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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 26
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‘You can’t go through life thinking that every woman is like your stepmother,’ she snapped.
But of course that was exactly what Alexander had done, since the day his father had remarried and given his loyalty to his new wife rather than his son. Stephanie understood the reasons for Alexander’s bitterness, what she didn’t understand was why she felt so hurt by his insistence that she was no better than Stefano Di Cesare’s second wife.
Alexander had returned to Florence soon after that argument, speeding down the drive with tyres squealing, throwing up clouds of red dust, indicating his impatience to be gone. The days after he had left had dragged past, and although she hated herself for it Stephanie had counted the hours until Friday evening. But Alexander hadn’t arrived then, or over the weekend, and now it was Monday and she had resigned herself to the fact that she would not see him for another week.
Clearly other interests had kept him in Florence, she thought dismally, recalling the image of the stunning dark-haired beauty he had been photographed with in the newspapers. The sight of the woman clinging possessively to his arm had caused a sick feeling in the pit of Stephanie’s stomach, which had added to her irritation with herself. Of course he had a mistress, she’d told herself angrily. He was a handsome billionaire playboy and he was hardly going to live like a monk.
Cursing her stupidity, she stretched out on the grass and closed her eyes. She hadn’t slept well all week, and had lost her appetite despite the wonderful meals the housekeeper and cook Battista plied her with.
Her emotions were a mess, she conceded disgustedly, and her pride seemed to have deserted her, because despite knowing that Alexander despised her—she couldn’t stop thinking about him, or fantasizing about him making love to her.
A dark shape was shading the sun. Stephanie frowned and stirred before she slowly opened her eyes and stared at Alexander’s hard profile. He was lying beside her on the grass, propped up on one elbow. Silhouetted against the hazy apricot light, he reminded her of an exquisite sculpture. But when he turned his head towards her she was achingly aware that his golden skin was not hewn from marble, and knew that it would feel warm and sensual beneath her fingertips.
Shocked by his unexpected appearance, she could not disguise the flare of desire in her eyes. The boundaries between dreams and reality blurred. She didn’t know if he was real, or a figment of her imagination but it no longer mattered, and she lifted her hand to him in unspoken invitation.
‘Do you often cry in your sleep?’
His voice dispelled the lingering cobwebs in her mind and she quickly dropped her hand and sat up. Her cheeks were wet, but when she went to brush her fingers over her face he forestalled her and caught a stray tear with his thumb-pad.
‘It’s just a dream I have sometimes—it’s nothing,’ she said shakily. It was months since she’d had that dream, and the fact that it had returned was an indication of her unsettled state of mind. She shifted beneath Alexander’s speculative stare, feeling the familiar tug of awareness at the sight of him in faded denims that moulded his thighs and a black tee shirt through which she could see the delineation of his powerful abdominal muscles.
‘You were calling for Fabian. I heard you from down by the pool,’he said brusquely. ‘That was your husband’s name, wasn’t it? Do you often dream about him?’
Stephanie frowned. ‘No, never,’ she replied tersely. ‘You must have been mistaken. He’s the last person I would dream about.’ She could not hide the faint bitterness in her voice, and she flushed when Alexander gave her a curious glance.
‘Why did you split up? You were only married for a year, I understand. Love’s young dream did not last very long, did it?’ he murmured mockingly, reminding Stephanie of his scathing opinion of marriage.
Alexander did not believe in love or fidelity. He would never understand the devastation she’d felt when she had learned that Fabian had been unfaithful, and she had no intention of confiding in him. ‘We realised that we wanted different things,’ she said shortly. ‘It seemed sensible to end our relationship sooner rather than later.’ Her face was shuttered, but Alexander caught the note of regret in her voice and was irritated by it. She sounded as though she was genuinely sad that her marriage had failed, and he wondered why he disliked the idea that she might still have feelings for her ex-husband. ‘I’m sure the sizeable divorce settlement offered some consolation,’ he drawled laconically. ‘I understand your husband was a wealthy banker?’
Stephanie drew a sharp breath and jumped to her feet. ‘I won’t even to dignify that statement with a reply,’ she hissed. ‘Think what you like, Alexander, I really don’t care. Why are you here, anyway?’ She snapped. ‘I assumed you were busy with your girlfriend.’
‘Which one?’ Alexander queried lazily, following her across the lawn.
‘The one you’re pictured with in this morning’s newspaper,’ Stephanie spat.
She marched back towards the Villa, but he easily caught up with her, plainly amused by her simmering anger. ‘You mean Donata.’
‘Do I ?’ Even her name was exotic, Stephanie thought miserably.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have a list, cara.’ Alexander’s sudden, unexpected grin jealousy burned inside her when she noted the wickedly sensual gleam in his eyes ‘But actually Donata isn’t one of them. She’s my second cousin, and the only other great-grand-child of Antonio Di Cesare.’
Stephanie shrugged her shoulders, feigning disinterest, but Alexander continued. ‘Actually, I dated two beautiful women last night.’
‘Bully for you.’
‘It was my sister’s birthday, and I always spend it with her. Jocasta was deeply affected by the rift between me and my father.’ Alexander’s brief spurt of good humour quickly faded and his face darkened.