The Italian's Unwilling Wife. Kathryn Ross

years ago. And, no matter what was at stake, she still couldn’t speak to him now.

      ‘This is about revenge, Abigail—and you are next on Cyrenci’s list. He knows what you did—knows you were perfectly complicit in his father’s destruction.’ Her father’s voice was abrasive. ‘But luckily I’m still thinking for both of us. I told him about Mario. He was shocked and angry, I could see it in his face. But the child gives us a bargaining chip—it means he doesn’t hold all of the aces.’

      Abbie felt sick inside. She hated her father—hated the sordid, horrible way he even thought.

      The line went dead again. Abbie didn’t know how long she just sat there after that. Her father stopped phoning, but the silence of the house seemed to swirl around her with his words.

      Then she heard the distant sound of a car engine.

      He’s on his way out there now to look over his property…

      Certainly, whoever was in that car was heading for this house—there was nowhere else out here.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE shrill ring of the doorbell cut through her. And for a few moments she was immobilised.

      Was Damon really outside her door? There had been moments when she had dreamed of this, dreamed that he’d come to her when he found out about his child, and that he would forgive her.

      But they were just dreams. She was sensible enough to realise that the reality was encapsulated in her father’s phone messages.

      Damon wasn’t going to forgive her—she’d known that at their last meeting, when he had angrily confronted her about what she had done, and she had tried desperately to explain her actions. He hadn’t wanted to listen; all he’d been able to think about was the fact that she had assisted in his father’s downfall. Even when she had falteringly tried to tell him that she was as much a victim as his father he had cut across her contemptuously.

      ‘You must consider me really naïve if you think I’m going to fall for any more of your lies. I know what you are. I have evidence to support exactly what a lying, conniving, deceitful—’

      ‘Damon, please!’ She had broken across him tremulously. ‘Please believe me, I never wanted any of this to happen. The time I spent with you was special to me, and I—’

      ‘Give the acting a rest, Abbie.’ The scorn in his voice had cut through her like a sword. ‘At least the one good thing about this whole sorry mess is the fact that, as far as I was concerned, our time together was all about sex—I felt nothing for you, other than the pleasure of taking your body. Nothing at all.’

      There had been a harsh coldness in his words and in his eyes that she had never seen before. It was as if a mask had been ripped away at that moment and she had seen the true Damon for the first time. It had shocked her to the core, and it had hurt. God help her, it still hurt!

      But it also made her very sure that if it was Damon outside he wasn’t here for any sentimental reasons, and he certainly wouldn’t be interested in the fact that she’d had his child.

      The shrill ring of the doorbell sliced through the night again, and Abbie tried to focus on what she should do. There were a few heartbeats of silence whilst whoever it was gave her a moment to come to the door. When she didn’t, he put his finger on the bell again and held it there.

      It had to be Damon! If there was one thing she should have remembered about him, it was his determination to get what he wanted.

      He was going to wake Mario up! Her son was a deep sleeper, but he had his limits.

      Suddenly anger surged to Abbie’s rescue. She wasn’t going to hide up here, feeling guilty about the past, because the truth was that it hadn’t been her fault. She had been forced to do what she did. And nobody had a right to roll up here and make such a racket at this time of night.

      Drawing her dressing gown closely around her slender figure, she marched downstairs, and, taking a deep breath, she threw open the door.

      Damon Cyrenci was standing on her porch, leaning against the door jamb with his finger on the bell. Even though she had been expecting to see him it was still a shock.

      He stepped back as the door opened, and silence reigned.

      For a second his eyes swept over her with audacious scrutiny, taking in everything about her from her bare feet to the wild tumble of blonde curls around her shoulders.

      And the strange thing was that for a moment Abbie was transported back to their first meeting, when he had looked at her in exactly the same way. She felt a tug of sexual attraction rising from somewhere very deep inside her. His appearance had hardly altered. The business suit he wore emphasised his fabulously well-honed physique, and the dark thickness of his hair was unchanged. Maybe there were a few silver strands at the temples, but they just made him appear all the more distinguished.

      As her eyes held with the dark, searing intensity of his, her heart lurched crazily. He was the same drop-dead-gorgeous man who had stolen her heart away—except that man had only ever been an illusion, she reminded herself fiercely. Despite the heat of the passion they had once shared, she had never meant anything to him. Behind the façade the real Damon had just been a seducer—a predator who’d enjoyed the thrill of the chase and nothing more.

      Falling in love with him had been a mistake, and she had learnt her lesson.

      The memory helped her to pull herself together and focus her senses.

      ‘Hello, Abigail. It’s been a long time.’

      His voice was coolly sardonic, and yet the attractive accent still managed to lash against the fragility of her defences.

      ‘What are you doing here, Damon?’ Somehow she managed to sound calm and controlled.

      ‘Is that all you can say after all this time?’ Again there was the same mocking tone to his question. ‘How about “nice to see you, Damon—why don’t you come in?”’

      The strange thing was that one part of her—the wild, illogical part—wanted to say those words, but his manner forbade it. Something in the cool tone and the glint of his eye told her very clearly that although he was here on her doorstep nothing had changed from their last meeting, and his opinion of her was as low as you could get.

      ‘I haven’t got time for games, Damon,’ she grated unevenly.

      ‘Really? Strange how you had plenty of time for games in the past.’

      Her father’s words reverberated through her consciousness. This is about revenge, Abigail—and you are next on Cyrenci’s list. She swallowed hard and slanted her chin up. ‘Obviously this isn’t an impromptu social call, so just say whatever it is you’ve come to say, Damon, and then go. You’ll forgive me if I don’t invite you in.’

      ‘No—I don’t think I will forgive you, Abbie.’

      Although he said the words matter-of-factly, there was an undercurrent that struck her and hurt—and that in turn made her angry. Why should he still have the power to hurt her like that? She tightened her hold on the door. ‘Well, you are not coming in.’

      He shook his head. ‘I really don’t think you are being very friendly, and I’m sure given the circumstances you can do better than that—in fact, your father assured me that you could.’

      What had her father been saying to him? ‘I don’t know what’s been going on between you and my father. I believe you now control the Newland empire—well…’ she shrugged ‘…I don’t care. It has nothing to do with me.’

      ‘That’s where you are wrong, Abbie. This has everything to do with you.’

      The chill certainty in his voice flayed her.

      ‘I just want you to go now.’ To Abbie’s distress, her voice