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she asked.

      ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’

      ‘White wine,’ she said.

      ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to combine alcohol with those pills?’ he asked.

      She gave him a surly look. ‘I’m not a child.’

      ‘No, but you’re under my protection,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you getting ill, or losing consciousness or something.’

      She started chewing her nails as the pilot pulled back. Angelo took her hand away from her mouth and covered it with his. ‘You’ll be fine, cara,’ he said. ‘You were in far more danger driving to the airport than you ever will be in the air.’

      She shifted restively, her eyes darting about like a spooked thoroughbred’s. ‘I want to get off,’ she said. ‘Please—can you tell the pilot to stop? I want to get off.’

      Angelo put his arm around her and brought her close against him. ‘Shh, mia piccola,’ he soothed. ‘Concentrate on your breathing. In and out. In and out. That’s right. Nice and slow.’

      She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head to his chest. He stroked the silk of her hair, talking to her in the same calm voice. It took a lot longer than he expected but finally she relaxed against him. She slept for most of the journey and only woke up just as they were coming to land in Rome.

      ‘There,’ he said. ‘You did it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

      She nodded vaguely and brushed the hair back off her face. ‘Have I got time to use the bathroom?’

      ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

      Her cheeks pooled with colour. ‘No, thank you.’

      He gave her a mocking smile. ‘Maybe next time, si?’

      The press had obviously been given a tip-off somewhere between their arrival at the airport and Angelo’s family villa in Rome. Natalie watched in dismay as photographers surged towards Angelo’s chauffeur-driven car.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he helped her out of the car. ‘I’ll handle their questions.’

      Within a few moments Angelo had managed to satisfy the press’s interest and sent them on their way.

      An older man opened the front door of the villa and greeted Angelo. ‘Your parents are in the salon, Signor Bellandini.’

      ‘Grazie, Pasquale,’ he said. ‘Natalie, this is Pasquale. He has been working for my family for many years.’

      ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Natalie said.

      ‘Welcome,’ Pasquale said. ‘It is very nice to see Signor Bellandini happy at last.’

      ‘Come,’ Angelo said, guiding her with a hand resting in the curve of her back. ‘My parents will be keen to meet you.’

      If they were so keen, why hadn’t they been at the door to greet her instead of the elderly servant? Natalie thought bitterly to herself. But clearly there was a different protocol in the upper classes of Italian society. And Sandro and Francesca Bellandini were nothing if not from the very top shelf of the upper class.

      Natalie could see where Angelo got his height and looks from as soon as she set eyes on his father. While an inch or two shorter than his son, Sandro had the same dark brown eyes and lean, rangy build. His hair was still thick and curly but it was liberally streaked with grey, giving him a distinguished air that was as compelling as it was intimidating.

      Francesca, on the other hand, was petite, and her demeanour outwardly demure, but her keen hazel eyes missed nothing. Natalie felt them move over her in one quick assessing glance, noting her hair and make-up, the style and make of her clothes, the texture of her skin and the state of her figure.

      ‘This is Natalie, my fiancée,’ Angelo said. ‘Natalie—my parents, Sandro and Francesca.’

      ‘Welcome to the family.’ Francesca was the first to speak. ‘Angelo has told us so much about you. I am sorry we didn’t meet you five years ago. We would’ve told him he was a fool for letting you go—si, Sandro?’

      ‘Si,’ Sandro said, taking her hand once his wife had relinquished it. ‘You are very welcome indeed.’

      Angelo’s arm came back around her waist. ‘I’ll see that Natalie is settled in upstairs before we join you for a celebratory drink.’

      ‘Maria has made up the Venetian room for you both,’ Francesca said. ‘I didn’t see the point in separating you. You’ve been apart too long, no?’

      Natalie glanced at Angelo, but he was smiling at his mother. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Mamma,’ he said.

      Natalie had to wait until they were upstairs and alone before she could vent her spleen. ‘I bet you did that deliberately,’ she said.

      ‘Did what?’

      ‘Don’t play the guileless innocent with me,’ she flashed back. ‘You knew your mother would put us in the same room, didn’t you?’

      ‘On the contrary. I thought she would go old-fashioned on me and put us at opposite ends of the villa,’ he said. ‘I told you she’s incredibly insightful. She must have sensed how hot you are for me.’

      Natalie glared at him. ‘I’m not sharing that bed with you.’

      ‘Fine,’ he said unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I’ll let you have the floor.’

      She frowned at him. ‘What are you doing?’

      He pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. ‘I’m getting changed.’

      Her eyes went the flat plane of his abdomen. He looked amazing—so masculine, so taut, so magnificently fit and tanned and virile. She swung away and went to look out of the windows overlooking the gardens.

      ‘Why did you let your parents think it was you who ended our affair five years ago?’ she asked.

      ‘I didn’t want you to get off to a bad start with them,’ he said. ‘I’m their only child. Parents can be funny about things like that.’

      Natalie turned around. He was only wearing black underwear now. The fabric clung to him lovingly. Her insides clenched with greedy fistfuls of desire. She had kissed and tasted every inch of his body. She had taken him in her mouth, ruthlessly tasting him until he had collapsed with release. She had felt him move deep within her. She had felt his essence spill inside her. She had been as brazen as she could be with him and yet still he had always been a step ahead of her. He had pushed her to the limit time and time again. Her flesh shivered in memory of his touch. Her spine tingled and her belly fluttered. She drew in a breath as she saw his gaze run over her. Was he too thinking of the red-hot passion they had shared?

      ‘I don’t expect you to take the blame,’ she said. ‘I’m not ashamed of breaking off our relationship. I was too young to get married.’

      ‘That won’t cut it with my mother, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘She was barely sixteen when she fell in love with my father. She has never looked at another man since.’

      ‘Is your father faithful to her?’

      He frowned. ‘What makes you ask that?’

      Natalie lifted a shoulder up and down. ‘They’ve been together a long time. It’s not uncommon for a man to stray.’

      ‘My father takes his marriage vows seriously,’ he said. ‘He is exactly like my grandfather in that.’

      ‘And what about you, Angelo?’ she asked. ‘Will you follow in their honourable footsteps, or will you have your little bits on the side if I don’t come up trumps?’

      He came over to where she was standing. Stopped just in front

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