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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 22
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‘I will be at my office for the rest of the day. If you wish to go shopping, one of my bodyguards, Tomasso, will escort you.’
‘I don’t need a bodyguard,’ Stephanie objected. The only thing that had lifted her spirits for the past few days was the thought of exploring Florence’s rich cultural history. But she preferred to do so alone, not with one of the henchmen whose brooding presence in the front of the car that had brought them from the airport had put her off trying to talk to Alexander.
‘Nevertheless, Tomasso will remain with you at all times. While you are working for me, your safety is my responsibility,’ Alexander told her in a tone that brooked further argument, before he swung on his heels and strode out of the door.
It was stupid to wish that he really cared about her, Stephanie told herself later, as she strolled through the busy city streets, the stocky, unsmiling Tomasso at her side. It was more likely that Alexander believed she was a shoplifter, as well as a gold-digger who preyed on rich elderly men, and that was why he had insisted that the bodyguard should accompany her.
But sunshine and blue skies made it hard to feel miserable for long. Florence’s history and rich culture as the birthplace of the Renaissance meant that it was a popular place for tourists, and the hour she queues for entry to the Galleria dell’Accademia was worth it when she finally stood before Michelangelo’s David and felt over-awed by its beauty. The Uffizi Gallery was equally stunning, and to her surprise Tomasso proved to be charming and knowledgeable guide. Who was clearly pleased by her admiration of his city and was eager to show her as much as possible.
Dusk was falling by the time they returned to Alexander’s apartment. Stephanie was hot and tired, but happy after an enjoyable day. Tomasso spoke little English, and she spoke no Italian, but they had communicated in sign language and gestures, and they were both laughing as they staggered through the door. Their smiles quickly faded when a grim-faced Alexander strode out to meet them. He grated something in Italian to Tomasso, who flushed uncomfortably and left without another glance at Stephanie, and her heart sank when he turned and glowered at her.
‘It appears that no man between the ages of sixteen and sixty-five is safe from you, bella,’ he drawled sardonically, ‘but I would be grateful if you could restrain yourself from flirting with members of my staff.’
‘I wasn’t flirting with him. I was just being friendly,’ Stephanie defended herself hotly, her cheeks flaming when Alexander’s brows arched upwards.
‘As friendly as you are with James Grainger?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Stephanie’s happiness instantly dissolved, and her shoulders slumped dejectedly.
She was an accomplished performer, Alexander though darkly, hardening his heart when he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She knew just how to pull the right strings. She’d spent one afternoon with Tomasso and already he was eating out of her hand—and it was easy to see why, Alexander conceded irritably, In a lemon-yellow skirt and white sleeveless blouse, she looked young and innocent—and at the same time incredibly sexy. Her hair was caught up in a loose knot on top of her head, but stray tendrils curled around her face, and his fingers itched to release her hair clip and bury his face in the silky golden strands.
While Stephanie had been out enjoying herself with his bodyguard he had spent several hours in a strategy meeting with his board. To his furious disbelief he had struggled to concentrate on what was being said because he had found himself thinking about her, rather than ways to increase company profits in the Far East. His usually sharp and decisive mind had deserted him, and as his senior staff had seemed surprised at his inattention he’d been incredulous. Business was his top priority—always—and he’d been shocked by his impatience to end the meeting and spend the rest of the day with a woman he despised, but who intrigued him more than any woman had ever done.
Muttering a savage imprecation beneath his breath, he tore his gaze from the temptation of her mouth, hovered briefly on the firm swell of her ****** outlined beneath her thin top, and jerked away from her, his nostrils flaring as he sought to bring his hormones under control. It was no good reminding himself that she was a woman like his step-mother, or that his father had sacrificed his company, the respect of his peers and his relationship with his only son because of his obsession with a woman who had married him for his money. Even knowing those things, he still wanted her.
But there was no chance he would become obsessed with her. He was sure his interest in her was so intense because of her unexpected determination to resist him and the wildfire chemistry that smouldered between them. The sooner he took her to bed the better, he mused. He would be in control, and as with all his affairs the beginning would spell the end. His lovers never held his interest for very long, and he had no expectations that this pale skinned English rose would be any different.
He spared her another glance and saw that she looked tired and fragile, her eyes huge in her pale face. ‘There has been a change of plan,’ he informed her abruptly, ‘it’s getting late, so I have decided that we’ll stay here tonight and go to the Villa tomorrow.’ His mouth tightened when she frowned. ‘Is there a problem?’
Yes—him! Stephanie thought viciously, still smarting from his accusation that she had been flirting with Tomasso. ‘I hoped to go to the Villa today. The sooner I start work, the sooner I can leave—which I’m sure suits both of us,’ she snapped.