The Italian's Inexperienced Mistress

‘It’s a distinction that makes me feel special,bellezza mia ,’ Angelo declared, wondering why he liked the fact that she was crying over him.

Gwenna darted an uncomfortable glance at him and then lowered her lashes. ‘After what I said, you must be wondering what I’m doing here.’  ‘You’re here now,’ Angelo cut in with the faintest suggestion of haste.

‘Planning to go anywhere?’ And it was as if a door swept open in front of her without warning and he was already walking through it and away from her. The future had been static and unthreatening while Angelo was out for the count. Now life was beckoning again and the decision was hers. Yes to Angelo’s question would mean turning her back on her misgivings and letting her heart guide her. If she listened to common sense, she would tell him no. She did not know if she could ever forgive him for the way things had started out. But the alternative was to leave him and she could not face that. Love, she was discovering, was much more complex than she had once fondly believed and it had stolen her freedom of choice.

‘I still want you to come to Sardinia with me,’ Angelo imparted huskily. ‘I’m not putting any pressure on you. You owe me nothing.’ But she only had to look at that lean, dark, devastating face to feel the magnetic pull of the pressure he exerted without even trying. When he said that she owed him nothing he was coming as close as he was prepared to come to the fact that he had plunged her into a highly immoral arrangement. But he wasn’t saying sorry and he probably never would. Yet she still needed him, still wanted him, she acknowledged guiltily. At that moment nothing else mattered. With a preliminary knock the consultant and his staff strode in. She had to give up her seat to let them carry out their checks on Angelo but his brilliant dark gaze did not stray from her.

‘I’m waiting for an answer,’ he told her as if they were still alone.

And she gave the only answer she could give.

But it was eight full days before they managed to get together again in Sardinia. A strike by an airline that Angelo owned resulted in chaos for thousands of travellers and Angelo left hospital and flew straight to Paris to take part in talks to end the crisis. As a result, Gwenna did not see him again until she landed at Olbia on the Costa Smeralda coast. Piglet, equipped with his official pet passport, travelled out in the cargo hold of the same plane. A slender but shapely figure clad in white linen cropped trousers and a white lace top, Gwenna attracted a good deal of male attention at the airport. Eyes starry, she jumped into the passenger seat of Angelo’s Range Rover.

‘You look fantastic,’ he ground out sexily before he took her strawberry-tinted mouth in a devastatingly sensual kiss that set every nerve-ending she possessed alight and left her quivering.

His villa rejoiced in a stunning site on the limestone cliffs of the Golfo di Orosei. The property was surrounded by vibrantly colourful tropical gardens. A twisting secret path hedged in by vegetation led down through a grove of ancient cork oaks to a private beach of white sand. The magnificent house was staggeringly opulent. The overhanging roof, natural stone walls and wood floors kept the interior cool while huge comfortable sofas heaped with cushions made it inviting.

‘And this …’ Angelo trailed out the word with purring satisfaction at the conclusion of the grand tour ‘…is the master bedroom.’ At the press of a button, the wall of glass that overlooked the sunlit stone veranda split into two sections that slid back into recesses at either side. A hint of a breeze sent the diaphanous drapes fluttering. Gwenna strolled out to enjoy the dazzling view of the Mediterranean. In the sunlight, the sea had a sparkling turquoise brilliance.

‘I’m in paradise,’ Gwenna sighed, revelling in the warmth of the sun on her skin. ‘I love the sound of the waves. It’s so soothing. Mum used to have a friend with a house at the beach and when we went to visit we stayed over. I used to fall asleep listening to the surf.’  ‘How well do you swim?’  ‘Like a mermaid…why do you never mention your family?’ Gwenna asked abruptly.

His lean body tensed as he closed his arms round her. ‘What is there to say? After my mother died, I stayed in foster homes between school terms. I never knew my father.’  ‘That’s a shame.’  ‘Think of the grief your father has caused you,cara mia .’  ‘That’s true.’ Angelo turned her slowly round. Dark eyes smouldering beneath his black lashes, he dropped a kiss on top of her head. ‘Chill,’ he urged huskily.