Page 19 of Once a Moretti Wife

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If he hadn’t been such an unashamed womaniser she might have given in to her desire for him sooner. There had been nights when she would lay awake aching for him, filled with pent-up frustration that working so closely with him brought. Day after day of breathing in his scent, watching his throat move while he ate and drank, catching a glimpse of exposed torso when he’d rip his constricting tie off or a glimpse of his forearms when he’d roll up his sleeves... She had become obsessed with those arms. She would dream about them. She would dream about him.

‘Your only request was that I tell you if I met another woman I wanted to bed so you could walk away with your dignity intact. It was a promise I was happy to make.’

‘It’s good to know I didn’t completely lose my marbles.’

‘You did,’ he assured her solemnly but with a glint in his eye. ‘I told you I would wear you down eventually and I was right.’

‘You’re always right.’

‘Sì.’

‘In your own head.’

Catching his eye again, Anna suddenly, inexplicably, found herself unable to stop laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded to know.

‘Everything.’ She covered her mouth with her hand, trying hopelessly to regain some composure. ‘You must be an amazing kisser if one kiss in the back of a car was enough to make me marry you.’

The wolfish gleam in his eyes and the way he leaned closer made her suddenly certain that he was going to show her exactly what it had been like, right here and now.

She waited in breathless anticipation for his mouth to press on hers.

But then he grinned and the moment was lost. ‘We’re here.’

CHAPTER FIVE

ANNA SNAPPED HERSELF back to the present. They’d entered a private enclave lined with clean wide roads fringed with palm trees.

As they got out of the car, the salty air of the Pacific and its accompanying breeze filled her senses, along with a tremendous sense of déjà vu. She knew this place.

The house they’d stopped outside was stunning, a modern Spanish-style beach home that, from the outside and despite its grandness, looked surprisingly cosy.

Cosy was a word she’d never used in association with Stefano before.

She followed Stefano through the front entrance and into a home that made his London apartment seem like a shoebox.

‘Take a look around. I’ll get us a drink.’ He disappeared through an arch and into the kitchen.

Intrigued by her surroundings, she trod her way through the ground floor, over marble floors, under high ceilings, soft furnishings and elegant decor. The only room accessed by a door was a cinema with a dozen plush leather seats.

Carrying on with her tour, she found an indoor swimming pool, a gym, a majestic dining room... She finally came to a stop at the rear of the house. The glass walls overlooked a palm-tree-lined patio area and another swimming pool, which in turn overlooked a glorious sandy beach and the deep blue Pacific. On the left of the room was the most enormous rounded sofa she’d ever seen, almost bed-like in its proportions.

‘You said this is ours?’ she asked in amazement when he joined her a short while later holding two tall glasses of fruit juice.

‘Sì.’ He handed a glass to her. ‘I would have poured us champagne but it’s not a good idea for you to drink alcohol until you’re fully recovered from your concussion.’

She raised a brow. ‘How do you know I’m not?’

‘Because I know you, bellissima. I don’t want to rush you. When you’re fully better we can celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what?’

‘You being here.’

She couldn’t know what a truth that was. Stefano wasn’t about to tell her that they hadn’t spent a night together under this roof, that the purchase had been finalised three days before she’d left him. Especially as part of the settlement she’d in

structed her lawyer to hit him with had been a demand for this house. Now he would taint the memories of it for her as much as she had tainted them for him. Here, in this house that was supposed to have been their first real home, the one they’d chosen together, he would seduce her so thoroughly that all the pleasure they shared would haunt her for ever. Her humiliation would be twofold: public and private. Just as his had been.


Tags: Michelle Smart Billionaire Romance