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She could do this. If she lay like this all night, careful not to touch him, not to get even a little close to the centre of the enormous bed, then she’d sleep, and in the morning, she could revisit the question of where her room would be. For now, this was easier. His rhythmic breathing had her risking a glance over her shoulder.

The bastard had fallen asleep almost instantly! So much for being driven crazy by her, she thought with a self-directed roll of her eyes, flipping back onto her side and returning her attention to the wall. In took a long time to quell her humming mind but eventually, Alessia fell asleep, her dreams disturbed, her brain putting her back in the past, so her thoughts were alive with her first marriage to this powerful tycoon, the feelings of helplessness that had dogged her step each day.

She’d lost hersel

f to him completely, sitting in her study with her notebooks, distracted from whatever she was reading while waiting to catch a glimpse of his car turning into the street. The rush of adrenaline that would assault her when she heard the front door open and knew she would, within minutes, see him once more.

And all the while he’d acted impervious to her, almost as though he’d forgotten she was even in his home. She was like a pet, but not a particularly wanted one.

He hadn’t wanted her. She’d known that about halfway into the marriage but she’d stupidly believed she could make him want her. They’d known each other a long time and had always been friendly. She had been able to make him laugh, easily, for years, but that ability seemed to have evaporated. Now he was so icily polite to her, so distant, and yet every day had driven her almost crazy with longing.

It was little wonder she woke with a start, early the next morning. She was warm on one side, and more comfortable than she could remember being. She shifted a little and then froze. It was no mattress that softened her curves. At some point during the night, good intentions be damned, she’d curled her body like a conch shell, wrapping around Massimo, her head now pressed to his shoulder, his naked torso moving gently with each of his deep breaths.

With a soft sound of surprise, she went to move away but his arm clamped, vice-like, around her waist, holding her where she was, his fingertips running over her side, his nearness completely intoxicating.

Her eyes flew wide; breath slammed through her.

“Where did you go, last time?”

His voice was coated with sleep, thick and husky. Her stomach clenched.

“I’m sorry?”

“After that day in my office, I presumed you’d go to Ondechiara but you didn’t.”

“No.” Silence, a heavy silence filled with sad reflections, filled the air. “How did you know that?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t check up on you?”

She lifted her head so she could see him better, her chin pressing to his chest. “It never occurred to me that you might.”

His smile was more of a grimace. “We got divorced but I never considered my responsibilities to care for you were at an end.”

Something tilted inside of her. Disbelief. “That responsibility was never yours,” she murmured, going to move away again but he kept his arm – and her – in place. “I was – am – a human being with my own head and heart and believe it or not, the ability to care all for myself.”

His eyes locked to hers and her breath snagged in her throat. “You’re wrong.”

“Then I’m not a human? Or am I not capable of looking after myself?”

“You’re wrong that being my wife conferred no responsibilities on me.”

Her heart sped up. “Even if that were the case, our divorce put an end to them.”

His brows quirked a little as his other hand moved to her stomach, running over the curve so slowly and intimately, with such a physical sense of connection to her and their baby that the hardness she was determined to keep in place around her heart threatened to melt, just a little.

“Not for me, cara.”

She needed to fight this! Danger signs flashed all around. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was on the brink of marrying another man. Would that have signalled an end to whatever obligations you claim to have felt?”

Predictably and – Alessia told herself – thankfully, his eyes darkened, his expression glowering at the reminder of Sam. Fascinating. His response though, wasn’t what she’d expected.

“Did you love him?”

It was the second time he’d asked her that and she was no more able to answer it now than she had been then.

“I don’t want to discuss him with you.” When she pulled away this time, he let her go, and she told herself she was glad. At least she could think more clearly when there was some distance between them.

“You didn’t answer my question.”


Tags: Clare Connelly The Montebellos Romance