He hadn’t wanted to hit anyone since then. Until now.
How could anyone call Alessandra a slut?
‘Too many to name.’ She answered his question with a shrug.
‘How could they say such things? You were a child.’
‘I was seventeen. Old enough to know better.’
‘Do not tell me you blame yourself?’
‘Only in the respect that I swallowed Javier’s lies.’ Her eyes pierced right through him. ‘I should have known not to trust the word of a man.’
‘Not all men are liars.’
‘Aren’t they?’ She didn’t elaborate. She continued staring at him with the same piercing expression.
‘No!’ he said forcefully.
‘With the exception of my brother, all the men I’ve ever known have been liars. Trusting Javier cost me everything. My grandfather turned into my jailer, the few friends he’d permitted me to have turned their backs on me because their parents didn’t want me corrupting them and Rocco had the humiliation of reading untrue, lewd comments about his baby sister. I’m sorry, but I will never trust you, Christian. All I can do is try and have faith that your indiscretions will be discreet.’
‘I will never humiliate you or disrespect you.’ He rose from his seat, ignoring the throbbing pain across the front of his face, and crouched on his haunches before her. Placing a hand on her neck, he rubbed his thumb over the soft skin.
Theos, one touch of her softness, one inhalation of her scent and his body responded, his groin tightening as memories of burying himself inside her assailed him.
‘You are going to be my wife.’ He spoke the words slowly. ‘If you do not believe anything else, believe that that means something to me. I will take my vows seriously.’
‘I’m sure Javier said the same thing to his wife.’
Christian swore and inhaled deeply.
Alessandra leant forward, matching the intensity of his stare, close enough for his oaky, masculine scent to swirl around her.
His hand was still pressed against her neck, heating her skin. For a moment she lost her train of thought, suddenly pulled back to that night two months ago, his naked body covering hers…
She blinked herself back to the present, grabbing onto his hand and lacing her fingers into his. She squeezed. ‘When Javier’s wife saw those photos of her husband kissing a girl half his age, she must have thought her heart was breaking.’
Those dreadful, incriminating pictures.
Her brother and grandfather had taken a business trip together to New York for a long weekend. The Mondelli housekeeper had taken the day off. Alessandra and the man who was supposed to be giving her private tuition in maths over the long summer holiday had had the villa to themselves for the very first time. They could have done anything.
It had been her suggestion that they go out for lunch at a nearby hotel, famed for its discretion. Javier didn’t live locally. No one would know him.
She’d longed to do something as a normal couple, not have to keep her feelings hidden away, and this had been the perfect opportunity. She’d believed him when he’d said they had to keep their love a secret until she turned eighteen and finished her schooling.
How grown up she’d felt, walking hand in hand with her would-be lover. How naïve she’d been.
They’d dined in the fine hotel restaurant using her allowance to pay the bill, oblivious to the fact that half a dozen paparazzi had swarmed the lobby, awaiting the rumoured arrival of one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors.
While she’d been blithely oblivious, they’d recognised her in an instant. The photos they’d taken, published the next day across the whole of Italy, had been incriminating. Her and Javier holding hands, stealing kisses that looked a damn sight worse than the chaste kisses they’d actually been.
That was the last time she’d seen the coward. For a whole weekend, while her brother and grandfather had been in New York, she’d had to cope with a siege of paparazzi on her own. Those reporters had been there to witness Javier’s wife arrive at the villa and bang on the door until a guilt-stricken Alessandra had answered it, her fulsome apology ready on her tongue. She’d never had the chance to say the words. As soon as she’d opened the door, Javier’s wife had spat in her face, slapped her and called her a puttana—a whore. The press had caught every frame for posterity.
By the time her brother and grandfather had returned the damage had been done.
‘Why didn’t you ever put your side across?’ Christian asked. If he felt any pain in his fingers he didn’t show it, allowing her to continue squeezing tightly, as if he knew it to be an outward measure of the fury and pain recalling that awful time provoked.
‘I wasn’t allowed. Rocco and Nonno closed ranks.’ She attempted a laugh. ‘They were furious with me.’
‘Why? Your tutor took advantage of you. If they were furious with anyone, it should have been him.’
‘They were furious with him for taking advantage of me, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d been sneaking around with a man almost twice my age. They forbade me from speaking to the press, saying I’d caused enough shame on the family name.’ Even if she’d chosen to defy them, by the time she’d got over the shock that had rendered her virtually mute the press had moved on to its next victim. Alessandra Mondelli’s affair with a married man had been old news. No one had cared for her side.
Christian disentangled his fingers from her grip and muttered another curse as he got to his feet.
The place where he’d rested his hand against her neck suddenly felt cold.
She shivered and rose to her feet to stand before him. ‘If I leave with you today, my career will be ruined. No editor or fashion director will ever trust me again. It’s the only thing I’ve got to hold onto, the only thing that gives my life any meaning.’ How could she expect him to understand that? Her career was all her own. It had taken everything she had to get her name taken seriously and pull herself out from the cloud of scandal.
‘And what about our child? Or does he or she not come into it?’
‘Don’t twist it like that. When our baby is born everything is going to change—I know that, and I’m preparing myself for the change it will bring, but right now I’m healthy and capable of working.’
‘I’m not happy about this. You can’t take risks with your health.’
‘I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but ultimately the decision is mine, so please don’t patronise me about the health aspect—you were there when the doctor said I should live a normal life.’
He threw his hands in the air and shook his head, not bothering to hide his anger or frustration.
She continued speaking before he could open his mouth to argue any further. ‘I will hire a bodyguard for when I leave the apartment—I promise I will protect our baby.’
‘I will hire a bodyguard for you,’ he insisted, looking only slightly mollified. ‘And I want your word of honour that if at any time you feel in any kind of danger you will call me immediately.’
‘I promise.’
He appraised her with narrowed eyes for a moment longer before inclining his head. ‘Then I will have to trust you to keep to your word.’
She certainly deserved that.
Welcome to Athens.