Passion's Mistress (2 page)

manifested itself into reality.

Seven years hadn't dimmed her memory by the slightest degree. If anything

the passage of those years had only served to magnify the qualities of a man

she doubted she would ever be able to forget. Their attraction had been

instantaneous, a combustible force fired by electric fusion, and everything,

everyone, from that moment on, had faded into insignificance. At twenty,

she hadn't stood a chance against his devastating sexual alchemy, and within

weeks he'd slipped a brilliant diamond on to her finger, charmed her

widowed mother into planning an early wedding, and succeeded in

sweeping Carly into the depths of passionate oblivion.

For the first three months of her marriage she had been blissfully, heavenly

happy. Then the demands of her husband's business interests had begun to

intrude into their personal life. Initially she hadn't queried the few occasions

he rang to cancel dinner; nor had she thought to doubt that his overnight

business trips were anything other than legitimate. Their reunions had

always been filled with such a degree of sexual urgency that it never

occurred to her that there could be anyone else.

Yet the rumours had begun, persistently connecting her husband with

Angelica Agnelli.
The
two families had been linked together in various

business interests for more than a generation, and Angelica, with

qualifications in business management to her credit, held a seat on the board

of directors of numerous companies.

Tall, slim,
soignee
, Angelica was the visual image of an assertive,

high-powered businesswoman with her eye firmly set on the main chance.

And that had included the man at the top of the directorial board. The fact

that he had been legally and morally unavailable was considered of little or

no consequence, his wife merely a minor obstacle that could easily be

dismissed.

Carly's husband was possessed of an entrepreneurial flair that was the envy

of his contemporaries, and his generosity to numerous charities was well

known, thus ensuring his presence at prominent social events in and around

Perth.

Carly reflected bitterly that it hadn't taken long for the gossip to take seed

and germinate. Nor for the arguments to begin, and to continue unresolved

until ultimately a devastating confrontation had finally supplied the will for

her to escape.

Throughout her flight east she had been besieged by the machinations of her

own imagination as it provided a litany of possible scenarios, and during

those first few weeks in Sydney she'd lived on a knife-edge of nervous

tension, fearful that her whereabouts might be discovered.

The bitter irony of having figuratively burned her bridges soon had become

apparent with the knowledge she was pregnant.

The solution was something she'd chosen to face alone, and even in the

depths of her own dilemma it had never occurred to her to consider abortion

as the easy way out. Nor in those first few months of her pregnancy had she

enlightened her widowed mother, and afterwards it was too late when

emergency surgery resulted in her mother's death.

That initial year after Ann-Marie's birth had been difficult, caring for a child

while juggling study and attempting a career. However, she'd

managed...thanks to a private day-care centre and Sarah's help.

It was a source of pride that not only had she achieved success in her chosen

field of accountancy, she'd also added a string of qualifications to her name

that had earned respect from her peers.

'Sorry I took so long.'

Carly was brought sharply back to the present at the sound of Bradley's

voice, and her lashes swept down to form a protective veil as she struggled

to shut out the past.

'Your drink. I hope you like it.'

She accepted the glass with a slight smile, and murmured her thanks.

It was relief when several minutes later one of the firm's partners joined

them and the conversation shifted entirely to business. A recent change in

tax legislation had come into effect, and Carly entered into a lengthy debate

with both men over the far-reaching implications on various of their clients'

affairs.

Carly became so involved that at first she didn't notice a change in the

background noise until a slight touch on her arm alerted her to examine the

source of everyone's attention.

Clive Mathorpe's bulky frame was instantly recognisable. The man at his

side stood at ease, his height and breadth a commanding entity. Even from

this distance there was sufficient familiarity evident to send her heart

thudding into an accelerated beat.

A dozen times over the past seven years she'd been shocked into immobility

by the sight of a tall, broad-framed, dark-haired man, only to collapse with

relief on discovering that the likeness was merely superficial.

Now, Carly stood perfectly still as logic vied with the possibility of

coincidental chance, and even as she dismissed the latter there was a subtle

shift in his stance so that his profile was revealed, eliminating any doubt as

to his identity.

For one horrifying second Carly sensed the dark void of oblivion welling up

and threatening to engulf her.

She couldn't,
dared not
faint. The humiliation would be too incredible and

totally beyond conceivable explanation.

With conscious effort she willed herself to breathe slowly, deeply, in an

attempt to retain some measure of composure as every single nerve-end

went into a state of wild panic.

Stefano Alessi. Australian-born of Italian parents, he was a proven successor

to his father's financial empire and a noted entrepreneur, having gained

accolades and enjoyed essential prestige among his peers. In his late thirties,

he was known to head vast multinational corporations, and owned

residences in several European cities.

It was seven years since she'd last seen him. Seven years in which she'd

endeavoured to forget the cataclysmic effect he'd had on her life.

Even now he had the power to liquefy her bones, and she watched with a

sense of dreaded fascination as he glanced with seeming casualness round

the room, almost as if an acutely developed sixth sense had somehow alerted

him to her presence.

Carly mentally steeled herself for the moment of recognition, mesmerised

by the sheer physical force of the man who had nurtured her innocent

emotions and stoked them into a raging fire. His facial features were just as

dynamically arresting as she remembered, distinctive by their assemblage of

broad-sculpted bone-structure, his wide-spaced, piercing grey eyes able to

assess, dissect and categorise with definitive accuracy.

Dark brown, almost black hair moulded his head with well-groomed

perfection, and he looked older—
harder,
she perceived, aware of the

indomitable air of power evident that set him aside from every other man in

the room.

She shivered, hating the way her body reacted to his presence, and there was

nothing she could do to prevent the blood coursing through her veins as it

brought all her senses tingling into vibrant life. Even her skin betrayed her,

the soft surface hairs rising in silent recognition, attuned to a memory so

intense, so incredibly acute, that she felt it must be clearly apparent to

anyone who happened to look at her.

In seeming slow motion he captured her gaze, and the breath caught in her

throat as his eyes clashed with hers for an infinitesimal second, searing with

laser precision through every protective barrier to her soul, only to withdraw

and continue an encompassing appraisal of the room's occupants.

'Our guest of honour is an attractive man, don't you think?'

Carly heard Bradley's voice as if from an immense distance, and she

attempted a non-committal rejoinder that choked in her throat.

'I doubt there's a woman present who isn't wondering if he performs as well

in the bedroom as he does in the boardroom,' he assessed with wry

amusement.

All Carly wanted to do was escape the room, the house. Yet even as she

gathered her scattered wits together she experienced a distinct feeling of

dread with the knowledge that any form of retreat was impossible.

It became immediately apparent that Clive Mathorpe intended to effect an

introduction to key personnel, and every passing second assumed the

magnitude of several minutes as the two men moved slowly round the room.

Consequently, she was almost at screaming point when Clive Mathorpe

eventually reached her side.

'Bradley Williamson, one of my junior partners.'

The lines fanning out from Clive Mathorpe's astute blue eyes deepened in

silent appreciation of Carly's fashion departure from studious employee.

'Carly Taylor, an extremely efficient young woman who gives one hundred

per cent to anything she undertakes.' He paused, then added with a degree of

reverent emphasis, 'Stefano Alessi.'

It was a name which had gained much notice in the business section of a

variety of newspapers over the past few months. Twice his photograph had

been emblazoned in the tabloid Press accompanied by a journalistic report

lauding the cementing of yet another lucrative deal. Even in the starkness of

black and white newsprint, his portrayed persona had emanated an

electrifying magnetism that Carly found difficult to dispel.

She held little doubt that the passage of seven years had seen a marked

escalation of his investment portfolio. On a personal level, she couldn't help

wondering whether Angelica Agnelli was still sharing his bed.

An ache started up in the region of her heart with a physicality so intense it

became a tangible pain. Even now she could still hurt, and she drew on all

her reserves of strength to present a cool, unaffected facade.

Cool grey eyes deliberately raked her slender frame, pausing imperceptibly

on the slight fullness of her breasts before lifting to linger briefly on the

generous curve of her mouth.

It was worse, much worse, than if he'd actually touched her. Equally

mortifying was her body's instant recognition of the effect he had on all its

sensual pleasure spots, and there was nothing she could do to still the

betraying pulse at the edge of her throat as it quickened into a palpably

visible beat.

Rage flared deep within, licking every nerve-fibre until it threatened to

engulf her in overwhelming flame. How
dared
he subject her to such a sexist

scrutiny? Almost as if she was an available conquest he was affording due

contemplation.

Then his eyes met hers, and she almost died at the ruthlessness apparent,

aware that his slight smile was a mere facsimile as he inclined his head in

greeting.

'Miss Taylor.' His voice was a barely inflected drawl, each word given an

imperceptible mocking emphasis.

'Mr Alessi,' Carly managed in polite response, although there was nothing

she could do about the erratic beat of her heart in reaction to his proximity.

Something flared deep within her, a stirring that was entirely

sexual—unwarranted and totally unwanted, yet there none the less—and it

said much for her acquired measure of control that she managed to return his

gaze with apparent equanimity.

His eyes darkened measurably, then without a further word he moved the

necessary few steps to greet the next employee awaiting introduction.

Carly's mind reeled as several conflicting emotions warred in silent turmoil.

Was his presence here tonight sheer coincidence, or did he have an ulterior

motive?

She'd covered her tracks so well. She had even consulted a solicitor within

days of arrival in Sydney, instructing that a letter be dispatched requesting

any formalities to be handled by their individual legal representatives.

In seven years there had been no contact whatsoever.

It seemed incredibly ironic that Stefano should reappear at a time when she'd

been forced to accept that he was the last ace in her pack should she have to

raise more money for Ann-Marie's medical expenses.

Where her daughter's well-being was concerned there was no contest. Even

it if meant sublimating her own personal reservations, and effecting a

confrontation. His power and accumulated wealth could move figurative

mountains, and if it was necessary she wouldn't hesitate to beg.

Carly caught the lower edge of her lip between two sharp teeth, then winced

in silent pain as she unconsciously drew blood. The desire to make some

excuse and leave was strong. Yet only cowards cut and ran. This time she

had to stay, even if the effort almost killed her.