Mistress for a Month. Miranda Lee

tartly. ‘Trust me on that.’

      ‘But I do,’ he ground out. ‘Trust me on that.’

      Her green eyes frosted over further, if that was possible. ‘Very well. I’ll tell you. The reason I dislike you so much is because you represent everything I despise in the male sex. You’re selfish and self-centred and appallingly shallow. You say you want substance in your life but you continually choose shadows. You also make snap judgements about people without ever looking beneath the surface. When I think of how you nearly ruined Charles’s marriage…’

      Her top lip curled up in contempt and Rico cringed. OK, so he’d made a terrible mistake in accusing Dominique of being the same kind of heartless gold-digger Jasmine had been. But the evidence had seemed damning at the time.

      ‘All because you couldn’t see past your own pathetic marital experience,’ Renée continued caustically. ‘Like I said, selfish and shallow. Of course, most really good-looking men are tarred with the same brush. You imagine that you’re so irresistible, just because you were born with a great body and loads of sex appeal. You think I don’t know that your arrogant Italian nose is put out of joint because I don’t swoon every time you come into the room? Or that you’re seriously irritated by the fact I can play poker better than you can? I might have more respect for you, Rico Mandretti, if just once you behaved with some depth and sensitivity. But no, you just keep on keeping on in your usual superficial playboy fashion, acting like a spoiled brat when you don’t get your way!’

      By now her voice had risen slightly and Rico cast a desperate glance around, relieved to see that Neil had finished his hosing down and was nowhere in sight.

      ‘But most pathetic of all,’ Renée swept on, regardless, ‘is the way you go from one blonde bimbo to the next, then bemoan the fact you haven’t got what Charles has got. Grow up, Rico. Get a life, and a nice girl for a wife. Have that family you claim you want. Then maybe I might grow to like you. No, maybe not,’ she added scornfully. ‘Liking you is something I’ll never do. But at least I’d have some respect for you.’

      At last, her tirade was finished. And so was Rico.

      He had never been on the end of such a brutal character assassination in all his life. Not even Jasmine at her most venomous had managed to make him feel so utterly worthless.

      He could have lashed back, he supposed. Could have torn strips off Renée’s own less than perfect past. But somehow, he had a feeling that might back-fire on him as well. Though goodness knew how. No one would ever convince him she’d married that old geezer for love. Still, possibly money hadn’t been her motive. Maybe his believing her a gold-digger was one of those snap judgements she’d referred to.

      ‘I did warn you,’ she stated brusquely when he just stood there, silent and shattered. ‘Don’t make me feel guilty for speaking the truth. Don’t you dare! It’s not as though you give a damn what I think, anyway. Men like you don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves.’

      And with an angry toss of her hair she pushed past him and stalked off.

      Well at least she thinks I’m good-looking, Rico thought bitterly as he watched her go. Clearly, she’s repelled more by my characterless character than my great body or my arrogant Italian nose. That was something, wasn’t it?

      ‘Yeah, right, Rico,’ he muttered bleakly and, sliding his hands deeply back into his trouser pockets, he trudged back across the still blessedly deserted courtyard, murmured a desolate goodbye to Jed at the gate then headed wearily for his car, and home.