The Italian Billionaire's Secret Love-Child

‘I haven’t got any!’

Which raised another question, but that too he put on hold. His body was on fire and he had to have her.

‘Leave it to me.’

Charlotte struggled to feel some healthy disgust at a man who travelled with a portable supply of contraception, but she was burning up. In those few seconds, as she tried to snap out of her crazy trance, Riccardo manoeuvred her aside and opened the door, while she flung back on her clothes in a haphazard fashion, not bothering to button or zip anything up. Then to his room, the little guest room at the far end of the landing.

‘Gina…’

‘Will be fine.’ He locked the bedroom door, and at the sound of the key turning she felt a thrill of heady, forbidden excitement. She was also in the grip of a ‘what the heck’ reckless urge. She was violently attracted to this man and it had never stopped, not even when he’d no longer been around and her only bed companions had been bitterness and disillusionment. It was as if her body obeyed a different set of rules to her head.

He didn’t switch the light on nor did he close the curtains, and in the silvery darkness she was mesmerised by the sight of his naked, muscular body.

She automatically stripped off her top. The bra she had left discarded on the bathroom floor. Then she stepped out of the rest of her clothes so that they were both standing only feet apart, eyes locked. Riccardo was the first to break their mutual appraisal by holding out his hand to lead her to the bed. It was a single bed, and hardly ideal, but to Charlotte it might well have been the most romantic venue in the world.

‘Well, now,’ Riccardo murmured. ‘Shall we take up where we left off?’

‘This is absolute madness.’ But there was a smile in her voice that made his heart sing.

‘What’s the point of life if we don’t succumb to a little healthy madness once in a while? Now, where were we?’

‘You were…’

‘Yes?’

‘I see you’re still the tease in bed you always were…’ Charlotte murmured, guiding his hand to where she still ached for his touch.

‘Only with you,’ Riccardo said huskily. He was relieved that she didn’t ask him to explain that, because he had no idea what he had meant or even how he had managed to utter the words, but he had meant them. Crazy.

He made love to her slowly and sweetly, touching every inch of her body, and the more he touched, the more he remembered, almost as if the image of her had been lying somewhere just below the surface. He even remembered the way she moved and sighed, and all the little noises she made to express her pleasure.

‘So,’ he said afterwards, when they were lying interlocked on the single bed. ‘Tell me you can’t make a go of this, Charlie.’

‘I give up trying to get you to call me Charlotte.’

Riccardo stroked some blonde hair back and kissed her nose. ‘Somehow Charlotte seems too proper. We’re good together.’

‘We’re good in bed together,’ Charlotte said on a sigh. ‘And I still have a bath to run.’

‘It can wait.’

‘For what? Nothing’s changed, Riccardo.’

‘We just made love!’ He pulled her against him, because he could feel her shifting to get out of the bed. ‘Did you?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Touch him. Make love to him.’ He had to know, and this went far beyond simple curiosity.

‘Don’t bring Ben into this.’

‘Did you? Forget it. Forget I ever asked.’ He sprawled onto his back and stared upwards at the ceiling. ‘Go have your bath, Charlie. You’re right. Nothing’s changed.’