Married For The Italian's Heir. Rachael ThomasЧитать онлайн книгу.
office, aware now that his secretary’s unusual insistence on speaking to him must have been to warn him that he had someone waiting for him.
What he didn’t expect to see was the flame-haired siren who’d haunted him since that night two months ago, when she’d slipped from his bed in the early hours, long before he’d woken. Not something he was accustomed to.
‘I hope you don’t mind that I waited in here for you...’ The redhead’s soft voice wavered with uncertainty and, dressed in jeans and a navy knitted poncho, she certainly didn’t resemble the glamorous self-assured beauty he’d bedded that night. But then she hadn’t been all she’d pretended to be that night, had she? She hadn’t been an experienced seductress. She’d been a virgin. A fact she’d kept from him until it had been too late.
He pulled off his sunglasses and looked at her. How had she found him? How did she know who he was? Those few hours in his hotel room had been so passionate, so filled with lustful need that they hadn’t even exchanged names, let alone phone numbers.
Icy-cold fingers of dread clutched at him. Was she here to use that story in Celebrity Spy! for some kind of blackmail? Did she want to sell a kiss-and-tell story? Was that why she’d come to Rome unannounced? To demand money from him for her silence?
‘As a matter of fact I do.’ The angry bitterness in his voice barely concealed his disappointment at this realisation. He’d placed her on some kind of pedestal since that night, his thoughts constantly returning to her like a lovesick teenager. She’d got to him in a way no other woman had come close to doing. Even now his blood heated at the knowledge that she was so close, just as it had when he’d smelt the lingering trace of what he now knew to be her perfume in the elevator moments ago.
She stood up and he let his gaze travel quickly down her jean-clad legs, remembering how they’d felt as she’d wrapped them around him. Savagely he dragged his mind back to the present. Dwelling on one night of sex was not in his nature.
‘What do you want?’ He fired the question at her.
‘I just have one thing I need to say and then I will go.’
Her voice still held uncertainty and her face looked pale. Was that just because she wore hardly any make-up?
She looked totally different from the seductress who’d tempted him from the party that night, and she stood before him now looking every bit the innocent and inexperienced virgin she had been when he’d taken her to his hotel room. But she wasn’t a virgin any longer. He had been her first lover and he wanted to know why she had kept that from him. The question wouldn’t come. As she looked at him he sensed something much bigger, much more threatening.
‘How much?’ he demanded, narrowing his eyes as he tried to gauge her reaction, angry that he’d put himself in this position, that he hadn’t exercised his usual caution where women were concerned.
Her delicate brows flew together. ‘How much what?’
He stepped closer and the scent of her perfume teased at his memory again. He closed his mind to the images which threatened to engulf him. The woman who stood before him now was very different from the woman who’d teased him until he’d all but lost his mind as well as his control.
He sighed and walked towards his desk, tossing his sunglasses down before leaning on its solid wood, fixing her with a hard glare. ‘How much do you want? For your silence?’
‘I’m not about to tell the world,’ she snapped back at him, her voice full of injustice.
He only just managed to stifle a smile. The fiery redhead had briefly surfaced from behind the façade of unassuming inexperience she had adopted.
‘Then why are you here, cara? And, more to the point, how did you find me?’ Already he was bored with this conversation. His head thumped cruelly and he wanted nothing more than to sit down in silence. He had a deal to salvage and he didn’t need Little Miss Shy adding to the mix of hurdles he had to power over.
‘There was an article...’ she said softly as he walked back towards the windows.
He turned to face her and noticed how she followed his every move, turning herself slightly to maintain eye contact with him. It made him suspicious.
‘I’m more than aware that there was an article,’ he growled back at her, the tension in his head reaching almost breaking point. This tedious conversation should have ended when she’d named her price—right before he threw her out. So why hadn’t she? More to the point, why hadn’t he thrown her out?
‘That is how I got your name.’ He raised his brows as she blushed before continuing. ‘We didn’t exactly have time to exchange details.’
Exchanging details had been the last thing on his mind. All he’d wanted was her naked and beneath him. He’d been rash and uncontrolled. Hell, he’d even taken her word that she was on the pill. Something he’d never succumbed to, no matter how deliciously tempting the woman.
‘True, but we had much more fun that way, did we not, cara?’ He smiled at her, allowing himself to remember her eagerness, her insistence which had so turned him on, testing his control beyond its usual limits.
‘Piper.’ Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, the green depths of them sparking wildly.
‘Piper?’ he repeated, his mind still not able to function as it should. Hell, he hadn’t even had an espresso yet to banish the remnants of whisky, even though the welcome aroma now filled the office.
‘My name is Piper. Piper Riley.’
He nodded. ‘And now that we are both in possession of each other’s names, perhaps you’d tell me exactly why you are here.’ Once again he moved across his office and glanced at the woman who’d been just the redhead in his mind until today. As before, she moved to face him. Now she had a name would she continue to linger in his mind so temptingly? He hoped not.
‘I needed to see you because...’ She faltered and he folded his arms across his chest, becoming increasingly irritated by the conversation.
‘Dio mio. Just say what you have to say and leave. I don’t have time for games.’
‘Very well.’ She stood taller, lifted her chin a fraction and looked directly at him. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Dante had thought the previous twenty-four hours had been filled with nothing but trouble, swallowing up his usual cavalier attitude. He had never expected—or wanted—those words to be said to him. He couldn’t be a father—not when he’d already proved his inability to look after anyone.
‘How?’
The word shot from him before he had time to think, time to compose himself, but she stood resolutely before him. Even the heated redness which rushed over her pale face for a second time didn’t alter the fact that she had suddenly become bolder and more confident—much more like the woman he’d made love to that night.
* * *
Piper held her ground, remaining rigidly still, focusing her full attention on the man whose baby she was carrying. A man whose reputation had been plastered all over the tabloids in recent weeks, one of the world’s most eligible and debauched bachelors. He was far from ideal father material, but she couldn’t deny him the knowledge that he was going to be a father—much less deny her child the right to a father.
She watched him as he prowled around his office, oblivious to the fact that the coffee he evidently needed was ready. He looked as immaculately stylish as he had the night of the party. The only difference was the hint of stubbly shadow at his jaw and the lines of tension on his face, which stirred her sympathy. But she couldn’t let sentiment get in the way. Not now she knew exactly who she was dealing with.
‘I think we both know how.’
She couldn’t believe the seductive purr which wrapped around those words as she looked at him, wondering just what kind of effect this man still had on her. Her heart raced wildly and her stomach