head away. 'Yes, there is,' he said. 'You are jealous.'
She gave him a glittering glare. 'Why should I be jealous?' she asked. 'You've been very open about the fact you've slept with hundreds of women.'
He gave her a wry look. 'Hardly hundreds.'
'How many, then?' she asked.
He frowned at her darkly. 'I am not going to give you a list of names and numbers, Emma. They have nothing to do with us.'
'Us?' She elevated her brows. 'That's hardly a word to describe you and me, is it? We're not a couple in the real sense of the word. We're only together because we were forced into it.'
'You do not think what happened yesterday makes us a couple?' he asked.
'It was sex, Rafaele. Even strangers have sex; it doesn't make them a couple.'
'We are a couple, Emma,' he said. 'I want you to be my lover for as long as we are happy together.'
Emma wished she had the strength of will to get out now before she got her heart broken, but her body was already responding to his thick, hard presence. She dug her fingers into his taut buttocks to bring him deeper, her breath coming in choppy gasps as he began an erotic rhythm. Her nerves began to hum with tension, her body feeling as if a hundred earthquakes were about to erupt inside her. The pressure built in every muscle of her body until she was teetering on the edge, finally pitching forwards into blissful oblivion.
She felt him come close behind her, his body tense and hard before it pumped its way into paradise, his arms tight around her, his face pressed into her neck as he cut back a harsh groan of ecstasy.
It was a few minutes before he moved or spoke. He lifted himself up on his elbows and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. 'You are mine, Emma,' he said. 'Body and soul, you are mine.'
But for how long? Emma silently wondered as she kissed him back with all the tenderness she felt for him. She only hoped it would be long enough to melt the ice around his heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OVER the next few weeks Emma found herself relaxing more and more into the role of Rafaele's wife. Lucia the housekeeper returned after her much-needed break, not even blinking an eye at Emma's occupation of Rafaele's suite of rooms. If anything she seemed rather pleased and smiled every time she encountered Emma.
'It is good,' Lucia said in her heavily accented voice. 'Signore Fiorenza would be very pleased. It is what he wanted for his son.'
Emma frowned as she helped the housekeeper fold some towels. 'What do you mean, Lucia?' she asked. 'Are you saying Signore Fiorenza Senior talked to you about the terms of his will?'
The housekeeper looked a little sheepish. 'He talk a little bit one night a week or two before he passed away,' she said. 'He wanted Rafaele to be happy. He think he wasting his life with loose women. He told me he thought you would make Rafaele a good wife. You are kind and gentle and would love him, not for his money, but for him.'
Emma stared at her. 'Signore Fiorenza told you that?'
'Yes, many times,' Lucia said. 'You are perfect for Rafaele, Signorina. You love him, sì? It has all worked out.'
Emma chewed at her lip with her teeth. 'Signore Fiorenza was taking a big gamble,' she said. 'What if I hated his son on sight and refused to marry him?'
Lucia gave her a knowing look. 'Even if you had hated him you would not have watched his inheritance slip away,' she said. 'Signore Fiorenza knew that you would do the right thing by his son. He trusted you. And now it has worked out exactly as he planned. The Villa Fiorenza will soon be filled with yours and Rafaele's bambinos.'
Emma didn't have the heart to tell the housekeeper how unlikely that was. Instead she smiled and finished folding the towels, her heart aching for what could never be.
Over dinner a few evenings later Rafaele announced he had to travel back to London on business and would be away for a few days. Emma waited with bated breath for him to ask her to accompany him, but the request was not forthcoming. She sat as he talked about other things, her heart sinking so low she began to feel ill.
'You're not eating, cara,' he said, indicating her untouched meal. 'Do you not like Lucia's cooking?'
Emma gave him a forced