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It had not been a duty kiss. But, mannaggia alla miseria, he was only human, and when a beautiful woman was in his arms, kissing him, what was he supposed to do?

He felt his shoulders tense. She thought he’d planned it—that it had been yet another example of him lying to her about his intentions. The truth was that his arousal had been so fast, so intense, he’d lost the ability to think, much less contemplate all possible interpretations of his actions.

In the time it had taken for her to part her lips he’d forgotten about the paparazzi, forgotten their marriage wasn’t real. His breath, his body, his whole being, had been focused on the feel of her mouth on his and he had been powerless to stop.

Only there was no way to prove that to her. Not that she would believe him anyway. And could he really blame her?

His chest tightened. Never before had he treated anyone quite so unfairly as he’d treated Imma.

He’d lied to her repeatedly and manipulated her, using every smile and glittering gaze in his repertoire to lure her away from her family and seduce her. Of course she wouldn’t believe him.

Sighing, he stared across the darkened living room.

And that was why he would be sleeping on this sofa for the foreseeable future. Or rather not sleeping.

He sat up. There was no point in just lying there. Glancing out of the window, he caught sight of a flicker of light reflected from the surface of the pool and felt a rush of relief, as if someone had thrown him a life jacket. A swim was just what he needed to clear his head and cool his body.

Outside, the warm air clung to his skin. For a moment he stood on the edge of the pool and then, tipping forward, he executed a flawless dive into the water.

For the next forty minutes or so he swam lengths, until his chest and legs ached in unison. Turning over, he floated on his back, his lungs burning.

A huge pale moon hung over the sea, and above him the inky blue-black sky was crowded with stars. The air was heavy with the scent of cypress and honeysuckle and vibrated with the hum of cicadas. It was all impossibly romantic—the perfect setting, in fact, for a wedding night.

All that was missing was his beautiful bride.

He was back where he started.

Grimacing, he turned towards the pool’s edge, his limbs stretching through the water. As he pulled himself out and draped a towel around his neck, a tiny speckled lizard darted between the shadows.

But that wasn’t what made him catch his breath.

Beyond the shadows, her green dress luminous in the moonlight, her long dark hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, was his wife.

* * *

Imma felt her body tense.

Upstairs in the bedroom she had felt trapped. The windows on to the balcony had been open to the sea breeze, but still she had felt hot and panicky.

Back on Pantelleria, marrying Vicè had seemed like a good idea. She had thought she needed time and space to deal with the consequences of her actions—and his. She’d also naively believed that she could play him at his own game.

But the truth, as she’d so humiliatingly discovered this evening, was that she was out of her depth and floundering.

He was too slick, too good at twisting words and situations to his advantage. And for someone who was so poor at telling the truth he was remarkably good at pointing out dishonesty and hypocrisy in other people—namely herself.

She had known that sleep was beyond her, so she hadn’t bothered to undress. Instead she had slipped off her shoes and tried to rest.

Even that, though, had been impossible.

How could she rest in his room? On his bed? And it was his bed. She’d been able to smell him. His aftershave and something else...a scent that had made her stomach grow warm and her head swim. Clean, masculine...like salt or newly chopped wood. She had felt it slipping over her face like a veil.

Veil. Her throat had closed around the word like a vice.

With Vicè’s denials and accusations still echoing in her head, she had forgotten that this was supposed to be her wedding night.

Some wedding night.

She had never felt more alone, so she had crept downstairs, past the sofa, and gone out into the heavy night air.


Tags: Louise Fuller Billionaire Romance