The Last Heir of Monterrato

Her little speech done, Lottie sat back, sure that Rafael would be relieved. After all, hadn’t she just let him off the hook—given him a get-out so that he knew he didn’t have to be grateful to her? But she was to be disappointed. Because instead of relief, his look was one of barely controlled temper.

Rafael heard his own pent-up breath hiss between his teeth as he stared across at Lottie. He had thought that going out for a meal would be a good idea—get away from the villa, eat some decent food for once. But he had been wrong. Sitting opposite her now, in the warm and intimate atmosphere of this candlelit restaurant, it no longer felt like a good idea at all.

The evening had started badly when she had first appeared in that flimsy dress. The way the fabric skimmed over her slender body, subtly highlighting the contours of her breasts and hips, then stopping short of her knees to reveal those long, shapely legs... Just the sight of her had all but winded him. And when he had held the door open for her and seen those skinny strap things crossing over her shoulderblades it had taken all his control, and more, not to thread his itchy fingers through them and tear them apart until the dress fell at her feet.

And right now he was still being taunted by her bare shoulders, the shadowed hollows of her collarbone, the elegant sweep of her neck—by everything that she unconsciously did to him. Fighting it was becoming more and more difficult, and he knew he had to use the only weapon in his armoury. Animosity.

‘Just for the record—’ he spat the words at her ‘—you are not the only one with emotions, Lottie. You are not the only one to feel things. Despite your cold, calculating opinion of me, I am flesh and blood beneath. Sensible and practical I may be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel things every bit as deeply as you. Perhaps you would do well to remember that.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Verbally slapped down again, Lottie felt the sting on her cheek as vividly as if he had struck her. ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything to the contrary. I was just trying to explain the differences between us.’

‘That really isn’t necessary,’ Rafael growled back at her. ‘I would have thought the differences were all too clear.’

‘Yes.’

Biting down on her lip, Lottie fought to supress the pain of his angry words. The pain of knowing just how true it was that whilst Rafael still stirred up overwhelming longing and desire in her, she only evoked bitterness and resentment in him. She cast about for a suitably acerbic reply—something she could hurt him with as he had hurt her—but it was too late. Turning away, Rafael had already called for the bill.

CHAPTER SEVEN

RAFAEL WOKE WITH a start. He could hear something—a noise somewhere in the villa. As he slipped out of bed a glance at the clock showed it was two-forty-five a.m. Pulling on his jeans, he walked silently across the landing to Lottie’s bedroom. The door was closed and he stood there for a moment, listening. Nothing. She was probably sound asleep; it had been several hours since she had flounced off to bed, refusing his offer of a hot drink, leaving him nursing a whisky and a bad mood.

The evening hadn’t ended well—just like every other evening since they had been in this place. Every evening since Lottie had been back in his life, in fact. He knew he was failing miserably when it came to following Dr Oveisi’s instructions to make these two weeks as stress-free as possible for Lottie. But there was only one bit of Dr Oveisi’s advice that he knew for sure he could fulfil—and all too easily. He was wrestling to control it every second that he spent with Lottie. And each day at Villa Varenna was making it that bit more difficult.

The villa was quiet. Perhaps he had imagined it. After padding down the stairs he stood in the hallway, straining his ears. Yes, there it was again, coming from the basement.

A plan was immediately forming in his head. If he could get into the gym he could grab one of the dumbbells and clobber whoever it was over the head before they had a chance to get away. He could feel the adenaline starting to surge through his body. Slowly he crept down. The noise was coming from the pool—he could hear the splashing quite clearly now.

Burglars didn’t take a dip before they robbed a house.

Standing in the shadows behind the glass wall, he could make out the shape of Lottie’s body moving leisurely through the water, swimming to one end, then pushing off and starting back again. The only illumination came from the submerged pool lights and she looked dark against the bright turquoise of the water, arms and legs elongated by the shadows.