Caroline Anderson - Marrying the Italian - The Marcolini Blackmail Marriage / The Valtieri Marriage Deal / The Italian Doctor's Bride

‘That is not true,’ Antonio said. He had seen time and time again how both of his parents had tried their level best to get on with Claire, but she had been so fiercely independent they had eventually given up trying to include her. ‘Anyway, it was not up to them, it was up to me who I spent my time with. It is still up to me.’

‘What would you know of how it was for me?’ she asked. ‘I couldn’t bear going through it all again. It has taken me this long to move on.’

Antonio could feel his frustration building, and couldn’t quite disguise it in his tone. ‘Get used to it, Claire, because you and I are going to spend the next three months together—otherwise you will be personally responsible for sending your brother to jail where he belongs.’

She glared at him furiously. ‘I thought you had devoted your life to saving the lives of others?’ she said. ‘If you send my brother to prison you might as well be signing your name on his death certificate. He won’t last a day inside. He’ll get bullied or beaten up or something. I know he will.’

The look he gave her was merciless. ‘Then do not make me do it, Claire, for I will if I have to. It is in your hands. Do not forget that.’

She threw him a hateful glare as she snatched up her purse from where she had flung it earlier. Fighting to control her anger was like trying to rein in a bolting horse with nothing but piece of string. She had never thought it was possible to hate someone so intensely—especially someone she had loved so much before. Antonio was a ruthless stranger now, a man without mercy, a man who was prepared to go to unbelievable lengths to have her bend to his will.

‘When do you wish to start this ridiculous charade?’ she asked.

‘Have you had dinner?’ he asked.

‘Um…no, but I’m not hungry.’

‘There is a very fine restaurant within a block of here,’ he said. ‘I suggest we have dinner together, so as to ease back into our relationship.’

‘I don’t think I could eat a thing.’

‘It looks like you have not eaten a thing in days.’

She gave him a cutting look. ‘Is there anything else you would like to criticise me about while you’re at it?’ she asked.

Antonio’s eyes glittered determinedly as they held hers. ‘One thing I would like to make very clear from the outset,’ he said. ‘You can say what you like to me when we are alone, but while we are in the presence of other people I expect you to act with the dignity and decorum befitting your role as my wife.’

‘Yes, well, that’s all it’s going to be,’ she snipped back. ‘An act—and not a particularly attractive one.’

‘I will make sure there are certain compensations,’ he said. ‘A generous allowance, for one thing, which will mean you can cut back your hours at work—or quit altogether while I am here.’

She stood as stiff as a broom handle. ‘You can keep your stupid allowance, and I am not giving up my job for you,’ she said. ‘I want to maintain some element of independence.’

‘If that is what you want then I have no issue with it,’ he said. ‘I just thought you might be glad of a break from the long hours you work. You certainly look like you could do with one.’

Claire knew she had dark shadows under her eyes, and she was at least a couple of kilos lighter than she should be, but did he have to make her feel as if she had just crawled out from beneath a rock?

‘Would you like me to get a paper bag to place over my head before we are seen in public together?’ she asked. ‘No doubt I fall rather short of the glamorous standard of the legions of other women you have enjoyed over the last five years.’

He held her challenging look for a tense moment. ‘I was merely commenting on how stressed and tired you look, il mio amato ,’ he said. ‘There is no need to feel as if everything I say to you is a veiled insult.’

Claire had to hastily swallow to keep her emotions in check. Her heart recognised the term of endearment and swelled in response. My beloved one . Of course he didn’t mean it. How could he? He had never said he loved her. He had not once revealed anything of how he felt about her apart from at the start of their affair, when his desire for her had been so hot and strong it had left her spinning in its wake.

But then he had left her grieving the loss of their baby to find solace in his previous lover’s arms. He had always denied it strenuously, and she might have believed his version of events if it hadn’t been for Antonio’s mother Rosina confirming her son’s clandestine relationship.

‘Do we have to do this tonight?’ she asked now, with a hint of petulance. ‘Why can’t we meet for dinner tomorrow, or even the day after?’

‘Because I have limited time available,’ he said. ‘I have a large operating list tomorrow, which could well go over time. And besides, I know what you will do if I give you a reprieve. You will more than likely disappear for the next three months so as to avoid further contact with me.’

Claire shifted her gaze so he wouldn’t see how close his assessment of her had been. She had been madly thinking of various escape routes, mentally tallying the meagre contents of her bank account to figure a way of covering her tracks until he left the country. But she could hardly leave Rebecca in the lurch—not after she had always been so supportive of her over the years.

‘I know how your mind works, Claire,’ he said into the silence. ‘You would rather walk over hot coals than spend an evening with me, would you not?’

Claire returned her gaze to his, surprised at the bitterness in his tone. What did he have to be bitter about? She hadn’t destroyed their marriage, he had—and irreparably. ‘You surely don’t expect me to be doing cartwheels of joy about you forcing your way back into my life, do you?’ she asked.

The line of his mouth tightened. ‘I can see why you have lost so much weight,’ he said. ‘It is no doubt due to that chip on your shoulder you are carrying around.’

Claire gripped her purse so tightly her fingers began to ache. ‘You don’t think I have a right to be upset?’ she asked. ‘I’m not an emotional cardboard cut-out like you, Antonio. I feel, and I feel deeply. Not a day goes past when I don’t think about her—about how old she would be now, what she would look like, the things she would be saying and doing. Do you even spare her a single thought?’

His eyes darkened, and the tension around his mouth increased, making a tiny nerve flicker beneath the skin of his rigid jaw. ‘I think of her,’ he said, his voice sounding as if it had been scraped across a serrated surface. ‘Of course I think about her.’

Claire bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted the metallic sourness of blood. She didn’t want to break down in front of him. She didn’t want him to see how truly vulnerable she still was around him. If he reached out to comfort her she would betray herself; she was sure of it. Her arms would snake around his neck; her body would press up against his in search of the warmth and strength only he could give. Her flesh would spring to life, every cell in her body recognising the magnetism of his, drawing her into his sensual orbit, luring her into lowering her guard until she had no defences left. The sooner she was out of this suite and in a public place the better, she decided firmly.

She drew in a scratchy breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘I guess dinner would be OK,’ she said. ‘I missed lunch, and breakfast seems like a long time ago.’

He picked up the security card and slid it into his wallet. ‘I will not keep you up too late, Claire. I am still getting over my jet lag.’