The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti

Shock rendered Alice speechless for a moment. What had happened to Cristiano’s conservative old-fashioned values? The Cristiano of the past would never have slept with a married woman. He’d had no time for men and women who betrayed their marital vows. He’d spoken at length about the commitment his parents had made and how he admired and respected them for staying true to it until their untimely deaths. Until death do us part had been something he had believed in to the letter.

What had changed him?

You changed him.

The thought was an uncomfortable weight in the pit of her stomach. Had she been the one to destroy his faith in relationships? But she hadn’t been ready to settle down back then. Rejecting a proposal wasn’t a crime, was it? Surely she’d had the right to decide whether she wanted to be married or not. It wasn’t the Dark Ages, for God’s sake. But the thought continued to niggle at her. Had she turned him into a casual-living playboy who had no time for commitment? These days he used women to suit his needs. He was in and out of relationships faster than a racing driver changed gears. Was he really no longer a man who longed for a wife and family of his own? And why should that make her feel so...so sad? ‘Well then, I’d better get off the phone so you can get back to your grubby little affair, hadn’t I?’

‘I’ll see you tonight,’ he said and before she could think of a comeback, or tell him she wasn’t going, he ended the call.

* * *

Alice dressed for dinner as if she were dressing for combat. Each layer of clothing was like putting on a suit of armour. The armour of sophistication she had been so sadly lacking seven years ago.

She sometimes wondered what Cristiano had seen in her back then. She had been twenty-one years old and newly qualified as a beauty therapist. It had been her first trip abroad without friends accompanying her. She had been on a shoestring budget while she backpac

ked around Europe but she’d only got as far as Italy when she’d met him in a crowded street in Milan when a sharp catch on her backpack had become caught on his clothing, as she’d brushed past.

They’d stood in the middle of the street, comically locked together by their clothes. He’d made a comment about it bringing a whole new meaning to ‘hooking up with someone’ and she’d laughed. Once he had untangled himself he’d insisted on buying her a coffee.

One coffee had turned into two coffees and then dinner. Instead of going back to the backpackers’ centre she’d found herself accepting his offer of accommodation for the night or two she’d planned to spend in his home city. At no time had she felt any pressure to sleep with him. She was not unaware of his interest in her and she hadn’t been all that good at hiding hers in him. But his respectful handling of her had impressed her. Not many healthy and virile young men of twenty-seven, as he was at that time, would have asked a woman back to his place and not expected something in return.

In the end it had been Alice who made the first move. She still remembered their first kiss. Sometimes when she closed her eyes she could still feel those firm lips moving with such urgency against hers, making every cell in her body vibrate. One kiss hadn’t been enough. Next minute she was tearing his clothes off him and all but throwing herself at him.

Her mind drifted... The drugging kisses. The phenomenal foreplay. The earth-rocking sex. The mind-bending orgasms. The electric tingling of her flesh for hours afterwards.

How had she gone so long without it?

Alice sighed and picked up her lipstick. She had never found anyone else who made her feel desire quite like that, as if she would literally die if she didn’t have him. Which meant she would have to be super careful around him now. She didn’t want to betray herself, to give him any hint she hadn’t managed to move on with her life. Of course she had moved on with her life. She was a successful businesswoman with money in the bank...most of it borrowed, but still.

What else did she need?

The doorbell sounded and she put her lipstick in her purse and picked up her evening wrap and went to the door. Even though she was in four-inch heels Cristiano towered over her. ‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘I thought you said seven. It’s half-past.’

He gave a shrug of one broad shoulder as if punctuality and common politeness were no longer of any interest to him. ‘I knew you’d wait for me.’

The way he said it made it sound as if she had spent the last seven years doing exactly that. She raised her chin and sent him a look that would have soured long-life milk. ‘How did you find out where I lived?’

‘Your very helpful previous landlord.’

The slight emphasis on the word ‘previous’ made Alice’s nerves jangle.

She wound her wrap around her shoulders, wishing she could wind it around Cristiano’s neck instead. ‘Where are we going to dinner?’

‘Aren’t you going to show me around your house first?’

Alice pinched her lips together. ‘My home is hardly on a league with yours.’

He glanced around her foyer with an appraising eye. ‘Nice. How long have you lived here?’

‘Two years.’

‘Alone?’

Alice forced herself to hold that piercing gaze even though it made every atom in her body protest. ‘At the moment.’

He gave a slight nod as if her answer satisfied him on some level. ‘Big place for a single girl. How many bedrooms?’

‘Four.’