Once A Moretti Wife. Michelle Smart

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Besides, they lived together. Anna would have known!

      Just what the hell was going on?

      Never mind all the so-called marriage nonsense, which had to be some kind of elaborate hoax, but since when had Stefano hated her? They’d always sniped at each other and communicated through sarcasm but it had always been playful, with no sting intended. Today, despite his seemingly genuine concern for her health, it had been like having a Rottweiler guarding her with its teeth bared in her direction.

      The door opened and the consultant from earlier stepped into the room, clipboard in hand. She was followed closely by Stefano.

      Anna’s heart rate accelerated and she eyed them warily. They had the look of a pair of conspirators. Had they been talking about her privately?

      ‘What’s wrong with me?’ she asked.

      The consultant perched herself on the edge of Anna’s bed and smiled reassuringly. ‘You have a concussion from your fall last night.’

      ‘I don’t remember the fall,’ Anna said. ‘My sister wrote it in a letter...have you got in touch with her yet?’

      ‘Her flight hasn’t landed.’

      ‘She can’t be on a flight.’

      ‘She is,’ Stefano chipped in. He was seated on the visitor’s chair just a foot from her bed, his stance that of a man who had every right to be there. Even if she were to ask for his removal, no one would dare touch him.

      His break away from her bedside seemed to have done him good though as he’d lost the Rottweiler look he’d been carrying all day. He looked more...not relaxed, not happy exactly, but...pleased with himself.

      ‘Melissa’s taken a month’s leave to go to Australia and celebrate your mother’s fiftieth birthday,’ he finished.

      ‘That’s not possible.’ The stab of betrayal pierced her hard. ‘She couldn’t have done that. I’d know.’

      ‘The chances are you did know,’ the consultant said. ‘Your scan has come back clear...’

      ‘What does that mean?’

      ‘That there’s no bleeding on the brain or anything we need worry about in that regard, but all the evidence is pointing to you having retrograde amnesia.’

      ‘Amnesia?’ Anna clarified. ‘So I’m not going mad?’

      The consultant’s smile was more like a grimace. ‘No. But it appears you have lost approximately a year of your memories.’

      Anna exhaled in relief. Amnesia she could cope with. There had been moments during the day when she’d thought for certain she was losing her mind. And then she remembered Stefano’s insistence that they were married...

      ‘Don’t tell me I’m actually married to him?’

      Now the consultant looked uncomfortable. ‘You’re on our records as Anna Louise Moretti.’

      There was silence as the meaning of this sank into Anna’s fragile head.

      She didn’t know what was worse. Being told Melissa had gone to Australia to see their mother or being told she was married to Stefano. Discovering that there was life on Jupiter would be easier to comprehend.

      She turned her head to look at the man who claimed to be her husband. His long legs were stretched out before him, his tie removed and top button undone. He was studying her with an intensity that sent little warning tingles through her veins. It was the look he always gave when he was thinking hard, usually when he was debating to himself whether he wanted to risk his money and reputation on a particular venture.

      When Stefano chose to back a business he didn’t hold back. He gave it everything. He thrived on the gamble but liked the odds to be in his favour. He liked to be certain that he wasn’t going to be throwing away his time, resources and money. It didn’t matter how many reports she produced, he would play it all out in his mind, working through it on his own mental spreadsheet.

      And now that gaze was directed at her, as if she were a business venture that needed to be analysed. He was mentally dissecting something and that something had to do with her.

      ‘We’re really married?’ she asked him.

      A slow smile spread across his face as if she’d said something amusing but the focus in his eyes sharpened. ‘Sì.’

      None of this made sense. ‘Why would I have married you?’

      He shifted his chair forward and leaned over to speak directly into her ear. His warm breath stirred the strands of her hair, making her pulses stir with them. ‘Because you wanted my body.’

      His nearness meant she had to concentrate hard to form a response. ‘This is no time for your jokes. I wouldn’t marry you. I have self-respect.’

      He sat back and spread out his hands. ‘No joke. We’re married.’

      ‘I don’t believe you.’ The very idea was preposterous.

      ‘I can give you proof.’

      ‘We can’t be.’

      There was no way she would have married Stefano. He was gorgeous, funny when he wasn’t being brooding and impatient, and rich, but he also had a revolving door of girlfriends. She had always maintained that she wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot bargepole and had told him so on numerous occasions.

      Always he’d responded with a dazzling grin and, ‘You can’t resist me for ever, bambolina.’

      To which she’d always replied with her own grin turned up to full wattage, ‘Watch me.’

      This time there was no comeback. He pulled out his phone and started tapping away. After a few moments he leaned over to show her the screen. Her pulse made another strange leap at his closeness and the familiar scent of his tangy cologne that had always filled their workspace. She blinked and focused her attention on what he was showing her.

      It was a photograph of them standing together on a beach. Stefano was dressed in charcoal trousers and a short-sleeved open-necked white shirt. She wore a long white chiffon dress that had a distinct bridal look to it, and was clutching a posy of flowers. Oh, and they were kissing.

      Anna stared at the screen for so long her eyes went dry. Her heart was pounding so hard its beats vibrated through her. When she dared look at him she found him watching her closely.

      ‘Did you drug me?’ She could hardly believe the evidence before her. It wasn’t possible. It had to be fake.

      ‘We married on the twentieth of November. Our first anniversary is in ten days.’

      ‘That’s impossible.’ She did some mental maths. She remembered as far back as her Spinning class, which had been the day after bonfire night, November the fifth.

      He expected her to believe she’d married him two weeks later? Did he take her for a complete idiot?

      But then she looked again at the photo on his screen.

СКАЧАТЬ