The Italian's Future Bride(33)

'Perhaps even pining for your Italian heartbreaker-?'                       
       
           



       



What had made him bring up Alonso now of all times? Rachel stopped  walking to turn and look at him. He was standing in front of the closed  bedroom door, tall, lean, spectacularly arrogant, with that coldly  cynical expression lashed to his handsome features that just said it  all.



CHAPTER ELEVEN



AN ICYchill chased down Rachel's spine. 'You know I bumped into Alonso today,' she murmured.



The tense shape of his top lip twisted. 'Is thisbumped into an English  euphemism for recklessly planned to meet with him in broad daylight on a  busy street?'



Refusing to take him up on his cold sarcasm, she replied, 'No, it means bumped into byaccident .'



'And, having spent the afternoon in his company,' Rafaelle said coldly, 'how would you prefer to describe that to me?'



Rachel frowned. 'But I didn't spend the afternoon with him.'



Shifting out of his taut stance, he walked forward, a long-fingered hand  sliding into his inner jacket pocket, then smoothly out again. He  halted by the bed, placed a photograph down on it.



Rachel glanced at it briefly. So someonehad seen them together. She  looked back at him. 'If you want to say something, Raffaelle,' she  challenged. 'Then just come out and say it.'



'You drank coffee with him.'



'Yes.' She nodded.



'You then moved on to his apartment situated above the café.'



'You have photographic evidence of that too?'



He sliced the air with a hand. 'It stands to reason.'



'Does it?'



'Si-!' he bit out.



Suddenly all the rage he had been holding in all evening burst to the  fore. He took a step towards her. Rachel took a step back. The raking  flick of contempt in his eyes as she did so tensed up her trembling  spine.



'You can give me a better explanation as to where you did spend the rest  of the afternoon before you returned here?' he demanded.



Refusing to let his anger intimidate her, 'Can you explain where you spentyour afternoon?' she hit back.



'Scuzi-?' He had the gall to look shocked!



'And then you could go on to explain how you had the rank bad taste to  bring yourafternoon friend into my company at dinner tonight!'



'Francesca is-'



'An ex-lover of yours, I know.' She said it for him. 'With darling Daniella around, I do tend to find these things out.'



His angry face hardened. 'We were discussing what you did with your afternoon, not what I did with mine.'



'Well, let's just say, for argument's sake, that we both did the same  thing!' she threw back. 'As least you were saved the embarrassment of  watching me fawn all over Alonso at dinner, whereas I did not warrant  that much respect!'



His wide shoulders clenched inside expensive suiting. 'I did nothing  with Francesca this afternoon but spend the time negotiating the price  for that photograph! She owns the damn newspaper that bought it!'



'So she deals with the dreaded paparazzi?' Rachel's blue eyes lit up  with bitter scorn. 'What lovely loyal people you and I surround  ourselves with. Maybe we should introduce her to my brother and between  them they could happily make a mockery out of both of us in two  countries at the same time!'



'None of which explains what you did with your ex-lover,' he grated.



Her stomach was still churning and her heart was beating much too fast.  'I drank coffee with him, then I walked away. End of subject,' she said  and turned back to the bathroom.



'It is the end of nothing.' His roughened voice raked over her as he  grabbed her shoulder to spin her back round again, his face hard like  granite. 'I want to know the truth!' he bit out.



Dizzy and nauseous, maybe she was not going to need to do any test, Rachel thought shakily. 'I've just given you the truth.'



'And your coffee took four hours to consume?'



Rachel made herself look up at him. 'Your negotiations for the  photograph took just as long?' she challenged him right back. 'Or was  your time spent on a certainkind of negotiation?'



He went white, stiffened and let go of her. 'You will not sink me down to your level, Rachel.'



'Mylevel ?' She stared at him.



'Your propensity to lie, then, without blinking an eye.'



Well, her eyes certainly blinked now and she took an unsteady step  backwards. 'I have never lied to you, Raffaelle,' she breathed out  unevenly. 'No-think about that,' she insisted when he parted his hard  lips to speak. 'We have a relationship built on lies, yes,' she  acknowledged. 'But I have never lied toyou !'                       
       
           



       



The way his top lip curled really shook her. This, the whole thing they  had going between them, suddenly showed itself up for what it really  was-a relationship built on sex and disrespect, which had never stood a  chance of being anything more than the tacky way it felt to her right  now.



'Scoff at me all you want,' she invited. 'But while you're doing it  remember that three months ago you wanted my sister. This month you  decided that you might as well have me. Next month you will probably put  Francesca back into your bed. The way you are going through them,  Raffaelle, there won't be a woman left in Europe you will be able to  look at without experiencingdéjà-vu !'



Rachel spun away then, needing to head fast for the bathroom. But she  didn't make it that far. The room began to swim and she pushed a hand up  to her head, swaying like a drunk on her spindly heels.



'What-?' she heard him rasp in a mad mix of concern and anger.



'I don't-f-feel well,' she whispered, before everything started to  blacken around the edges and his thick curses accompanied his strong  arms which caught her as she started to sink to the ground.



Her own piece ofdéjà-vu followed, as she opened her eyes to find herself  lying on the bed with him looming over her. The same look was there,  the same closed expression.



A flickering clash of their eyes and she knew what he was thinking.



'It might not be,' she whispered across the hand she pressed against her lips.



He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again-tight. Then  he straightened up and she knew he was drawing himself in ready to deal  with the worst.



'I will call a doctor-'



The fatalist at work again, she recognised. 'No,' she shook out and,  when he paused as he was turning away from her, Rachel heaved out a sigh  and slowly sat up. 'Y-you don't need to call a doctor,' she explained.  'I h-have something … ' She waved a hand towards the bedside drawer.



Without saying a word, he walked over to the drawer and opened it. Long  fingers withdrew the paper bag containing the only purchase she had made  that afternoon.



Such a small purchase for something so important, Rachel thought bleakly  as he withdrew what was inside the bag, then just stood looking down at  it.



The mood was different now, still tense but thick and heavy. She looked  at his profile and saw that the drawbridge had been brought down on his  anger and what he was thinking.



'When did you buy this?'



'Today,' she answered. 'Th-this afternoon.'



'I thought we agreed that you would not risk making intimate purchases like this,' he said with super-controlled cool.



A strained little laugh left her throat. 'There was no one I could trust  enough to get them to do it for me and I … needed to know.'



'Did you?'



The odd way he said that brought her head up. 'Of course-don't you want to know?'



He did not answer. There was something very peculiar about the way he was standing there, tense and grim.



'If you're concerned that I've given the paparazzi something else about  us to feed on, then I was careful,' she assured him. 'In fact,' she  said, sliding her feet to the floor, 'you wanted to know what I did with  my afternoon. Well, wandering round the shops trying to fool any  followers into leaving me alone before I dared to buy the test was it.'



He said nothing. Rachel wished she knew what was going on in his head.  Hurt was beginning to prick at her nerve endings. Didn't he think this  situation was difficult enough without him standing there resembling a  block of stone? Was he scared in case they discovered she was pregnant  and that sense of honour he liked to believe he possessed would require  him to marry her when he didn't want to?



Standing up, she went to take the package from him. 'I'll go and find out if it's-'



His fingers closed around it. 'No,' he said gruffly.



Rachel just stared at his hard profile.



'We-need to talk first,' he added.



'Talk about what?' she said curtly. 'If I am pregnant we will deal with it like grown-ups. If I'm not pregnant, then I go home.'



'What do you mean, we deal with it like grown-ups?' At last he swung round to look at her. His face was pale and taut.