One Night in... Milan. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ she was diving out of the bed and heading at a run for the bathroom. She thought she was going to be sick but then found that she couldn’t. She wanted to wash herself clean inside and out!

      Instead she just stood there with her arms wrapped around her middle and shook.

      She heard him arrive in the door opening. ‘I h-hate you,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I’d never heard your stupid name.’

      Raffaelle shifted his tense stance, relaxing it wearily so he was leaning against the doorframe. He wanted to echo her sentiments but he did not think she was up to hearing him say it while she stood there resembling a skittish pale ghost.

      ‘It happened, cara. Too late now to trade insults,’ he murmured flatly instead.

      She swung round to stare at him, blue eyes bright with anger and the close threat of tears. ‘You think that kind of remark helps the situation?’

      Pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, Raffaelle raised a black silk eyebrow. ‘You think that your previous remark helped it?’

      No, she supposed that it didn’t.

      Losing the will to stand upright any longer she sank down on to the closed toilet seat. ‘I’m so horrified by what we’ve done.’

      ‘I can see that.’

      ‘I don’t w-want a baby,’ she whispered starkly.

      ‘Any man’s or just mine?’

      Rachel looked at the way he was standing there in the doorway—lounging there half-undressed. A tall, lean, tightly muscled supremo, the image of everything you would want to grab from the human male gene pool.

      Feeling something disturbingly elemental shift in her womb, she went on the attack. ‘Being flippant about it doesn’t help.’

      ‘Neither does flaying yourself.’

      She stared at him. ‘Where the heck are you actually coming from?’ she gasped out. ‘You don’t know me, yet you stand there looking as if you couldn’t care less about what we’ve done!’

      ‘I am a fatalist.’

      ‘Lucky you,’ Rachael muttered, pushing her hair back from her brow. ‘Whereas I am wishing that yesterday never began.’

      ‘Too late to wish on rainbows, cara.’

      ‘Now you are just annoying.’

      ‘I apologise,’ he drawled. ‘However, since we could well be in this for the long haul, I suggest you get used to my—annoying ways.’

      ‘Long haul—?’ Her chin shot up. What was he talking about now?

      ‘Marriage comes before babies in my family,’ he enlightened.

      Marriage—? ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ It made her feel sick to her stomach to say it, but—‘I’ll take one of those m-morning after pills that—’

      ‘No, you will not,’ he cut in.

      She stood up. ‘That is not your decision.’

      His silver eyes speared her. ‘So you are happy to see off a fragile life before it has been given the chance to exist?’

      ‘God, no.’ She even shuddered. ‘But I think it would be—’

      ‘Well, don’t think,’ he said coldly. ‘We will not add to our sins if you please. This is our fault not the fault, of the innocent child which may result. Therefore we will deal with it the honourable way—if or when it comes to it.’

      ‘With marriage,’ she mocked.

      ‘You must know I am considered to be quite a good catch, cara.’

      Softly said, smooth as silk. A sharp silence followed while Rachel took on board what he was actually implying. Then she heaved in a taut breath. ‘I suppose I should have expected that one,’ she said as she breathed out again.

      ‘I don’t follow.’ He frowned.

      ‘The—you set me up for this accusation.’ She spelled it out for him. ‘The—you got me into bed deliberately so you could position yourself as the great millionaire catch!’

      ‘I did not say that.’ He sighed impatiently.

      Oh, yes, he damn did! Inside she was quivering. Inside she was feeling as if she’d stepped into an ice cold alien place.

      ‘I’ll take the other option,’ she retaliated and went to push past him. The hand snaking out of his pocket grabbed her by the arm as the other hand arrived, holding a mobile telephone.

      ‘Let go of me.’

      He ignored her and there was nothing relaxed about him now, Rachel saw as he hit quick-dial, then put the phone to his ear.

      ‘Are we still under siege from the press?’ he demanded.

      He had to be talking to the security man in the foyer, Rachel realised. A new kind of tension sizzled all around them while he listened to the answer and she waited to find out where he was going with this.

      The hard line of his mouth gave a twist as he cut the connection. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he speared her with a hard look.

      ‘The paparazzi is still out there,’ he stated grimly. ‘I do not expect them to leave us alone any time in the near future—understand?’

      Rachel just stared at him, all eyes and weighty heart and pummelled feelings.

      ‘Wherever you or I go from now on, I can almost guarantee that they mean to follow.’ He made his point brutally clear. ‘So think about it, cara,’ he urged grimly. ‘Do you want to take a walk out to the local all-night pharmacy and turn this thing into a tabloid sensation as the pack follow to witness you purchasing your morning-after medication—?’

      Ice froze the silence between them as diamond eyes locked challengingly with frosted blue. Rachel thought about screaming. She felt like screaming! He really, truly and honestly believed that she was ruthless enough to calmly take something to rectify the wrong they had done, his wonderful fatalist attitude giving him the right to believe that his morals were superior to her own.

      And why not? she asked herself starkly. What did he really know about her as a living, breathing person? Hadn’t she flipped out the clever counter attack to his marriage deal? Wasn’t she the cool liar and cheat around here, who could hit on a man and let him take her to his bed for no other reason than she’d fancied him?

      Why not tag her as a woman who was also capable of seeing off a baby before she was even sure that there was one?

      Hurt trammelled through her body, though, melting the ice and turning it into tears because she could not deny him the right to see her as a cold, ruthless schemer—she’d painted her own portrait for him to look at, after all.

      He saw the tears and frowned. ‘Rachel—’ СКАЧАТЬ