What better than a beautiful child to pull on a man’s heartstrings and charm him into giving you money? I have to say, of all the hustlers who have tried to con me, you, dolcezza, are by far the best.’
Her foot moved. For a moment Dante thought she was going to kick him.
Instead she spun around, grabbed her handbag and pulled her phone out.
In seconds she had it unlocked and was thrusting it in his face.
‘What am I supposed to be looking at?’ he asked drolly.
For someone who had to be a foot shorter than him, she raised herself magnificently. ‘The photos. There must be a hundred of Finn on it and a load of Orla too.’
The coldness in his veins made a sharp return.
‘Take the phone, damn you, and look!’ She grabbed hold of his hand and pressed the phone into it.
A jolt ran through him at the touch of her skin on his, a charge that flowed through them both and had their eyes locking together in mutual shock.
After a pause that went on a beat too long, she moved her hand and stepped to the side, away from him.
Aislin dropped her eyes to the floor and rubbed her hands together, trying to negate the charge flowing through her veins.
Her heart beat so hard its thrum echoed in her ears.
She had not expected that. It had been like those times when she touched something and received a surprise charge of static. But those charges had always been unpleasant, something only a masochist would enjoy. The charge she had felt when touching Dante had been…
Not unpleasant at all.
‘Please, look at it,’ she whispered, summoning the courage to look back at him.