The CEO Takes a Wife(21)

Never had a woman on his family turf.

The family’s Christmases had always been here at Villa Valente with his parents and his two brothers and sometimes various relatives, but neither he nor his brothers had brought their girlfriends here. None of them would ever give a woman that false sense of power over them.

Yet having Olivia here now wasn’t about giving her the wrong impression. Olivia already knew the score. This year they would be together, and next year they wouldn’t be, and that was the way they both liked it.

And the way they both wanted it.

It had to be that way.

For now he’d enjoy the benefits of having a beautiful woman in his life—and in his bed. Making love to Olivia last night for the first time had been amazing. She’d been married before so he hadn’t expected to be her teacher, yet there had been an innocence about her, as though he was the first lover to give her more than he took.

And in the giving he’d been given back far more than he’d ever expected. She’d turned into a more than willing pupil. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said she’d been a dream to make love to.

And this afternoon when she’d been sleeping…if he hadn’t known she was so exhausted he’d have woken her up with a kiss to that gorgeous mouth of hers. And then he’d have kissed her all over before making her his again.

Hell, just thinking about it sent the blood pounding to his groin but he told himself that waiting would make it all the sweeter. Later this evening he would wine and dine her, then make love to her over and over.

But that was easier said than done when he saw her later coming down the stairs dressed in a short brandy-colored dress that showed off her gorgeous curves and long slim legs. Its off-the-shoulder design highlighted a tanned collarbone that deserved to be kissed.

She was exquisite.

He wished now that he’d stayed in their bedroom and watched her dress, smoothing silk stockings up along her legs. Of course if he’d stayed they’d still be in the bedroom.

In bed.

And he’d be inside her.

“I’m going to make love to you later,” he said huskily as she approached him. “You know that, don’t you?”

A becoming flush stained her cheeks. “So you’re not sick of me yet?” she joked.

He frowned. Where had that come from? Her ex?

“No way, sweetheart,” he growled, then put his hand under her chin and gave her a hard kiss, more than satisfied by the hint of pleasure he saw in her eyes when he pulled back. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He cupped her elbow and led her out to one of his father’s Mercedes. If they didn’t go to dinner soon, they’d never get there.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in an intimate corner of the best restaurant in town and Alex was studying the blond beauty in front of him. He could have been sitting amongst the Miss World contestants and none of them would hold a candle to Olivia.

Her eyelids flickered. “Stop staring, Alex,” she said in a throaty voice.

“Why?”

She shot him a wry look. “Okay, let’s change the subject. Tell me about your Italian background.”#p#分页标题#e#

“Why?”

Her gorgeous lips curved upward. “Because I’ve just realized I’ve never asked you before. I mean, I know what I’ve read in the papers and that you’re Australian-born, but that’s about all I know about you.”

He leaned back in his chair, pleased she was interested enough to ask. “What do you want to know?”

“Can you speak Italian, for one thing? You never do.”

“My grandparents came out from Italy after the war and they taught me when I was growing up, but I prefer to speak Australian.” He’d loved his grandparents but they were gone now and he had no interest in speaking Italian with his father.

“And your father?” she said, honing in like a dentist’s drill on a sore tooth. “He speaks fluent Italian, doesn’t he? Was he born in Italy?”

Alex’s brows drew together. “I thought this was about me, not my father.”

She cooled a little. “I’m only trying to understand the man I married.”

“Don’t,” he snapped, then grimaced at the withdrawal on her face. He sighed. “Look, my father was twelve when he came here. Eventually he made his millions and later married my mother when he was around thirty. She was Australian and she died when I was little. That’s it.”

Her eyes softened and filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

His stomach knotted. “Yeah, so am I.”

The only vague memory he had of his mother was of sitting on her knee. He also had a couple of old photographs. She’d been raised by an elderly aunt so he hadn’t even been able to ask her family about her. Cesare Valente certainly hadn’t wanted to talk about her.