The Forced Marriage by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

her. ‘I’m glad you approve. But save your compliments for Pietro himself,’ he added drily. ‘He lives in a state of persistent anxiety and needs all the reassurance he can get.’
    ‘You know him well?’
    ‘We were boys together in Italy.’
    ‘Ah,’ she said.
    ‘Now you are being cryptic, mia bella ,’ he said softly. ‘What does that mean?’
    She shrugged. ‘I was just trying to imagine you as a child, with muddy clothes and scraped knees. It isn’t easy.’
    His brows lifted. ‘Do I give the impression I was born in an Armani suit with a briefcase?’ he asked lazily.
    ‘Something like that,’ she acknowledged, her mouth quirking mischievously.
    ‘Yet I entered the world exactly as you did, Flora mia —without clothes at all.’ He returned her smile, his eyes flickering lazily over her breasts, clearly outlined by the cling of her dress. ‘Shall we indulge in a little—mutual visualisation, perhaps?’
    Flora looked quickly down at her plate, aware that her face had warmed. ‘I prefer to concentrate on this wonderful food.’
    They ate for a few moments in silence, then Flora ventured into speech again, trying for a neutral topic. ‘Italy must be a wonderful country to grow up in.’
    ‘It is also a good place to live when one is grown.’ He paused. ‘You should introduce me to your fidanzato . Maybe I could convince him to take you there.’
    Her smile was too swift. Too bright. ‘Maybe. But unfortunately he’s had to go away this weekend.’
    ‘Another visit to the Bahamas, perhaps?’ There was an edge to his voice which she detected and resented.
    ‘No, a business trip,’ she returned crisply. ‘Chris is his own boss, and that doesn’t allow him a great deal of leisure—unlike yourself.’
    ‘Cristoforo,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me about him.’
    ‘What sort of thing do you want to know?’ Flora drank some wine.
    ‘How you met,’ he said. ‘When you realised that he of all men was the one. But no intimate secrets,’ he added silkily. ‘That is if you have any to tell…’
    Flora bit her lip, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. ‘We met at a party,’ she said. ‘I’d helped a couple sell their flat after it had been on the market almost a year, and they invited me to a housewarming at their new property. Chris was there too because he’d arranged their mortgage. We—started seeing each other and fell in love—obviously. After a few months he proposed to me. And I accepted.’
    She saw a faintly derisive expression in his eyes, and stiffened. ‘Is there something wrong? Because it seems a perfectly normal chain of events to me.’
    ‘Not a thing,’ he said. ‘And you will live happily ever after?’
    Flora lifted her chin. ‘That is the plan, yes.’ She paused. ‘And what about you, signore ? Do I get to hear your romantic history—or would it take too long?’ She paused. ‘Starting, I suppose, with—are you married?’
    ‘No.’ His tone was crisp and there was a sudden disturbing hardness in his eyes. ‘Nor am I divorced or a widower.’ He paused. ‘I was once engaged, but it—ended.’ He gave her a wintry smile. ‘I am sure that does not surprise you.’
    ‘So—you prefer to play the field.’ Flora shrugged. ‘At least you found out before you were married, so no real harm was done.’
    ‘You are mistaken,’ he said slowly. ‘It was my fidanzata who found another man. Someone she met on holiday.’
    ‘Oh.’ This time she was surprised, but tried not to show it. ‘Well—these things happen. But they don’t usually mean anything.’
    Marco Valante gave her a curious look. ‘You think it is a trivial matter—such a betrayal?’ There was a harsh note in his voice.
    ‘No—no, of course not.’ Flora avoided his gaze, her fingers playing uneasily with the stem of her glass. ‘I—I didn’t mean that. I just thought that if you’d—loved her enough it might have been possible to—forgive her.’
    ‘No.’ The dark face was