The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge. Trish Morey

she thought; there was still hope in denial. And in backing away. Even if there were only cold, hard filing cabinets at her back to welcome her. They were solid and real, and in a world where everything she knew had gone pear-shaped she needed their straight, metal lines and reassuring rigidity. ‘Nothing happened last night.’

      He followed her, placing his hands on the cabinets either side of her. ‘Why did you disappear? I missed you this morning.’

      She was shaking her head. ‘No.’

      He lifted one hand to touch the pads of two fingers to her chin, tracing the line of her jaw to her ear, before letting his fingers trail down her neck. ‘We had so much more to explore together.’