The Italian's Ruthless Seduction

‘Humph! No point in asking that when I know you won’t tell me.’

‘True. But I still expect you to ask.’

‘Do you know you’ve grown into a very frustrating woman?’

‘Takes one to know one, Mum. But at least you called me a woman this time, instead of a girl.’

A heavy sigh wafted down the line. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Isabel,’ she said, always resorting to her daughter’s full name when she was severely irritated.

Bella relented with the teasing. ‘I don’t want to either, Mum.’

‘Good. Then get off this phone and ring Josh!’

Bella did as she was told for once and rang Josh, who informed her that he and Charlie had got together and decided to produce An Angel in New York independently with their own money, provided she starred in it. Naturally, she told him she would, but she also stood her ground and said she needed a holiday first. Thankfully, he didn’t argue with her, though he did make her promise to be back in New York by the first of August to help them with the casting and the costumes. She agreed, knowing that she couldn’t hide away here with Sergio for ever. Her dream holiday had to come to an end some time.

She hung up, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension. Part of her wanted to tell Sergio about the movie—she was thrilled that it was going ahead—but instinct warned her not to. She’d just made an important connection with him with her ideas for his family company and she didn’t want to spoil that by talking about her own career. In the short time she had left, Bella wanted to concentrate on him and his needs. It crossed her mind as she planned out the rest of her day that Sergio was as lonely as she was. He needed her as much as she needed him.

Hopefully, by the time she had to leave Lake Como for the flight back to New York, he would realise that. Hopefully, he would come after her the way he’d said he would. And even more hopefully, he would eventually fall in love with her.

‘And who’s being the cockeyed optimist now, Bella?’ she said to herself as she took a deep breath, then resignedly rang her mother back.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SERGIO RESISTED THE urge to speed on the drive home from Milan to Lake Como, despite his impatience to be with Bella. Not for sex. Sex was not his priority this evening. That could come later. First, he wanted to sit down with Bella over a meal and tell her everything that had happened at work once he’d started putting her truly brilliant idea into action. He’d sent her a brief text just before leaving the office, giving her his approximate time of arrival. But he doubted now that he’d make it by seven-thirty. The traffic was appalling. He’d stop and text her again, but that would only take precious time. A quick glance at his watch brought a sigh of relief. So did the turn-off to Lake Como. He wasn’t going to be too late, after all. Maybe just a few minutes...

* * *

At seven twenty-five Bella started looking out for Sergio, leaving the back doors open so that she would hear the crunch of his tyres on the driveway. By seven thirty-seven she started to worry. Italian drivers were a little on the hair-raising side, she knew. She toyed with the idea of sending him a text but decided against it. Too clingy and way too needy. But she couldn’t help pacing around the kitchen before unnecessarily stirring the Bolognese sauce one more time, her anxiety level rising with each passing minute. Just when she was about to explode with escalating tension, she heard the wonderful sounds of his car arriving.

With great difficulty she stopped herself from dashing outside and throwing herself into Sergio’s arms like a loving wife greeting her soldier husband home from a dangerous war.

‘Play it cool,’ she muttered under her breath as she forced herself to stay put in the kitchen.

Which she did, till he walked in with his arms full of shoe boxes and large plastic bags, his dark eyes glittering with happiness.

‘I was getting worried,’ she said before she could stop herself.

‘I would have texted you but that would have made me even later. Wow, something smells good,’ he added, dumping all his parcels on the large kitchen table and coming over to have a sniff of the very aromatic spaghetti sauce, which had been simmering for several hours. ‘Yours, or Maria’s?’ he asked as he lifted his head to smile at her.

‘All mine,’ she said. ‘One of Maria’s children has a cold so I sent her home.’

‘You’re a good woman,’ he said, turning to draw her into his arms. ‘And a brilliant one. That idea of yours was sheer genius. So a thank-you kiss is definitely in order.’