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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 40
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I’ll have to reveal your identity and make up some story… I don’t know—that we loved each other but couldn’t be together or something. But you have to accept that your child might want to contact you some time in the future.’
‘My child will be able to contact me whenever he or she likes.’ Alexander grated. ‘Because my child will live with me in Italy and will never be in any doubt that I am it’s father.’ He stared down at her with such haughty arrogance that Stephanie shivered with a mixture of confusion and unease. ‘You are carrying the Di Cesare heir. I will not allow him to be born illegitimately.’
‘What do you mean?’ she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the stark beauty of his chiselled features.
‘I mean that for the child’s sake I am prepared to marry you.’
Stephanie did not know what kind of reaction Alexander had envisaged at this astounding statement, but from his thunderous frown it was clear he had not expected her to burst into hysterical laughter.
‘Do share the joke, bella,’ he snapped, when she subsided into hiccups and wiped her eyes with fingers that for some reason were trembling. ‘Although I can’t say I find the future welfare of our child a laughing matter.’
‘I sorry.’ She gulped for air and found that her emotions had see-sawed and she now wanted to cry. ‘It’s just that there’s a certain irony to this situation that you wouldn’t understand.’ Years ago, when she’d told her husband she was pregnant, he had promptly divorced her. Now she was pregnant by a man who believed her to be an unscrupulous gold-digger and he was prepared to marry her. Big deal, she thought furiously.
‘It’s kind of you to offer, Alexander,’ she hissed sarcastically, ignoring his glowering stare, ‘but I have no intention of marrying again—ever. And anyway,’ she added before he could speak, ‘bigamy is illegal.’
‘I thought you were divorced— he began heatedly.
‘I am. But you are engaged to your cousin Donata, and you can’t marry both of us.’
‘Which trashy gossip magazine did you get that from? Some of the rubbish they print is amazing.’
The look of surprised incomprehension on his face was so good she could almost believe it was genuine, Stephanie thought bleakly. But she knew the truth. She had seen Donata coming out of his bedroom at his apartment in Florence—although she would rather die than admit she had gone there herself to tell him she had decided to stay on at the Villa Rosala as his mistress.
‘Well—whatever, I still don’t want to marry you,’ she said coldly. She was standing in the doorway, but when she tried to step into the corridor he gripped her arm and tugged her back into his office.
‘Trust me, bella, you’re not the kind of woman I would have chosen for my wife,’ he drawled sardonically, ignoring her outraged gasp. ‘But what we want is no longer important. We have a duty towards our child, and it is a duty I intend to fulfill to the best of my abilities.’
‘Even if that means marrying a woman you believe is a conniving bitch, like your stepmother was?’ Stephanie queried tightly.
Alexander’s eyes gleamed like chips of obsidian—hard and cold and utterly remorseless. ‘Even then,’ he agreed harshly.
For a moment despair threatened to overwhelm Stephanie, and she gripped the doorframe for support. ‘You must know it would be a marriage made in hell,’ she whispered. ‘How could we live together, make a life together, when there is so much mistrust between us?’
‘We managed when you were living at the Villa. In fact I recall that we had a very successful relationship.’
‘We had a lot sex,’ Stephanie snapped, aware from the sudden prickling of her skin that the atmosphere had subtly altered.
From the moment she had stepped into his office an undercurrent of sexual energy had smouldered between them. Since she had fled from Italy she had only felt half alive, but within seconds of seeing him fire had surged through her veins once more, and each of her nerve endings felt acutely sensitive as her body responded blindly to his magnetism.
His eyes were half hidden beneath his heavy lids, but she caught the glint of feral hunger and she stood, paralysed, as he slid his hand into her hair and tugged her head back so that she was held prisoner.
‘Sex cannot be the basis of marriage,’ she said tremulously, her eyes locked on his mouth as he lowered his head towards her.
He laughed. ‘It’s a better basis than love,’ he taunted. ‘Which is such an overrated emotion—don’t you think, bella?’
‘I believe that love is the only reason for two people to get married.’
His mouth was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She could not respond to him—must not. But her whole body was shaking, and she would surely die if he did not kiss her. She gave a little moan, half-pleasure, half-despair, when he traced the contours of her mouth with his tongue, and she could not help but part her lips in readiness.
‘If you are hoping for love, then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,’ Alexander murmured. ‘But think of the consolations—not only do you get an explosive sex-life, but you’ve managed to catch yourself a billionaire husband after all.’
His mouth cut off her furious retort and he ground his lips on hers, demanding a response her traitorous body was shamefully willing to give. He crushes her to him, and through the thickness of her coat she could feel his hard, aroused body, feel the answering heat pool between her thighs, and she gave a sob of wretched despair. The weeks without him had been hell, and now that she was in his arms once more she accepted that he was her reason for living. But he didn’t love her and he never would, and the knowledge was tearing her apart.
From somewhere she found the strength to tear her mouth from his and push against his chest. ‘All the riches in the world wouldn’t persuade me to marry you,’ she choked. ‘I won’t do it, Alexander, and you can’t make me.’
His mouth curved into a smile totally devoid of warmth as he promised, ‘you will, bella, and I can.’