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outwards. She couldn’t say anything though, too stunned, too shocked....

      Gio continued in a flat voice. ‘The days were meaningless and morphed into one another, interspersed with whatever my next desperate flirtation with death would be. I lost and won back my entire fortune in the space of twenty-four hours many times over. One night in a casino I was so drunk I could barely see straight, but I was about to use Misfit as collateral in a bet with a renowned and very ruthless gambler. He’d been waiting for his moment to get my horse.

      ‘And right then, I truly didn’t care about Misfit, I didn’t care about anything. I’d slept with a woman the night before and couldn’t have even told you her name. She was just one of many.’

      Valentina was silent. In shock. Not disgusted. Everything about him spoke of his own self-recrimination. She found herself inexplicably understanding his need to lose himself in something, anything.

      Gio’s mouth tightened, even as one corner turned up imperceptibly. ‘It was in that moment, as I was about to let everything I’d ever cared about go, that I heard Mario’s voice as clearly as if he were standing here now, in this room. He just said, Enough. And somehow...I got up and walked away.’

      He looked directly at her. ‘So no, those two years were not fun. I was living the empty life of an even emptier hedonist. I was half alive but not as dead as I wanted to be.’

      Gio’s words sank in and choked Valentina’s vocal chords. She believed his wish to die; she’d seen it on his face that day at the graveside and she’d welcomed it at the time because she had wanted to hurt him as she hurt. Yet only now she was realising how etched into her memory it had always been.

      Helpless tears pricked her eyes at the thought of Mario’s presence coming to Gio like that. She believed that too, because she’d felt him around her at certain times. It’s exactly what he would have said to Gio.

      Overcome and floundering badly at Gio’s emotionally stark confession that gave her no room to attack him, Valentina put her hands to her face to hide her blurring vision as if that could hide the emotion that was rising like a dam breaking deep inside her. She faintly heard a sound and felt Gio’s presence come closer and suddenly Valentina could do nothing but obey a deep need and instinctively she reached for Gio, wrapping her arms blindly around his waist. Within seconds she was sobbing into his chest.

      For a long moment he did nothing and Valentina knew she was clinging to him like a limpet but she couldn’t stop it. And then slowly, his arms came around her and he was holding her so tight she thought her bones might crush. She cried for a long time, until little hiccups were coming out of her mouth. She’d cried for Mario so many times she’d lost count, but this was infinitely different. There was something cathartic about this.

      When the hiccups had stopped and Valentina’s breaths evened out again, she felt wrung out but also very aware of being held so tightly in Gio’s arms. Her breasts were crushed to his belly and her nipples were tight and hard against the lace of her bra. Sensitised and tingling.

      The material of Gio’s shirt was damp under her wet cheek and she could feel the delineation of hard muscle, the rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat was slightly fast under her cheek, his scent musky and earthy. And down lower, where her hips were all but welded to his hard thighs, Valentina could feel his arousal pressing into her soft belly.

      This realisation didn’t shame her or disgust her. It excited her, and thrilled her. She didn’t want to move, or breathe. Didn’t want to break the spell that seemed to hover over them. It was as if the intense flood of emotion had washed something acrid away.

      Finally, reluctantly, Valentina pulled back within Gio’s arms. She couldn’t stay welded to him forever.

      His hold slackened fractionally and she looked up. His face was stark, intent. She could still feel him, rigid against her, and she wanted to move her hips. Her sex tingled in response and her heart thumped because she knew she wanted this man. No other man had ever managed to touch or arouse this very secret part of her.

      Gio lifted his arms and brought his hands to Valentina’s face, cupping her jaw, his thumbs wiping away the moisture from her cheeks. She knew she must look a sight, and Gio’s shirt had to be sodden from her tears and runny nose. But she didn’t care. A fierce burgeoning desire was rising within her, something which had been there before but had been put on ice for seven years.

      For a long time it had been illicit and forbidden, guilty. But from the moment she’d seen him again it had flamed to life. Yet the contradiction had duelled within her: how could she hate him and want him at the same time? But now those questions faded in her head. Hate felt like a much more indefinable thing and the desire was there, stronger than hate, rushing through her blood and making her feel alive.

      She lifted a hand and touched Gio’s hard jaw. He clenched it against her hand. Desire thickened the air around them, unmistakable. As if questioning it, Gio looked down at her, a small frown between his eyes. ‘Valentina?’

      It was the same look he’d given her the other night when she’d exposed herself and she understood it now. He’d been asking the question then, unsure of what she’d been telling him with her body language. The knowledge was heady. He wanted her.

      One of Valentina’s fingers touched Gio’s bottom lip, tracing its full sensuous outline. Words were rising up within her, she couldn’t keep them back. ‘Gio...kiss me.’ She’d wanted this, ached for this, for so long.

      It was only after an interminable moment of nothing happening that she looked up into Gio’s eyes and saw something like torture in their dark green depths. He shook his head. ‘This is not a good idea. You don’t want this, not really.’

      Gio heard himself say the words and felt his erection straining against his jeans, against her soft curves. He’d never felt harder in his life and it had nothing to do with being celibate for five years. He wanted to kiss and plunder this woman before she changed her mind but he knew he couldn’t. She hated him already; she would despise him for ever for this.

      Valentina’s gaze narrowed on his. A light was dawning in her eyes. He braced himself for the moment when she would pull herself free and demand to know what the hell he was doing.

      And then she said, ‘Damn you, Gio Corretti, kiss me.’

      * * *

      Had she really said those words? Valentina looked up at Gio, the question screaming in her head, Why won’t he just kiss me? She could feel his erection, even harder now, and imagined it straining against his jeans, against her. She felt damp heat moisten between her legs. Desperation wasn’t far away and suddenly it hit her: she was a warm female body who had all but thrown herself at him. Few men wouldn’t respond to that.

      Horrified to think that she’d so badly misread the situation, very belatedly she tried to move, to get free of Gio’s embrace, but suddenly his hands tightened on her jaw, fingers reaching around to her neck.

      Gio had had a moment of doubt when she’d uttered those words. Damn you, Gio Corretti, kiss me. He thought he’d been hallucinating. But then she hadn’t moved away; she’d looked up at him with a distinctive light of determination in her eyes. And more than that, he’d seen the stark need in those amber depths. Unmistakable. The same need he felt right now.

      But then he’d seen the flicker of doubt and uncertainty cross her face. Clearly she thought he didn’t want her when such a thought was laughable. Couldn’t she feel his need straining against her? Gio knew a stronger man would take the opportunity to push her back. A more moral man would tell her to go and not take advantage of this heightened moment. But he was not that man. He’d been damned a long time ago and he wanted Valentina.

      All he could think of now was of the lovers she must have already had and jealousy burnt up his spine. A woman as beautiful as her, the kind of woman who had just demanded he kiss her—she wasn’t innocent. And he couldn’t bear to think of her with anyone else. He wanted her to want only him. Think of only him.

      And she did want him. A fierce exultant force rushed

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