Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  Chessie stared at him. She’d grown up with olives, and she was completely unable to get excited about them. Harvesting them from the bushes was hard work. ‘The market is flooded with olive oil.’

  Rocco gaze lingered on her mouth. ‘Not my olive oil,’ he said with gentle emphasis. ‘There’s always a market for the best, and extra virgin oil is the best.’

  Wishing that he’d stop looking at her in that lazy, assessing way, Chessie felt her colour rise. ‘That’s a typically Sicilian male remark,’ she muttered. ‘Even the oil has to be virgin. And not just virgin, but extra virgin.’

  He moved so quickly that she didn’t see it coming. One minute he was lounging at a safe distance, the next his dangerously handsome face was close to hers. ‘If I were obsessed with virgins,’ he purred softly, ‘then I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of drawing you back into the folds of matrimony once you’d lost yours.’ He lifted a hand and slid his fingers over her cheek, forcing her to look at him. ‘And if I were typically Sicilian I would have put an end to that spotty teenager you ran off with on our wedding day. I’m trying to be incredibly civilised about the whole thing, but, just for the record, it probably isn’t a good idea to remind me that you were unfaithful. From now on it’s a banned topic of conversation.’

  Chessie stared at him, unable to move, hypnotised by the darkness of his eyes and the thickness of his lashes.

  He was so good-looking it almost hurt to look at him.

  Her heart pounded, and she struggled against an almost irresistible urge to press her mouth to his. ‘Why did you marry me? It sounds as though my father should have paid you to take the business off his hands.’

  For a moment he stared down at her in brooding silence, and she wondered whether he was feeling the same inexplicable urge as she was. Then he slid back along the seat, putting distance between them. ‘I was ready for marriage. If I hadn’t been then I would never have agreed to your father’s demands, no matter how much I wanted access to his olive oil.’

  He’d been ready for marriage? Chessie gaped at him, and thought of everything she’d ever read about him. His reputation with women was scorching hot. Rocco Castellani certainly wasn’t known for monogamy. If he’d been ready for marriage, then he’d certainly hidden it well. ‘So why didn’t you marry one of your many willing mistresses?’

  ‘What a quaint expression. Very Victorian England.’ He gave a faint smile as he acknowledged the term. ‘A mistress is for sex, tesoro. Metaphorically speaking, all a mistress is required to do is set fire to the bed. The position of wife, however, carries entirely different responsibilities, and for that I wanted a different type of woman. I wanted a Sicilian girl.’

  ‘I’m half-English.’

  ‘Your father was Sicilian and you were brought up in Sicily.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘That’s good enough for me.’

  ‘You mean because I’m supposed to know what’s expected of a Sicilian wife?’ She straightened her back and lifted her chin, remembering all the times she’d rehearsed this scenario. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you. I would make a really, really bad Sicilian wife. You better divorce me quickly, Rocco, before I display too much of my English blood.’

  His powerful frame stilled. ‘One final time—I have no intention of divorcing you. Ever. I don’t believe in divorce. You are my wife and you’re staying as my wife. The sooner you get used to the idea, the more comfortable for both of us.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE HAD no intention of divorcing her?

  Chessie sat in frozen silence, wondering if she’d misunderstood him. Hoping. She’d always known that one day she’d come face to face with Rocco again, but she’d consoled herself with the knowledge that, however bad the confrontation, ultimately he’d agree to a divorce. His behaviour at their wedding had proved that he had absolutely no thought or care for her. That their wedding meant nothing to him in emotional terms.

  He had the business now. Her father was dead.

  Why would he possibly want to stay married to her?

  ‘We can have a quick, quiet divorce,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t want any money or anything, and I won’t make a fuss.’

  ‘You can forget it,’ he drawled, his eyes hard. ‘There’s no way I’m giving you a divorce. So if your lover is waiting in the wings to marry you then I hope he’s a patient man.’

  She opened her mouth to deny that Carlo was her lover, and then closed it again, her brain sprinting into overdrive.

  Rocco was pure-bred Sicilian, driven by macho tendencies and a possessive nature designed to control and dominate.

  Surely the one thing that would eventually push him towards divorce was confirmation that she’d been with another man?

  It was a high-risk strategy, but …

  ‘Carlo and I don’t care about marriage,’ she said quietly, carefully watching his reaction. ‘We just want to be together.’

  Something hard and dangerous glinted in his black eyes, but when he spoke his voice was steady. ‘Then you can resign yourself to misery, because as far as I’m concerned marriage is for life.’

  ‘Why, when you say it, does that prospect sound so completely unromantic?’ She gave a humourless laugh and shook her head slightly. ‘I get a prison sentence while you go off and enjoy yourself. My father married my mother for “life”, so I understand exactly what that means to a Sicilian man. Forget it, Rocco. Once, maybe, there was a chance for us. But you blew it when you invited that girl to our wedding. If you couldn’t even manage to stay faithful on your wedding day, then what chance is there for us?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to lecture me about morals,’ he observed in a silky tone, and she closed her eyes briefly, aware that she’d fallen into a trap of her own making.

  All she could do now was play on his possessive streak.

  ‘I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex, Rocco. Lots of it. Do you really want a woman who is thinking of another man?’

  His powerful body stilled, and for a brief moment she wondered if she’d gone too far. ‘That’s in the past. It will take less than fifteen seconds in my bed for you to forget you ever knew anyone else,’ he predicted with characteristic arrogance. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you the only name you’ll be crying out is mine.’

  She blushed hotly, unutterably shocked by the vivid image created in her mind. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’

  ‘Try and be consistent, cara mia,’ he advised in a silky tone. ‘You can’t flaunt your lover one minute and then pretend modesty the next. Make up your mind. Which are you? Virgin or vamp?’

  Virgin, she wanted to shriek, but she knew that wouldn’t help her case. ‘You can’t make me stay here,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘I only came back to see my mother. If she isn’t here then I’m leaving.’

  ‘You’re not leaving. You’re my wife. And as soon as we reach my villa I’m going to remind you of that fact.’

  Was he seriously going to overlook her claim that she wasn’t a virgin?

  No, that wasn’t possible.

  Her heart performed a series of elaborate acrobatics and suddenly she realised that she didn’t have a clue what to do next. She wasn’t used to playing games, least of all with men like Rocco. He was totally out of her league.

  Suddenly she regretted the impulse that had driven her to lie. ‘You’re just trying to stake your claim, like some sort of male predator marking his territory. But you don’t need to. I was lying when I said I had an affair with Carlo. The truth is that I hardly knew Carlo. I—I just said that because I thought it would make you divorce me.’

  ‘Nothing will make me divorce you, and changing your story every three seconds isn’t going to change that fact.’ Rocco’s eyes didn’t shift from her face. ‘I’ve already said that I don’t want his name mentioned, but this once—just this once—we’ll examine the facts together so that there can be no mistake. You ran away with him on our wedding day. You now expect me to believe that the relationship w
as innocent?’

  ‘He gave me a lift, that’s all. He was saving me!’

  ‘Saving you?’ One dark eyebrow rose in sardonic appraisal. ‘From what, precisely, tesoro? A life of rich, pampered idleness? More money than you could ever dream of spending? A fleet of staff waiting to supply your every need?’

  She gazed at him with frustration and disbelief. He was exactly like her father. He measured everything in terms of wealth and possessions. If it couldn’t be bought, it wasn’t worth having.

  ‘I don’t care about any of those things.’ For a moment she was tempted to blurt out the truth. She was tempted to tell him that what she wanted most in life was freedom. But she knew that a man like Rocco Castellani would never understand. What could he possibly know about her life? What could he know about growing up as her father’s daughter? ‘I decided that I just couldn’t be married to you.’ To a man who was so careless of her feelings.

  ‘You preferred to run off with a spotty teenager,’ he observed, in a slow, masculine drawl that dragged at her nerve-endings. ‘Did he satisfy you, tesoro? Was your first experience of sex the stuff of dreams? I remember that first time in your father’s garden, when I kissed you. Or did you kiss me? I can’t remember the exact circumstances. All I remember is your warm body pressing against mine, urging me on.’

  He’d known.

  The colour flooded into her cheeks and she felt a sudden heat in her body. He’d known exactly what that one, single kiss had done to her—how desperate and frustrated she’d felt. The knowledge that he’d understood her so well simply increased her feelings of humiliation. She’d made such a fool of herself. Once she’d believed that he found her attractive. She’d believed that he cared about her as a person. But then she’d discovered that he wouldn’t have cared who she was. the only thing he’d cared about was sealing the deal with her father and gaining a traditional, Sicilian wife.

  It was her parents’ relationship all over again.

  Why hadn’t she seen it sooner?’

  Before the wedding she’d been dizzy with happiness. For the first time in years she’d seen a glimmer of light in what had been a bleak, dark future. She was finally escaping from her father. And she was marrying the man of a million women’s dreams. Rocco was an international businessman. She’d finally get to leave Sicily. She’d travel. She’d have a life outside the villa.

  Her battered confidence and her trampled self-esteem had made a brief recovery as she’d imagined her new life. No more being insignificant and lonely. As Rocco’s wife she’d be welcomed everywhere. She was going to glitter and shine. All those skinny girls at the convent school she’d attended, who had mocked and teased her about her height and her curves, would stare in awe and envy as she married the most eligible bachelor in the western world.

  Rocco Castellani had chosen her.

  He’d looked beyond her tallness and her womanly figure and her hideously shy exterior and seen the woman she really was.

  Or so she’d believed.

  Remembering just how completely she’d deluded herself, she wanted to shrink with humiliation. How could she have been so pitifully desperate?

  ‘Let’s not play games. It’s demeaning to both of us.’ She could hardly bring herself to say the words. It was just so deeply embarrassing. ‘You didn’t want to marry me. Tell me honestly, Rocco, just how much did my father pay you to take me off his hands?’

  His gaze didn’t shift. ‘I spend enough of my day talking about business. I don’t want to do it with my wife.’

  ‘Business?’ Her voice rose and suddenly she forgot her nerves. ‘Business? This was our wedding, Rocco. It wasn’t supposed to be about business. It was about two people pledging to spend their lives together.’

  ‘I made that pledge.’

  He made it sound like just another one of his deals, and she turned her head away so that the pain wouldn’t show in her eyes. There was absolutely no way she wanted him to see just how much she was hurting. Just how much the deal had humiliated her.

  ‘Fine. Well, my father gave you the company on our wedding day, so you got what you wanted.’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘So far I’ve spent twenty-three hours a day trying to unravel the mess that your father called a business. Things are finally showing a positive improvement. I’m now ready to turn my attention to our marriage.’

  Chessie stared at him, hypnotised by the look in his dark eyes. Her heart skipped and danced and her thighs felt heavy. Something uncurled deep inside her, and she quickly dragged her gaze away from his, confused by her reaction.

  She didn’t feel anything, she told herself firmly. She really didn’t. It was just that he was incredibly good-looking and it was hard to forget that. Hard to look at him and not think about sex.

  Dragging her gaze away from his, she stared out of the window, suddenly aware that she’d paid no attention to her surroundings. From the moment she’d stepped into the car and seen him lounging on the seat next to her, her brain had frozen. ‘Where are we going, anyway?’

  ‘Home, of course. Where else would a married couple spend their time? We need somewhere that we can be completely alone and undisturbed.’ His voice was a soft purr. ‘My villa is the most private place I know. And you and I really do need privacy to get to know each other better, cara mia.’

  There was no mistaking the implication behind his words, and she turned to him, a flush on her cheeks. ‘Why? Is your current girlfriend busy?’

  ‘That is an extremely childish comment.’

  The car drew to a halt and Chessie realised that they were at a marina. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘You don’t recognise it?’ He gave a faint frown, as if surprised by her question, and she wondered what he’d say if he knew she’d never been allowed to travel further than the local village, deep in the Sicilian countryside.

  ‘I’ve never been here.’

  ‘That surprises me, because your home isn’t far from here.’ His eyes rested on her thoughtfully, and then he gave a tiny shrug as he named the harbour town. ‘My villa is not on the mainland. It’s just a short boat trip across the bay. Sufficient to remind you that there is going to be water between you and the rest of the world. Don’t even think about returning to your lover.’

  ‘You live on an island?’ She hadn’t even thought to ask. Her heart plummeted as her last hopes of escape evaporated in front of her hungry eyes. ‘I don’t want to be trapped on another island!’ On an island she’d have no freedom at all. Everything she’d hoped to do, the person she’d planned to be—all that would be impossible. ‘I’ve had enough of islands to last me a lifetime. I don’t want to be surrounded by water! I want to go to the mainland and have new experiences. I want to—’

  ‘Being in my bed is going to be an experience previously unmatched,’ Rocco promised in a low, masculine tone. ‘And I can assure you that our surroundings are entirely irrelevant. All I really need is a locked door, behind which I can remind you that you’re my bride. When I’ve finished with you the only thing you’re going to want surrounding you is me.’

  She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the burning heat that flared low in her pelvis. ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Why not? It’s the truth.’

  ‘You have a ridiculously high opinion of yourself.’ Her heart was thudding and her palms were damp. ‘You really think you’re the ultimate lover, don’t you?’

  A faint smile touched the corners of his hard mouth. ‘I’m naturally competitive, that’s true. I always have to be the best at everything I do. What’s the point of doing it, otherwise?’

  She struggled to keep her voice light. ‘Well, much as I hate to dent your ego, Rocco, you ought to know that you do absolutely nothing for me. I prefer my men gentle.’

  ‘I can be extremely gentle.’

  A dangerous warmth spread through her limbs, and Chessie struggled to keep her mind on the facts. ‘I’m really not turned on by arrogant Sicilians.’

  ‘You’re not
turned on?’ His voice was a deep, accented drawl, and he leaned towards her, his mouth hovering tantalisingly close to hers. His thick dark lashes lowered slightly, and the expression in his eyes was impossible to read. ‘You’re not at all turned on?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She pressed her thighs together ignoring the sudden heat that flared through her body. ‘Not even the slightest bit. You do nothing for me.’

  His eyes slid to her mouth, lingered there for a torturous moment, and then he smiled and leaned back against his seat. ‘I don’t know what that fumbling teenage boy of yours taught you, but by the time the sun comes up you’re going to be helpless in my bed, cara mia. A shivering mass of female gratitude. You’re going to plead for me again and again. Play your cards right and I just might indulge you.’

  ‘You arrogant bastard!’ Goaded past the point of reason, Chessie lifted a hand and slapped him hard across the face.

  ‘Madre de Dio.’ He caught her wrist in his hand, his eyes flashing with a volcanic fury that made her shrink away from him in an instinctive gesture of self-defence.

  She couldn’t believe the boldness of her actions. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the hot sting of her palm and the livid streak of colour on his bronzed cheek, she might have thought that the violence had been all in her imagination.

  How many times had she lain there at night, imagining what it would be like to stand up for herself? To be brave and bold? How many times had she imagined herself fighting back? Defending herself and her mother from her father?

  In reality she’d only ever done it once, and her defiance had caused repercussions that she’d never forgotten. From that point onwards she had learned to stare at the floor so that the anger in her eyes would never show. And she’d learned to dig her nails into her palms rather than hit out.

  Until today.

  She braced herself for some degree of retaliation on his part, but, although Rocco’s long, strong fingers wrapped around her wrists like bands of iron, he didn’t hurt her.