LITMIR.BIZ

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guessing that both your parents do.’

      Alexa pushed her plate to one side. ‘There’s no point discussing this. What my parents think or don’t think... How long before we get married?’

      She was forcibly struck by the surreal situation she was now wading through—and by the fact that her contented life had been turned upside down in the space of a few days.

      So she hadn’t been leading the most thrilling of lives... But it had taken her ages to get used to being back in Italy after first boarding school and then university abroad, followed by a stint in London, where she had worked for a small law company before her mother’s illness had called her back home.

      She had spent the past year and a half easing herself into a life that felt foreign. Was it any wonder that excitement and thrills weren’t high on her agenda? Once she found her feet, she was sure that the slightly zoned out feeling she lived with much of the time would disappear.

      She hadn’t banked on excitement landing on her doorstep in the form of a forced marriage.

      ‘Max—two months. And, to return to your question about the plausibility of my settling down at the speed of light... We both need to agree that it’s a case of love getting the better of me.’ He shrugged elegantly and stood up, tossing his serviette onto the table and prowling through the room as he thought.

      Alexa followed him with her eyes. His movements were economical and graceful. He was wearing black jeans, a white linen shirt which was cuffed to the elbows and loafers, and he exuded elegance. He certainly hadn’t dressed for the occasion, but he still managed to look every inch the powerful tycoon that he was. He was obviously one of those people who could pull off elegance wearing anything... If he swapped clothes with a tramp he would still manage to look cool and sexy.

      ‘I broke up with my last girlfriend over three months ago—during which time I’ve been out of the public eye...’

      ‘You’re telling me that the press usually follow everything you do?’

      Theo paused, leaned against the window ledge, then looked at her and kept looking at her as the dishes were cleared away. He signalled in a barely discernible gesture that they should be left alone for a while, and the door was duly shut as the last dish was removed. The oak table was left with just the wine decanter and a bottle of champagne.

      ‘I’m high-profile,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t ask for it, but it seems that some reporters have little else to do but take pictures of the rich and famous. It’s just a fact of life, and I’ve become accustomed to dealing with it.’

      ‘I would absolutely hate that.’

      ‘It’s something to which you might find you have to become accustomed—’

      ‘On top of everything else,’ Alexa muttered.

      Her eyes flickered towards him and she found that she had to tear them away, because he was just so unfairly compelling to look at.

      Theo chose to ignore her interruption. He had anticipated someone plain, docile and quite possibly grateful to be rescued from the prospect of spinsterhood. A traditional Italian woman who would welcome the abundance of riches suddenly deposited in her lap—because he knew without a trace of vanity that he was a good catch.

      It would have been hard to locate someone less grateful than the girl now glowering at him, and he banked down a sudden flare of irritation.

      ‘At any rate,’ he pressed on, ‘no one will raise eyebrows about the timeline, and the fact that at least on paper this would appear to be the perfect match will certainly help things along. We both come from prominent Italian families... I have found the woman of my dreams, someone close to home, and have decided to steer my life in a different direction... Both families are overjoyed by the match...’

      ‘Even though our fathers haven’t been on speaking terms for years?’

      ‘All the more touching. Everyone likes a fairy-tale ending.’

      ‘You’re so cynical, aren’t you?’

      ‘Realistic and practical.’

      ‘And how are we supposed to have met? We don’t even live in the same country.’

      ‘I don’t think it will require great feats of the imagination to come up with something.’

      Was she going out of her way to get on his nerves? he wondered. Did she honestly think that his life hadn’t also undergone a seismic change? Less than two weeks ago he had been a free man—free to go where he pleased, to have whatever woman he wanted. No one was waiting in the wings, expecting him to put in an appearance. That freedom had disappeared in a puff of smoke, but was he whining and complaining? No. He was solution-orientated and, like it or not, plans had to be made so that this pretence could be seamlessly accepted as nothing short of the absolute truth.

      ‘Let’s have your thoughts on this,’ he said.

      An edge of irritation had crept into his voice and, hearing it, Alexa scowled, once again reduced to feeling petty.

      ‘I suppose we could have met here,’ she said, a little ungraciously.

      ‘I occasionally do come to Italy to see my father. . It’s a realistic enough scenario. You happened to be somewhere... Suddenly my life shifted on its axis... If a reporter asks you for details you can always tell him no comment and then gaze adoringly at me. Probably safer than getting tangled up in a lie.’

      He looked at her glum face, then down to her baggy, unappealing outfit. No doubt she had pointedly dressed down for a confrontation she didn’t want, but it was something that would have to be discussed whether she liked it or not. He suspected not, but treading delicately round the issue wasn’t going to do.

      ‘Is that how you normally dress?’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Jeans...baggy tops... And what are you wearing on your feet...?’

      Alexa looked at him indignantly and stuck her foot out. ‘Trainers.’

      ‘Running shoes? To my mind, they’re for running. Are you running anywhere? Have you just come from the gym?’

      ‘What are you getting at?’ Her voice had risen a notch. His levels of arrogance were in the process of escalating.

      ‘Credibility,’ Theo said succinctly. ‘We may make the ideal match, and when our engagement hits the news much will be made of our backgrounds, but even the least observant reporter might question the fact that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with someone who doesn’t appear to give a damn how she looks...’

      Alexa’s mouth dropped open. She contemplated throwing something at him.

      ‘That is the most insulting thing that has ever been said to me in my entire life!’

      ‘It’s not meant to be insulting,’ Theo informed her drily. ‘I’m looking at this situation from all angles and simply bringing one of those angles to your attention. The women I’ve dated in the past—’

      ‘There’s no need to go into that.’ Alexa was mortified, and outraged that he should be tactless enough to criticise her choice of clothing. ‘I know exactly what sort of women you’ve dated in the past.’

      ‘How so?’

      ‘I’ve seen the occasional picture in a trashy mag.’ She liked the way the words trashy mag rolled off her tongue.

      ‘You read “trashy mags”? You surprise me. I thought I might be getting a highbrow intellectual for a wife. I’m disappointed.’

      There was a thread of amusement in his voice which she decided to ignore, because it seemed to point to a side of his personality that wasn’t part of the package she had conjured up.

      ‘They’re the only things to read at the hairdresser,’ Alexa told him airily. ‘Great big stacks of

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