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CHAPTER ONE

ANGELO FALCONE lay sprawled on thehad left the sheets half trailing to the floor and the rich burgundy daant disarray at the bottom of the bed They had not bothered to shut the curtains andacross the heavy furniture in the roohly polished patina of wood

He had properties in New York and Paris, but this apartment in Venice was by far his favourite In every way it soothed his senses, with its unashamedly decadent opulence It was the very opposite of the soulless minimalism that New York did so well

And, of course, this here he usually met her Francesca Hayley

Right now she was squinting down at the floor, trying to identify sole of discarded linen and clothing that had been tossed in a pile in their mutual haste to touch one another

He smiled at her thwarted efforts

‘You do this every time, Francesca,’ he said with amusement in his voice

‘Do what?’ She looked briefly at hiaze Crazy She had o, had written him off as just the sort of wealthy playboy Italian she should steer clear of, and had continued to put up a deterht until his charh her defences It hadn’t taken long A little over a month

‘Insist on getting dressed as soon as you climb out of my bed I like to see you naked Why the need to cover up perfection?’

‘I hate it when you say stuff like that, Angelo I’m not perfect No one is Perfection doesn’t exist’ She looked at hi appraisal Perfection did exist At least, physical perfection Angelo Falcone embodied it He was six foot two of dark, well honed, powerful male and what made him even more impressive was that his physical beauty was allied to a keen, restless intelligence Together they forerously irresistible ular intervals It stopped her fro unreasonable expectations

‘I beg to differ’ He folded his arms behind his head and continued to watch her She was every red-blooded man’s dream A model without the shape of a stick insect and with a brain that oftenin the superficial, fickle world of fashion

‘I still need to find some clothes’ She poked around the pile on the floor with one slender foot and gave up ‘I’?’

‘Come back to bed, Francesca’ He patted a spot next to hi forfrom the kitchen to eat’

Francesca grinned ‘Oh, dear Is that the best cliché you can come up with?’

‘Cliché? What cliché? I meant it’

He was al out of the bed, and she spun round and headed straight out of the door towards the kitchen, shrieking as she felt hi the distance between thehts, but then no need either Every curtain was pulled back, allowing the bright night sky to fill the open spaces of the rooms

Angelo caught her from behind, but he didn’t spin her around to face hi her in, wanting heranyone in his life before

Initially, he had decided that their frequent separations, when he ay on one side of the world and she wasRelationships, he had discovered, were prone to becoave way to the tediureater death to a relationship than predictability

Not so with her He missed her when she wasn’t around Lately he had found hi which his hts of when he would be seeing her again

‘We need to talk,’ heto be here for three nights, then I fly to New York for two days’ worth of s, then on to London’