The Bride's Awakening Read Online Free PDF Page A

do; no one had wanted to see her anyway.
    Stupid schoolgirl memories, yet how they still hurt. How another man’s attention—and his disdain—brought it all back.
    ‘I see,’ he said finally and, on opening her eyes, Ana felt he saw too much. The last thing she wanted was his pity. ‘Actually,’Vittorio continued, watching her carefully, ‘I want to discuss a business proposition with you.’ He waited, still watching, and Ana’s eyes widened in horror. Now the blush came, firing her body from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She’d made such a fool of herself, assuming he was asking her out. And of course he hadn’t corrected her, she realized with a vicious little stab of fury. He’d probably enjoyed seeing her squirm, relished her awful confession. I’m not exactly the kind of woman… He knew just what she’d meant, and his expression told her he agreed with her. As many had before.
    ‘A business proposition,’ she finally repeated, the silence having gone on, awkwardly, for at least a minute. ‘Of course.’
    ‘It might not be the kind of business proposition you’re expecting,’ Vittorio warned with a little smile and Ana tried for an answering laugh, though inwardly she was still writhing with humiliation and remembered pain.
    ‘Now you have me intrigued.’
    ‘Good. Shall we say Friday evening?’
    Ana jerked her head in acceptance. ‘Very well.’ It didn’t seem important to pretend she needed to check some schedule, that she might be busy. That she might, in fact, have a date . Vittorio would see right through her. He already had.
    ‘I’ll pick you up at Villa Rosso.’
    ‘I can meet you—’
    ‘I am a gentleman, Ana,’ Vittorio chided her wryly. ‘I shall enjoy escorting you somewhere special.’
    And where exactly was somewhere special? Ana wondered. And, more alarmingly, what should she wear? Her wardrobe of businesslike trouser suits hardly seemed appropriate for a dinner date…except it wasn’t a date, had never been meant to be a date, she reminded herself fiercely. It was simply a business proposition. A trouser suit would have to do. Still, Ana was reluctant to don one. She didn’t want to look like a man; she wanted to feellike a woman. She didn’t dare ask herself why. For over ten years—since her university days—she’d dressed and acted not purposely like a man, more like a sexless woman. A woman who wasn’t interested in fashion, or beauty, or even desire. Certainly not love. It had been safer that way; no expectations or hopes to have dashed, no one—especially herself—to disappoint. There was no earthly reason to change now. There was every reason to keep as she’d been, and stay safe.
    On Friday night she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, gazing rather ruefully at her reflection. She wore a pair of fitted black trousers with a rather unfortunately boxy jacket; it had looked better on the rack. Her one concession to femininity was the cream silk beaded tank top she wore underneath, and that was completely hidden by the jacket. She piled her hair up on top of her head, wincing a little bit at the strands that insisted on escaping to frame her face and curl with surprising docility along her neck. She couldn’t decide if the loose tendrils gave her a look of elegance or dishevelment. She didn’t attempt any make-up, as she’d never mastered the art of doing her face without looking like a child who had played in her mother’s make-up box.
    ‘There.’ She nodded at her reflection, determined to accept what she saw. Wearing a sexy cocktail dress or elegant gown would have been ridiculous, she told herself. She never wore such things—she didn’t own such things—and, considering Vittorio’s business proposition, there was no reason to start now.
    Her father was, as usual, in the study when Ana came downstairs. Most evenings he was content to hole up in the villa with a book or a game of solitaire.
    Enrico looked up