The Italian's Future Bride(11)

She closed her eyes, wishing her head would just stop spinning now so she could think.



She needed to ring Mark. The whole story had gone bottom upwards and she  needed to warn him then get his take on what she should do next.



Ignoring the swimming room, she got up then just stood looking down at  her feet. Her shoes had disappeared. Tugging the throw around her  chilled shoulders, she began searching for them but they weren't  anywhere to be found.



He must have taken them with him. To stop her from making a bid for  freedom? He had to be crazy if he thought her mad enough to run out  there where the paparazzi waited-with or without her shoes!



She did find a bathroom, though, which she was sincerely glad about,  since she had not been near one for hours and hours. It smelled of  Raffaelle Villani: clean and tangy, with a hint of spice.



Nice, she thought as she washed her hands in the basin. The kind of  expensive scents you expected to surround a super-elite male. Then she  supposed she must also smell super-elite right now, bearing in mind that  her body had been pampered by a whole range of expensive products Elise  had provided along with the expensive hairstyle and dress.



She caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror then and was actually  taken aback because she hardly recognised herself-that sleek blonde  thing with dead straight hair and heavy make-up.



Well, she thought grimly as she viewed the thick licks of mascara that  lengthened her eyelashes and made her eyes look bluer than they really  were, everyone just loved to tell her that she had the potential to look  almost as good as Elise if she'd only take time with her appearance.  Now it seemed they'd achieved their dearest wish, only-



She was not and had never wanted to be Elise, had she? And that person  she could see in the mirror was just someone pretending to be something  she was not.



The fraud, in other words-the fake.



The pink lipstick had all gone by now, she saw, but her lips still  looked fuller than she was used to seeing them. Fuller and sexier  because of too many hot kisses shared with a complete stranger.



A stranger who was in for a big shock when he eventually got to meet the real Rachel Carmichael.



Releasing a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and went back into the  bedroom to search for that other item that had gone missing-her bag  with her cellphone inside it.



It wasn't in the bedroom so she let herself into the hallway, then  walked down it and into the living room. The dress did not feel so  indecently short now that her ankles were no longer elevated by  four-inch heels, she noticed as she walked.



She heard the bag before she found it because her phone was already  ringing. It had to be Mark-who else? she mocked grimly as she followed  the sound and found the bag lying on the floor by the sofa she'd last  sat down upon.



Her half-finished glass of vodka stood alongside it. As she bent to get  her bag there was a moment when she considered picking up the glass  first and downing what was left in true Dutch courage style before she  told Mark what had happened.



In the end she didn't need to tell him. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she put the phone to it.



'Rachel, what the hell are you doing in Raffaelle Villani's apartment?' Mark's voice all but pounced.



'How did you find out where I am-?' she asked.

                       
       
           



       

'Because it's all over the bloody Internet!'



A sound from behind her made her turn to find Raffaelle Villani propping  up the living room doorway. His shirt sleeves were rolled up now,  revealing tanned muscular forearms sprinkled with just enough dark hair  to make her wonder where else on his body it might be.



Her stomach muscles quivered. Her mouth went dry. Fluttering down her  eyelashes, 'It's nothing for you to panic about,' she said huskily into  the phone. 'I-I've been explaining the-situation to R-Raffaelle.' The  name fell uneasily from her lips and she caught the way one of his  eyebrows arched in mocking note of that. 'He-he's being very  understanding about it as-as I told you and Elise he would be once he'd  heard all the facts.'



There was a short silence. 'I'm coming to get you.'



'No-!' Rachel pushed out. 'It-it's better that you stay away from here.'



'Because I'm the press? Because between the two of you-you've come up  with this crazy engagement announcement that is flying round Europe as  we speak?'



That far, that quickly-? Rachel swallowed.



'I'm your brother first, Rachel,' Mark was saying angrily. 'And if that bastard is-'



'Well, it's just a bit too late to remember that, Mark!' she cut in.  'After the way you left me standing tonight, I wish I didn't have a  brother!'



'I thought you were right behind me until I reached my car.' He had the  grace to sound uncomfortable. 'When I did think to look back, the rest  of my cronies were piling out of the hotel and I couldn't see you  anywhere, so I assumed you'd disappeared in the other direction.'



'And, happy with that very stupid idea, you just went home without me to post your scoop.' Wasn't that just typically Mark?



'I had a deadline,' he grunted.



I had alife , Rachel thought angrily. 'Well, it's too late to come at me with the brotherly concern now.'



'Yeah, you're right.' He sighed. 'Sorry, Rachel. So he's okay with all of this, then?'



Straight from apology back to business, Rachel noticed. 'Yes,' she said.



He sucked in a breath. 'So when are you coming back here?'



'Coming back?' She looked at Raffaelle Villani. He was standing there, waiting to hear her answer as much as Mark was.



And she knew suddenly that she was going nowhere. She owed it to this  man to play the game the way he had decided it would be played.



'I'm not coming back,' she said to Mark, but it was this other man's wry  tilt of his dark head that held her attention. 'We-we're still talking  through our options,' she added. 'So I'm staying here f-for now.'



'Just talking?' Mark asked silkily.



She couldn't answer, not straight away anyway, because there was something about the way Raffaelle was looking at her now that-



'Yes,' she said.



But the gap had been too long for her streetwise, cynical half-brother.  She heard him let out a long breath of air. 'I hope you know what you're  doing,' he said grimly. 'He isn't the kind of man you want to become  mixed up with.'



Great advice, she thought, after the event. 'I'll call you-tomorrow,' was all she said.



'I had better go and ring Elise to tell her she can stop worrying.'



And that was Mark, Rachel noted bleakly, back to prioritizing in his  usual way-his twin always being a bigger priority for him than she ever  could be.



'Okay,' she murmured. 'Tell her I-'



'Great,' he cut in. 'Got to go now, Rachel. I need to change my copy  before it goes to print. Do you have any idea how much you've messed me  about by making that announcement tonight?'



The phone went dead. Rachel stared at it. And, for the first time since  this whole wretched evening began, she felt the thick push of weak tears  hit her eyes and her throat.



Raffaelle watched as she continued to stand there with the cellphone in  her hand. She'd gone pale again and if her body language was speaking to  him then it was telling him that she had just been tossed aside like a  used bloody pawn.



Anger pumped at his chest. He wanted to kick something-her twin siblings, for instance.



'What did you expect?' he demanded brusquely. 'A full rescue, complete  with armour and swords? You are not the main player on this  chessboard,cara -Elise is.'                       
       
           



       



'I know that,' she whispered and sank down on to the sofa.



He breathed out a sigh. 'At least her unborn child will get to know its rightful father.'



He'd meant that to sound comforting but it had come out sounding harsh.  She winced, pressing her lips together and dipping her head. Her hair  slid forward, revealing the vulnerable curve of her slender white nape.



Raffaelle brought his teeth together, his tongue sitting behind them and  tingling with a mixed-up desire to taste what he could see and the  knowledge that it was at real risk of being bitten off if he did not  take more care about what he said.



With a reluctance to let his mood soften, he pushed himself away from  the door and walked towards her. She heard him coming and stiffened her  spine. When he leant down with the intention of picking up her glass to  offer it to her, she actually shuddered.



'Please don't start dragging me around again,' she choked out.



Was that what he had been doing-?



Yes, that was what he had been doing, Raffaelle realised, and straightened up with a jerk. 'I'm-sorry,' he said.



'Everyone is sorry.' She laughed tensely. 'Doesn't help much though, does it?'



He couldn't argue with that so he threw himself down on the sofa beside  her and released another sigh. 'Beginning to feel more like the real  victim now,cara ?' He could not seem to stop the taunts from coming. 'It  is a strange feeling, don't you think-being kind of frustratingly  helpless? If we then start to wonder how our present lovers are going to  feel when the news hits the stands, the sense of frustration really  begins to bite.'