A Scandal in the Headlines(21)

Elena froze in her seat. She set her fork down carefully.

She’d grown used to these long, fraught meals they shared each night, prodding each other for weaknesses. She’d come to enjoy the strange exhilaration she got from matching wits with him, so different from meals with Niccolo—who had done the talking while she’d sat there adoringly, grateful for her good luck.

She’d grown used to the dark looks he sent her way whenever he saw her, cold condemnation and a banked fury, a far cry from the flat coldness she’d once seen in Niccolo’s eyes, moments before he’d showed her who he really was. She’d told herself she was used to this by now. To Alessandro himself. To all this forced exposure to the man who had chased her through dreams for six long months.

“I gave in to that urge once already,” she murmured. “And look what’s happened.”

She hadn’t thought to worry about sex.

She hadn’t imagined it would be an issue, after that first day. He’d looked at her as if he’d rather die than touch her again, and she’d told herself she was glad of it.

Of course she was.

“I might be pregnant,” she reminded him now, though she tried to think of it as little as possible. It was too much to take in. She kept that faintly amused note in her voice. “And we are trapped here, strangers who think the worst of each other. I’ll pass on a reprise, thank you.”

“This table will do well enough,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, turning so she could see his starkly sensual expression. And that passion in his dark green eyes. Elena’s heart gave a hard kick to her ribs, and she felt much too warm, suddenly. “All you need to do is bend over.”

The image exploded through her, too vivid, too real. It didn’t take much effort at all to imagine him behind her, deep inside her—

“You’ve obviously had too much to drink,” she said. She pressed her napkin to her mouth, more to check that she wasn’t trembling than to wipe anything away. She had to stay calm, focused. She had to remember why she was here, why she was doing this.

“Does it make you feel better to think so?” He smiled, and the heat of it catapulted her back to that night in Rome. That dance. The way he’d looked at her, smiled at her, as if she was precious to him. “I haven’t. But I want you either way.”

She forced a cool smile, and tried to force the past from her head. “You can’t have me.”

“Why not?” He looked amused, his face carved in those fiercely sensual, powerfully masculine lines, his dark eyes gleaming. Elena fought to restrain her shivery reaction, to ignore that melting, pulling sensation low in her belly. “You’ve already betrayed your fiancé. What does it matter now how many times you do it?”

She was shocked by how easily he could hurt her, when he should never have had that kind of power in the first place. She should have been pleased that he hated her so openly, that he disdained her so completely. She’d gone out of her way to make sure he did. Instead, it hurt. It hurt.

But she couldn’t show him that. She could only show him what he wanted to see—what he already saw. A cold, hard woman. Brazen and base.

“I don’t like to repeat myself,” she said, holding his gaze. “It’s boring.”

She expected the lash of his temper, but Alessandro laughed. It made the green in his eyes brighten, and worse, made everything inside of her seem to squeeze tight. Breath, belly, core. Even her traitorous heart.

“But you’re the one in control, are you not?” he asked, too arrogant, too confident, to believe what he was saying. “Your wish is my command. If you’re bored, you need only demand that I relieve it and I will.” His smile took on that wolfish edge. “I’m very inventive.”

She had a sinking sensation then, as if she’d somehow strayed into quicksand and was moments away from being sucked under. Think, she ordered herself in a panic. Turn this around!

“And that’s all it takes?” She arched her brows high in disbelief. “I need only click my fingers and you’ll serve my every whim?”

“Of course.” The amusement on his ruthless face did nothing to ease the fierceness of it. And the lie on his lips was laced with laughter. “I am powerless in the face of your machinations, Elena.”

Her pulse was wild in her veins, and she felt like prey—like he was stalking her when he hadn’t moved. He only stood there, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and she felt as if she was running hard and scared with his hot breath right there on the back of her neck—