The only consolation was that she had not dropped her guard. She had not let him see just how vulnerable she was, nor would she let him discover how successful he had been at claiming the revenge he had initially considered his due. Without him even realising it, he had indeed wreaked the ultimate revenge, because he would leave her broken and in pieces, whatever show of bravado she employed for his benefit.
And now here they were, last night, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table with an almost empty bottle of Chablis between them.
‘So tell me again why you don’t come here at least once a month, Alessandro.’ Outside, another hot day had gradually morphed into a mild, starry night. They had spent most nights in the kitchen, which was huge, big enough for a ten-seater table at one end, and leading to a conservatory which doubled as an informal sitting area with comfy sofas and a plasma television. From here, they had an uninterrupted view of the sea down below, vast and silent, and the small back garden where they had spent much of their time by the swimming pool.
She felt lazy and replete after another excellent meal which had been prepared in advance by his housekeeper. They could have done their own cooking, and she had suggested it on day one, but he had killed that dead.
‘Why waste time cooking?’ he had questioned bluntly, ‘When there are so many other things we could be occupied doing?’ He had pulled her onto his lap and slipped his finger underneath her panties, leaving her in no doubt as to what those other things they could be occupied with were. Enjoying any form of domesticity was off the cards. That was not the reason why he had asked her on this holiday.
‘You know why I don’t come here once a month,’ he replied wryly. ‘It’s the same reason you wouldn’t come here once a month. Work wouldn’t allow it.’
‘But it’s different for you. You’re the big boss. You can do whatever you want. I can’t.’
‘Pull the other one, Chase. You’re not a bimbo who would be content to while away her time walking barefoot on a beach, no matter how powdery white the sand might be. You’re one hundred per cent a career woman. You would be bored stiff in a job that allowed you to take time out every month to enjoy a holiday in the sunshine.’
He stood up, moved to the fridge to replenish the wine and remained there with his back against the counter, carefully looking at her with his head to one side. She had caught the sun. Her skin was the colour of pale honey and from nowhere a smattering of freckles had appeared on the ridge of her nose.
‘I recognised that the first time I laid eyes on you,’ he continued casually. ‘You weren’t going to be distracted by anyone or anything. You barely seemed to notice what was going on around you.’
Chase fidgeted. Trips down memory lane never turned out well between them. However, his voice was mild and speculative, not in the least provocative. More proof that, whatever fireworks there might be on the physical level, on the emotional level he was breaking away. The medicine was working. Sex was finishing the unfinished business between them.
‘I liked that,’ he continued and she looked at him in surprise. ‘You once asked me if I’d ever go out with a career woman and I gave you a negative answer.’ He strolled towards her and resumed his seat at the kitchen table, tugging a free chair with his foot so that he could use it as an impromptu footrest. ‘The truth is, you were the anomaly. Before you and after you, I’ve only gone out with...’
‘Airheads? Bimbos?’ Chase dropped into the brief silence. She smiled tightly. ‘Women who are never ashamed to admit that their only ambition is to hunt down a rich guy and bag him even if it means a lifetime of doing exactly what he wants her to do?’ The stuff of nightmares, she thought bitterly.
‘There’s absolutely nothing about a woman like that I can’t handle, and you’d be surprised how easily they’ve slotted into my lifestyle.’
‘Because they make sure to always tell you what you want to hear and do what you want them to do?’
‘Some might say that a compliant woman is preferable to a liar.’ He noted the swift surge of colour that flooded her cheeks. ‘You have succeeded in persuading me, however, that there’s something to be said for a woman with a brain.’
‘I have?’
‘You have,’ Alessandro drawled. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Chase—agile though your mind is, and challenging though your conversation can be, you’ll never be a contender for the vacancy—just in case your thoughts were heading in that direction.’
‘They weren’t!’ Chase was mortified to think that he might have spotted some weakness in her armour that she hadn’t been able to conceal. ‘You’re not dealing with an idiot, Alessandro. I know the rules of this game as well as you do.’