Which proved you couldn’t judge on appearances.
‘How do we know each other, Angelo?’
His attention caught on the way she said his name. Alexa had always prided herself on her perfect Italian accent. Now she said his name slightly differently. But then she was pretending she didn’t speak Italian.
Or was that real, not pretence?
Either way it was far too confronting having her in his home. Deep-seated emotions bombarded him. Shame, regret and self-disgust at how he’d let her dupe him, and through him the people he loved.
He’d promised his dying father that he’d care for and protect his mother and sister, but he’d failed them and hispapà. He’d broken that sacred trust when he’d allowed this woman to hurt them. His gut clenched as he fought nausea at how he’d let them all down.
‘You need to rest.’ His voice was rough. ‘We’ll continue this later when you’re stronger.’
‘No!’ No weakness in her now. She was all determination. ‘Tellme. Did we know each other well?’
He folded his arms and looked her in the eye. He’d had enough.
‘In some ways we knew each other as well as any two people can.’ Her eyes rounded in a display of shock that made him want to smash through her ridiculous pretence.
‘You were my mistress. Then you were my wife.’
CHAPTER FOUR
ALLYSTAREDATthe man before her, the man with cold eyes and a grimace on his lips, and felt her gorge rise. The fine hairs along her arms lifted and her nape tightened.
You were my mistress. Then you were my wife.
His tone was dismissive. As if she had no place in the world except in relation to Angelo Ricci.
Through her nausea, bitter amusement surfaced. That was still the case. With her memory gone, reliant on this man, she literally didn’t have a life beyond the boundaries of his home.
A wave of terror crashed through her and she gritted her teeth, fighting down distress.
The inimical light in those dark eyes told her he’d been deliberately brutal. That was enough to make her harness what strength she possessed to stare him down.
Did something shift in his expression? Some flicker of emotion?
The very thought seemed inconceivable.
‘Yourwife?’
The word pulled a thread of heat down from her breasts to her belly and lower, to a feminine place that suddenly felt alive.
‘Yes.’
‘Are we still married?’
The abrupt sideways jerk of his head was eloquent enough, but he made it totally clear. ‘Divorced.’
Every syllable dripped disdain.
For her? Or for the fact they’d divorced? Yet looking into those set features she couldn’t believe he regretted ending their marriage. He looked anything but lover-like.
Her mouth thinned. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
He shrugged. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
He was right. It was more than enough. Ally sank back in her chair, head spinning and heart thudding.