Mistress Bought and Paid For Read online

Having finally fallen asleep around seven the next morning, she was still in bed when the doorbell went at ten. She assumed that it was the postman and, knowing that he would not wait long, rose in haste, pulling on her cotton wrap and racing downstairs to answer the door.

  As her stunned gaze took in the very tall black-haired male outside on the street, she was gripped by total disbelief and pinned to the spot in complete stillness. Cristiano Andreotti.

  Even though she thought he could only be a figment of her imagination, the compelling effect of his exotic dark charisma and hard-edged masculinity still knocked her for six. Her heart started pounding and her soft pink mouth opened on a soundless ooh!.

  His magnificent bone structure was accentuated by the smooth olive planes of his high cheekbones. Although he shaved twice daily, faint blue-black shading still emphasised his strong jaw and beautifully modelled mouth.

  But her mind refused to move on from recognition to acceptance. Because Cristiano Andreotti did not belong on the doorstep of a terraced house in the back street of a nondescript Welsh market town. His natural milieu was much more exclusive, and always redolent of the privilege of the very rich.

  Cristiano studied her with unflinching intensity. He had never seen her without make-up before. He saw the changes in her, picked up on every flaw with the eagerness of a man who had dimly expected and possibly even hoped to be disappointed in her. She had lost weight. She was pale, and her tiredness was patent. Her mane of fair hair fell in a tangle round her slight shoulders, no longer glossy and styled into smooth layers of silk by a professional hand. In the midst of cataloguing those differences with the precision of a male to whom no detail was too small, he met eyes as blue as sapphires. Just as suddenly he realized that she was, if anything, more breathtakingly beautiful than ever.

  Only this time around she was as nature had made her, with glorious eyes, skin like clotted cream and full, pouting mouth. Desire ripped through his big powerful flume with the dangerous force of a storm tide.

  ‘ May l come in’?’ he enquired lazily, his rich, resonant drawl wrapping round her rigid spinal cord like a silk caress. The habit of command and high expectation was so engrained in every syllable that it did not even occur to her to deny him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONLY when Cristiano broke the pounding silence could Lydia credit the reality of his appearance. Snatching in a startled breath, she blinked, her long brown lashes fluttering as she struggled to get a hold on the bone-deep shock gripping her. Even in that very first moment she knew that the flame of her hatred for him burned as bright as ever. Perspiration beaded her short upper lip and her legs felt wobbly. She stared fixedly at him, controlled by a heady mixture of fear and fascination, curiosity and loathing.

  Predictably, Cristiano took advantage of her astonishment to move forward, and she automatically retreated.

  Although she was five foot eleven in her bare feet, he still towered over her by a comfortable six inches. A snaking little frisson of awareness curled somewhere low in her belly, and she went rigid at the novelty of that almost forgotten sensation. All senses on hyper-alert, she could feel the tender tips of her breasts tingle and pinch.

  Hot colour flared through her pallor as shame and confusion filled her, and suddenly she found her voice. ‘What do you want’?’

  He was feeling his power and enjoying it.

  ‘Don’t you know’?’ Painfully embarrassed by the way her treacherous body had reacted to him, Lydia tilted her chin in a defiant manner that would have surprised any one of her relatives.

  She felt trapped and angry and raw. Deep down inside her lurked the wounding recollection of just how much she had once cared for Cristiano Andreotti and how savagely he had hurt her. It didn’t show on the surface, but he had changed her and not for the better. “ could l know why you’re here’?’ ‘l thought some sixth sense survival instinct might kick in…’ Cristiano surveyed her with liquid dark eyes full of mockery. ‘Might spell out a simple message.’

  ‘Obviously not.’ She folded her arms in a defensive gesture and tried to still the trembling aftershock that was threatening to take her over.

  ‘l’ m here because l want to see you. ‘may I come in?’

  Cristiano traded, his sexy accent wrapping round the syllables in the most extraordinarily melodic way.

  Without having realized what she was doing, Lydia found she was staring up at him, at those brilliant, beautiful dark eyes that had haunted her dreams.

  Eyes that betrayed only the most superficial emotion and her own reflection. He gave nothing away. He was famous for his detachment that veered on indifference, even icy coldness. She had felt ten feet tall when she’d made him laugh or smile.

  Fighting that tide of memory, she shook her head as though to clear it. She strove feverishly to blank him out, remembering fearfully how it had been for her for a crazy couple of months when he had been all she could think about, when his mere presence had been enough to ensure that she was blind to everybody and everything but him.

  ‘ l don’t want you here…’ Even as she spoke, she knew that the remedy of asking him to leave was in her hands, but that for reasons she was afraid to examine she coulld not yet bring herself to actually tell him to go.

  Cristiano angled his sleek dark head to one side and studied her with maddening cool. ‘Don’t you’?’ Her tummy seemed to somersault, as if he had punched a panic button. For a crazy moment she worried that he knew her better than she knew herself, and she rushed to fill the silence. ‘How did you find me’?’ ‘l obtained some privileged information…’

  She turned pale as milk. So he knew about the missing money. an inner voice censured.

  She wanted to cringe, and pronounced reluctance to look him in the face afflicted her.

  Cristiano Andreotti took advantage of that moment of weakness and stepped past her. He knew her fortunes had been in a steady decline since their first meeting, but it was only now when he saw the shabby, sparsely furnished sitting room, that he appreciated how steep that descent had been. Nothing could more adequately illustrate the vast gulf between their lives, and the reality that she had only ever been one visitor in his world.

  ‘What happened to the window’?’ ‘It got broken,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Have you called the glazier’?’

  ‘ Not yet. It only happened late last night.’

  His incisive gaze alighted on the crudely lettered and crumpled note on the mantelpiece and he reached for it.

  The stone was sitting on the hearth, and he guessed what had happened. A frown drew his sleek dark brows together for a split second. ‘You’ve been threatened’? Have you reported this’?’

  ‘ In an abrupt movement she snatched the abusive note from his shapely brown fingers. ‘Why don’t you mind your own business’?’ she gasped, more mortified than ever.

  ‘The police should be told. The brute mentality behind that sort of intimidation is liable to get more physical. You cannot stay here alone ‘

  ‘And where do you suggest l move to’?’ she broke in tautly, deeper anxiety assailing her for if anything the incident last night had made her even more reluctant to take advantage of her cousin’s offer of shelter. Gwenna, and her father and brother, lived in an isolated farmhouse, and she would not risk bringing trouble to their door.

  ‘l may be able to provide a solution,’ Cristiano murmured without the slightest change in his level of intonation.

  Lydia realized that she was trembling. Looking away from him, she struggled for mastery over conflicting promptings of fear, bewilderment and discomfiture. In doing so, she registered for the first time since his arrival that she was standing in front of him wearing an old dressing gown and with messy hair. She almost died of chagrin.

  ‘Look, l need to get dressed…l’m not going to hang around arguing with you.’ What solutions ? she wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t let herself. She hadn’t even told him to get out. Didn’t she have any pride’? How much lower co
uld she sink’? Watching her climb the stairs, Cristiano caught a trash of the pale, slender silk-smooth thigh, and an instant shaft of heat travelled to his groin.

  He ground his even white teeth together. The sexual buzz in the atmosphere was sending his male hormones on a primal rampage. That ferocious attraction had been there from the first time he saw her.

  But he was convinced that once he slept with her, he would no longer want her. She was scared. If he offered her the money without further ado she would probably let him have her here and now. So what if it was sleazy? So what if he had never paid for the privilege of bedding a woman before?

  ‘Dio mio, she wanted him too. Her eyes and her edginess around him were unmistakably revealing to a male of his experience. Yet she still seemed to be in denial of that truth always backing off, primly avoiding visual contact. A guy with some class would wait and prolong the finale, he told himself grimly.

  A gardening book lay open on the small dining table and he studied it with a questioning frown.

  Restive as a hungry panther on the prowl, he paced. It was a challenge, for the room was tiny, the hall non-existent and the kitchen not much larger. There, however, he came to a sudden halt, a black brow rising in astonishment. In defiance of the grim urban outlook, the small back yard had been transformed into a glorious green patio jungle of containerised flowers and foliage.

  Employing his mobile phone, he told one of his staff to organist a glazier to replace the broken window. He said the job had to be done immediately.

  Upstairs, Lydia darted into the bathroom and ran a brush violently through her tousled hair, while at the same time trying to clumsily clean her teeth. She was all fingers and thumbs as she shed her nightwear and yanked a pair of jeans and a vest top from a drawer. How could she be calm and controlled?

  Downstairs was the guy who had won her trust and made her love him. Downstairs was the smooth, slick operator who knew how to fake romance and act as if he was serious. But it had all been a con. She had been the victim of his cruel, demeaning charade! A dupe, awoke for macho males who got in touch with their crude masculine selves by comparing the number of notches on their bedposts. She zipped up her jeans with a trembling hand. Unfortunately, she had been so hurt and angered by that betrayal she had made herself a victim all over again.

  She had fallen for the stupid suggestion that she might take revenge and at least emerge with her pride intact. The consequences of that final foolish impulse had pretty much destroyed her modelling career.

  So what was Cristiano Andreotti doing in Wales? Why had he come to see her’? A solution? She couldn’t see why he would wish to help her in any way. When she’d left his Georgian mansion with Mort she had struck a blow at Cristiano’s ego.

  There had been nothing else to take aim at, she acknowledged painfully. Cristiano Andreotti did not have a heart or a conscience. Had he come to gloat over more of her unending misfortunes? Slowly, Lydia descended the stairs. ‘What do you want with me’?’ she asked defensively.

  ‘What do most guys want’?’ Cristiano traded, smooth as glass, while he scanned the silvery pale waves tumbling round her oval face, her luminous blue eyes and her sultry lips, which were slightly parted to show the moist inner pink. He wasn’t really listening’, he was rejoicing in her visual allure.

  Hot colour flooded her cheeks. The direction of his gaze was not lost on her, and she shot him a look of loathing. At least you’re not pretending to be a nice guy any more! ‘ Dark eyes flaring to gold, Cristiano inclined his arrogant dark head in acknowledgement. ‘but you would take ad vantage of a nice guy. I’m much more your style.’ in your dreams ! ‘ Lydia slung back at him.

  ‘How often does Mort Stevens figure in yours now? ‘ Cristiano riposted without skipping a beat.

  That merciless retort made her blench, and she semi-turned away, presenting him with a view of her delicate profile. ‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.’

  Sideways on, her slender build made her look disturbingly fragile. Without hesitation he reached out and closed his hands over hers.

  In surprise, she gasped, ‘What the heck’. ‘ just checking… ‘ Having scanned her arms for any suspicious marks that might have indicated drug abuse, and satisfied himself that that was not her problem, Cristiano released her again.

  ‘I do not do drugs…1 never have and 1 never will! ‘ she protested furiously.

  ‘Happy to hear it.’ But she needed to eat more, Cristiano reflected as his attention skimmed from her narrow white shoulders to the pert outline of her small breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He tensed, infuriated by his own thoughts and behaviour.

  What was he? A schoolboy again? Since when had the female form entertained the slightest mystery for him?

  ‘Did you only come here to insult me? ‘ ‘No, there is always purpose in what I do. You’re facing a prison sentence.’

  Taken aback by that unequivocal assurance, Lydia snatched in a sharp breath. ‘You don’t know that. . how could you? You know nothing about it ‘ scrimps that entail cash and deception and female of-fenders always attract a more severe punishment,’ Cristiano murmured silkily. ‘Defrauding a charity was not a good idea particularly one engaged in raising funds for disadvantaged children.’

  Her skin felt cold and clammy. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘divert you in debt? Were you being pursued for payment? You stole a very large amount of money, but I don’t see much evidence of ill-gotten gains.’

  That Cristiano had no doubt of her culpability cut across Lydia’s tender skin like a whiplash.

  A painful tide of colour lit her face. On the strength of rumour, he had decided that she was guilty as charged.

  ‘Why should you care either way’?’ she queried, throwing back her pale head, her chin at a truculent angle.

  Cristiano surveyed her with eyes as cool and hard as tempered steel. ‘I don’t. But |can keep you out of prison… ‘ She stiffened, eyes widening, while a crazy little leap of hope surfaced somewhere inside her. ‘And how could you possibly do that’?’ ‘By repaying the money you took with the addition of a handsome donation to oil the wheels of charitable forgiveness,’ Cristiano explained softly.

  ‘It wouldn’t be that simple ‘ ‘Don’t be foolish. I never talk about what 1 can’t do.’ His wide, sensual mouth curled. CA discreet approach has already been made to the director of the Happy Holidays fund, and the response to that particular suggestion has been a very positive one.’

  Her restive fingers clenched in on themselves with fierce tension. ‘But why would you offer to replace the missing cash’?’ deliriously because 1 want something in return,’ Cristiano delivered, soft and low, his dark drawl as erotic as velvet trailing over silk.

  Her heart jumped behind her breastbone. She met bold, dark golden eyes shaded by luxuriant black lashes. Breathing normally became a distinct challenge. His lean dark features were wholly intent on her. Something that felt like a tiny hot wire was pulling taut in her pelvis. It was a sensation that fell somewhere between pleasure and pain, and the surge of heat that followed made her tremble.

  His sizzling, sexy smile slashed his beautiful mouth.

  “And I do believe you will enjoy giving it to me,’

  Lydia was finding it impossible to concentrate. ‘l’m afraid 1 don’t understand ‘ ‘Don’t you’? I’m offering a pretty basic deal. 1 want you in my bed ‘

  Shock roared through her, leaving her light-headed. ‘1 don’t believe you ‘ ‘of course you would have to throw yourself heart and soul into the role of being my mistress ‘ oh, this doesn’t make sense ‘ His brilliant eyes were ice-cold. ‘lt makes perfect sense.

  Watching you endeavour to meet my every wish and need will provide me with considerable entertainment. I’m not an easy guy to please.’

  Lydia had turned bone-white. ‘You can’t despise me and want me like that at the same time.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s
immoral! ‘ she gasped.

  ‘When did 1 say 1 was moral’?. ‘ ‘I can’t believe your nerve. 1 can’t believe you can approach me with such a proposition’ Lydia lanced back at him, burning with furious mortification. ‘Maybe you don’t have any standards, but 1 do ‘ ‘I don’t steal,’ Cristiano proclaimed, in a super-soft undertone.

  ‘Maybe 1 don’t either. But you’re only interested in trying to take advantage of the fact that I’ m in trouble, and I think that is disgusting! ‘ ‘l have made a fortune from opportunism, ‘Well, you lucked out when you met me because l’d sooner go to prison than sink to the level of being your mistress ! ‘ Shimmering dark golden eyes connected with hers.

  ‘1 don’t think so.’

  The force field of energy he projected was all around her, like an invisible web of silent intimidation. Unable to break the hold of his compelling scrutiny, she felt his anger’, and it somehow soothed the ache deep down inside her. ‘1 know so.’

  As she stepped past him, he curved a light hand to her spine and stilled her. He bent his handsome dark head and the cool, irresistible power of his sensual mouth claimed hers. It was everything she had secretly feared, everything she had ever craved.

  With the utmost gentleness he let his tongue steal between her parted lips and explore the moist interior. He delved deeper. She moaned low in her throat, heard her own plaintive cry of surrender and acceptance, and wanted to die of shame. But still she couldn’t break free of the fierce physical excitement that controlled her.

  That inner conflict made her quiver, as though she was in the eye of a storm.

  Cristiano stepped back. He had not held her. He had not given her that much excuse to succumb. ‘Answer the phone…’ ‘ Only when she was separated from him did the world crowd back in on her again, and she heard the phone’s insistent shrill. She surged in a feverish rush to answer it.

  Fighting to rescue her smashed composure, but nowhere near strong enough to meet Cristiano’s appraisal, Lydia snapped a damp palm round the receiver. It was her solicitor. She stiffened in dismay when she learned that the police had requested a meeting today, rather than in four days’ time, as had been previously arranged.