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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 33
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He had told her that he wanted her in his bed while she remained working at the Villa, and although she should refuse him she knew she would not. He was offering nothing but sex. Even though they had shared the most wondrous, incredible pleasure in each other’s arms, his attitude towards her had out softened. He despised her, but he wanted her, and she would not deny him when it would be denying herself too.
She had no idea where he had gone, or whether he expected her to wait for him, but it was a working day, and the minuscule dribble of pride she still retained insisted that she should get on with the job he had brought her to Tuscany to do. As she emerged from his room, clutching his robe around her, she heard his voice floating up the stairs. She guessed from the one-sided conversation that he was speaking on the phone, and her few words of Italian meant that she could not have eavesdropped even if she had wanted to. But something in his tone made her pause on the landing.
He sounded as though he was having an argument with whoever was on the other end of the line. Not a furious row; his short, staccato phrases reminded her of a bickering lover—now angry, now cajoling—as if he was trying to make someone see his point of view.
It was a familiar scenario, she thought grimly, remembering the occasions when she had caught Fabian muttering secretively into his mobile phone. His explanation had invariably been that he’d been speaking to someone from the golf club—or work, or the gym. And she’d believed him. In her trusting, Pollyanna optimism that their marriage was working, she’d never doubted her ex-husband’s word or his loyalty.
It was only after Fabian had gone that she’d realised those calls had been from Jacqueline. Now, as she pushed open her bedroom door and heard Alexander’s voice again, this time catching a name, she wondered what was so important that he’d risen to talk to his beautiful cousin Donata.
AUGUST slipped lazily into September, and the view from the Villa Rosala became a tapestry of reds and burnished golds as the leaves on the trees turned from green to russet. Stephanie spent the days overseeing the completion of her designs for the house and her nights in Alexander’s bed, where their fierce passion showed no sign of fading.
This was possibly the closest place on earth to heaven, she mused one morning, as she stood in the huge, rustic kitchen, looking out at the mist that lay like a silver cloak over the distant fields. Tuscany was impossibly beautiful, and she was falling more deeply in love with each passing day—and not simply with the countryside, the voice in her head warned.
Alexander filled her mind as he filled her body—utterly and completely. She could think of nothing but the exquisite pleasure of his warm skin sliding on hers, and the sound of his gorgeous, sexy accent when he teased her or murmured softly in Italian as they lay together in the afterglow of making love.
If she wasn’t careful he might become her reason for living—and that would be a dangerous situation. It was hard to believe that they had been lovers for over a month, but now the Villa was very nearly finished, and it was time she went home.
Somehow—incredibly—their relationship had evolved over the days and weeks from a bitter, resentful passion to something that was softer, occasionally even gentle, and anger had been replaced with tentative friendship. She knew that Alexander still mistrusted her, but he no longer accused her of being like his stepmother. She had even thought briefly of trying to discuss her friendship with James Grainger, but the same problem remained. James had specifically asked her not to tell anyone about his cancer, and she still could not give Alexander a viable reason for her regular meetings with the Earl.
Even if she did break James’s trust, and Alexander believed her, he still thought she had deliberately befriended her elderly neighbour and persuaded him to make her a beneficiary in his will. On balance it seemed safer not to upset the fragile peace between them for the short time that she had left at the Villa.
Lost in her silent reverie, she jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘The bathroom suppliers have just phoned.’ Alexander strode into the kitchen and Stephanie spun round, the sight of him in his grey suit and pale blue silk shirt causing a familiar weakness in her lower limbs. ‘The taps and other fittings that were delayed are now in stock. I told them you would phone back to arrange delivery.’
‘Great,’ Stephanie replied, desperately trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice. Completion of the en suite bathroom attached to one of the guest bedrooms had been delayed because of a problem with the suppliers, but once the fittings were in place she only had to choose towels and a few accessories to match the apple-green decor and last room in the Villa would be finished. ‘Hopefully they’ll deliver in the next couple of days, and then I’m all done here,’ she said brightly.
‘I’d better start packing.’
Alexander stiffened in the act of pouring a glass of fruit juice and frowned. ‘I didn’t realise you were in such a rush to leave,’ he murmured, his eyes narrowing when she carefully avoided his gaze.
‘I’ve been here for over two months,’ Stephanie pointed out.
‘When I spoke to Daniel last week he wanted to know if the Villa was nearly finished as he has another commission lined up for me. It seems I’m quite in demand,’ she faltered when Alexander’s mouth tightened ominously.
‘Why do you sound so suprised, bella? You have great talent, and the work you have done on the Villa Rosala exceeds all my expectations,’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ why on earth did his words of praise cause tears to fill her eyes? Stephanie thought impatiently as she picked up a tea towel and dried a dish draining on the rack so thoroughly that she was in danger of rubbing off the pattern around the edge.