‘She does?’ Tabby exclaimed.
‘And goes on to congratulate me for marrying you, thereby reuniting the cottage with the estate again—’
‘Oh, that’s magic!’ Tabby was tickled pink. ‘Obviously you only married me to get the cottage back.’
‘Solange concludes by advancing the hope that we enjoy a long and happy life together
and states that she always knew we were made for each other.’ A rueful charismatic smile curved Christien’s handsome mouth. ‘She must have guessed even then that I loved you.’
Tabby’s eyes stung. ‘I wish I had,’ she muttered. ‘I’d have stormed past Veronique and confronted you that day. You’d have been too drunk to play it cool and you’d have admitted that you had seen Pete kissing me…and we’d have got it all sorted out there and then.’
With a sigh, Christien pulled her into his arms and held her close. ‘I was a real smart ass in those days and I was fighting loving you. I’m more mature now—’
‘I suppose I was too young to get married then.’
With incredible tenderness, he kissed the sprinkling of tears off her cheeks. ‘I adore you. I appreciate you so much more now. Think of all the time we have ahead of us, ma belle.’
Her sunny smile began to blossom again and his own slow-burning smile broke out, stunning golden eyes lingering on her with intense appreciation. She found his mouth, dallied there with deliberate provocation, listened to his breathing fracture.
‘Make mad, passionate love to me,’ she whispered.
‘Hussy…’ Christien growled adoringly, and he carried her into the sleeping compartment because she was laughing so hard that she could hardly walk.
The Italian Boss’s Mistress
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
A TEAM had flown over to Naples to bring Andreo up to speed on his latest acquisition, Venstar.
Tensions were running high for there was not a single Venstar executive present who did not feel that his job might be on the line. The ruthlessness that distinguished Andreo D’Alessio’s brilliance in the business world was a living legend.
‘This should help you to fit faces to the senior staff when you come over to visit us,’ one of the directors said with a rather nervous laugh as he passed over a company newsletter adorned with a photograph of key personnel.
Andreo D’Alessio studied the front page with keen dark eyes. Only one woman featured in the line-up and he only noticed her in the first instance because she messed up the picture. She was very tall and her stooped and self-effacing stance shrieked all the awkwardness of a very skinny baby giraffe striving in vain to hide its overly long limbs. Heavy framed spectacles dwarfed her thin, earnest face. But what had caught Andreo’s attention was her pronounced untidiness. Stray riotous curls stuck out from her head hinting that her hair was in dire need of a good brushing. His frown deepening, he went on to note that her ill-fitting suit jacket was missing a button and the hem on one leg of her shapeless trousers was sagging. He almost shuddered. The epitome of cool elegance himself, he was less than tolerant of those who offended his high standards.
‘Who is the woman?’ he enquired.