Craving Her Enemy's Touch

‘You lied—to me and the world.’

‘Damn you, don’t you see?’ He strode towards her, his face full of anger, the angles sharp. ‘I wasn’t protecting myself. I was protecting Seb—and you.’

In exasperation he flung his hands up and marched towards the gleaming car and, before she could say anything more, he turned to look at her across the room, but it might as well have been across a continent.

The first bubbles of anger rose up like a shaken bottle of champagne and her breathing deepened, but still she couldn’t find her voice. How could he stand there and use Seb again, after all that had happened?

Just like she’d seen happen on the podium, the champagne burst out, showering her with fizzy drops of anger. ‘How dare you hide behind my brother’s reputation after engineering that photo of us kissing? Right here.’ She pointed at the car as she crossed the floor to him, her footsteps hard and forceful. ‘That photo alone was enough to clear your name. That kiss absolved you of any blame and now it’s splurged all over the papers and probably the Internet too.’

He looked taken aback by her outburst but he didn’t move. He stood tall and strong as she moved closer and closer, stoking the fiery anger higher and higher.

‘I didn’t force you to kiss me.’ His cool words poured cold water over the flames and for a moment she just looked at him. She couldn’t answer that, couldn’t offer any defence, because he was right. He hadn’t forced her. She had wanted that kiss so badly.

‘You manipulated the situation.’

‘By “the situation” I assume you mean the heated passion that raged between us from the moment we met?’ Suddenly the frozen depths of his eyes heated, so intense they almost scorched her skin.

‘That was just a convenient smokescreen.’ Despite the bravado, her voice trembled—and she hated herself for it.

She should never have given in to the heady desire that had filled her body and starved her heart. Somewhere deep down she was sure she’d known that, but at the time she’d known she would regret not tasting the desire which had been between them from the beginning. She hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life wondering what if? Now she was going to have to live with the fact that not only had she been used so callously, she’d fallen in love with the man who’d lied and cheated his way into her heart.

* * *

Alessandro saw the emotions play out across her face like a movie. Shock, denial, hatred. They were all there. Even passion and longing, but not once did he see anything which resembled what he felt for her.

‘So you don’t deny it existed.’ It was like walking a tightrope. At any moment he could lose his balance and fall. He held his nerve, calling on every bit of control he had. ‘You don’t deny you wanted me when we kissed right here.’

She looked at him, her eyes saying things he hoped were true but her lips stony silent. He moved forward but she stayed rooted to the spot.

‘Don’t run from the passion which exists between us, cara.’

‘I don’t need to run from that. I can handle the passion.’ Finally words tumbled from her with a force so fierce he drew in a sharp breath. ‘But it wasn’t passion, Sandro. It was lust.’

He remained still and silent, sensing there was more, but right now she was visibly shaking with emotions so powerful. He watched her beautiful face as she closed her eyes against them, her long lashes spreading across the paleness of her skin. His heart twisted and it was all he could do not to reach for her and hold her against him.

‘Lust I can deal with.’ She spoke again, her voice firm and resolute. ‘What I want to run from is your deceit.’

‘My deceit?’ He knew what she was referring to and regret piled on top of the guilt because he hadn’t had the strength to find a way to tell her everything. This guilt was intensified because he’d pushed aside the promises he’d made to spend the weekend with her, to indulge the lust, as she called it.

‘You lied to me, kept the truth from me, then used the spark of lust which was there, even at my cottage, to lure me to the launch night. To this very spot, and engineer the photograph that would prove to the world my family had forgiven you.’

Slowly he shook his head. How was he ever going to prove he had nothing to do with the photo, that it was just a lucky shot for the photographer? ‘I know how it must look,’ he began, but she cut his words off.

‘What would Seb say if he knew what you have done, how you tricked me so cruelly? What would he say about us?’