The Sheikh's Unwilling Wife

‘Good. Good.’ Giovanni’s black eyes glittered with satisfaction. The first part of his mission was accomplished—the second would be to decide where to take her. A hotel? With the convenience of a bedroom within walking distance? Why not start as he meant to go on? Hunger curved the edges of his mouth into a hard smile. ‘I’ll pick you up here.’

‘No!’ The word flew out before she could stop it, but Alexa wanted neutral territory—a bland, safe environment. Though was anywhere really safe with Giovanni? Didn’t the power of his presence subtly dominate his surroundings, so that no matter where you were all you were aware of was him? She met his questioning stare. ‘My boss doesn’t like anyone else in the shop while I’m emptying the till,’ she babbled. ‘I have to look after the takings.’

‘I shouldn’t think there’ll be much in the way of takings, judging by the lack of customers,’ he observed sardonically, raising his eyebrows. ‘You will have to do better than that for an excuse, cara.’

It was arrogant of him to suppose that she needed an excuse not to talk to him—but then, his arrogance had never been in question. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate if you’re breathing down my neck.’

He smiled. Better. Much better. ‘No, I can see that might be a problem,’he agreed evenly. ‘So, where shall I see you?’

Alexa’s mind was racing. She would have to phone the childminder, of course, and arrange a later pick-up, but that should be okay.

She ran through all the possible venues to come up with the one where she was least likely to know anyone—but as a woman who rarely went out in the evenings she had a pretty big field to choose from. ‘Meet me in the Billowing Sail,’ she said. ‘Just after six. It’s a little pub, tucked away in the corner of the harbour.’

‘A pub?’ he echoed.

‘That’s right.’

‘But I don’t like pubs, Alexa,’ he said softly. ‘You know that.’

And she didn’t like being forced into a meeting with a man who could still turn her emotions upside down. He—like she—would just have to put up with it. ‘I’m afraid that pubs are part of English life—and none of the coffee shops will be open at six.’

‘Then let’s have dinner instead.’

‘D-dinner?’

‘The meal that people eat in the evenings,’he enlightened her sarcastically. ‘You know.’

Alexa felt her heart slam nervously against her ribcage. One thing she knew for sure—no way could she endure the forced intimacy of a restaurant, with its subdued lighting and leisurely service.

She shook her head. ‘No—not dinner.’

His black eyes narrowed. ‘You mean you don’t want dinner, you don’t eat dinner—or you’re having it with somebody else?’

For a second she was tempted to say yes—that the man of her dreams would be waiting at home for her, with a warm smile and an even warmer bed. Because most men would give up and go away if they thought she’d moved on and found herself another man. But Giovanni wasn’t most men, and his jealousy was legendary. It had helped destroy their relationship with its warped, dark poison—and Alexa didn’t think she could face seeing it activated now.

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not having dinner with someone else. But I’m tired,’ she said truthfully. ‘It’s been a long week, and I don’t imagine we’re going to have a lot to say to each other—certainly not enough to fill a whole meal-time. A quick drink should do it.’

For a minute their eyes met in a silent battle of wills, and he thought about trying to impose his on her—but wouldn’t that put her defences up? Alexa had something he wanted, and so for now he would play this her way. And besides, he would soon talk her out of her dismissive suggestion—or maybe kiss her out of it. His heart began to race in anticipation. A quick drink, indeed!

‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘I will see you in there, soon after six. Ciao, bella.’ And he turned his back on her and walked towards the door, seeming to take all the light and the colour with him as it shut behind him with a little pinging of the bell.

In a daze, Alexa watched him go, her knees feeling as if they were about to give way, scarcely able to believe that what she had most dreaded had just taken place.

Only it isn’t over yet. Not by a long way.

She turned round and reached for the box of tissues she kept beneath the counter, for customers to wipe off their lipstick before they slithered into costly items of clothing, and dabbed furiously at the tears which couldn’t seem to stop welling at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t even register that the shop door had opened again, and it wasn’t until she heard a voice behind her that she whirled round and saw her boss standing there—an elegant blonde in her fifties, a concerned look on her face.

‘Teri!’ she gasped. ‘I was miles away. I didn’t—’

‘I know you didn’t. That was your husband, wasn’t it?’ guessed Teri perceptively. ‘The Italian Stallion currently wowing the female population of Lymingham?’

Alexa nodded, trying to compose herself. ‘Ex-husband,’ she corrected, swallowing back the tears.

‘I didn’t think you were divorced?’

‘We’re not—officially—but divorce is just a piece of paper,’ said Alexa fiercely. ‘Just like marriage.’

‘You think so?’ questioned Teri wryly, and then a note of curiosity crept into her voice. ‘How come we’ve never seen him before?’

Alexa tensed. ‘Because he lives in Naples and I live here, and we don’t have a shared life together.’

‘That’s not what I mean, Lex,’ said Teri gently. ‘He’s Paolo’s father, isn’t he?’

There was a pause. It was just as Alexa had thought—the resemblance was as unmissable as a dark cloud suddenly obscuring the sun. The boy was a carbon copy of the man. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Teri’s eyes narrowed in a slowly dawning comprehension, and she raised the tips of her fingers to her mouth. ‘And he doesn’t know, does he?’

There was a terrible silence.

‘No.’

‘Oh, Alexa.’

But Alexa shook her head, remembering Giovanni’s bitter words. The torture of living with him once he’d decided she didn’t measure up to his exacting standards of what a woman should be. The accusation he had flung at her as she had left his house and his city and his life. And she remembered his immense wealth and determination. Oh, no. She would be a fool to start having some kind of euphoric recall about the man she had married—and an even bigger one to underestimate his power.

‘He would take him away from me if he knew,’ she said flatly. ‘And that’s the truth.’

‘But how…why?’ asked Teri in confusion. ‘I mean, how on earth has all this happened?’

How, indeed? Why did some people’s dreams get smashed to pieces while others merely faded away like the end of a film?

She could tell Teri that she had travelled to Naples and fallen in love with that vibrant, chaotic city which was flanked by Mount Vesuvius, the island of Capri and the crystal-blue waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Just as she had fallen in love with Giovanni—or thought she had. With his dark good looks and dangerous charm and his determination to possess her—yes, possess her—who could have resisted him?

Fresh out of university, and undecided about a future which had seemed to have a gaping hole in it since her mother had remarried and emigrated, Alexa had gone to Italy to brush up on a language at which she was already passably fluent.

It hadn’t taken her long to decide that Italian men were after one thing—easy, uncomplicated sex with women who were prepared to offer it to them on a plate. And Alexa hadn’t been. Her one foray into matters sensual had been enough to make her cautious—because the man to whom she had lost her virginity had had all the sensitivity of bull. But then she’d met Giovanni, and all her best intentions had flown out of the window.

Working in the air-conditioned splendour of the city’s biggest and plushest department store, Alexa had become a bit of a novelty. A foreigner who spoke cool and fluent Italian—and there certainly weren’t many English shop assistants in Naples! Customers had been charmed by her accent, and men in particular had come to purchase soft leather gloves from the pale-skinned creature with the green eyes and red-blonde hair and the pale, poised air. Sales had increased. She’d been given a raise and moved onto handbags.

And then one morning Giovanni had walked in, and everything had changed. In an instant she had become the victim of the feeling which had swamped over her—a feeling she’d never really believed in until it happened to her. But then no one ever did.

The world had stopped spinning, became suspended and frozen—and everything in it had blurred into insignificance except for the man who had sauntered in, seemingly oblivious of all the eyes upon him as he homed in on her like a moth to the flame. And Alexa had fallen in love.

She had not known that he owned the store, and several like it throughout Italy, or that he featured on all the Best-Dressed and Most Eligible lists—usually somewhere near the top. All she’d known was that he had eyes like ebony and skin which seemed especially dark—like sleek, polished wood—and that the suit he wore did little to conceal the hard, honed perfection of his body. Her mouth had dried, but she’d hidden it behind her polite shop assistant’s smile.

‘So, you are the woman who is causing all the excitement,’ he murmured.

Alexa glanced around the shop, taking deliberate note of all the women who were watching him, and she smiled as she answered him in Italian. ‘And you are the man who seems to be doing just the same!’