A Scandal in the Headlines(24)

He stared at her as if he couldn’t make sense of her words, and something twisted inside of her. If he was this thrown by the idea of a happy childhood, it spoke volumes about his own, didn’t it? Don’t make him into some kind of misunderstood hero, she cautioned herself. He’s not one.

And yet her voice was softer when she continued.

“My parents are good people,” she said. It killed her that she had let them down so badly. That she might let them down still further. That she couldn’t answer her mother’s carefully uncritical emails asking when she’d come home the way she should. It made her want to cry, as usual, and she nearly did. “It was a good life.”

“Yet not quite good enough,” he said cynically. “You took to Niccolo Falco’s version of the high life with alacrity.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Elena replied, trying to keep the bite from her voice. Though she knew she couldn’t defend herself. Not the way she wanted. And certainly not with the truth.

“Money, cars, houses and jewels,” he taunted her, as he had long ago. “They make the transition to the ballrooms of Rome feel a great deal smoother, I imagine.” His cynical mouth quirked in one corner. “All you have to do is sell your soul, isn’t that right?”

“I’m tired of talking about Niccolo,” she said, because she couldn’t argue with him without giving herself away, and the fact that she still wanted to explain this to him, that she still so desperately wanted him to know who she really was, horrified her. She eyed him. “What about you?”

“My childhood was significantly less idyllic.”

He might as well have been an unyielding, forbidding wall as he gazed back at her. And yet she felt that twist inside of her again.

That poor child, she thought, unable to keep herself from it. Growing up with those people.

His eyes narrowed as if he could sense her softening.

“Have we covered enough ground?” he asked, the hint of impatience in his voice, his gaze. “Are you ready to stop playing this game?” His eyes were so dark, so knowing. “I beg of you,” he whispered. But he wasn’t really begging. He wasn’t a man who begged. “Say the word.”

But she couldn’t let herself do that. She might trust him on some primitive level that defied all reason, that she didn’t even understand—but she didn’t trust herself. It was much too risky. She shook her head slowly, not looking away from him.

“Don’t tell me this is your version of misplaced loyalty,” he said, his dark gaze moving over her face. “Once was business, but twice is a betrayal of your beloved Niccolo?”

“Business?” she asked in confusion, but then she remembered. She sighed. “Yes, because I’m spying on you. Over decadent gourmet meals. So far the only thing I’ve discovered, Alessandro, is that you employ a fantastic chef.”

He shook his head, as if she’d disappointed him. “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He never did.”

“Enough about Niccolo,” she said, pretending she didn’t feel his disappointment like a blow. Pretending she wasn’t clamoring to share everything with this man who was wise enough to hate Niccolo. She forced a smile, aware that it was brittle. “Why don’t we talk about your fiancée, for a change?”

“What about her?” he asked, as if he’d forgot he ever had a fiancée in the first place. He laughed. “She’s hardly worth mentioning. In truth, she never was.”





CHAPTER FIVE



“WHAT A LOVELY sentiment,” Elena said dryly. “No wonder she left you.”

Something desolate moved over his face then, though he hid it almost the very second she saw it. The lump in her throat stayed where it was.

I hate this, she thought furiously. I hate me like this.

“Alessia Battaglia had exactly one promise to keep,” Alessandro said, no sign of any desolation whatsoever in his hard voice, as if she’d imagined it. “Only one. And she not only failed to keep it, she did so in the most public way possible—designed, I can only assume, to cause me the maximum amount of embarrassment professionally and personally. Which she achieved.” His lips twitched. “What is worth mentioning about that?”

“Sometimes people fall out of love,” she offered. She was such a fool. She wanted that bleakness she’d seen in his eyes to mean something. His dark green gaze was contemplative as he studied her, and it took everything she had not to look away.