Riccardo's Secret Child (12 page)

She bent over and began putting on her top, all too aware of her vulnerability as she struggled into it, her breasts dancing and almost hurting as his eyes raked over them.

Then she gathered the rest of her garments, shamelessly thrown off in the heat of passion.

Riccardo watched and waited. For the first time in his life, he didn't know where this situation was leading. He knew where he wanted it to go. He also knew that to push his point would meet with a blank wall.

‘We really should go, Riccardo,' Julia said.

‘You're doing it again. Why don't you say what's on your mind instead of giving me your British reticence? We've just made love and—'

‘It means nothing.' It hurt to say it, but she had to. She had given herself to a charmer, to someone whose intentions were questionable at the best and downright cruel at the worst. She had ignored her better instincts and had melted at his touch and she was not about to put herself in line for his eventual gloating.

‘No, it means we gave in to a moment of curiosity…'

‘A moment of curiosity?' Riccardo's voice was grimly cold and Julia flinched, but reminded herself of what she meant to him. She was the woman who had sided with the enemy and deprived him of his child, she was the mousy, brown-haired sparrow to whom, as he had casually informed her at their first meeting, he could never be attracted. Because he went for blondes. Blondes like
Caroline, like Helen, like heaven only knew how many other woman discarded somewhere along the way.

Blondes because maybe, for him, the only woman he had really ever loved had been blonde. Blonde, childlike Caroline, who had finally broken free of his invasive personality.

Julia felt a stab of jealousy and pain rip through her, leaving in its wake the shattering realisation that what she wanted from him was not just sex, but much more. Because what she felt for him was not simply physical attraction, but the dawning of an emotion that ran far deeper.

She steeled herself. ‘Sure. You're a man of the world.' She shrugged and continued to stare blindly out of the window, not trusting herself to look in his direction. She had already discovered, to her cost, what he could do to her with just a glance. ‘You know how powerful curiosity can be, and,' she continued lightly, ‘you were curious about me. Angry as well, but curious too. Maybe because I am so different from the kind of women you're accustomed to dating.'

‘And you?' he asked softly, giving nothing away. ‘You seem to have explained my motives to yourself, so care to explain your motives to me? Or shall I follow your lead and just take a pot-shot?'

Julia would not succumb to arguing. He won every argument. He could twist her words into knots and leave her floundering.

‘Me?' she mused, eyes still averted. ‘I was curious too, believe it or not. You were right. All the men I've ever dated, not that there has been a long line of them, have been just the opposite of you. Perhaps I was just curious to discover what a man like you had to offer…'

‘A man like me…'

‘You know…tall, dark, handsome, powerful, the essence
of every teenage fantasy.' She sneaked a sideways glance at him from lowered lashes and shivered at the icy expression on his face.

But she had to do what she had to do. To protect herself. Or else she would find herself as putty in his hands, taken and then discarded, and she knew that she was just not sophisticated or world-weary enough to deal with the heartache that would inevitably follow. What ingrained expertise and control she possessed was reserved for her working side. Her emotional side, as she was fast learning, was full of holes.

‘I see.'

‘We're both adults, these things happen. I just think we should put it all down to experience.'

He could still feel the melting compliance of her body against his, could still taste the sweetness of her mouth on his own, and here she was, talking about
putting the whole thing down to experience
! Riccardo wanted to believe that fear and not reason was talking, fear at how he had made her feel, fear that she might find herself in the grip of a passion she could not control, but alongside that wish was a nasty seed of doubt. Julia Nash was not like the other women he had known. Of that she was absolutely right. He could not read her. He might guess at what went on in her head, but he could not be sure.

And he would certainly never run after a woman who spoke of curiosity and experience, even if his gut instinct was telling him to disbelieve what his ears heard and go only on what his eyes read.

His pride slammed into place and he turned on the engine, the tyres screeching as he manoeuvred his car out of its slot and headed towards the exit.

‘So we've both had an experience,' he said mockingly, ‘and now where does that leave us?'

Julia had not thought that far ahead. As always, he was one step in front of her. She remembered they were still playing a game, still hanging on to the pretence that they were dating, so that he could have easy, frequent access to Nicola, until the time was right for their relationship to assume its natural course.

Her mouth went dry with apprehension. It would mean seeing him, being in his company.

‘Perhaps we should tell Nicola the truth now,' she said quietly. ‘Tell her that you're her father, and that way we can forget about this farcical pretence about going out.'

Riccardo laughed sardonically. ‘Oh, I see. The time is right now because it suits you, is that it? Now that your adolescent fantasies have been satisfied, you're happy to break the news to my daughter, even if she might not be emotionally ready to accept such a revelation.'

He braked at a traffic light and she could see the harsh set of his face.

‘She knows you now. It's not as if she's seeing you for the first time,' Julia argued.

‘She lost her mother only months ago, and the only man she ever regarded as a father figure. Suddenly, you intend to tell her that no, we weren't going out, because I have appeared on the scene and she's to accept me. And you think she won't go scurrying into her shell? You think the trust she's building with me won't evaporate overnight?'

‘I'm doing you a favour!' Julia heard the plea in her voice and felt a rush of panic.

‘You mean you're doing
yourself
a favour!' He glanced across at her, his black eyes glittering. ‘Well, it won't work.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean that
I
am calling the shots here and
I
don't think
the time is right. Whether you like it or not, we're going to carry on playing the devoted couple.'

He sped off from the traffic lights, barely hesitating as he manoeuvred along the streets and around roundabouts.

‘And how long do you think that is going to take?'

‘How long is a piece of string?'

Julia stared, unseeing, through the window and tried to imagine the agony of being in his presence and having to laugh and chat as though he had not rocked her to the very foundations of her being. Ironic insofar as that had been his intention, she thought bitterly. If only he knew.

‘In fact,' he said slowly, ‘we can't be too far away from the Easter school holidays. When are they, exactly?'

Julia gave him the dates, wondering what he had in mind. She had no need to ask the question.

‘It might be an ideal opportunity for her to get to know a bit of Italy. She could meet some of her relatives over there. Naturally, I would expect you to come along as well, to ease the ground, so to speak.'

‘That's impossible.'

‘Nothing in life is impossible. Haven't you grasped that that is my motto and one I have always stuck by?'

‘And what if one of us finds another partner before then?' Julia threw at him. As far as she was concerned, it was a far-fetched notion but the only one she could think of that might put a spoke in the devil's wheel, but far from seeming disconcerted he simply gave a dry laugh.

‘You mean, what if I bump into one of those blondes to whom I apparently have no resistance?'

‘I mean, what if
I
meet someone?' Julia flung back at him, and a thick silence ensued, which she feverishly felt was laden with implied disbelief. God, he must have thought that he could snap his fingers and she would jump, because she was no stunner. And was it any wonder that
he had felt that way? After the impression her mother had inadvertently given him? The impression of a retiring girl, housebound because of her duties to her five-year-old niece, who rarely left the house? No wonder he had taken her to a nightclub. He probably thought that he would show her a little action and perk her life up. In more ways than one! She gritted her teeth in frustration.

‘Oh,' he said softly, ‘but how easy is it going to be to go running back to your predictable line of sensitive, domesticated males? You yourself admitted that they are not the object of any woman's fantasy…'

‘Why, you are so damned
conceited
…!' Julia spluttered. ‘And that's not what I said at all!'

Riccardo shrugged dismissively. ‘Besides, you are not at liberty to do anything with anyone at the moment. Your duty is at my side, holding my hand and putting on a very convincing performance for the sake of my child.'

She hadn't realised how much ground they had covered and how quickly until the car slowed down and she saw that they were pulling into the short drive that led to the house, which was in darkness. She looked at her watch and realised, with astonishment, that the hours had slipped by. It was now after one and, strangely enough, she was not in the least tired. In fact, she had never felt more wide awake.

‘Which, I believe, will be tomorrow? To take
both
of you to the zoo? Where you will laugh and give every semblance of being thrilled to be in my company.' He leant across to open her door and in the process his arm brushed her breasts, which tingled at the brief contact. She was certain that he had done that deliberately but Julia wasn't going to argue the point. She pushed open the door and scuttled out of the car, almost tripping in her haste to get to the front door.

‘You needn't see me in,' she muttered, rummaging in her bag for the key.

‘I wouldn't dream of driving off and leaving you on your doorstep. What kind of man would I be?'

‘The kind of man you've proven yourself to be,' Julia retorted.

‘You've already admitted that you used me,' he said coolly, ‘so perhaps, then, we're better suited than you think.'

‘I doubt it.'

A flicker of something shadowed his face, but his voice was neutral when he next spoke, asking her what time he could come and collect them the following day.

‘After lunch,' Julia told him, feeling hunted. ‘Around one-thirty. That will give us time to eat.'

‘In which case I shall join you for lunch. I'll see you at twelve.'

Julia could hardly concentrate the following morning. Everywhere she turned, she caught images of herself and Riccardo. She had had a very long bath the previous night, or rather early morning, when she had returned home, but nothing could wash away the musky scent on her, the scent of a satisfied woman. Her thoughts haunted her, teasing her with remembered pleasure and then admonishing her for her insanity. And the more insane her behaviour seemed, the more coolly calculating his own appeared.

She was a bag of nerves by the time he arrived promptly at twelve for lunch, but his behaviour was impeccable. There were no allusions, not even on the odd occasion when they found themselves in the same room without either Nicola or her mother around, to what had happened the night before.

Disconcertingly, his silence on the subject only served to reconfirm her impression that their lovemaking had been
a spontaneous but miscalculated error of judgement, at least on his part. He had given in to the temptation of appeasing his sexual curiosity about her and was now content to play his part without batting an eyelid.

The same could not have been said of Julia. She was agonisingly aware of him, and even when they touched in passing she could feel her body react, as though it had a life of its own, quite independent of the workings of her brain.

Her fiery little outburst about finding someone else, said in the heat of the moment to scupper his smugness that she would fall in with whatever he had in mind, for however long it took, had obviously been dismissed as ridiculous.

It was an unutterable relief when they wearily made their way back to the house, with Nicola chatting happily between them in the taxi.

‘You can relax now,' Riccardo said, following her into the house and closing the door behind him.

‘I wasn't tense,' Julia lied, with her back to him. ‘I suppose you must be getting on your way now.' She turned around and looked pointedly at the door.

Wasn't tense?
Riccardo thought that he could have had quite an argument with her about that, but it would have been an argument going in circles. For every one step forward with her, he took five back, and the amazing thing was that he was still determined to put another foot in front.

Why?

He was better equipped to understand his motives for revenge, dubious though they had been. Revenge was a violent, passionate emotion in tune with his soul. But he no longer wanted any kind of revenge and the truth was that he was no longer sure what he wanted.

Except he wanted Julia. And he was determined that he would have her again. This time, though, his approach
would not be one of physical persuasion, but something far more subtle. He shook his head to clear it of the buzzing hornet's nest that was driving him mad.

‘I'll have a cup of coffee before I go.'

‘Is that one of your orders?'

‘It's a request,' he told her, in a voice that matched hers. ‘Look, we've had a good day. Why don't we call a truce?'