Read Online Unmasking Elena Montella by Victoria Connelly - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Connelly
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says he’s your fiancé but who says his name’s Reuben! I need to know what’s going on here!’
‘ So do I!’ Reuben shouted, his arms folded across his bare chest and his dark hair dripping down his shoulders.
‘ Reuben! I think you should put some clothes on,’ Elena said, her voice incredibly calm considering she had no idea what she was going to say. ‘Put some clothes on and I’ll explain everything to you.’
‘ Talking of clothes,’ Rosanna shouted, ‘what the hell are you doing wearing my dress?’
Chapter 11
Rosanna had got the shock of her life when returning to the apartment.
‘ Elena?’ she’d called as she’d walked up the steps into the living room. ‘I hope you’ve been thinking about things whilst I’ve been out.’
Rosanna stopped in shock at the top of the steps at the sight of a half-naked man in the living room wearing nothing but a towel. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out. She just stared. Who the hell was he? And what was he doing in Sandro’s apartment? She’d only been out a few minutes and, as far as she knew, Elena hadn’t left the apartment at all, so this man couldn’t possibly be a burglar who just happened to have taken a shower.
‘ Porca Madonna !’ she managed at last. ‘Who are you?’
‘ You must be Rosanna,’ he said calmly, in perfect English.
‘ Yes,’ she said, trying to work out who this drenched god was. And then she remembered her words of warning to Elena. How she’d explicitly told her not to go inviting anyone to stay. Of course! This must be her fiancé from England. Well, it seemed obvious to her that Elena had planned all this before she’d even come out here. She could see it all now - Elena had come on her own first and, what was the delightful English phrase she used - to butter her up ? Then, her fiancé would show up and the two of them would have a fabulous free holiday at Sandro’s expense. Elena hadn’t wanted to spend time with her at all, had she? Rosanna was just part of some scheme of hers.
‘ I’m sorry about this,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t plan this as an introduction.’
Rosanna shook her head. There was a slight blush around his cheeks and along his throat. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her eyes slide down his chest. He was incredibly attractive: raven-dark shoulder-length hair, wet from the shower - the water droplets sparkling like jewels; eyes dark as any Italian’s but set in an alabaster face - not a sickly, pasty white like some English men’s but that aristocratic white you see in old portraits in stately homes. Whatever Rosanna suspected about Elena, she couldn’t blame him for it. He probably had no idea what he was letting himself in for by getting engaged to her.
‘ It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Do you want another towel?’ she asked and then bit her lip. What sort of a thing was that to say?
‘ I am dripping a bit, aren’t she?’
‘ Oh! I didn’t mean -’
‘ It’s okay. No, I’d love another towel. Thank you.’
At least that had given her something to do - some temporary distraction from his half-naked godliness. It wasn’t every day that she got to meet such attractive men, and without even having to leave the apartment. The men she usually got to meet were overweight, overpaid businessmen with great, fat hands and stomachs that bulged up against their easels. She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit envious of Elena.
Rosanna peeped at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and he caught her eye. She felt herself blushing. This was ridiculous. What was she thinking of? This was her sister’s fiancé and here she was having all sorts of impure thoughts about him! About how masculine his arms looked, and how his waist was so slim, how long his fingers were and...
She shook her head and bit her lip. She wasn’t going to go there; she refused to let her mind wander into realms it had no business wandering in. And then she remembered her manners.
‘ I
‘ So do I!’ Reuben shouted, his arms folded across his bare chest and his dark hair dripping down his shoulders.
‘ Reuben! I think you should put some clothes on,’ Elena said, her voice incredibly calm considering she had no idea what she was going to say. ‘Put some clothes on and I’ll explain everything to you.’
‘ Talking of clothes,’ Rosanna shouted, ‘what the hell are you doing wearing my dress?’
Chapter 11
Rosanna had got the shock of her life when returning to the apartment.
‘ Elena?’ she’d called as she’d walked up the steps into the living room. ‘I hope you’ve been thinking about things whilst I’ve been out.’
Rosanna stopped in shock at the top of the steps at the sight of a half-naked man in the living room wearing nothing but a towel. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out. She just stared. Who the hell was he? And what was he doing in Sandro’s apartment? She’d only been out a few minutes and, as far as she knew, Elena hadn’t left the apartment at all, so this man couldn’t possibly be a burglar who just happened to have taken a shower.
‘ Porca Madonna !’ she managed at last. ‘Who are you?’
‘ You must be Rosanna,’ he said calmly, in perfect English.
‘ Yes,’ she said, trying to work out who this drenched god was. And then she remembered her words of warning to Elena. How she’d explicitly told her not to go inviting anyone to stay. Of course! This must be her fiancé from England. Well, it seemed obvious to her that Elena had planned all this before she’d even come out here. She could see it all now - Elena had come on her own first and, what was the delightful English phrase she used - to butter her up ? Then, her fiancé would show up and the two of them would have a fabulous free holiday at Sandro’s expense. Elena hadn’t wanted to spend time with her at all, had she? Rosanna was just part of some scheme of hers.
‘ I’m sorry about this,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t plan this as an introduction.’
Rosanna shook her head. There was a slight blush around his cheeks and along his throat. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her eyes slide down his chest. He was incredibly attractive: raven-dark shoulder-length hair, wet from the shower - the water droplets sparkling like jewels; eyes dark as any Italian’s but set in an alabaster face - not a sickly, pasty white like some English men’s but that aristocratic white you see in old portraits in stately homes. Whatever Rosanna suspected about Elena, she couldn’t blame him for it. He probably had no idea what he was letting himself in for by getting engaged to her.
‘ It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Do you want another towel?’ she asked and then bit her lip. What sort of a thing was that to say?
‘ I am dripping a bit, aren’t she?’
‘ Oh! I didn’t mean -’
‘ It’s okay. No, I’d love another towel. Thank you.’
At least that had given her something to do - some temporary distraction from his half-naked godliness. It wasn’t every day that she got to meet such attractive men, and without even having to leave the apartment. The men she usually got to meet were overweight, overpaid businessmen with great, fat hands and stomachs that bulged up against their easels. She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit envious of Elena.
Rosanna peeped at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and he caught her eye. She felt herself blushing. This was ridiculous. What was she thinking of? This was her sister’s fiancé and here she was having all sorts of impure thoughts about him! About how masculine his arms looked, and how his waist was so slim, how long his fingers were and...
She shook her head and bit her lip. She wasn’t going to go there; she refused to let her mind wander into realms it had no business wandering in. And then she remembered her manners.
‘ I
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