LITMIR.BIZ

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It was only a matter of time.

      ‘I will still travel with you. I don’t like the thought of you being away for a week without me.’

      ‘It’s only five days, not a week,’ she corrected. ‘I’ve been travelling with my job since I was eighteen. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

      ‘You weren’t my wife then. Is there something wrong with me wanting to spend time with you?’

      Yes, she wanted to scream. There was everything wrong with it. Every minute they spent together made her heart hurt even more that their marriage could never be real, that the love she felt for him could never be reciprocated…

       Love?

      Where had that thought sprung from?

       Amore?

      Frantically she fought with herself to deny it, to refute the obvious.

      Dear God, had she really fallen in love with her husband?

      No. She couldn’t be that foolish. She wouldn’t be.

      In a flash, she remembered the first time she’d seen him, sitting with the rest of the Brat Pack in her brother’s den, drinking beer and watching football.

      Little Alessandra had taken one look at the blond Adonis and immediately pictured him on a white horse coming to rescue her from the tower where the evil witch held her.

      A young girl’s crush, that was all it had been. She’d had plenty of them: pop stars, film stars—her bedroom walls had been littered with posters of her favourites. Christian had seemed as remote to her young self as they had been.

      Whenever she’d studied the tabloids with stories and pictures of him, and whoever was the latest woman hanging off his arm, she’d felt a funny tugging deep in the pit of her belly. She’d never understood the feeling or what it meant. But now she did understand it.

      Her heart had belonged to Christian from that first look.

      She’d never imagined any of the pop stars or film stars rescuing her on a white steed. Only Christian.

      He hadn’t rescued her. He hadn’t saved her. All he’d done was unlock her heart.

      She’d always wondered how his women could swallow his lies, had assumed he must have lied to them to get so many of them into his bed.

      He didn’t lie. He didn’t need to. Women wanted him regardless. She wanted him regardless.

      She always had.

      ‘Alessandra?’

      She darted her eyes to him.

      ‘Is something the matter? You’ve gone very pale.’

      She shook her head with vigour, part in denial and part to clear the burn scratching the back of her retinas. ‘Will Kerstin come to Tokyo with us?’

      ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’

      ‘Have you slept with her yet?’ The question escaped before she could contain it.

      ‘Ochi! What kind of question is that?’

      ‘An obvious one.’

      ‘No, I have not slept with Kerstin, and I am insulted you would think I have.’

      ‘Don’t be insulted. It’s only a matter of time.’

      A dangerous silence followed.

      When she looked at him, Christian’s eyes had darkened and fixed on her, a pulse throbbing at the junction where his earlobe met his jaw.

      Not taking his eyes from her face, he put his knife and fork together on his half-eaten meal and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, which he then screwed into a ball and released onto his plate.

      ‘Get your things together,’ he said, rising to his feet and throwing some euros onto the table. ‘We’re leaving. I’ll wait outside for you.’

      She watched him retreat, her heart hammering so hard she could feel the beats in her mouth.

      Even her legs were shaking, her whole body one mass vibration of cold fear and misery.

      Their waiter appeared with her jacket. ‘Is something wrong with your meal?’ he asked anxiously.

      ‘No, it’s delicious. My husband’s remembered an appointment, that’s all.’

      As promised, Christian stood outside on the pavement with his arms folded.

      His car pulled up in front of them. Christian didn’t wait for the driver to get out, opening the back door himself and indicating for Alessandra to get in.

      She waited until the car was in motion before attempting to apologise. ‘I’m sorry if I…’

      ‘I am not prepared to have this discussion in the back of a car,’ he said grimly.

      ‘But…’

      ‘Ochi!’ he said with such finality she clamped her lips together lest she say anything else.

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      ONCE INSIDE THE APARTMENT, Alessandra hurried to hang up her jacket and remove her boots. ‘I’m going to make myself a camomile tea. Do you want anything?’

      ‘No.’ Christian’s answer was curt. She could feel his anger rippling beneath the surface, just as it had on the drive back from the restaurant when he’d sat beside her with arms folded so tightly she could see the muscles bunched beneath his shirt.

      Now his hands were rammed firmly into his pockets.

      She headed straight for the kitchen area and with shaking hands filled the kettle. Camomile tea, while not the most palatable of hot drinks, was famed for its calming abilities. Maybe it would help soothe the tumult of emotions shredding her.

      Dio l’aiuti, she loved him.

      ‘I’m struggling to understand some things,’ Christian said in a tone calm and reasonable. She could hear the undercurrent of wrath beneath it, though. ‘I took Kerstin on at your behest.’

      Keeping her back to him, she took a teabag from the container. ‘You wanted her anyway.’ How could he not? Kerstin was perfect. She was everything that she, Alessandra, was not. For a start, Kerstin would never be so careless about contraception. If Christian was to have a family with the German woman it would be because they both chose it and not out of a sense of duty.

      ‘Not in the way you’re implying.’

      ‘You should.’

      ‘What should I want? To sleep with her?’

      Did he really expect her to believe his incredulity? This from the man who hadn’t touched her, his wife, since the night they’d exchanged their vows. He hadn’t laid a single finger on her.

      ‘Why not? She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman.’

      ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with her.’

      ‘Of course you do. She’s exactly your type, all long legs and blonde hair.’ Deliberately, she tossed her hair back and flashed a smile. Hold it together, Alessandra, please; just a few more minutes, keep it together, then this conversation will be over and you can breathe again. Her fingers dug into the palm of her hands so tightly she could feel her nails pierce the skin. ‘Honestly, Christian, I think you’re mad for not wanting to sleep with her. She’s perfect for you.’

      ‘I’m married to you. I chose you.’

      His words cut through her, slicing through her

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