Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding

‘A treat, then. Something nice after something so unpleasant. Please.’ He flicked a tear-damp strand of hair away from her lips. ‘It will take your mind off things. You know you’re going to have to agree, Cassandra—because I won’t take no for an answer.’

But something in the way he said it only increased her feelings of unease and isolation. As if she could be bought off—just as he’d bought off the store. Buy her ‘something pretty’ and she would go away quietly and never bother him again. Well, she would do all that anyway—but without the billionaire pay-off.

‘I mean it. I don’t want you to buy me something to wear,’ she said proudly.

He was about to argue when he saw the fierce light which shone from her eyes and the determined little tilt of her chin and realised that her words were not empty words. And wasn’t it a damning indictment of his own life that he should be so taken aback by her rejection of his offer? When had anyone last refused him anything—especially money?

‘But I want to take you to lunch,’ he persisted softly—because with her spirited little display she had gone from being someone who had the potential to become a burden to an object of desire again. ‘Can’t I drive you home to change?’

Cassie was about to refuse when something stopped her—because maybe here was an opportunity for them both to get a reality check. Wouldn’t Giancarlo be shocked when he realised just how different their two lives were—and wouldn’t it help her accept that it would never, ever have worked between them?

‘Okay,’ she agreed, with a shrug. ‘Why not?’

But she felt dry-mouthed and nervous throughout the long ride to Greenford as grand mansions gave way to normal rows of houses and apartment blocks. Because this was where the ordinary people lived—the ones who quietly ran the city. People like her.

When the limousine pulled up outside the apartment block, she could see his eyes narrow slightly and she tried to imagine how it must look to him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it and seventy people lived within its walls with varying degrees of happiness—but it was like a different world from the rarefied atmosphere of the tree-lined street in which Giancarlo lived.

‘Are you going to wait in the car?’ she questioned anxiously.

‘Why don’t I come in?’

What could she say? That she was worried about the inevitable disorder which would greet them—an untidiness caused by too many people living in too small a space? Wouldn’t that then seem as if she was ashamed of her life, and her friends?

‘Please do,’ she said, with a forced smile.

It was as bad as she had expected—or, rather, it was worse. Empty beer cans and wine bottles were strewn over the table, along with a few foil containers containing the congealing remains of a curry and—unforgivably—the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Cassie saw Giancarlo give a faint shudder.

‘They obviously had some sort of party here!’ she said brightly.

‘Obviously,’ he echoed sardonically.

‘Why don’t you wait here while I go and get changed? I won’t be long.’

‘Don’t be.’

He watched as she pulled open a bedroom door—glimpsing a room the size of a shoe-box before she closed the door behind her. He thought back to his own days of living frugally—but he had never lived like this. His brilliant law degree had guaranteed that he walked straight into a good job and the power of his personality had meant that he was able to negotiate a good rate on a rented flat where he had lived, while charting his rapid route to success.

The door opened and she emerged. Giancarlo blinked—realising that it was her sheer youth and natural beauty which ensured that in a few moments she had pulled off the kind of look which older, richer women spent all morning in the salon trying to achieve.

She’d put on a simple grey jersey dress and a pair of slouchy black leather boots. She must have quickly washed her face for the smudgy eyes and blotchiness had disappeared—but had added nothing more than a lick of lipstick. Her long pale hair was clipped back at each ear—and the rest fell in a silken tumble around her shoulders. She looked, he thought—utterly delectable.

‘Shall we go?’ Cassie questioned.

He thought that if she’d been a little more experienced, she might have tried to seduce him here—in an attempt to broker further closeness between them—and the fact that she hadn’t tried made him want her. Really want her. He felt the aching at his groin and thought about taking her to bed. Weighed up the novelty and attraction of the idea against the reality of a small and uncomfortable room and the horror of having to be introduced to her flatmates if any of them returned.