out early in the morning and caught the first train to London.
‘What does Carl say about it?’ Alessandro almost snarled. ‘Does he know the bride he’s buying is so unwilling? Can’t you bargain a better deal with him?’
‘He came to see me last night.’ Her skin crawled at the thought of Carl and what he’d said to her. ‘I’d hoped he meant for us to be married in name only, but…’
‘He wants you to have his babies?’ Alessandro’s whole demeanour seemed to sharpen.
It wasn’t funny, it was foul, and it made her escape all the more imperative. ‘He said he’ll take what he wants.’
And apparently he did want her…like that.
Alessandro swiftly strode further away from her. ‘But you don’t want him?’
‘Of course I don’t!’ The thought repulsed her.
Alessandro stood on the other side of his desk, leaning on it. There was a moment as he studied her. She saw him take a careful breath.
‘What if you were to marry me?’ His expression turned speculative. ‘You wouldn’t want to—?’
‘No!’ she interrupted vehemently.
‘No?’ He smiled at the interruption, and that crooked curve to his mouth was sinful. ‘What if I wanted to?’
It was horrendous how attractive his smile was—and that lightness to his eyes…
‘Really? Does your ego need to get any bigger?’ She glared at him.
He’d already said no to her. She already knew he wasn’t interested. He was just teasing her now—his amusement was audible.
‘We both know you have millions of other options,’ she said, completely flustered. ‘I wouldn’t get in your way.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked dryly, before a soft laugh escaped him. ‘You as my wife would be willing to just stand by and watch me with other women?’
She flushed, her brain sending her that one image she’d successfully blocked for years—until today. Because she had watched him with another woman once.
She’d come across them accidentally. She’d been walking through the orchards, alone as always, when she’d spotted them lying in a grassy patch beneath a heavily flowering apricot tree. He had been shirtless and his jeans had been undone, slipping down his thighs. The muscles of his broad, bronzed back had moved powerfully as he’d bent over the pretty student who’d been arched beneath him.
Her sighing whispers had been too soft for Katie to decipher from that distance. But she’d heard the wickedness in the tone of his low, murmured reply and the breathless, rapid response of the woman he was bestowing carnal pleasure upon. He’d literally been devouring her.
Katie had frozen—not even hiding—fascinated and appalled at the sight of such complete intimacy—at his raw masculinity. She’d been an extremely sheltered young teen, still figuring things out and not really understanding what she was seeing.
To be honest, she still didn’t understand it. She’d never met a man who’d made her want to act so wantonly despite the threat of exposure. To be that hedonistic, that caught up in a moment that she wouldn’t care who was around to watch…
After only seconds she’d fled, with the sounds of that woman’s delight echoing in her ears.
She’d told herself it wasn’t her fault. If he was going to pleasure his girlfriend in the orchard—where anyone could have seen them—well, that was his problem. But she’d flushed almost purple that night, when he’d finally graced them with his presence at dinner that evening, almost half an hour late.
‘Got held up,’ he’d offered—not an apology, just a careless fact.
She’d seen him again in the village a few days later—with a different girl hungrily kissing him in an alleyway. His apparent infidelity to that first girl had shocked her. There’d been another girl only a couple of days later.
It had taken the young and naive Katie a while to realise he wasn’t actually in a relationship with any of them. No commitment, no mess—only fun. Alessandro had been incredibly popular and he hadn’t been afraid to make the most of it.
And it seemed every woman who’d crossed his path since was as eager to slide her legs apart and let him do whatever he liked between them… He hadn’t slowed down any in the decade since that last summer he’d come to the estate.
Katie’s quick Internet search on the train this morning had thrown up a billion pictures of him with a billion different women. All beautiful. All as enthusiastic as anything, judging by the look in their eyes. Alessandro Zetticci was an insatiable, arrogant playboy. Which actually made him perfect.
But he wasn’t having her. She wasn’t interested in any of that.
Only now he’d rounded his desk again. He gripped the armrests of her chair, bending so that his nose was only inches from her own. Dawning brilliance lit his eyes.
‘Would you watch, Katie?’ he asked.
Did he somehow know about that awful, embarrassing secret of her past?
‘You’re trying to intimidate me,’ she squeaked. ‘It’s not going to work. I’m not afraid of you.’
He laughed. ‘Perhaps you should be. But perhaps I’m not trying to intimidate you. Perhaps I’m testing you.’
‘For what?’
He lifted a hand, lightly exploring her jawline with the lightest touch. ‘To see if I can seduce you.’
His touch ought to have been easily escapable, but she couldn’t seem to move.
Desperately she quelled the flare of heat deep and low in her belly and deliberately rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m immune. That’s why we’d be perfect together.’
‘I agree,’ he answered urbanely, but his eyes danced with devilish laughter. ‘Perfect together. In bed.’
‘I’m not going to sleep with you.’
‘So determined…’ His lips curled. ‘Afraid you might catch something?’
It was a low, teasing drawl, but there was a sharp warning underlying his tone that made her wary. She’d been offensively rude in her outright rejection of any kind of intimacy with him. But as if it was even a consideration! He was the one being rude now.
You did just ask him to marry you.
And she had implied that he was a complete man whore.
‘No.’ She flushed uncomfortably, because he kept switching from serious to teasing. ‘I’m just—’
‘Scared you might like it?’ he interpolated with a low chuckle.
Yes, this was the Alessandro Zetticci she’d read about—the irrepressible tease who worked hard but played harder.
‘You really can’t help yourself, can you?’ She glared at him in exasperation. ‘You think you can seduce every woman you meet!’
‘Most don’t need to be seduced.’ He shrugged, then muttered with outrageous insouciance, ‘Most are willing to let me do whatever I want before I even know their name.’
He was so close his words whispered over her lips…so close he seemed to see all her secrets. She closed her eyes—only to regret it instantly. Because now she was even more attuned to his nearness. His heat. His strength. His will. But she knew his words were designed to shock her, to repulse her. Because beneath the seductive slide of his whisper she still heard that steely anger.
She opened her eyes and glared at him. ‘I’m not most women. And I’m not challenging you.