The Italian's Future Bride(24)

'So I'm to be a prisoner now as well as your … 'She severed the rest but they both knew what she had been about to say.



'It cuts both ways,cara ,' Raffaelle said unsympathetically. 'I had a  life and relative freedom with which to live it until you threw yourself  at me. Now I have you, a bed and no life to call my own.'



'At least you get to go to work.'



'It is what I do during the day.'



'Well, lucky you.'Rachel handed him back the newspaper, then she curled  on her side and tugged the duvet up to her ears. 'I might as well stay  right here then, since it's the only place I am useful.'



He laughed. 'Hold that delightful thought until I return.'



Then he was gone. The door closed. He strode down the hallway and out of  the apartment, then into the lift. It took him down to the basement  where Dino and his limo awaited him. The moment he settled in the rear  seat and opened his laptop his business cellphone began ringing and real  life settled in. As he concluded his fourth complicated call of the  journey, Dino was pulling the car to a stop outside the Villani  building. He climbed out and strode in through the doors into familiar  surroundings where that other excitement which came a very close second  to sex waited to take him over.



Then it came.



'Congratulations, Mr Villani!'



'Congratulations, sir!'



Congratulations resounded from every corner. The curious smiles that  accompanied them were due almost entirely to the photograph printed in  this morning's paper, he judged.



His smile was mocking but fixed. And even that was wearing thin by the time he hit the top floor of the building.



'Congratulations, Raffaelle,' his secretary greeted him and dumped a whole load of telephone message slips down on his desk.



'What are those?' he asked dubiously.



'Congratulations and invitations, of course.' She grinned. 'I would  hazard a guess that these are only the beginning. It looks as if you and  Miss Carmichael will be dining out every night for months!'



He gave her them back. 'You deal with them.'



'Me?'



'Filter out the rubbish and sort the rest into some kind of order,' he instructed. 'Then I will look at them.'



'But wouldn't it be more appropriate if Miss Carmichael did it?'                       
       
           



       



Recalling the woman he had just walked away from brought a gleam to his  eyes. 'No. She has better things to do,' he murmured dryly.



Like playing his personal little sex nymph.



CHAPTER EIGHT



THE SEX NYMPH WAS UP, showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt by the  time Raffaelle entered his office building to a barrage of  congratulations.



The sex nymph could not be more prim and polite when his housekeeper  introduced herself as Rosa, the chauffeur's wife; apparently both of  them travelled everywhere that Raffaelle went.



And the sex nymph had no intention of being anywhere near the bedroom by the time he got back home again.



She had come up with a much more practical way to spend her time.



Over a light breakfast prepared by Rosa, Rachel planned her day with the  concentration of a tourist determined to miss nothing out. Only her  tour would not consist of historical sites in the city; she was going to  trawl the restaurants and food wholesalers specialising in organic  produce.



Her nice new security guard arrived conveniently as she was about to  leave. His name was Tony and he had the use of a car, which meant far  less footwork.



Still, by the time she had been delivered safely back to the apartment long hours later, she was almost dead on her feet.



Raffaelle was crossing the hall towards his study from the living room  as she stepped in through the door. Pinstriped jacket gone, shirt  sleeves rolled up, tie knot hanging low at his throat and glass slotted  between his fingers, he looked deliciously like the successful man just  in from work and ready to wind down from his busy day.



Rachel paused, completely held by his sexual pull.



He paused too and looked at her, silky curls ruffled, face still chilled  by the cold breeze blowing outside, woollen coat unbuttoned to reveal a  white T-shirt with a neckline that scooped low at the front. He took  his time taking in every detail with the slow-slow thoroughness of a  seasoned connoisseur of beautiful women.



Knowing that she lacked the connoisseur's high standards right now sent  Rachel's chin shooting up, blue eyes challenging him to say something  derogatory.



'Did you enjoy your day,mi amore ?' was the sarcastic comment that fell from his lips.



Defences heightened, she reluctantly supposed she should explain where she'd been. 'I went … '



'I know where you have been,' he cut in. 'Tony works for me, not for you.'



'Then, yes-' they could both play with polite sarcasm, she decided '-I had a very enjoyable day, thank you. And you?'



'I had an … interesting day,' he replied, watching her every step as she  made herself walk forward. 'I spent it giving polite replies to polite  invitations for us to dine with polite people who cannot wait to get a  better look at my future wife.'



Recalling the revealing photograph in this morning's paper sent a rush of heat into her cool cheeks.



'Of course you did the wise thing and politely declined those polite invitations?'



'No, I accepted-most of them.'



Rachel pulled to a standstill. 'I hope you're just teasing.'



He took a sip of his drink, every inch of him vibrating with a kind of  sardonic challenge that gave her his answer before he shook his dark  head.



'The show must go on.'



'But I don't want to meet your friends!' she protested.



'Scared they might see through us?'



'Yes!' she said. 'Can't we just want to-be alone together-as real engaged couples prefer to be?'



'You're mistaking a new betrothal with a new marriage,' he countered.  'Honeymooners want to-be alone together. Newly betrothed couples want to  get out there and-show off.'



'But I don't want to show off!'



A satin black eyebrow arched in enquiry. 'You don't think I am good enough to show off?'



'Don't talk rubbish,' she snapped. What woman in her right mind would  say he wasn't fit to show off? 'I just don't thinkwe are fit to be seen  as an intimate couple within a group of your friends!' Stuffing her  hands into her coat pockets and hunching her shoulders in self-defence,  she went on, 'I presumed we would do-safer things like go out to quiet  restaurants or something.'



'A restaurant it is.' He smiled. 'Eight o'clock. We will be meeting my stepsister and several other close friends of mine.'



Rachel's stomach started rolling sickly. 'Tonight?' she squeezed out painfully.                       
       
           



       



'Si,' he confirmed.



'W-why couldn't you be friendless?' she tossed out helplessly.



He just grinned. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you,cara , but I am certainly not friendless.'



'But your stepsister of all people. Sheknows we are fakes!'



His mood changed in a flicker. 'Stop playing the scared innocent,  Rachel, when we both know you are far from it,' he clipped out. 'This is  what you signed up for to save your sister's marriage. And lovers who  fall on one other as often as we do are certainly not faking it!'



She pushed her hands through her hair. 'You know what I meant.'



'And you know what I mean when I say-get your act together,' he  instructed, 'because we are going out in public tonight and I want the  besottedlover by my side, not the farmer with a chip on her shoulder a  mile wide!'



Rachel stared at him. 'What's that supposed to imply?'



He threw out an impatient hand. 'You compare yourself badly to your more  glamorous sister,' he provided. 'You compare me with your ex-lover and  hate the fact that I am Italian like him.'



'I do not!' she denied.



'Was he good-looking?' he demanded.



'What has that got to do with anything?' Her eyes went wide in bewilderment.



'Was he-?' he persisted.



'Yes!'



'How old?'



'My age-'



'And what kind of car did he drive?'



She sucked in an angry breath. 'A red Ferrari,' she answered. 'But that wasn't-'



'Great,' he gritted. 'Mine is silver. Is that a bad mark against me or one against him for being too flashy?'



'You're crazy,' she breathed.



Maybe he was. At this precise moment Raffaelle did not know why he was  so fired up about a man he probably would not give a second thought to  in other circumstances.



'Just go and get ready.' He turned his back on her and strode into his  study, wanting to toss his drink to the back of his angry throat but  refusing to allow himself the gut soothing pleasure while she was  standing there staring at him. 'And Idon't like flashy, so don't come  out dressed in red!' he could not stop himself from adding.



Then he shut the door-slammedthe damn door!



Rachel shook all the way into the bedroom. She shook as she removed her  coat and laid it aside. She had absolutely no idea what all of that had  been about and she didn't think that she wanted to know.