Read In the Italian's Sights for Free Online Page B

I am worth. And of course there have been other women—socialites and so on—who thought they would like to become Signora Carella and continue to live in the manner to which they were accustomed. A few have even said this outright.’
    She stared at him. ‘Are you saying women only want you for your money?’ Had he looked in the mirror lately?
    He laughed—a throaty chuckle. ‘Not only my money, no. If there was a choice between a rich old man and a rich young one most red-blooded females would prefer the latter, I have no doubt. But wealth and position are powerful aphrodisiacs.’
    Cherry thought he was doing himself—and probably the vast majority of the women he’d spoken of—a grave injustice. Vittorio Carella was the epitome of a man with everything, and she didn’t doubt women would find it easy to fall in love with him. She found the thought uncomfortable, and because of this her voice was uncharacteristically sharp when she said, ‘Something tells me you have been mixing with the wrong type of woman. Or maybe it’s a case of “live by the sword, die by the sword”?’
    ‘An interesting suggestion.’ His voice was smooth, silky, but there was the slightest of inflexion in the coolforeign voice that hinted he wasn’t as relaxed and nonchalant as he’d have her believe. ‘You are intimating I get what I deserve, signorina ?’
    ‘My father always used to say that water finds its own level.’ She smiled, determined not to be intimidated by this arrogant individual who had put womankind into a box. ‘And I happen to have lots of female friends who couldn’t care less about the balance of a man’s bank account but put a high price on faithfulness and commitment.’
    ‘And you, Cherry? Do you put a high price on faithfulness?’
    For a second she wondered if Sophia had told him about Liam and Angela, but almost immediately dismissed the thought. Brother and sister weren’t into cosy conversations just at the moment. She took a deep breath and spoke from the heart. ‘It’s priceless.’
    The grey eyes narrowed before he raked back his wet hair with bronzed fingers. Changing the subject with an abruptness which was unnerving, he said, ‘I saw Sophia talking to you earlier.’ He gestured towards the house. ‘From the window. The conversation appeared… intense.’
    Cherry’s chin tilted upwards. To anyone who knew her it was a warning signal, but her voice was controlled and without heat when she said calmly, ‘I have no intention of repeating my conversation with your sister, Signor Carella.’
    ‘I didn’t think you would, Miss Cherry Gibbs from England. Not for a moment. You think Sophia is hard done by?’
    The overt mockery was galling. He was galling, with his to-die-for body and filmstar good-looks. Horrified such a thought had entered her mind, Cherry said crisply,‘I would just say that I consider your treatment of your sister archaic at best and stupid at worst.’
    The smile hovering about his mouth disappeared. ‘Stupid?’ he ground out. Clearly ‘archaic’ was permissible, but ‘stupid’ had most definitely touched a nerve.
    He sat up on the sun-bed, the subtle sensual odour of his brown skin overlaid with the tang of the swimmingpool water filling her senses as he leant closer. ‘Why stupid?’ he murmured, his eyes like cold steel. ‘Explain yourself.’
    He had asked. ‘I happen to think Sophia is far more emotionally mature than you intimated,’ she said carefully, ‘but when all is said and done she is still a sixteen-year-old girl. I’ve been that age, and if there is one thing absolutely set in concrete it’s that you do whatever the older generation says it’s foolish to do. Call it rebellion, finding your own feet, whatever, but it’s guaranteed you’ll go against the grain. And that is what Sophia is doing.’
    ‘Santo?’ he said flatly.
    ‘Santo.’ Cherry nodded. ‘You are driving her into his arms by trying to keep them apart.’
    ‘The