Uncovering the Silveri Secret - By Melanie Milburne Page 0,36

planned, I would've tried to talk him out of it.'

Bella frowned at him. 'I thought you cooked this up with him,' she said. 'Did you really know nothing about it?'

He sucked in a breath and released it audibly. 'I knew he was worried about how you would manage your wealth,' he said. 'He felt you would be easy pickings for someone who was after your money. He knew you had a soft heart.'

'I didn't show much of that soft heart when he needed it, did I?' she asked sadly.

He tipped up her chin and met her eyes. 'It wasn't all your fault, Bella,' he said. 'Your father could be very stubborn when he wanted to be. He pushed you away just as much as you pushed him away.'

'Like you do?'

He dropped his hand from her face. 'I'm nothing like your father.'

'Yes you are,' Bella said. 'That's why you got on so well. You were kindred spirits. He saw himself in you. I've never realised it until now. He had a rough start in life, too. His mother died when he was young; I think he was only about six or seven. He was sent to live with distant relatives because his father had to go away for work. He didn't like talking about it. It was like a wound he didn't want anyone else to see.'

'You've really missed your calling, haven't you?' he said with a sneer of a smile. 'Just think, if you hadn't made a career out of doing lunch and shopping, you could've have been a psychologist.'

'Go on,' Bella said, glaring at him in irritation. 'Mock me. Make fun of me. That's what you've made a career out of, isn't it?'

He came up close and grabbed her chin between his finger and thumb. 'Let's see how good your psychologist's skills are, shall we?' he said. 'Why do you think you're rushing off to marry a man you barely know?'

Bella stared him down. 'I love him, that's why.'

'You're panicking, that's why,' he said. 'You've only got a year until a truckload of money lands in your lap. You're not sure how you're going to handle it, are you? You're worried that it will be too much to deal with on your own so you've latched on to the first reliable, steady person you think will be able to help you.'

'That's not true,' she said. 'I want to settle down and have a family. I don't want to be on my own any more. I want to belong to someone.'

He pulled her up against him. 'You're frightened of the passion that's burning inside you,' he said. 'You're worried you're going to end up like your mother, flitting from shallow affair to shallow affair.'

Bella strained against his iron-strong hold. 'I'm nothing like my mother,' she protested. 'I'm not going to marry for lust. Lust doesn't come into it at all.'

'No, well, it can't, can it?' he said. 'Not when your lust is directed elsewhere.'

Bella felt the hot probe of his erection. She felt the need rising up in her like a giant, swamping wave. It overpowered her defences. How could she resist him when her body was programmed to respond to him and only him? 'I don't want to want you,' she said.

He fisted a hand in her hair, his mouth so close she could feel his breath on her lips. 'Do you think I want to want you?' he asked. 'I've fought it for as long as I can remember.'

It thrilled Bella to hear his gruff confession. For so long she had thought he felt nothing for her. His indifference had annoyed her so intensely, but all that time he had been fighting his attraction.

But what was the point in telling her now?

Why was he telling her now?

'Don't you think you've left it a bit late to tell me?' she said. 'I'm about to announce my engagement.'

He brushed his mouth against hers, once, twice. 'Is it too late?' he asked.

Bella wasn't sure what he was asking. She licked her dry lips and looked at his mouth, that sensual, wicked mouth that could make her feel things she had no right to be feeling. She wanted to feel that mouth on hers again. She wanted to feel that mouth on her body, on her breasts, on her inner thighs, on the very heart of her desire. 'You don't love me,' she said, running a fingertip over his bottom lip, her soft skin catching on his evening stubble.

'You don't love me