Her Shameful Secret. Susanna Carr
wished he could. He wished he had left her alone when he’d first seen her. It had been early March. The sun had been shining but there had been a chill in the air as he’d left his office. He had just pocketed his cell phone when he’d seen a young woman standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.
Antonio had done a double-take and halted.
“Is everything all right, sir?” his assistant had asked.
No. His world had taken a sudden tilt as he’d stared at the blonde, dressed simply in a fitted leather jacket, skintight jeans and knee-high boots. The violent kick of attraction had made him take a staggering step back.
He knew many beautiful young women, but there had been something different about this one. He had wanted to accept her silent challenge. It could have been her don’t-mess-with-me stance or the jaunty tilt of her black fedora. Maybe it had been the bright red scarf draped around her neck that hinted at attitude. Whatever it was, he had found it irresistible.
“Sir?” his assistant had prompted.
Antonio had barely heard him. His attention had been on the blonde as she’d turned a map upside down, clearly hopeless at navigating. Then suddenly she’d shrugged her shoulders and stuffed the map carelessly into her backpack. Antonio had watched as the blonde had started walking away as if she was ready for whatever adventure she faced.
Her beauty and vitality had intrigued him, and her bold spirit had captured his imagination. He’d known he had to meet this woman or regret missing the opportunity.
“Cancel my meeting,” he had said to his stunned assistant.
Following an elemental instinct he had not wanted to question, Antonio had ignored the chauffeured car waiting for him and followed the blonde.
His pulse had quickened as he’d watched the swing of her long blonde hair and the sway of her hips. She’d looked over her shoulder, and as their gazes connected he had seen the flare of attraction in her blue eyes. Instead of looking away she had turned and approached him.
“Mi scusi,” she had said, her voice strong and clear as she’d met his gaze boldly. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” he had said, noticing she was American. There had been no light of recognition in her eyes—just lust. She’d had no idea who he was.
“Great. I’m looking for the Piazza del Popolo,” she had said, her attention clearly drawn to his mouth. She had absently swiped the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip.
Antonio had clenched his jaw. He had wanted to know how her lips tasted, but it had been too soon, too fast. The last thing he’d wanted to do was scare her off. “It’s not far,” he had replied gruffly as attraction pulsed between them. “I can show you where it is.”
He had been fascinated as he’d watched her cheeks turn pink. She hadn’t tried to hide her interest, but she’d been fighting an internal struggle. He had seen the rise and fall of her chest and the eagerness in her expression. She had been tempted to explore whatever was happening between them.
“Wouldn’t it be out of your way?”
“Not at all,” he had lied. His voice had softened as his chest had tightened with growing excitement. “I happen to be going in that direction.”
“What luck!” Her broad smile had indicated that she didn’t believe him. She could have said she was going to Venice and he would have given the same answer. “By the way, I’m Isabella.”
He had taken Bella to bed that night. There had been no games, no pretense. There had also been no indication that this American student on Spring Break would twist him in so many knots that he would never be the same again. She hadn’t been very experienced, but a generous and affectionate lover.
Giovanni had thought so, too.
The reminder burned like acid, eating away at him.
Antonio stood up and shoved his clenched fists in his pockets. “You told me you weren’t sick.”
“I’m not sick,” she countered faintly.
The Isabella he knew was full of life and ready to take on the world. This Isabella looked like a strong gust of wind would knock her over. “You need to see a doctor.”
Isabella suddenly opened her eyes wide. She blinked a few times and darted a quick look at him before keeping her gaze on the floor. She rose, resting awkwardly on her elbow and pushing the wayward hair out of her face. “I’ve seen a doctor. I’m not sick. Just exhausted. All I need is to eat and sleep properly.”
Antonio cast her a look of disbelief. “I would ask for a second opinion.”
“I don’t need one. Now, go away,” she ordered with the flutter of her hand.
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
“You have to,” she urged as she held her head in her hands. “Tell everyone that you couldn’t find me. Tell them that I’m back home.”
It was tempting. He wanted to leave and not look back. Purge her from his memories. Do anything that would erase Isabella from his world. But he knew that was impossible.
“Sorry. I’m not like you. I choose to tell the truth whenever possible.”
She lifted her head to glare at him. “I never lied to you. I never—”
He turned away and checked his watch. “I don’t have time to rehash the past.”
“Rehash?” Isabella’s voice rose angrily. “When did we discuss it the first time around? I thought we were happy. We had been together for weeks and going strong. We had made love throughout the night. The next morning your security woke me up to kick me out. My bag was packed and you wouldn’t take my call. You didn’t tell me why you did that, and you never gave me a chance to talk about it!”
Antonio leaned against the wall by the door. The room felt like it was getting smaller. “I wasn’t in the mood to hear your excuses. I’m even less inclined to now.”
“There was nothing to excuse,” Isabella argued as she rose slowly.
Her movements were wobbly and awkward. Antonio folded his arms so he wouldn’t reach out and help her. He already regretted holding her close. He didn’t like how much effort it had taken to pull away. His fingertips still stung from where he had touched her face.
Isabella looked him in the eye and jutted out her chin. “I did not have an affair.”
He held up his hand. “Enough! I will not discuss it.”
“Typical,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t like to discuss anything. Especially if it’s personal. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t share how you felt. The only time I knew exactly what you were thinking was when we were in bed.”
An intimate and very inconvenient image bloomed in his mind. Of Isabella, naked in his bed, eagerly following his explicit demands. When they’d been alone together he had held nothing back. He had demonstrated how much he wanted Isabella and how much her touch had meant to him. There had been many times when it hadn’t been certain who was in command.
A muscle bunched in his jaw and ferocious energy swirled around him. “We are leaving,” he announced in a gravelly tone. Antonio thrust the door open and waited for Isabella.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not signing any papers. I don’t want Giovanni’s money.”
“I’m sure you earned it.” He didn’t want her to know what was at stake here. All he wanted was to end this errand as soon as possible. By whatever means necessary. Antonio walked over to her.
Isabella’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
“How times have changed,” he said silkily as he wrapped his hand around her wrist. He ignored her racing pulse under