The Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge by Clare Connelly Page B

him, and also because her skin seemed to flush like a proximity alarm when he was within touching distance.
    She tilted her head slowly, allowing her features to assume a mask of disinterest. Even when Bianca put both hands on the sides of his face and brought her lips to his in a brief but unmistakably familiar kiss, Annie’s look of unconcern didn’t change.
    Kyle, however, clearly felt some consternation at this turn of events. “Bianca,” he drawled impatiently. “I see you’ve met my wife.”
    “Your ...” The Italian woman turned in surprise, her lips a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. “You said your name was Annie Smith?”
    Kyle’s eyes flashed with a dark emotion that only Annie recognised. “She does that sometimes,” he said with a nod. “My wife’s sense of humour is not always amusing.”
    “I wasn’t attempting humour,” Annie interjected in self-defense, her smile belying the sharp retort. “In any event, yes, we just met. Bianca’s art is exceptional, darling.” He lifted a brow at the endearment and closed the rest of the distance between them. His hand wrapped around her waist and his fingers pressed to her hips with just enough intensity to make her stiffen.
    Annie sent him a warning glance. “I particularly like this piece.” She nodded to the photograph of the field in France.
    “It’s very special to me,” Bianca murmured. “You remember, I told you about this place, Ky?”
    Ky? Annie heard the term of affection without so much as a flicker of betraying reaction but inside her blood was raging like a tsunami. Ky !?
    “Did you?” His fingers began to sway, up and down, soothing her through the couture she wore.
    “When we were in Paris that time. I suggested we go there but you had to work.” Bianca put a hand on Annie’s arm. “He is always working, no? This man is a slave to the dollar.”
    Annie swallowed. “I don’t mind,” she lied. “It gives me a lot of free time to explore my own interests.”
    Kyle’s fingers increased their tattoo but Annie suddenly couldn’t bear to have him touching her. She took a step forward on the pretence of examining the print more closely. “I’d like to buy it,” she said with finality. “Excuse me. I’ll go and see that lady with the clipboard.”
    “Maria,” Bianca informed Annie with a perfect smile. “She is running the sales.”
    “Darling,” Kyle’s tone held a warning. “We can go together.”
    “Oh, no, no. You and Bianca must have loads to catch up on. Besides,” she winked at Bianca, “I want to see what else I can snap up.” She turned her attention to Carlo. “Come, Carlo. Why don’t you give me a tour so these two can ... talk?”
    Kyle watched his wife link her hand through the crook of the suave Italian’s arm with a strong desire to shout expletives. He hated the sight of her with anyone. He hated the way she was ignoring him.
    He watched Annie and Carlo for at least twenty minutes. Their heads remained bent close together, and her face. God, her mesmerising face. She listened intently to the stories behind the art and he realised how long it had been since she’d looked at him with the same wrapt fascination.
    Then again, when had he last spent the time conversing with her at length on any subject beyond the perfections of her body?
    It should have been him showing her through the gallery, not Bianca’s bloody brother.
    He swallowed and attempted to focus his attention on the story one of Bianca’s friends was boring him with.
    “Fascinating,” he nodded. Bianca and Carlo were nearing the arch. They were moving to a different room of the galleria, out of his sight. And suddenly he couldn’t bear not to see her. Not to watch her.
    “Excuse me.” He moved quickly and purposefully, his eyes glued to the pair as Carlo removed two more champagnes from the tower and handed one to Annie. She flicked a casual smile at him and Kyle’s chest squeezed painfully.
    The room was filled with Bianca’s