Read Online A Scandal in the Headlines by Caitlin Crews - Free Book Online
Authors: Caitlin Crews
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the stark disillusionment in his heart. Despite what he knew about her now. Despite his own weakness for her that even her distasteful manipulations couldn’t erase.
“I warned you,” he’d said softly. Deliberately. “You wanted this.”
“I wanted—” But she’d thought better of whatever she’d been about to say, and had pressed her lips together.
“Be careful what you wish for next,
cara
,” he’d advised her silkily. “You might get that, too.”
Alessandro moved farther out on the terrace now, frowning down at her. That exchange had been days ago. He’d spent a good hour this morning working out his weakness in his pool, swimming lap after lap and still not managing to shift this thing off him that made him want her like this. That made him hunger for her no matter how little he liked her.
That made him
long
and
yearn
and
wish
, like he was someone else entirely.
Or as if she was.
She sat out in his sweet-smelling meadow on a bright orange blanket, her eyes closed and her head tipped back, soaking in the sunshine like some kind of flower. Like something utterly innocent, clean and pure. His mouth twisted. She wore a short, flirty dress in a pale yellow color that left her golden-skinned arms and legs bare, then tucked in at her delectable waist to highlight the unmistakable elegance of her lean, slender form.
He let his gaze trace the beautiful lines of her face, that perfectly lush mouth and the loose waves of the blond hair that she hadn’t pulled back again since that first night. It danced around her in the ocean breeze, the color of country butter with hints of white-blond, as well, and he hated that she could be so pretty, so effortlessly lovely, when he knew the sordid truth about her.
She was engaged to Niccolo Falco, and she’d slept with him, anyway.
He couldn’t understand why that alone wasn’t the end of this pitched battle inside of him. Why that simple fact didn’t end this need for her that still burned him up and kept him from his sleep. It should have been all he needed to dismiss her from his thoughtsentirely. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed poaching, unlike his cousin Matteo. He got no pleasure from finding himself in the middle of other people’s relationships. Life was complicated enough, he’d always thought, and his own parents’ squalid legacy had seemed to confirm it. Why cause himself more trouble?
After all, he had more than his share already. It was his birthright.
He’d spent the bulk of the morning fuming over his voice mail and most of his text and email messages, sending his beleaguered assistant increasingly terse instructions to deal with whatever came up as best he could, and not to bother Alessandro with any of it unless it was an emergency. An objectively dire one. The various pleas and attempts to draw him out from friends and family he deleted without a reply—all except for Santo, who got a terse line indicating that Alessandro was alive, and only because his messages had focused on Alessandro’s well-being instead of the family.
His goddamned family.
He wasn’t coming home to sort out the cursed business deal his aborted wedding had left in tatters. He didn’t want to know that his illegitimate half-brother, Angelo, ignored all his life by their father and understandably furious about it, was making his move atlast. He wasn’t interested in what the latest Corretti family scandal was now that he’d removed himself. He didn’t want to hear his mother’s pathetic excuses for the way she’d savaged his sister, Rosa, in earshot of most of Palermo society, dropping the truth of her parentage on her like a loud, drunken guillotine. He didn’t care where his runaway bride had gone and he certainly didn’t want to join in the speculation about whether or not his cousin Matteo had gone with her.
He wanted to be numb. He wanted to encase himself in ice and steel and feel nothing, ever again. No useless sense of duty. No pathetic
“I warned you,” he’d said softly. Deliberately. “You wanted this.”
“I wanted—” But she’d thought better of whatever she’d been about to say, and had pressed her lips together.
“Be careful what you wish for next,
cara
,” he’d advised her silkily. “You might get that, too.”
Alessandro moved farther out on the terrace now, frowning down at her. That exchange had been days ago. He’d spent a good hour this morning working out his weakness in his pool, swimming lap after lap and still not managing to shift this thing off him that made him want her like this. That made him hunger for her no matter how little he liked her.
That made him
long
and
yearn
and
wish
, like he was someone else entirely.
Or as if she was.
She sat out in his sweet-smelling meadow on a bright orange blanket, her eyes closed and her head tipped back, soaking in the sunshine like some kind of flower. Like something utterly innocent, clean and pure. His mouth twisted. She wore a short, flirty dress in a pale yellow color that left her golden-skinned arms and legs bare, then tucked in at her delectable waist to highlight the unmistakable elegance of her lean, slender form.
He let his gaze trace the beautiful lines of her face, that perfectly lush mouth and the loose waves of the blond hair that she hadn’t pulled back again since that first night. It danced around her in the ocean breeze, the color of country butter with hints of white-blond, as well, and he hated that she could be so pretty, so effortlessly lovely, when he knew the sordid truth about her.
She was engaged to Niccolo Falco, and she’d slept with him, anyway.
He couldn’t understand why that alone wasn’t the end of this pitched battle inside of him. Why that simple fact didn’t end this need for her that still burned him up and kept him from his sleep. It should have been all he needed to dismiss her from his thoughtsentirely. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed poaching, unlike his cousin Matteo. He got no pleasure from finding himself in the middle of other people’s relationships. Life was complicated enough, he’d always thought, and his own parents’ squalid legacy had seemed to confirm it. Why cause himself more trouble?
After all, he had more than his share already. It was his birthright.
He’d spent the bulk of the morning fuming over his voice mail and most of his text and email messages, sending his beleaguered assistant increasingly terse instructions to deal with whatever came up as best he could, and not to bother Alessandro with any of it unless it was an emergency. An objectively dire one. The various pleas and attempts to draw him out from friends and family he deleted without a reply—all except for Santo, who got a terse line indicating that Alessandro was alive, and only because his messages had focused on Alessandro’s well-being instead of the family.
His goddamned family.
He wasn’t coming home to sort out the cursed business deal his aborted wedding had left in tatters. He didn’t want to know that his illegitimate half-brother, Angelo, ignored all his life by their father and understandably furious about it, was making his move atlast. He wasn’t interested in what the latest Corretti family scandal was now that he’d removed himself. He didn’t want to hear his mother’s pathetic excuses for the way she’d savaged his sister, Rosa, in earshot of most of Palermo society, dropping the truth of her parentage on her like a loud, drunken guillotine. He didn’t care where his runaway bride had gone and he certainly didn’t want to join in the speculation about whether or not his cousin Matteo had gone with her.
He wanted to be numb. He wanted to encase himself in ice and steel and feel nothing, ever again. No useless sense of duty. No pathetic
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