Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks. Кейт Хьюит

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      Christian sensed a slight change in Alessandra’s demeanour, an almost imperceptible straightening of the shoulders and stiffening of the spine.

      She was looking good. She always looked good.

      With her long hair loose around her shoulders, she wore faded tight-fitting jeans, a pale-blue cotton blouse unbuttoned to the top of her cleavage, a navy blazer and silver ankle boots with a slight heel. Heavy costume jewellery in shades of red hung round her neck and wrists, large, hooped gold earrings in her ears. Alessandra could wear a sack and carry it off, would still have that beautifully put-together air she carried so well.

      Her apartment was the same: chic and beautifully put together, the walls and furniture muted but the furnishings bold and colourful. Giant prints of her work hung on the walls, enlarged, framed covers of Vogue and all the other glossy magazines she’d worked for.

      He knew it would be a wrench for her to leave, but a third-floor apartment in the heart of Milan’s fashion district was not a feasible place to bring up a child. He’d raised the subject of her selling it on the phone a few days ago. Her response had been non-committal to say the least.

      He’d give her more time to get used to the idea before discussing it again.

      ‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked.

      She nodded, her plump lips drawing together. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

      Out in the courtyard at the back of the building, where his driver waited for them, her yellow Vespa gleamed from its parking space. ‘I hope you’re not riding on that thing any more,’ he said, nodding at it.

      ‘No,’ she answered shortly, getting into the back of the car.

      He followed her in, a pang hitting his stomach as he recalled the big beam on her face the one time he’d seen her ride on it—the day of their impromptu date. Another thing pregnancy would force her to give up.

      When the car started to move, she turned to look at him, a set look on her face. ‘Christian, let me make one thing quite clear. You are going to be my husband, not my keeper. Do not dictate to me.’

      He sighed. ‘Is this about the Vespa?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I wasn’t dictating to you. I was satisfying myself that you’re not putting our child’s life at risk by continuing to ride on it, especially here in Milan.’

      ‘That is exactly what I mean. I don’t need you to tell me the drivers here all approach the road as an assault course that must be beaten—I live here. I might not have a penis between my legs but my brain and rationality work perfectly well.’

      ‘I never said it didn’t,’ he said, keeping his tone even. ‘But you must appreciate that it is my child you are carrying and it is only right I take an interest in its welfare.’

      ‘But it is my life. I will not be told what to do.’

      ‘I am not telling you what to do.’ How he held on to his patience, he did not know. ‘All I’m saying is that having a child changes things…’

      ‘You think I don’t know that?’ she said, her colour darkening. ‘You think I’m not aware of the responsibility I have to bring our child safely into this world? Do you think I’m not capable?’

      ‘Alessandra…’ He took a breath and fisted his hands into balls. ‘Will you stop putting words into my mouth? You’re making assumptions.’

      Her shoulders hunched before she flopped her head back and took a long breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I have an aversion to being told what to do.’

      ‘I had already gathered that.’

      She cast a sideways glance at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her very pretty ear.

      ‘As well as my aversion to being bossed around, I also have a tendency to get grumpy when I’m worried about something,’ she admitted, her tone now rueful.

      ‘You’re worried about Rocco’s reaction to our news?’

      ‘Aren’t you?’

      He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

      ‘Whatever happens with your brother, nothing will change. You and I will still marry. If he gives his blessing, then that will be beneficial, but if he doesn’t then we will handle it together. Okay?’ he added when she didn’t answer, simply sank her teeth into her bottom lip and tugged her hand free from his clasp.

      She nodded slowly, and absently rubbed at the top of her hand where his fingers had rested. ‘Rocco is very protective of me. He always has been.’

      ‘You’re his sister; nothing will change that.’ Christian was doing his best to project a positive frame of mind for Alessandra’s benefit but was under no illusion about how hot-headed her brother could be. He knew that if the forthcoming meeting was badly handled, their friendship would be ruined.

      Alessandra’s lungs had closed up.

      The intimacy of the cab, the forced proximity…

      Worry about her brother’s reaction faded as Christian’s oaky cologne filled her senses, moisture filling her mouth and bubbling low in her most intimate area.

      She pressed her thighs together and dragged out a short СКАЧАТЬ