The Italian Billionaire's Secret Love-Child(55)

Across the road, Riccardo was halted in his tracks. He hadn’t expected this. The girl at the office had told him that Charlotte had gone to lunch at that expensive place round the corner; she couldn’t remember the name but it was something French. She hadn’t said anything about the man Charlotte had gone with, and Riccardo had assumed…What had he assumed? That she was tied to him in some way simply because she had finally given in to her physical attraction? Hadn’t she told him often enough that lust was not the glue that held a relationship together? What the hell had he been thinking?#p#分页标题#e#



He watched from a distance as she stood still on the pavement for a few seconds on her own, wrapping her arms around herself. She was smiling, and from where he was standing that smile looked mighty happy indeed.



Riccardo felt the blood which had drained away from his body rush to his head in a burst of jealous, possessive rage. He was shaking as he leant heavily against the wall and drew in one long, shuddering breath. Then he turned away and began walking. He didn’t go near his office. Trying to work would have been impossible. For the first time since he had been living in London, he did the unthinkable and took a taxi to Regent’s Park, which was peaceful and fairly deserted. In his head, he replayed what had confronted him outside the brasserie. His wife to be, his woman, wrapped up in the arms of another man. There was a heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach which felt like concrete.



He should have talked to her before, really talked. But how could he have, when he had known nothing of how he felt about her until an hour ago? When he had witnessed her in the arms of her ex-boyfriend. If indeed he was an ‘ex’.



The prospect of living a life walking in the shadow of someone else filled him with searing rage and now he knew why. He dialled her number on his mobile phone without bothering to torture himself with self-analysis, and got through to her immediately.



‘I need to see you,’ he told her. ‘Right now.’



‘I’ve got a stack of work to do, Riccardo. Can it wait until later?’ Having lunch with Ben had been a good idea. Charlotte felt calmer now, more resigned to her destiny. She couldn’t resist Riccardo, and that being the case then she would have to stop acting as though the world had caved in. No one was more pitiful than the person who moped around feeling sorry for herself. She had made her choice and she would live with it and accept its limitations.



‘No. Do you want me to meet you at your office?’



‘No,’ Charlotte said hurriedly, shuddering at the thought of every member of staff subjecting them to in-depth scrutiny. ‘Where are you now?’



‘Regent’s Park.’



‘You’re in Regent’s Park?’



‘You can always come here, but it’s a dreary day to be outside.’



‘Okay. I’ll meet you at the house. I can bring some of this work back with me and do it later after Gina’s gone to bed. Is…is everything okay?’



‘No. But I’ll explain when I see you.’



It was so unlike Riccardo to say something like that that Charlotte felt a flutter of fear. She couldn’t pack her things up fast enough, and on the Tube back her head was filled with sickening scenarios. Had he changed his mind about marrying her? Maybe her behaviour had finally turned him off. Maybe sleeping with a woman while suspecting she didn’t like him had awakened in him the obvious desire to have more than just a body. She had lain in his arms and still kept him at a distance. She had been aware of doing that, and now she wondered whether he had finally got fed up with her sour grapes. He wasn’t to know that she’d just been trying to protect herself.



Or maybe he was ill. That disturbing thought sneaked its way into her subconscious, and once there refused to go away. Why else would he have been at Regent’s Park, of all places? If there was something seriously wrong with him, then what better place for peace, to think things through?



From these two scenarios, worrying offshoots wreaked havoc with her nervous system, and she was white-faced by the time she made it to the house and let herself in.#p#分页标题#e#



‘I’m in here.’



Charlotte dropped her bag and briefcase and kicked off her shoes. She found him in the sitting room, lights off, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked at her, then back at the coffee, as if hoping to find inspiration in the mug, like a reader of tea leaves.



‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded. ‘Why were you sitting in Regent’s Park at this time of day?’