An Inheritance of Shame - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,30

of two minutes to ascertain that she’d actually left the villa. Considering the house was miles from so much as a petrol station and she must have known it, the choice to leave on foot was beyond absurd.

Angelo threw open the door of the villa and saw Lucia trudging down the dusty drive. ‘Lucia!’ he shouted, exasperated with her, with himself, with how this whole morning had unravelled. He’d been looking forward to spending the day in bed, or perhaps again in the shower. He’d been anticipating her incredulous, wondering smile when he’d told her he wasn’t walking away.

Instead she was walking away…was that what she wanted? Was this actually some kind of revenge? God only knew he understood about wanting revenge, yet he could hardly believe it of Lucia.

‘Lucia!’ he shouted again, and she stilled. Her head came up, her shoulders stiffened and slowly she turned around. ‘You cannot walk to Palermo from here,’ he called, trying to sound reasonable. ‘If you insist on going into work, then let me at least drive you.’

She folded her arms, didn’t move. ‘Fine,’ she called back flatly.

Realising she was simply going to stand there and wait, Angelo swore again under his breath and went back into the house. He pulled on a pair of jeans and leather loafers, grabbed his car keys and headed out. Lucia was waiting by the passenger door of his Porsche, her expression completely unreadable.

Was this the same woman who had cried in his arms last night, both with sorrow and joy, who had told him about their daughter, who had brought him more physical pleasure than he’d had in years…or even ever?

She looked like a stranger. And she acted like a stranger as she slid into the passenger seat and kept her face turned to the window as he started the car.

‘It is obvious that I’ve offended you somehow with my suggestion,’ Angelo stated tersely as he headed down the drive. She didn’t answer, and he smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. ‘At least talk to me, Lucia.’

‘I don’t think I have anything to say that you’d want to hear.’

That didn’t sound good. Angelo blew out a breath. ‘I want to hear what you’re thinking.’

‘Do you really, Angelo? Or will that just make you angrier, because I’m not falling into line with your plans? I’m not falling into your bed.’

‘You fell into my bed last night,’ he snapped, and then could have cursed himself. Not a helpful observation to make at this point.

Lucia kept her face to the window. ‘I did,’ she said quietly, ‘and I don’t regret it. But that’s all I ever intended last night to be. One night, just as before. I’m not going to be your—your long-term booty call.’

‘That is offensive.’

‘No kidding.’

His fingers clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whitened. ‘You told me that a one-night stand was not something you’d be willing to repeat.’

‘I changed my mind.’

‘And I changed my mind,’ he answered back. ‘So you see, we both can change.’

‘You think you can change?’ She turned to him, eyebrows raised, her tone utterly disbelieving. ‘You think, with this suggestion, you have changed?’

He forced back the instinctive anger at her incredulous, almost sneering tone. ‘You obviously don’t think I have,’ he said levelly.

She shook her head, folded her arms, the stance clearly one of rejection. ‘One night, one week, one month. There’s not much difference, Angelo.’

He pressed his lips together and stared straight ahead. All right, he saw her point, but hell, this was new territory for him. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t have girlfriends or even mistresses. His entire life he’d been focused on work, driven by success and revenge. He had no time for the messy sprawl of romance or, God forbid, love. Sex had always been a transaction—

And, he realised, he was proposing such a transaction to Lucia now. He’d dressed it up a bit, yes, but essentially it was a business deal. A bargain.

But he didn’t do anything else. This was all he had to offer, and damn it, he wanted her to accept it. It wasn’t, he thought grimly, such a bad deal.

He glanced at her now, saw she’d turned back to the window. All he could see was the smooth, round curve of her cheek, her plaited hair revealing the vulnerable nape of her neck.

He let out a weary breath. ‘Why put a time limit on it, Lucia?’ he said, and although she didn’t turn from the window he