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Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
Annie West
He’s forgotten their past, but not her body… A lavish masquerade ball is no place for plain-Jane receptionist Carys Wells. Used to being unnoticed by the glitterati, Carys feels vulnerable and exposed by the searing gaze of a dark masked man. Little does she know he’s the man she ran from two years ago, whose wicked touch is about to become her undoing once more…Alessandro Mattani cannot remember Carys, but his body does – intimately. And the red-blooded Italian is determined to claim all that he believes is his…


‘You have no right to do this. Let me go.’ Yet she’d stopped struggling, merely stood straighter and unyielding in his embrace.
‘No right?’ He swiped his thumb across her mouth, tugging at her lower lip, feeling its luscious pad and the moist heat of her breath against his skin. Her mouth opened and those eyelids flickered betrayingly. ‘You give me the right when you respond to me that way.’ Again he slid his thumb along her mouth, this time pressing deeper, till he felt her tongue slick against his finger.

Madonna mia! How potent was this woman that the mere touch of her tongue could splinter his control?
Surprise darkened her eyes. She felt it too.

An image filled his brain. Of rich dark hair spread over plump white pillows. Of his hands threading through its satiny splendour, splaying it out like a radiant sunburst.

Not just an image.

A memory!
Annie West spent her childhood with her nose between the covers of a book—a habit she retains. After years of preparing government reports and official correspondence she decided to write something she really enjoys. And there’s nothing she loves more than a great romance. Despite her office-bound past, she has managed a few interesting moments—including a marriage offer with the promise of a herd of camels to sweeten the contract. She is happily married to her ever-patient husband (who has never owned a dromedary). They live with their two children amongst the tall eucalypts at beautiful Lake Macquarie, on Australia’s east coast. You can e-mail Annie at www.annie-west.com, or write to her at PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.
Recent books by the same author:
THE SAVAKIS MISTRESS
BLACKMAILED BRIDE, INNOCENT WIFE
THE DESERT KING’S PREGNANT BRIDE
THE GREEK TYCOON’S UNEXPECTED WIFE

Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
By

Annie West



MILLS & BOON®
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
This one’s for Judy!
Hope it brings you joy.

Warm hugs and huge thanks to
Anna, Josie, Marilyn, Monique and Serena,
whose expertise made this book possible.

CHAPTER ONE
ALESSANDRO spared barely a glance for the promotional material he tossed into his out tray. His newest PA still hadn’t learnt what he should see and what he had no time for. The textile manufacturing arm of the company would be represented at the upcoming trade fair. But one of his managers could handle that. It hardly needed the CEO to…
Oddio mio!
His gaze caught on a photo as a brochure landed askew, half covered by discarded papers.
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed on the curve of a woman’s smile, a tiny mole like a beauty spot drawing attention to a mouth that would catch any man’s interest. Wide, lush, inviting.
Every muscle froze even as his pulse revved and blood roared in his ears.
That smile.
That mouth.
Yet it wasn’t sexual awareness that arrested him. A tantalising wisp of almost-memory wafted behind his conscious thoughts. A taste, sweet as ripe summer cherries, rich and addictive.
Heat filled him, despite the climate-controlled air in his spacious office. A zap of something that might have been emotion stifled the breath in his lungs. Alessandro froze, telling himself not to analyse but to relax and let the sensations surface. Willing the recollections to come.
Like a lacy curtain in a breeze, the blankness cloaking his memory of those missing months two years ago rippled. It shifted, parted, and then dropped back into place.
His hands clenched, white-knuckled on the edge of his glass and black marble desk. But Alessandro didn’t register pain, just the infuriating, familiar sense of nothingness.
Only to himself would he acknowledge how helpless that void made him feel. How vulnerable. It didn’t matter that he’d been assured those lost months contained nothing out of the ordinary. Other people remembered that time: what he’d done and said. But he, Alessandro Mattani, had no recall.
Swift as thought, he tugged the brochure from the papers. It was an advertisement for a luxury hotel. He turned it over. A luxury hotel in Melbourne.
Alessandro waited, but no spark of recognition came. He hadn’t travelled to Melbourne.
Not that he could remember.
Impatience flared and he forced it down, breathing deeply. An emotional response wouldn’t help. Even if the sense of loss, of missing something vital, sometimes threatened to drive him to the edge.
He flipped over the flyer again. A woman, a receptionist, smiled at a handsome couple as they checked in. The photo was professionally styled, yet despite its air-brushed gloss, there was something riveting about the receptionist’s smile.
The setting was opulent, but Alessandro had grown up with luxury and barely bothered to notice. The woman, on the other hand…she intrigued him.
The more he stared, the more he felt an atavistic premonition that made his blood pump faster and prickled the skin at his nape. She was so familiar.
Had she smiled at him like that?
A tickle of awareness started low in his belly.
A tickle of…certainty.
Carefully he catalogued her features. Dark hair pulled back sleekly from a pleasant but unremarkable face. Her nose was pert, a trifle short. Her eyes were surprisingly light for her brunette colouring. Her mouth was wide.
She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t exotic enough to turn heads. And yet she had…something. A charisma the photographer had seen and capitalised on.
Alessandro traced the angle of her cheekbone, the gentle curve of her jaw, to pause on the lush promise of her lips.
There it was again. That tingle of presentiment. The intuition that she was no stranger. It drew every muscle and sinew in his body tight, as if in readiness for action.
Behind the opaque gauze of his faulty memory something shifted.
Sensation, soft as the tentative brush of those lips against his. That taste again, of sun-ripened cherries. Irresistible. The phantom caress of delicate fingers along his jaw, over his rapidly pulsing heart. The sound of feminine sighs, the aftermath of ecstasy.
Alessandro’s chest heaved as if from intense physical exertion. Sweat prickled his nape and brow as his body stirred with arousal.
Impossible!
Yet instinct clamoured with a truth he couldn’t ignore.
He knew her. Had met her. Held her. Made love to her.
His nostrils flared on a surge of wholly masculine possessiveness. The primitive sense of ownership, of a male scenting his mate, was unmistakeable.
He stared at the image of a stranger from the other side of the world. If he hadn’t visited Melbourne, had she travelled here to Lombardia?
Frustration at those missing months simmered.
For long minutes Alessandro considered the photograph, his thumb absently caressing the curve of her cheek.
Impossible as it seemed, the certainty grew that this woman held the key to his locked memories. Could she open them? Restore what he’d lost and obliterate the sense that he was somehow less than he’d been. The gnawing hint of dissatisfaction with his world.
Alessandro reached for the phone. He intended to have answers, no matter what it took.
‘Thanks, Sarah, you’re a lifesaver.’ Relief flooded Carys. Today everything that could go wrong had. At least this one thing, the most important, was sorted.
‘No worries,’ her neighbour and babysitter responded. ‘Leo will be fine staying over.’
Carys knew Sarah was right, but that didn’t stop the twinge of regret, sharp in her chest. When she’d taken this job at the Landford Hotel it was with the expectation she’d be home most days at a reasonable hour. Early enough to look after her son.
She didn’t want Leo growing used to an absentee parent too busy with her career to spend time with him. The sort of home life Carys had taken for granted as a child.
Especially since Leo only had her.
The twinge beneath her breast intensified, catching her breath as pain ripped through her. Even after all this time she couldn’t suppress the shaft of regret and longing that pierced her whenever she remembered.
She needed to toughen up. Once upon a time she’d chased her dream, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe in it any more. Not after she’d learned so cruelly how futile that dream was.
‘Carys? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ Hastily she forced a smile, knowing Sarah could read her tone even over the phone. ‘I owe you one.’
‘You sure do. You can babysit for us next weekend. We’ve got plans for a night on the town, if you can mind Ashleigh.’
‘Done.’ She looked at her watch. She had to get back before the next crisis hit. ‘Don’t forget to give Leo a goodnight kiss from me.’ Stupid to feel that catch in her throat because tonight she wouldn’t feed him his evening meal or kiss his plump pink cheek at bedtime.
Her son was in good hands and, she told herself sternly, she was lucky to have landed a job that usually gave her regular time with him. She was grateful the management had been impressed enough to allow her reasonably family-friendly hours.
Today was the exception. The flu that ravaged the Landford’s staff had hit at the worst possible time. More than a third of the staff was off sick just when there was a series of major functions.
It didn’t matter that Carys had already spent more than a full day on the job. The collapse just an hour ago of David, the senior functions manager, with a soaring temperature, meant Carys had to step into that role too.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. This was her chance to prove herself and justify David’s faith in her, having taken her on despite her incomplete qualifications. He’d been a good friend and a terrific mentor. She owed him not only her position, but the hard-won self-confidence she’d slowly built since coming to Melbourne.
‘I don’t know what time I’ll be back, Sarah. Probably in the early hours.’ Steadfastly Carys refused to worry about how she’d manage the trip home. She couldn’t rely on public transport at that time, and the cost of a cab was prohibitive. ‘I’ll see you around breakfast time, if that’s OK?’
‘That’s fine, Carys. Don’t fret. We’ll see you when we see you.’
Slowly Carys replaced the phone and stretched her hunched shoulders. She’d been working at the computer and on the phone without a break for so long her body ached all over.
She glanced at the monitor before her and saw the lines of the spreadsheet she’d opened dance and jumble before her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing that no matter how hard she concentrated, working on the document would be a test of endurance and determination.
Sighing, she reached for her tinted reading glasses and leaned forward.
She had to finish this. Only then could she make last minute checks on the arrangements for tonight’s masked ball.
Carys stood in the corner of the ballroom near the door to the kitchens, listening to the head waiter’s whispered update. It was mayhem in the kitchen with more staff struck down by this virulent flu. Only a couple of the extra waitstaff had arrived to replace those who’d phoned in ill, and the chefs were barely able to cope.
Fortunately, the guests hadn’t noticed anything wrong. The Landford prided itself on superb service, and the staff were doing everything to live up to that reputation.
The ballroom, all black and gold, was gracious and formally elegant. Antique chandeliers sparkled, casting a glow that set jewels scintillating among the A-list crowd. The guests looked impossibly chic as befitted one of Fashion Week’s major events.
The room smelled of exclusive fragrances, hothouse flowers and money. Serious money. Celebrities, designers, buyers, the crème de la crème of Australian society, were here tonight and plenty of international high-flyers too.
And they were all her responsibility.
Carys’ pulse thundered and she struggled to focus on her companion’s words. She must concentrate if she wanted to ensure tonight was a success. Too much was at stake.
‘All right. I’ll see if we can get someone else from the restaurant to help out.’ She nodded, dismissing him and turning to the house phone on the wall. She reached out to hit the speed dial number for the restaurant, then froze.
A tingling sensation began at the base of her spine. It burned its way up her back like the slide of hot ice on bare skin. Except her skin wasn’t bare. She wore a regulation jacket and straight skirt, dark stockings and high heels.
Yet through the layers of clothing her skin sizzled, the hairs on her neck prickling.
Carys replaced the phone with stiff, unsteady fingers. She pivoted, turning to face the shifting, colourful crowd. Staff circulated with gourmet canapés and vintage champagne; groups broke and reformed.
The guests, most of them wearing exquisite handmade masks, were busy enjoying themselves or networking or showing off their finery. They wouldn’t notice anyone who didn’t belong in their rarefied circle.
That suited Carys. She didn’t hanker for a place at a fairytale ball. Not since she’d given up on the whole Prince Charming fantasy.
Yet heat washed her cheeks. Her breath snagged in her throat and her pulse accelerated as instinct told her she was being watched.
Her heart was in her mouth as frantically she searched the throng for something, someone, familiar. Someone who could make her skin tingle and her heart race as it had before, long ago.
Briefly she shut her eyes. Madness! That was in the past. A past best forgotten.
Tiredness and nerves had simply made her imagine things.
Her path and his would never cross again. He’d made certain of that. Carys’ lips twisted in a grimace as familiar pain stabbed her chest.
No! Not now. She refused to let her wayward imagination distract her. People depended on her. She had a job to do.
From across the packed room he watched her.
His fingers curled, white-knuckled, around the back of a nearby chair. Blood roared in his ears as his heart thundered out of control. The shock of recognition was so strong he shut his eyes for an instant and lightning flickered across the darkness of his closed lids.
Opening them, he saw her turn to the wall phone, her movements jerky.
It was her. Not just the woman from the brochure, but more, the woman he remembered. Correction—almost remembered.
An image teased his mind. An image of her walking away from him. Her back rigid, her steps staccato bites that ate up the ground as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. Bites that echoed the rapid pulse of his drumming heart as he stood rooted to the spot. She carried a case, the taxi driver ahead of her stowing another bag in his vehicle.
Finally she paused. Alessandro’s heart stopped and rose in his throat. But she didn’t turn around. A moment later she was in the car as it accelerated in a spurt of gravel and swooped away down the private road from his Lake Como home.
Still he stood, prey to an alien mix of sensations. Fury, relief, disappointment, disbelief.
And hurt! Pain filled the yawning chasm inside him.
Only once before in his entire life had Alessandro felt so intensely. At five, when his mother had deserted him for a life of pampered luxury with her lover.
He stirred and shook his head, banishing the misty image, belatedly aware again of the crowded ballroom.
Yet the powerful brew of emotions still stirred in his breast.
Maddona mia! No wonder he felt vulnerable. Such feelings…
Who was this woman to awake such responses in him?
Anger mingled with impatience. That mere chance had led him here. That he could so easily have missed this opportunity to learn more.
Deliberately he flexed his fingers and let go of the chair back, feeling at last the deep imprint of curved wood score his palm.
The wait was over.
He would have his answers now. Tonight.
Surreptitiously Carys slid a foot from her shoe and wriggled her toes. Soon the ball would be over. Then she could oversee the clearing away and setting up for the next day’s fashion show.
She suppressed a rising yawn. Every bone in her body ached, and she wanted nothing more than to flop into bed.
She skirted the dance floor. She’d just check on—
A hand, large, warm and insistent took hers, pulling her to a halt. Quickly she summoned a serene expression, ready to deal with the guest who’d overstepped the boundaries by touching her. She hoped he wasn’t intoxicated.
Carys had just pinned a small professional smile on her face when a tug of her hand made her turn.
The carefully crafted smile slid away.
For an instant Carys’ heart stopped beating as she looked up at the man before her.
Unlike most of the revellers, he still wore his mask. His dark hair was cut brutally short, sculpting a beautifully shaped head. The mask shadowed his eyes, but she caught a gleam of dark fire. His mouth was a grim slash above a strong, firm chin.
Her eyes widened, staring at that chin. It couldn’t be…
Then he moved and she caught the faint tang of an unfamiliar cologne. Her heart dived.
Of course it wasn’t him!
A scar snaked up his brow from the edge of the mask. The man she’d known had been as devastatingly handsome as a young god. No scars. His complexion had been golden too, olive, gilded by hours in the sun, not as pale as this stranger’s.
And yet…
And yet she stupidly wished in that moment it was him. Against all logic and the need to protect herself, how badly she wanted it to be so.
Carys drew herself up straighter, fumbling for poise while her nerves screamed with disappointment.
He was tall, far taller than she, even though she wore heels. Surely as tall as…No! She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t playing that pathetic game any more.
‘Can I help you?’ The words emerged huskily, more like an intimate invitation than a cool query.
Silently she cursed the way he’d thrown her off balance just by reminding her of a time, and a man, best forgotten.
‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.’ She rushed into speech again, needing to rein in wayward thoughts. Her words were clipped, though she was careful not to reveal her annoyance. If she could extricate herself without a fuss, she would.
Carys tugged her hand but his grip firmed and he drew her forward. She stumbled, surprised by his implacable hold.
Tilting her head up, she looked him in the eye. She expected him to comment on the food or the music, or demand assistance in some way.
Instead his silence unnerved her.
Her skin grew tight as the illusion grew that they stood alone, cut off from the others.
Around them conversation buzzed, music swirled, and a tinkle of feminine laughter sounded. But the man in the perfectly cut dinner jacket, with the perfectly cut jaw, said nothing. Just held her.
Heat flared under her skin as again instinct shouted a warning to beware.
His hold shifted and his thumb slid over the sensitive place between her thumb and forefinger. A spike of heat transfixed her. Her eyes widened as a tremor echoed through the secret recesses of her body.
‘You need to let me go.’ She lifted her chin higher, wishing she could see his eyes properly.
He inclined his head, and the breath she hadn’t known she held whooshed out. See? He probably just wanted something mundane like another bottle of wine for his table.
She opened her mouth to enquire when someone bumped her, propelling her towards the hard male torso before her.
Carys heard a muffled apology but barely noticed.
Large hands grasped her upper arms. In front of her stretched an expanse of exquisitely tailored elegance, that ultra-masculine chin with just the hint of a cleft and a pair of shoulders to make any woman sit up and take notice.
Shoulders just like…
Carys bit her lip. This had to end.
This was a stranger. So he had shoulders to die for and a jaw that seemed achingly familiar. The gold signet ring on his finger was one she’d never seen. And, despite the similar height, he was leaner than the man she’d known.
Another couple buffeted her, talking volubly as they passed. Suddenly she found herself plastered against a hard body that seemed all heat and raw strength. Her senses whirled in a giddy riot.
She imagined she could feel each muscle of his body against hers. Beneath the expensive cologne an elusive undertone of warm male skin tickled her nostrils and she inhaled sharply. He was too familiar, like a phantom from one of the endless dreams that haunted her.
His odd silence intensified her sense of unreality.
Then his hold shifted. A hand slid down her back, poised almost possessively just above her bottom, long fingers spread. Heat roared in the pit of her belly. The heat of desire. A sensation she hadn’t felt, it seemed, in a lifetime.
Her body responded to the ultra-masculine allure of his, softening, trembling—
‘I need to go.’ Carys jerked her head back from the muscled chest that drew her like a magnet. ‘Please!’
Her mouth trembled in a wobbly grimace, and to her dismay hot tears prickled her eyes. Part of her yearned crazily to succumb to his potent maleness.
Because he reminded her of the one man who had taught her the dangers of instant physical attraction.
She had to get out of here.
With a strength born of desperation, she wrenched herself free and stumbled back, off balance when he released her instantly.
Carys took a shaky step away, then another.
The man in the dark mask watched her, eyes unreadable, his body as still as a predator about to pounce.
Her throat squeezed tight in inexplicable panic. She opened her mouth but no sound came. Then she spun and blindly forced her way through the crowd.
Wearily Carys tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The last of the guests had finally gone and the vast ballroom was empty but for the staff tidying up and moving furniture.
The chirrup of a house phone snagged her attention. She found herself crossing her fingers that there were no more problems. Not tonight, correction, this morning. She was running on empty.
She was still unsettled by the memory of the stranger. The man who’d seemed so familiar yet couldn’t be.
‘Hello?’
‘Carys? Glad I caught you.’ She recognised the new guy on night duty at reception. ‘You’ve got an urgent call. I’ll connect you.’
Instantly all weariness vanished at the sound of those dreaded words ‘urgent call’. Carys’ stomach dropped and fear filled the void. Was it Leo? An illness? An accident?
She twisted a button on her jacket, waiting breathlessly for bad news as her nerves stretched taut.
It would be tonight of all nights that something went wrong. She should have found a way to get home earlier.
The click of the new connection was loud in her ears. As was the silence that followed, a waiting silence.
‘Sarah? What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
There was a pause in which she heard the echo of her own breathing.
Then a voice like black velvet emerged.
‘Carys.’
Just one word and every hair on her body rose. It was the voice that haunted her dreams. A voice that, despite everything, still had the power to thicken her blood, turning it to warm treacle.
Her knees buckled and she found herself sitting on the edge of a table that had been moved up against the wall.
Her fingers splayed over her throat in a desperate gesture of vulnerability.
It couldn’t be!
Her mouth opened and her throat worked, but no sound emerged.
‘We need to meet,’ said the voice of her past. ‘Now.’

CHAPTER TWO
‘WHO is this?’ Carys’ voice emerged as a raw croak.
It couldn’t be.
Not here. Not now.
Not after she’d finally convinced herself she never wanted to see him again. Fate couldn’t be so cruel.
Yet some wayward self-destructive impulse sent a buzz of excitement skimming along her nerves. Once she’d longed for him to make contact, to come after her, tell her he’d been wrong. Tell her…no, she wasn’t so credulous as to believe in such fantasies any more.
What did he want? Her hand tightened like a claw at her throat. A premonition of danger filled her, icing her blood.
‘You know who it is, Carys.’ Just the way he pronounced her name with that sexy Italian accent turned the word into a caress that melted her insides.
He’d always threatened her self-control. Carys remembered murmured enticements in that dark coffee voice and how he’d persuaded her to give up everything she’d worked for just for the privilege of being with him.
Fool!
She shivered and sat up straighter, berating herself.
‘Please identify yourself,’ she said tersely.
It couldn’t be him. He’d never follow her to Australia. He’d made that clear when she’d left with her tail between her legs.
But the memory of the stranger tonight at the ball, the masked man who’d made her think of him, battered at her disbelief. Wildly she shook her head, trying to clear a brain overloaded by exhaustion and stress.
Was she going mad? Seeing him, even hearing him, when she knew perfectly well he was ensconced in his oh-so-exclusive world of rich, elegant, aristocratic friends. Of high-flying business deals and blue blood and glamour.
Where people like her only provided brief amusement.
‘Don’t pretend not to know me, Carys. I have no time for puerile games.’ He paused as if waiting for her to rush into speech. ‘It’s Alessandro Mattani.’
Silence throbbed as she clutched the receiver. Her heart crashed against her ribs. She would have slid to the floor if she hadn’t already been sitting.
‘Alessandro…’
‘Mattani. I’m sure you recognise the name.’ His voice was sharp as a razor.
Recognise the name! Once she’d even hoped to share it with him.
A bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to explode from her stiff lips. Carys slapped her palm across her mouth, concentrating on deep breaths. She needed oxygen.
The room spun crazily and dark spots whirled in her vision.
A clatter jerked her back to full awareness, and she looked down as if from an enormous distance to see the phone had slipped from her nerveless fingers onto the table.
Alessandro Mattani.
The man she’d loved.
The man who’d broken her heart.
A sound caught her attention and Carys looked up, suddenly aware again of her surroundings. The last of the staff were leaving and waving goodnight.
Belatedly she lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
Dazedly she looked around. The stage was set for tomorrow’s fashion show. Enormous jardinières with arrangements of exotic orchids and jungle greenery had been strategically positioned as she’d instructed. The lights were dimmed and she was alone.
But for the voice on the other end of the line. The voice of her dreams.
Tentatively, as if reaching out to touch an untamed animal, Carys stretched her fingers to the phone. She lifted it, and a deep voice barked in her ear.
‘Carys?’
‘I’m here.’
Silence, but for the impatient hiss of indrawn breath.
‘No more games. I want to see you.’
Well, bully for him. She was past the stage of worrying what Alessandro Mattani wanted.
Besides, she wasn’t foolish enough to go near him again. Even now she didn’t trust her hard-won defences against the man who’d only had to smile and crook his finger to get what he wanted from her. She’d surrendered her job, all her plans, even her self-respect to be with him.
Carys stiffened her spine and braced her palm on the table beside her.
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Of course it’s possible,’ he bit out. ‘I’m just twelve floors away.’
Twelve floors? Her heart galloped faster. Here, in Melbourne? At the Landford?
Her gaze swerved to the edge of the dance floor, instinct and disbelief warring.
‘That was you tonight? At the ball?’ If she’d been less stunned, she might have cared about how much her strained voice revealed. But she was battling shock. She had no thought to spare for pride.
He didn’t answer.
Heat sparked low in her abdomen and washed through her like a flood tide. It had been him. He’d held her in his arms.
How often had she yearned for his embrace? Despite what she’d told herself about forgetting the past.
He’d held her and she hadn’t known him?
But she had, hadn’t she? Despite the new cologne, the paleness of his once-golden skin, the scar.
Fear jolted through her, stealing her breath.
He’d been hurt! How badly? Urgent questions clamoured on her tongue.
Shakily Carys gathered the tattered remnants of control. She ignored the unspoken questions, opting for the most important one.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice sounded stretched too thin, like beaten metal about to snap under pressure.
‘I’ve already told you.’ Impatience threaded his words. ‘To see you.’
She couldn’t prevent a snort of disbelief at his words. How times had changed.
Finally pride came to her rescue.
‘It’s late. I’ve had a long day and I’m going home. There’s nothing more to say between us.’ Tentatively she slipped her feet to the floor, waiting to see if her legs would collapse under her.
‘Are you sure?’ His words, soft and deep like the alpine eiderdowns they’d once shared, brushed across her senses. His voice was alive with erotic undercurrents.
She jerked upright.
Flame licked that secret needy place deep inside her, the place that had been cold and empty ever since she’d left him. The realisation drew her anger.
No, she wasn’t sure. That was the hell of it.
‘I’m in the presidential suite,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’ll expect you in ten minutes.’
‘You have no right to give me orders.’ Belatedly she found her voice.
‘You don’t wish to meet me?’ Incredulity coloured his tone.
Had he never had a knock-back from a woman?
Certainly not from her. She’d been putty in his elegant, powerful hands from the instant she’d fallen head over heels for him.
‘The past is the past.’ At the last moment she prevented herself saying his name. She didn’t want the sound of it on her lips. It was too intimate, evoked too many memories.
‘Perhaps so. But I wish to meet you.’ His tone made it clear that he wasn’t about to go down on bended knee and beg her forgiveness.
Carys rubbed her forehead. The very thought of Alessandro, darling of the jet set, commercial power-broker and hundred percent red-hot macho Italian male on his knees before any woman was ludicrous.
‘You have ten minutes,’ he reiterated.
‘And if I don’t come?’
He took his time responding. ‘That’s your choice, Ms Wells.’ His formality in that silky smooth voice held more threat than any bluster. Or was that her imagination?
‘I have personal matters to discuss. I thought you’d prefer to do that in the privacy of my suite. Of course, I can see you instead during business hours tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘I understand you share an office with colleagues? Presumably they won’t be inconvenienced by our conversation.’
He left the sentence dangling and Carys bit her lip, imagining how her workmates would react to Alessandro and his personal matters.
‘No doubt your manager won’t mind you taking time off to deal with a private matter,’ he purred in that outrageously delicious accent. ‘Even though I understand you’re only here on an extended probation?’
Carys’ jaw dropped. He’d had her records investigated! How else could he know about her long probation period since she’d been employed without completing her qualifications?
Those employment details were supposed to be confidential.
Her defensive hackles rose as the old sense of inadequacy surfaced. Of not being good enough. Not making the grade. And more, of being cornered, facing an implacable, unstoppable force that threatened to overpower her.
Defeat tasted bitter on her tongue.
Or was that fear? Fear that, despite his initial rejection, Alessandro had come to take Leo from her.
Her shoulders tightened.
‘Ten minutes,’ she confirmed.
Alessandro stood at the full-length window, staring across the Yarra River to the lights of Melbourne’s cityscape.
He didn’t see them. Instead his brain conjured an image of blue-grey eyes, wide and apparently guileless.
He shifted as heat shot through his body straight from his groin at the memory of her soft body nestled against him.
From the moment he’d sighted her across the ballroom, he’d known. The awareness he’d experienced looking at her photo was nothing compared with tonight’s instant gut-deep certainty.
This woman was his.
Alessandro tossed back the espresso his butler had brewed, feeling the shot of caffeine in his blood.
His earlier flash of memory told him they hadn’t parted amicably. Hell, she’d walked out on him! No other lover had ever done that.
Yet he knew with absolute certainty there was still something between them. Something that accounted for the nagging dissatisfaction that had plagued him since the accident.
Why had they separated?
He intended to discover everything about the yawning blankness that was his memory of the months preceding his accident.
He refused to let her escape till he had answers.
From the moment he’d held her, the sense of unfinished business between them had been overwhelming. Even now he felt the low-grade hum of awareness, waiting for her.
There was more too. Not just the immediate sense of connection and possessiveness. There was an inner turmoil that surely must be long-dormant emotions.
He’d watched her, listened to her, and been dumbstruck by the intensity of his conflicting feelings.
Alessandro had harnessed all his willpower to drive himself to recover from his injuries and turn around the faltering family business. He’d blocked out everything but the need to haul the company from the brink of disaster. Everything else had been a pallid blur.
Until now no one had come close to breaking through his guarded self-possession. Not his step-mother, not the many women angling for his attention. Not his friends.
Despite his wide social circle, he was a loner like his father. The old man had isolated himself, focusing only on business after his first wife’s betrayal and desertion.
As a result Alessandro had learned the Mattani way early, concealing his boyish grief and bewilderment behind a façade. Over the years that façade of calm had become reality. He’d developed the knack of repressing strong emotions, distancing himself from personal vulnerability.
Until tonight. When he’d come face to face with Carys Wells. And he’d…felt things. A stirring of discontent, desire, loss.
He frowned. He had no time for emotions.
Lust, yes. He was no stranger to physical desire. That was easily assuaged. But the disturbing sensations churning in his belly were unfamiliar, caused by something more complex.
A knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the interruption to his unpalatable thoughts, Alessandro put down his cup and turned as the butler crossed the foyer.
Alessandro was surprised to register his shoulders stiffening, locking as tension hardened his stance.
Since when had he, Alessandro Mattani, experienced nerves? Even when the specialists had shaken their heads over his injuries, referring to complications and a long convalescence, all he’d felt was impatience to get out of hospital. Especially when he’d learned the impact his accident, so soon after his father’s death, had caused.
The commercial vultures had begun circling, ready to take advantage of the mistakes his father had made in those last months and of Alessandro’s incapacity.
‘Ms Wells, sir.’ The butler ushered her into the sitting room.
She stood as if poised for flight, just inside the door. Once more that shock of connection smacked him square in the chest. He rocked back on his feet.
Jerkily she lifted a hand to smooth her hair, then dropped it as she caught his scrutiny.
Tension, palpable and vibrating, strung out between their locked gazes.
Carys Wells looked out of place in the opulence of Melbourne’s most exclusive hotel suite. Unless, of course, she was here to provide a personal service to the occupant. Delivering a message or bringing room service.
Alessandro’s thoughts jagged on the sort of personal service he’d like her to provide.
It didn’t matter that he knew any number of more beautiful women. Clever, high achievers who combined chic style, business savvy and an eagerness to share his bed.
Something about Carys set her apart.
Her curves would horrify the perpetually dieting women he knew in Milano. Her dark hair was severely styled, if you could call scraping it back into a bun a style. Her make-up was discreet, and she wore a sensible navy suit that no woman of his acquaintance would be seen dead in.
Yet the way her face had lit with emotion earlier hinted at a more subtle attractiveness. And those legs…The sight of her shapely calves and trim ankles in high heels and dark stockings tugged at his long-dormant libido.
Alessandro’s hands flexed. He wanted to explore further, to discover if her legs were as sexy all the way up.
Instinct—or was it memory?—told him her legs were superb. Just as he knew he’d found pleasure in her neatly curved figure and her deliciously full lips.
Belatedly he dragged his gaze from the woman who’d lured him halfway around the world.
The way she sidetracked him was unprecedented. One way or another he had to get her out of his system.
‘Grazie, Robson. That’s all for tonight.’
The butler inclined his head. ‘There are refreshments on the sideboard should you require them, sir, madam.’ Not by so much as a flicker did he indicate he knew the woman before him to be a co-worker. Then he moved silently away towards the kitchen and the staff entrance.
‘Please—’ Alessandro gestured to the nearby lounge ‘—take a seat.’
For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to accept. Finally she walked across the antique carpet to sit in a cavernous wing chair. The glow of lamps lit her face, revealing a tension around her pursed lips he hadn’t noticed before. She looked tired.
Alessandro flicked a look at his watch. It was very late. He’d become accustomed to working long into the night, fuelled by caffeine and his own formidable drive.
Conscience niggled. He should have left this till tomorrow. But he’d been unable to ignore the edgy frustration that drove him relentlessly. He was so close he couldn’t rest till he had answers from her.
He’d already been stymied once. Alessandro had confronted her at the ball only to find he’d been robbed of composure and even the power of speech by a shocking blast of recognition. He’d frozen, the one thought in his atrophying mind to hold her and not let her go.
The completeness of that instant of vulnerability had stunned and shamed him. Never had he felt at such a loss. Not in business. Definitely not in his dealings with women.
Now he was himself once more. It would not happen again.
Alessandro Mattani did not do vulnerable.
He thrust aside the momentary doubt at his tactics and strode across to the sideboard.
‘Tea, coffee?’ he offered. ‘Wine?’
‘I don’t want anything.’ She sat straighter, her chin hitched high in unspoken defiance. That spark of rebellion brought colour to her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle.
Alessandro paused, watching fascinated as she transformed from drab to intriguing in an instant. Then he turned, poured himself a small measure of cognac, and took a seat opposite her.
All the while she watched him with those luminous eyes that had captivated him the moment he saw her.
What did she see? Was she cataloguing the differences in him? It surprised him to discover how much he wanted to read her thoughts. Know what she felt. Did she too experience this gnawing tension, like an ache between the ribs?
‘I see you’ve noticed my scar.’
The wash of colour along her cheekbones intensified, but she didn’t look away. Nor did she respond.
Alessandro wasn’t vain enough to worry about his marred face. Besides, it was his wealth and position as much as his looks to which women responded. They might say they wanted a man of charm or kindness, but he knew how fickle they were. Neither marriage vows nor ties of blood between mother and child could hold them when they found someone who offered more wealth and prestige.
That didn’t bother Alessandro. He had both in abundance. If ever he wanted a woman permanently he’d have his pick. Some time in the future. Not now.
He swirled the fine brandy in its glass, inhaling its mellow scent.
‘Am I so repulsive, then?’ He shot her a look that dared her to prevaricate.
Repulsive? Carys wished he were. Then maybe she could tear her gaze away. Her heart hammered. She struggled to hide her shortened breathing as she felt the tug of his potent masculine aura.
It had always been the same. But she’d prayed time and common sense would cure her of the fatal weakness.
She met his intense moss-green gaze, recognised the way his thick dark lashes shadowed his eyes. His eyelids dropped as if to hide his thoughts. The familiarity of that expression, as much as its banked heat, made her insides squirm in mixed delight and distress.
‘You got me here to talk about your looks?’ Carys had more sense than to answer his question.
To her horror she found him more attractive than ever. Even the scar leading from just beneath one straight black eyebrow up to his temple failed to detract from the beautiful spare lines of his leanly sculpted face.
She gripped her hands tight in her lap, alarmed to discover that, when it came to pure animal attraction, Alessandro still exerted a power she couldn’t deny.
Just as well she had more sense than to succumb to it. She was cured. Surely she was.
‘You keep staring at it.’ He lifted the brandy to his lips. Carys watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed and her pulse tripped crazily. She’d rarely seen him in formal clothes, but they only enhanced his magnetism.
Alessandro had been an enigma, suave and sophisticated, impossibly elegant even in the most casual clothes, even without clothes. But at the same time there’d been something earthy and all-male about him. Something innately stronger than the varnish of wealth and centuries of good breeding.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
Heat flared in her cheeks as Carys realised she was imagining him naked, long-limbed and strong. She tore her gaze away.
She might despise him, but she was still woman enough to respond to his sheer sex appeal.
‘Nothing. I was just thinking about how you’ve changed.’ It was only half a lie.
‘Have I altered so much?’ She sensed movement and turned her head to find him leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
She shrugged. ‘It’s been…’ Just in time she stopped herself. He didn’t need to know she recalled to the day how long it had been. ‘A while. People change.’
‘How have I changed?’
Carys wondered at the intensity of his stare. She felt it like the caress of a jade blade across her skin, smooth but potentially lethal.
‘Well, there’s the scar for a start.’
She closed her lips before she could blurt out questions about his health. Had he been in an accident? Or, her thudding heartbeat faltered, had it been surgery?
Sternly she told herself she didn’t care.
‘I’m in excellent health now.’ The murmured words surprised her. How had he read her mind?
‘Of course you are,’ she said too quickly. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’ If he was ill he’d be in Italy, under the care of the country’s top doctors, not summoning her to his room in the early hours to talk about…what did he want?
Carys’ nerves spasmed in denial. There could only be one reason for his presence. Only one thing he wanted.
Her son.
Surely Alessandro’s presence here meant he’d decided belatedly that he wanted Leo after all.
Alessandro didn’t do things by halves. If he wanted something he’d take it all. And surely any normal Italian male would want his own son?
Fear wrapped icy fingers around her heart. If she was right, what chance did she have of stopping him?
‘How else have I changed?’
Carys frowned at this fixation with his looks. The man she’d known had been careless about that, though he’d dressed with the instinctive panache of one who’d grown up amongst a chic, fashion-conscious set.
‘You’re paler than before. And thinner.’
When they’d met, he’d been on a skiing holiday, his olive skin burnished dark golden-brown by the alpine sun. His body was all hard-packed muscle and rangy height. Carys had looked into his dancing green eyes and sensuous smile that made her feel she was the only other person on the planet. Without a second thought she’d fallen for him like a ton of bricks.
Now he seemed pared down, but that only emphasised his spectacular bone structure. The way he moved made it clear he hadn’t lost his whipcord strength and abundant energy.
He lifted the brandy to his lips again, but not before she read a wry grimace. ‘I’ve been working long hours.’
Such long hours he’d stopped eating?
Carys looked away, silently berating herself for caring.
‘Some things don’t change, then.’
Those last weeks, Alessandro had used work as an excuse not to be with her. At first she’d thought there was a problem with the business, or with Alessandro assuming its control after his father’s death, but her tentative questions, her attempts to understand and offer support, had been firmly rebuffed.
The company was fine. He was fine. She worried too much. He just had responsibilities to fulfil. She remembered the litany.
Methodically Alessandro had shut her out of his life, day by day and hour by hour. Till their only communication was during the brief pre-dawn hours when he’d take her with a blistering-hot passion that had threatened to consume them both.
Until she’d discovered it wasn’t just business taking him away. That he’d had time for other things, other…people. How gullible she’d been, believing he’d be content with the naïve, unsophisticated woman who shared his bed…
‘Being the CEO of a multi-national enterprise requires commitment.’
‘I know that.’ She’d given up worrying about the ridiculous hours he’d begun working. Given up trying to understand what had happened to the charming, attentive man with whom she’d fallen in love. That man had worked hard too, but he’d known how to switch off. How to enjoy being with her.
Her stomach churned. Whatever they’d once shared was over. He’d left her in no doubt she’d never live up to his exacting standards.
What was she doing here?
Her throat closed as the futility of their conversation swamped her. This could lead nowhere, achieve nothing but the reopening of painful wounds.
Carys shot to her feet. ‘It’s been…interesting seeing you again. But I have to go. It’s late.’
The words were barely out of her mouth when he was before her, looming so close she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. His gaze licked like flame across her skin.
Instinctively she stepped back, only to find her way blocked. Heat engulfed her as her brain processed frantic messages. Of surprise. Of anger. Of excitement.
‘You can’t leave yet.’
‘I can and will.’ She refused to play the fool for him again. ‘We’re finished.’
‘Finished?’ One straight brow quirked up, and his mouth curved in a tight, unamused smile. ‘Then what about this?’
He snagged her close with one long arm so she landed hard against him. Then he lowered his head.

CHAPTER THREE
‘ALESSANDRO!’
Her voice was scratchy with surprise as she said his name for the first time, making him pause. Yet the sound was familiar. He felt it deep in his bones.
She was familiar, the way her body melded to his, all feminine enticement as he pinioned her to him.
He’d tried to hold back. Go slow. Behave sensibly.
But from the moment she’d walked in everything had changed. His caution, his adherence to the niceties of social behaviour had melted away. Now he operated on raw, primal instinct that overrode logic and convention.
He held her satisfyingly close. With her breasts cushioned against his torso, her hips pressed against him. He felt anticipation surge.
When she’d arrived, looking weary yet defiant, he’d questioned his need to confront her tonight. But those doubts disintegrated as her body softened against his and he heard the tell-tale hitch in her breathing.
There might be fire in her eyes, but the way she fitted against him belied her indignation.
This was mutual.
He had no conscious recollection of her but his body remembered her. The stirring in his loins told its own tale of familiarity and desire.
He looked down into grey-blue eyes, darkening with sparks of azure and indigo, and felt he was falling through mist, towards a bright sunny place.
He inhaled her spicy soft cinnamon fragrance and his brain cried Yes! This is the one!
‘Alessandro!’ Her voice was more determined now, like her hands pushing at his chest. Yet that underpinning note of hesitancy betrayed her.
He lifted one hand to palm her face. Her cheek was soft and pale as milk. Her eyelids fluttered and drooped then snapped wide open.
‘You have no right to do this. Let me go.’ Yet she’d stopped struggling, merely stood straighter and unyielding in his embrace.
‘No right?’ He swiped his thumb across her mouth, tugging at her lower lip, feeling its luscious pad and the moist heat of her breath against his skin.
Her mouth opened and those eyelids flickered betrayingly.
Tendrils of fire twisted and coiled through his body, unfurling and spreading as he watched her response to that simple caress.
He widened his stance, surrounding her with his thighs and pulling her closer to his pelvis.
The promise of bliss was a primitive tattoo in his blood, pounding heavier, faster, demanding action. Yet Alessandro reined in the impulse to demand more. He had to know, to understand, as well as feel.
‘You give me the right when you respond to me that way.’ Again he slid his thumb along her mouth, this time pressing deeper till he felt her tongue slick against his finger.
He stiffened, every muscle clamped tight at the roiling surge of need that engulfed him.
Madonna mia! How potent was this woman, that the mere touch of her tongue could splinter his control?
Surprise darkened her eyes. She felt it too.
‘I’m not…doing anything,’ she protested in a hoarse voice that told its own story. Suddenly she was pushing at him again, trying to lever herself away.
‘Carys.’ He loved the sound of her name on his tongue. Just as he anticipated, he was addicted to the taste of her lips. ‘Would you deny me? Deny this?’
Deftly he slid his hand round to cup her head, feeling the silky weight of her hair against his palm. Then he drew her close, bending to meet her lips.
She turned her head, refusing access to her mouth. His senses filled with the velvet softness of her skin, the sweet temptation of her body’s perfume, as he brushed his lips below her ear.
Her restless movements stopped instantly. Arrested by the same sensations that bombarded him? Desire and heady bliss?
He slid his mouth over her neck, then up to her ear, circling the delicate lobe with his tongue.
She started in his arms as if zapped by the same jolt of energy that skewered him to the spot. Through the pounding in his ears he half heard, half felt her sigh.
‘You can’t deny this,’ he murmured.
Her skin tasted clean and sweet, like spring flowers made of flesh. Hungrily he nuzzled the corner of her jaw, the edge of her chin, the beauty spot beside her mouth.
Bracing to pull back just a fraction, he looked down into her face.
His lips curved in a tight, satisfied smile when he saw closed eyes, lips parted invitingly, as if urging him to claim her.
Her hair had started to come down as she tried to avoid his grip. Now, looking at the long strands of wavy silk falling across his wrist, he realised it wasn’t black as he’d thought in the ballroom. It was darkest brown, tinged with sparks of russet fire.
An image filled his brain, of rich dark hair spread over plump white pillows. Of his hands threading through its satiny splendour, splaying it out like a radiant sunburst.
Not just an image.
A memory!
Of Carys, lying sleepily in bed with him. Of her lazy smile, so dazzling it rivalled the brilliance of the snow-lit scene visible through the window above the bed.
The impact of that sudden recollection rocked him off balance, his arms tightening automatically around her.
For the second time in one night he’d remembered!
He’d known coming here was right.
With this woman he could unlock the closed door to the past. Restore all that was lost. Once he remembered he’d be free of this lurking awareness of something missing, of something incomplete in his life.
Then he could move on, content with his life again.
‘Alessandro.’ Her eyes were open now and aware. He read shock there and chagrin in the way she gnawed at her lip. ‘Let me go. Please.’
He’d been taught to respect a woman’s wishes. The Mattani code of honour was deeply ingrained, and he would never force himself on a woman. But it was too late to dissemble. Carys wanted this as much as he, despite her words.
Surely one kiss couldn’t hurt.
‘After this,’ he murmured. ‘I promise you’ll enjoy it.’ Almost as much as he intended to.
He captured her head, turned her face up to his, and slanted his mouth over hers.
Carys strained to shove him away. Desperation lent power to her tired limbs, yet she made no impact on him. If anything his wide shoulders loomed closer. He was stronger than her by far.
The knowledge should have frightened her. Yet part of her exulted. The unreformed hedonist inside her that she’d only discovered when she’d met Alessandro. The lover who’d been enraptured by his masculinity and athletic power. The heartbroken woman who’d loved and lost and secretly hoped to have her love returned.
Her struggle was as much within herself as against him.
Warm lips covered her mouth, and a judder of shocking need raked her from head to toe. It was instant, all-consuming and undeniable.
But she refused to give in to it. She pressed her palms against his shoulders and leant back as far as his encompassing arm allowed. Frantic to escape, she remembered too well how she’d always responded to him.
His kiss was unexpectedly tender, a gentle caress of firm lips along the closed line of her mouth.
His unfamiliar cologne, subtle yet masculine, tinged the air. The heat of his body warmed hers. His arms held her as if he’d never let her go.
Another illusion.
Carys tried to whip up her resolve, her scorn. But her mind fought a losing battle when her body was already capitulating.
‘No!’ She had to get away. Had to stand firm against him. ‘I don’t—’
It was too late. With the unerring instinct of a born predator, Alessandro took advantage of her momentary lapse and plunged his tongue into her open mouth.
Her breath stopped as reality splintered into fragments around her. He caressed her tongue, the inside of her cheeks. The dark world behind her closed eyelids came alive with flashes of fire. He grasped the back of her head, then tilted his own so he could delve deeper with a slow thoroughness that made her shudder in response.
Her hands on his shoulders curved, holding tight. Her panic faded. Tentatively her mouth moved with his, following the dance of desire they’d created together time and again. Carys mimicked his movements and slowly, like a sleeper waking from hibernation, felt the life force surge in her blood. Hunger gnawed her belly.
Soon she answered his demands with her own.
This felt so right.
His arms curved close, tugging her intimately against him. His kiss lured, delighted and provoked her into a response that escalated from tentative to eager and unashamed.
Now Carys’ hands slipped from his shoulders to his neck, then up to furrow through his short, crisp hair and mould his head with desperate fingers. He was real, solid and wonderful, not the ephemeral phantom of her dreams. She needed him close, closer, to satisfy the burgeoning craving for more.
Heady, half-formed memories bombarded her. Of Alessandro pleasuring her. Of him holding her tight in his arms as if he’d never let her go. Of the instant spark of recognition and understanding that had passed between them the moment they’d met.
But these were tiny flickers, mere shadows of thought. She was absorbed in relearning the feel of Alessandro. His hair, his lips and tongue, the hot steel of his arms around her, the muscle and bone strength of his long body. His taste and scent.
Carys leaned in, glorying in the slide of achingly full breasts against his hard torso. She rose on tiptoe, seeking more, trying to get closer, to absorb herself into the wonderful luxury, the effervescent excitement of his kiss.
With a muffled groan, Alessandro lashed his other arm around her, lower, wrapping round her buttocks and lifting her off the ground.
Yes! Carys gave herself up to each exquisite sensation: of their mouths meshing, of his formidable strength enveloping her, of burning hot skin beneath her fingers as she moulded his jaw and cheeks.
Alessandro moved. She felt his thighs shift around her as he walked, and then there was something solid behind her while Alessandro pressed close. A wall? A couch? She’d lost all sense of perspective.
He tilted his hips in a slow grinding movement and desire blasted through her. His pelvis and hers were in perfect alignment, the heavy bulge in his trousers a portent of pleasure to come.
Instinctively she curved her body up to meet him. A throb began deep between her legs, an edgy neediness that strung her tight with anticipation.
‘Temptress. Siren.’ His muttered words were hoarse, as if squeezed out under duress.
Carys let her head loll against a hard surface and gulped oxygen into her air-starved lungs. Alessandro ravished her face and throat with burning kisses that ignited tiny explosions of pleasure through her taut body. And all the while he pushed close as if he could melt the barrier of their clothes and bring them both the bliss they craved.
One large hand slid down her hip and over her thigh, igniting tremors of fresh awareness. When his palm climbed back, her skirt bunched beneath it, riding higher and higher.
Carys opened her mouth, vaguely aware of the need to protest, but his mouth slammed into hers again, robbing her of breath and the beginnings of thought.
Once more Alessandro pleasured her, this time with a kiss so sweet yet so demanding it devoured the last of her resistance. She lolled back as he drew forth every last shred of hidden longing.
Willingly Carys complied as he lifted her leg up around his hip, and then the other. The bittersweet ache between her legs, and deeper, inside her womb, became a steady throb. Encircling him with her legs, she squeezed tight.
As if he understood, Alessandro pressed close again, pushing his erection just…there.
Yes! That was what she wanted. To have him warm the empty places in her body and her soul that had been chilled for so long.
Large hands slid under the tight, rumpled fabric of her skirt, up her thighs till they reached bare, quivering flesh.
‘Stockings,’ he breathed against her mouth. ‘You dress to drive a man insane.’
She wasn’t listening. Carys heard the low burr of his voice, felt his breath against her lips, but the words made no sense. Only the approval in his tone was real.
Haphazardly she ripped at his bow tie, desperate for his hot skin bare beneath her palms.
Long fingers slid around her thighs, stroking and teasing her sensitive skin. She jerked and squirmed, tugging at his shirt till, with a rip, it tore open.
A torrent of slurred Italian signalled his approval. But she barely noticed for heaven was in the touch of wiry hair and steamy satiny flesh under her hands. In the rapid pulse of his heart pounding against her touch.
His hands moved, and a knuckle brushed against the damp cotton of her panties.
‘Cara,’ he growled deep in his throat. ‘I knew you wanted this as much as I do.’ He insinuated probing fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear while, with his other hand, he fumbled at his belt.
Reality, hard and relentless, broke upon her in an instant of icy clarity. The heady, exquisite arousal faded as her mind kicked into gear.
Was it the greedy touch of his fingers in that most intimate of places? The practised way he undid his belt and ripped open the fastening of his trousers? The smug satisfaction in his voice?
He didn’t even want her, an outraged voice cried in her head. He wanted ‘this’. Sex. Physical satisfaction.
Presumably any woman would do. Carys was just conveniently available.
More than available. Willing. Desperate for him.
Aghast, Carys stiffened.
What had she done? She’d let her loneliness, memories of the bliss they’d once shared, lead her into self-destructive temptation.
‘No! Stop.’ Mortified, she shoved with all her might, wriggling to dislodge his questing fingers and unwrap her legs. ‘Let me go!’
She moved so unexpectedly he didn’t prevent her and even moved back a precious few centimetres, allowing her to slide her legs free. That was when she registered it was a wall behind her, as her stockinged feet hit the floor. She had to brace herself against the weakness in her knees so she didn’t collapse.
He’d almost had her, up against the wall of his suite! Fully clothed!
The glorious heat they’d shared bled away as mortification and disbelief welled. After all that had happened how could she have been so weak?
‘Carys…’
She batted his hands away, stumbling to escape and tripping over a discarded shoe.
Her self respect was in shreds. Her chest heaved with distress as she fumbled with shaky fingers to push her straight skirt down her hips. Her eyes blurred.
‘Let me.’
‘No!’ Carys whirled to face him, arms outstretched to keep him at bay.
Even with lipstick on his jaw, and his jacket and dress shirt torn open to reveal a dusky, hair-dusted chest, he looked in command, powerful and controlled.
Sexier than any man had a right to be.
Then she saw the way his chest rose and fell, as if from exertion. The tendons in his neck stood out and his facial muscles were drawn too tight. A flush of colour slanted across his cheeks and his nostrils flared as if he fought for oxygen.
The evidence of simple animal lust. That was all Alessandro had ever felt for her.
When would she learn? Self-disgust filled her.
Her poor tortured heart compressed as a weight as big as Flinders Street Station pushed down on her chest. Breathing was agony.
But the realisation of what she’d almost done was worse. One kiss…one kiss and she’d been scrabbling at his shirt, desperate to feel his body against hers, urging him on to take her.
Her chin crumpled and she bit her lip. She’d invited her own degradation.
Once again Alessandro had proved himself a consummate seducer. But that was no excuse. She should be able to resist him. She had to. Where was her self-respect?
‘Don’t touch me,’ she whispered as she wriggled her hips, tugging the skirt down. She kept her eyes above his waist, not wanting to see what she’d felt pressing intimately against her, inviting her to mindless pleasure.
Involuntarily her internal muscles clenched. Her betraying body was still ready for his possession. The knowledge flattened the last remnant of her pride.
‘Va bene. As you wish.’ The feral gleam in Alessandro’s eyes warned her he wouldn’t be thwarted for long. ‘Instead we will talk. For now.’
Fire scorched her throat and she looked away, unable to meet his dark scrutiny any longer.
Slowly Carys backed across the floor, feet sinking into the plush depth of carpet. He didn’t follow her but stood, arms akimbo, as if waiting for her to come to her senses.
‘We have to talk, Carys.’
Like hell they did. They’d done enough talking for one night. The brush of cool air on her heated skin made her frown and reach for her throat, only to discover her blouse hung open to reveal her white cotton bra.
How had that happened? Carys clutched the edges of her blouse together with numb fingers. She shot an accusing glare across the room, but Alessandro said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest as if waiting for her to come to her senses.
For all his immobility she couldn’t rid herself of the notion he merely waited to pounce.
Would she have the resolve to stop him next time?
‘I’m not staying here to be attacked again.’
‘Attacked!’ He drew himself up to his full height and stared down his long aristocratic nose at her. ‘Hardly that. You were panting for my touch.’
His arrogant claim was the final straw because it was true. Her resolution had failed. She was weak and nothing could protect her from him. Nothing but bluff.
She shrugged, the movement more stiff than insouciant.
‘I was curious, that’s all. And,’ she hurried on as he opened his mouth to reject her explanation, ‘and besides, it’s been a while since I…’
‘You’ve been saving yourself, cara? Is that it?’ His smoky voice urged her to assent and blurt out that there’d been no one since him. Wouldn’t he just love that!
Fury sizzled along her veins. Glorious wrath at the man who’d taken her innocence, her love and her trust and thought he could have her again at the click of his fingers.
‘No,’ Carys lied. It would just feed his ego to know there’d been no one since him. She shifted her gaze.
He held her in thrall. What would it take to make him relinquish his pursuit? Desperation drove her to blurt out the first thing she could think of to stop him.
‘My boyfriend and I had a disagreement and—’
‘Boyfriend?’ His voice thundered through the suite. ‘You were missing your boyfriend? You can’t tell me you were thinking of him just now?’
‘Can’t I?’ Carys swung her head round and felt his dark green stare like frozen shards of crystal grazing her skin.
‘I don’t believe you.’ But she’d sown the seed of doubt. That was obvious from his sudden pallor.
A tiny fillip of triumph rose. Maybe she could make herself safe from him after all.
‘Believe what you like, Conte Mattani.’
‘Don’t use that title with me,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not some stranger.’
She said nothing, merely backed a few more steps towards the foyer.
‘You don’t intend to leave looking like that,’ he announced in a cold, disapproving tone.
Carys felt the weight of her hair tumbling round her shoulders and knew she looked as if she’d been ravaged to within an inch of her life. She was barefoot, half undressed, her lips bruised and swollen from the intensity of their passion, and her nipples thrust shamelessly against the cotton of her bra. Anyone looking at her would know precisely what she’d been doing.
She had a choice: an ignominious flight from the presidential suite looking like a complete wanton or a cosy tête a tête with Alessandro Mattani.
She was across the room before he could move a step.
‘Just watch me.’
Alessandro stood on the private terrace of his suite, watching the dark-clad workers scurry across the bridge and swarm the streets. Morning peak hour and he’d already been at work for several hours.
Habitually he started early and finished late. But this morning…he raked a hand through his hair as frustration filled him.
He’d slept even less than usual, bedevilled by tantalising dreams of luscious pale limbs entwined with his, of generous feminine curves and silky smooth skin, of smoky blue-grey eyes enticing him to the brink of sexual fulfilment. Each time he’d woken, sweating, gasping for breath and formidably aroused, to the realisation Carys Wells had fled rather than allow them the release they both craved.
He rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved jaw, as if to dispel the tension there.
Even in sleep she denied him.
He could barely believe she’d run. Especially after he’d felt the hunger in her, a hunger as ravening as his own. It was a wonder their clothes hadn’t disintegrated around them, their passion had been so combustible.
He grasped the iron balustrade savagely. Could it have been a tactic to tease him into wanting more then leave him aching with need? What could she hope to gain?
He shook his head. No woman was that good an actress. Besides, he knew every trick in the book when it came to conniving women, and Carys hadn’t played the tease. He remembered the scent of her arousal, sharp and musky.
Oh, no, Carys Wells had wanted him all right.
Why had she denied them both?
A stiff breeze blew up from the river and chilled his skin. He should have taken things slower, scoped out the situation rather than allowing his driving need free rein.
One of the first things he’d learned when he entered the commercial world was to plan carefully and unemotionally and only strike at the most opportune moment.
Last night it hadn’t been his brain doing the thinking.
He’d frightened her off. Her wide eyes had been desperate as she backed to the door. For an instant he’d even suspected they shone overbright.
A ripple of regret passed through him and he frowned.
His security team assured him she’d got home safely, unaware of their surveillance or their orders to keep her safe. Yet still Alessandro felt the weight of guilt. It was his fault she’d fled.
He should have controlled himself and conquered his animal instincts. Yet he’d been unable to comprehend anything but the need to possess her.
Alessandro scrubbed his palm over his face again, grimacing. He couldn’t remember ever acting with less forethought. He’d been like a starving man set before a banquet, unable to summon even a shred of restraint.
Was he always like that with her?
The question tantalised him. The frustration of not knowing ate like acid into his gut.
He was so close, and still the answers eluded him.
A discreet ringtone interrupted his thoughts and he drew his cellphone from his pocket.
It was Bruno, head of his security team, reporting on Carys’ movements this morning. Alessandro froze into immobility at the report, delivered in a carefully uninflected tone.
Eventually he roused himself enough to issue a few more orders. Then he took the phone from his ear and waited for the image Bruno was sending.
There it was. A little blurry with movement, but unmistakeable. Carys Wells, in a familiar dark suit and not a hair out of place. But what held Alessandro’s attention wasn’t his erstwhile lover. It was the burden she carried in her arms.
Small, rounded, riveting his attention.
A baby.
Carys had a child.
The air purged from Alessandro’s lungs in a hiss of disbelief. His jaw tightened so hard his head began to throb as he stared at the image before him.
Whose child? The boyfriend from whom she’d been separated? Some other man? A long-term lover or a passing stranger?
Pain roused him from his turbulent thoughts. Alessandro looked down to discover he’d grasped the railing so hard the decorative ironwork had drawn blood on the fleshy part of his palm.
Dispassionately he stared at the welling redness, then back at the picture of Carys and her child.
Only then did Alessandro recognise the emotion surging so high it threatened to choke him. Fury. Raw sizzling wrath that she’d been with another man.
It didn’t matter how or why they’d separated. Every instinct screamed that Carys belonged to him. Could it be any clearer after the way they’d been together? The intensity of their passion made every other liaison pale into insignificance.
He’d come seeking answers. Last night he’d discovered answers weren’t enough. He wanted Carys too, for as long as the attraction between them held.
Looking at her holding another man’s child in her arms sent spears of flame through his chest and gut.
The sight should have cured him of his lust.
Instead he felt a burning desire to discover the identity of the man who’d fathered Carys’ baby and mash him into a pulp with his bare hands.

CHAPTER FOUR
CARYS pulled her long, flapping coat tight around herself as she left the staff entrance. A cheap second-hand purchase, it helped combat Melbourne’s cold, but it was a size too large, billowing out in the wind and allowing chill draughts to tease her.
A glance at the louring sky made her pick up her pace, scurrying to avoid the blur of rain already washing over the city. With luck her train would be on time and she’d get home at a reasonable hour. Two of her colleagues had returned to work today, so she didn’t have to stay back.
Carys looked forward to the luxury of some quiet time with Leo then a long luxurious soak and a good night’s sleep.
Resolutely she avoided the knowledge that she’d probably spend another sleepless night tossing and turning.
She’d made it through the day in a state of numb shock, working like an automaton, except when the sight of a tall darkhaired man, or an unexpected call, froze the blood in her veins.
She’d expected him to come after her. If not last night when she’d left him high and dry, then today.
He knew where she worked. He knew far too much. Why had he left her alone?
Foreboding crept through her. He was biding his time.
It could only be Leo he wanted. Her precious boy. What else would drag Alessandro here from Italy?
The realisation was like a knife at her neck. A man with Alessandro’s resources could get anything he wanted.
If he wanted Leo…
Carys had no illusions that he was here for anything else. For Alessandro, last night had simply been about the chance for hot sex.
Absence from his wife must be wearing on him.
Bile rose in Carys’ throat, a savage, scouring bitterness. Shame flooded her and she ducked her head.
She hadn’t even remembered he was tied to another woman! The overwhelming reality of his presence had blasted Carys back to a time when she’d been his, body and soul. When she’d believed he was hers. Before he had married his blue-blooded heiress.
Carys tasted salt on her tongue as she bit her lip.
Distress filled her at how close she’d come to compounding her stupidity in an act that would shatter her principles.
She hadn’t been able to meet her eyes in the mirror this morning, recalling her uninhibited response to him.
Fury, disbelief and disappointment filled her. At him for using her as a convenience to assuage his physical needs. For not being the honourable man she’d once thought him. At herself for abandoning her pride and principles in letting him sweep her into his tempestuous embrace.
Carys squared her shoulders. She’d played the fool for the last time. Besides, he’d relinquished all rights when he—
A pair of massive mirror-polished black shoes blocked the pavement before her. Carys side-stepped to skirt the man, but with one long stride he moved too, forcing her to stop.
Her gaze climbed a pair of bulky legs in pin-striped trousers so beautifully tailored they almost tamed the rampantly muscled solidity of the man. Neat shirt, dark tie, perfectly fitting jacket and a swarthy face topped by pepper and salt hair. Gold winked in the man’s earlobe as he turned his head and Carys stared, sure she’d seen him before.
‘Scusa, signorina. This way, please.’
He extended one arm, gesturing towards the kerb.
Carys turned to see a limousine with tinted windows drawn up beside her, its back door open.
Her pulse sped up to thunder in her ears. A sprawl of long masculine limbs filled her vision of the interior and her heart rate spiked. The last thing she wanted was to share such an intimate space with Alessandro Mattani.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ she muttered, automatically stepping back from the road.
The large Italian moved closer, shepherding her towards the vehicle. Resolutely she planted her feet on the pavement, refusing to budge.
She looked around, hoping to find the street filled with people, but the few she saw were racing for cover as big fat drops of rain spattered the pavement. There was no one to interfere if Alessandro’s goon tried to manhandle her into the car.
‘Why don’t you get in before you both get soaked?’ asked a cool voice from the back of the limo.
Outraged dignity came to her rescue. ‘And if I’d prefer to get drenched than share a car with you?’

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