The Italian's Ruthless Seduction

And it had been.

It was also a sexy garment that suited her colouring and made her look very tall and elegant when she wore it with high heels. Tonight, however, she’d teamed it with low-heeled silver sandals for the ten-minute walk Sergio had said it would take to reach the Countess’s villa. Her hair was up so that it wouldn’t be messed up by the breeze from the lake.

‘I didn’t bring a wrap with me,’ she said. ‘I packed in rather a hurry.’

‘Then let me keep you warm,’ he said, folding an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Bella suppressed a groan as she instantly responded, her nipples peaking like bullets against the silk lining, her lower belly tightening. Never in her life had she been so aware of her body, especially that area between her legs that was already throbbing with need. The thought of sitting at some dinner table for hours making small talk with someone she didn’t know was horrendous. She would much rather be back in Sergio’s bedroom, letting him show her what she could do to persuade him to visit her in New York.

Whatever it was, she would do it. She would do anything to have Sergio in her bed on a regular basis. She could not imagine life without him in it. He made her feel things that she’d never felt before. When she was with him, she didn’t feel a failure. Or a bore. She felt deliciously sexy and fabulously free of all those negative emotions that lovemaking had always produced in her. Maybe one day she would find another man who satisfied her as much as Sergio did but she doubted it. He was a fantastic lover, with a magnificent body just made for sex. On top of that, he was a true friend. He didn’t try to con her with lies, or seduce her with flattery. He was honest with her. God, but she liked that. A lot.

‘We don’t have to stay too late, do we?’ she asked.

* * *

Sergio’s heart turned over at the urgency in her voice. She might not love him, but she wanted him. Wanting someone could be very powerful, as he well knew. But it was not love.

Making Bella fall in love with him would require more than just giving her sex whenever and wherever she wanted it. Whilst he did not agree with the popular male mantra of treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen, he did understand that the female sex liked a man to be a challenge. In view of that idea, he vowed not to hurry home tonight. He would make her wait. Make her want him very badly. And if his conscience pricked him at this tactic, if there was an element of vengeance in pushing her frustration to the brink, then so be it. Let her suffer a little the way he’d suffered all these years. Let her know what it was like not to have what you wanted.

Sergio suspected it might be a new experience for Bella.

‘I’m sorry, Bella,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t possibly offend Claudia by leaving early. She was most excited when I told her who I was bringing for dinner. Now don’t pout. You’ll enjoy her company, I assure you. Not to mention her food and wine. The Countess only serves the very best.’

‘I am not pouting.’

‘Oh, yes, you are. And very prettily too. I’d kiss you into a better mood if Claudia wasn’t watching us from the terrace. So be a good girl and smile.’

‘Good Lord!’ Bella exclaimed once the Countess’s home came into better view. ‘That’s not a villa. That’s a palace!’

‘Not quite, but it is grand, I admit,’ Sergio said as he steered her up the steep path towards the stone steps that would lead them up onto the imposingly large terrace. ‘Wait till you see the main reception room,’ he added before they were within earshot of their beaming hostess. ‘Acres of marble and the most expensive antique furniture money can buy. Of course, the Count was very rich. And very old. He died shortly after their first wedding anniversary. Rumour has it he died with a smile on his face.’

‘I can imagine,’ Bella whispered as they mounted the steps. ‘She’s very beautiful.’

‘But not as young as she looks,’ he whispered back, then said, ‘Claudia!’ in a normal voice. ‘How lovely you look tonight.’

‘Why, thank you, Sergio,’ she replied in her fake Italian accent. Sergio knew full well that she wasn’t Italian born, his father having confided in him that she’d come from Albania, having been born into a dirt-poor family a few years after the war. Sergio never let on that he knew the truth about her background. Everyone was entitled to at least one secret in their life. He certainly had his, vowing that he would never tell Bella how much he’d always wanted her. Such knowledge would not enhance his attractiveness in her eyes.