Mistress Bought and Paid For. Lynne Graham

      Taken aback by that unequivocal assurance, Lydia snatched in a sharp breath. ‘You don’t know that…how could you? You know nothing about it—’

      ‘Crimes that entail cash and deception and female offenders always attract a more severe punishment,’ Cristiano murmured silkily. ‘Defrauding a charity was not a good idea—particularly one engaged in raising funds for disadvantaged children.’

      Her skin felt cold and clammy. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

      ‘Were you in debt? Were you being pursued for payment? You stole a very large amount of money, but I don’t see much evidence of ill-gotten gains.’

      That Cristiano had no doubt of her culpability cut across Lydia’s tender skin like a whiplash. A painful tide of colour lit her face. On the strength of rumour, he had decided that she was guilty as charged.

      ‘Why should you care either way?’ she queried, throwing back her pale head, her chin at a truculent angle.

      Cristiano surveyed her with eyes as cool and hard as tempered steel. ‘I don’t. But I can keep you out of prison…’

      She stiffened, eyes widening, while a crazy little leap of hope surfaced somewhere inside her. ‘And how could you possibly do that?’

      ‘By repaying the money you took with the addition of a handsome donation to oil the wheels of charitable forgiveness,’ Cristiano explained softly.

      ‘It wouldn’t be that simple—’

      ‘Don’t be foolish. I never talk about what I can’t do.’ His wide, sensual mouth curled. ‘A discreet approach has already been made to the director of the Happy Holidays fund, and the response to that particular suggestion has been a very positive one.’

      Her restive fingers clenched in on themselves with fierce tension. ‘But why would you offer to replace the missing cash?’

      ‘Obviously because I want something in return,’ Cristiano delivered, soft and low, his dark drawl as erotic as velvet trailing over silk.

      Her heart jumped behind her breastbone. She met bold, dark golden eyes shaded by luxuriant black lashes. Breathing normally became a distinct challenge. His lean dark features were wholly intent on her. Something that felt like a tiny hot wire was pulling taut in her pelvis. It was a sensation that fell somewhere between pleasure and pain, and the surge of heat that followed made her tremble.

      His sizzling, sexy smile slashed his beautiful mouth. ‘And I do believe you will enjoy giving it to me, cara mia.’

      Lydia was finding it impossible to concentrate. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand—’

      ‘Don’t you? I’m offering a pretty basic deal. I want you in my bed—’

      Shock roared through her, leaving her light-headed. ‘I don’t believe you—’

      ‘Of course you would have to throw yourself heart and soul into the role of being my mistress—’

      ‘This doesn’t make sense—’

      His brilliant eyes were ice-cold. ‘It makes perfect sense. Watching you endeavour to meet my every wish and need will provide me with considerable entertainment. I’m not an easy guy to please.’

      Lydia had turned bone-white. ‘You can’t despise me and want me like that at the same time.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because it’s immoral!’ she gasped.

      ‘When did I say I was moral?’

      ‘I can’t believe your nerve. I can’t believe you can approach me with such a proposition!’ Lydia lanced back at him, burning with furious mortification. ‘Maybe you don’t have any standards, but I do—’

      ‘I don’t steal,’ Cristiano proclaimed, in a super-soft undertone.

      ‘Maybe I don’t either. But you’re only interested in trying to take advantage of the fact that I’m in trouble, and I think that is disgusting!’

      ‘I’ve made a fortune from opportunism, cara mia.’

      ‘Well, you lucked out when you met me—because I’d sooner go to prison than sink to the level of being your mistress!’

      Shimmering dark golden eyes connected with hers. ‘I don’t think so.’

      The force field of energy he projected was all around her, like an invisible web of silent intimidation. Unable to break the hold of his compelling scrutiny, she felt his anger, and it somehow soothed the ache deep down inside her.

      ‘I know so.’

      As she stepped past him, he curved a light hand to her spine and stilled her. He bent his handsome dark head and the cool, irresistible power of his sensual mouth claimed hers. It was everything she had secretly feared, everything she had ever craved. With the utmost gentleness he let his tongue steal between her parted lips and explore the moist interior. He delved deeper. She moaned low in her throat, heard her own plaintive cry of surrender and acceptance, and wanted to die of shame. But still she couldn’t break free of the fierce physical excitement that controlled her. That inner conflict made her quiver, as though she was in the eye of a storm.

      Cristiano stepped back. He had not held her. He had not given her that much excuse to succumb. ‘Answer the phone…’

      Only when she was separated from him did the world crowd back in on her again, and she heard the phone’s insistent shrill. She surged in a feverish rush to answer it. Fighting to rescue her smashed composure, but nowhere near strong enough to meet Cristiano’s appraisal, Lydia snapped a damp palm round the receiver. It was her solicitor. She stiffened in dismay when she learned that the police had requested a meeting today, rather than in four days’ time, as had been previously arranged.

      ‘It’s your choice. You don’t have to go to the station. But evidently they have some new information, and I feel it would be in your best interests to agree to make yourself available today,’ her legal adviser informed her.

      Lydia breathed in deep. ‘Right…yes, I’ll go.’

      Her lips were tingling and her knees were weak. Perhaps an extra trip to the police station was her punishment for making such a fool of herself with Cristiano Andreotti, she thought crazily. How could he still live and breathe when she hated him with such venom? Or did she hate herself even more? How could she have sacrificed her pride for one kiss? Had stress deranged her wits? What vindictive fate had brought Cristiano back to her door when she was at her weakest?

      In one harried step she reached the front door and yanked it wide. ‘I have a pressing invitation to have another chat with the police, so you’ll have to leave.’

      ‘I’ve arranged for a glazier to replace the window,’ Cristiano informed her.

      Her teeth gritted. ‘And why the heck would you have done that?’

      ‘Isn’t it fortunate that I did, when you have to go out again?’ In a fluid gesture, Cristiano cast a business card down on the shelf to one side of her. ‘My number…for when you come to your senses and accept the inevitable.’

      ‘You are not an inevitable event in my life.’

      Cristiano looked down at her from the vantage point of his superior height, his slumberous golden eyes glittering down towards hers in a collision course as keen as an arrow thudding into a target. ‘Conversation is a much overrated pursuit between men and women. The kiss told me all I needed to know.’

      Inwardly she shrank from that humiliating reminder. Her body had responded to him in blatant disregard of her entrenched dislike and defiance. But then how much would Cristiano Andreotti care about that? As he had just admitted, without an ounce of shame, he was more into the physical than the cerebral where women were concerned. She could not help but remember how she’d used to chatter on the phone to him. Had he been