Read Online Her Last Night of Innocence by India Grey - Free Book Online
Authors: India Grey
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suppressed for the last four years, rose to the surface of her mind. The sun rising over the sea, bathing their naked bodies in rosy pink light, painting streaks of gold into his hair while, bleak-faced and rigid, he told her about his past.
‘After what?’
The man in front of her looked the same—agonisingly,mockingly the same—and yet so different. Tears welled in her eyes and she got sharply to her feet.
‘Forget it.’ Impatiently she dashed the tears away as she made to move past him, and gave a broken laugh. ‘Oh, but of course you already have—haven’t you?’
He gave a low, savage curse. Catching hold of her arm, he pulled her back so that she hit the hard wall of his chest.
‘Yes,’ he rasped, his face ashen, his eyes like glittering pools of tar. ‘Yes, I bloody well have. I’ve forgotten everything from the time I got into that car to qualify for the race to the moment I hit the barrier. It’s lost. Twenty-four hours of nothingness. So that’s why we need to talk. I want to know what happened.’
For a long, shivering moment it felt as if time had stopped as their gazes locked. But then her hoarse whisper broke the silence. Broke the spell.
‘Oh, God, Cristiano. I—I’m sorry.’
Letting go of her abruptly, Cristiano spun round and walked back to the window, raising a hand to his pounding forehead. Why the hell had he just said that? He had come up here to get out of her whatever he could, using whatever means it took—he had intended to seduce her, not confide in her, per l’amore di Dio . He didn’t want anyone to know about this. Never mind some girl he didn’t know, didn’t trust not to go to the papers.
‘I had no idea.’
‘No. Well, it’s not exactly something I want to broadcast,’ he said icily.
‘But why?’ There was a curious tension in her voice, and the light from the lamp beside her turned her skin to gold satin and reflected in her eyes, making it look as if there was a flame leaping in their depths. ‘I mean, you had a terrible accident, and people would—’
‘Love to know that I’m not over it?’ He cut her off sharply, as if that would also help him cut off the urge to cross the room and take her face in his hands and kiss that soft mouthagain. ‘That I have this…this gap ? Can you imagine what would happen if it got out that I have no memory of that evening? How many women would come forward and claim I was with them? That I slept with them, assaulted them, fathered their children? The tabloid newspapers would have enough salacious front pages for the next three years, and there would be nothing I could do— nothing —because I can’t remember .’
‘Oh.’ It was more like a defeated exhalation than a properly enunciated word. Tugging her jumper down over her hands, as if she was cold, she shook her head slightly, so that her soft hair shimmered in the light of the lamp. ‘I didn’t think of it like that. Why would anyone do that? Make things up?’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘How about for five minutes of fame and a few hundred grand? Even if a story could be disproved, with a DNA test or an alibi, by that time the damage would already have been done.’
She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment and looking around as if she was disorientated. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry about that any more. You were with me.’ She looked at him then, straight in the eye, and gave a painful smile that seemed to reach down inside him and twist at his heart. ‘ I know what happened, and I promise you I’m not going to spread it all over the front pages. You can relax. Get back to your party and your adoring fans and stop worrying about it.’
Her voice was soft, resigned. Cristiano tried to focus on what she was saying—to make sense of it—but the ache in his head had intensified so that it felt as if someone was hitting the inside of his skull with a sledgehammer.
‘I have no intention of going back,’ he said tersely,
‘After what?’
The man in front of her looked the same—agonisingly,mockingly the same—and yet so different. Tears welled in her eyes and she got sharply to her feet.
‘Forget it.’ Impatiently she dashed the tears away as she made to move past him, and gave a broken laugh. ‘Oh, but of course you already have—haven’t you?’
He gave a low, savage curse. Catching hold of her arm, he pulled her back so that she hit the hard wall of his chest.
‘Yes,’ he rasped, his face ashen, his eyes like glittering pools of tar. ‘Yes, I bloody well have. I’ve forgotten everything from the time I got into that car to qualify for the race to the moment I hit the barrier. It’s lost. Twenty-four hours of nothingness. So that’s why we need to talk. I want to know what happened.’
For a long, shivering moment it felt as if time had stopped as their gazes locked. But then her hoarse whisper broke the silence. Broke the spell.
‘Oh, God, Cristiano. I—I’m sorry.’
Letting go of her abruptly, Cristiano spun round and walked back to the window, raising a hand to his pounding forehead. Why the hell had he just said that? He had come up here to get out of her whatever he could, using whatever means it took—he had intended to seduce her, not confide in her, per l’amore di Dio . He didn’t want anyone to know about this. Never mind some girl he didn’t know, didn’t trust not to go to the papers.
‘I had no idea.’
‘No. Well, it’s not exactly something I want to broadcast,’ he said icily.
‘But why?’ There was a curious tension in her voice, and the light from the lamp beside her turned her skin to gold satin and reflected in her eyes, making it look as if there was a flame leaping in their depths. ‘I mean, you had a terrible accident, and people would—’
‘Love to know that I’m not over it?’ He cut her off sharply, as if that would also help him cut off the urge to cross the room and take her face in his hands and kiss that soft mouthagain. ‘That I have this…this gap ? Can you imagine what would happen if it got out that I have no memory of that evening? How many women would come forward and claim I was with them? That I slept with them, assaulted them, fathered their children? The tabloid newspapers would have enough salacious front pages for the next three years, and there would be nothing I could do— nothing —because I can’t remember .’
‘Oh.’ It was more like a defeated exhalation than a properly enunciated word. Tugging her jumper down over her hands, as if she was cold, she shook her head slightly, so that her soft hair shimmered in the light of the lamp. ‘I didn’t think of it like that. Why would anyone do that? Make things up?’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘How about for five minutes of fame and a few hundred grand? Even if a story could be disproved, with a DNA test or an alibi, by that time the damage would already have been done.’
She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment and looking around as if she was disorientated. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry about that any more. You were with me.’ She looked at him then, straight in the eye, and gave a painful smile that seemed to reach down inside him and twist at his heart. ‘ I know what happened, and I promise you I’m not going to spread it all over the front pages. You can relax. Get back to your party and your adoring fans and stop worrying about it.’
Her voice was soft, resigned. Cristiano tried to focus on what she was saying—to make sense of it—but the ache in his head had intensified so that it felt as if someone was hitting the inside of his skull with a sledgehammer.
‘I have no intention of going back,’ he said tersely,
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