The Sicilian's Defiant Virgin

by Susan Stephens

  ‘The past?’ his father derided. ‘Pshaw! Those shadows can’t reach me when I’ve retired to Florida. I’m part of the past. I’m finished now,’ he added with a wail of self-pity. ‘Do what you have to, Luca. Seduce her, if you must,’ he recommended, his face brightening at the thought.

  Luca hummed. He had more important things to do than indulge his father’s fantasies. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’

  ‘Then, share it,’ his father insisted impatiently.

  ‘We’ve got six months until Raoul’s trust is released,’ Luca said as he calmly calculated the facts. ‘She can’t get her hands on the money until then. And, just in case the lawyer has a sudden fit of conscience, I’ll keep her out of his way.’

  ‘Bring her here to the island?’ his father said, catching on.

  ‘It seems to be the obvious solution,’ Luca confirmed.

  His father perked up. ‘But how will you persuade her to do that?’

  ‘You’ll buy another gemstone,’ he said.

  ‘Ah...’ As realisation slowly dawned on his face Don Tebaldi relaxed. ‘This is a brilliant solution, Luca—and one you must set in place at once. But allow yourself some fun along the way. Life doesn’t have to be all about principles and caring. She may turn out to be a pretty girl, and she owes us something for the stress she’s caused me.’

  Disgusted, Luca refrained from comment. It was time to hunt down the mouse.

  * * *

  ‘It’s Retro Night at the club!’ Jay-Dee, who was usually a server like Jen at the casino, announced so loudly the club speakers howled with feedback.

  For one night only Jay-Dee was MC for the annual charity event. He was in his element, Jen thought with amusement. Jay-Dee had a warm, theatrical manner, and so much verve for life, everyone loved him.

  Jen thought of her friends at the casino as gloriously colourful exclamation marks in the regular pattern of her neat and ordered life. When she wasn’t working in the silent intensity of the auction house, she was poring over study books with her feet so close to her three-bar electric fire in the bedsit where she lived, she was in danger of getting chilblains. Qualifying as a gemologist was Jen’s goal. Her mother had been a renowned gemologist, who had passed on her fascination with treasures locked deep in the earth to her daughters. The stories she’d told them about hidden treasures when they were little girls, it was no wonder that Lyddie had grown up wanting to wear the sparkling jewels, while Jen had desperately wanted to learn more about them. She had never lost the sense of magic her mother had passed on to her, or the thought that somewhere beneath her feet there could be precious minerals, or even diamonds.

  But it was Jen’s job at the casino that put the chilli spice in her life, and went some way to replacing the family she’d lost. She and Lyddie had lost their parents when Jen was just eighteen. A car crash had taken them, and then the local authority had wanted to take Lyddie. Their father and mother had set such a shining example that as soon as Jen was over the worst of the shock, she was determined to keep things running as smoothly as possible for her sister. Those in authority insisted that Jen was too young to take on the responsibility of a teenage sister, but she had fought to keep Lyddie with her, and Jen’s dogged persistence had finally paid off. There was no chance she would have let Lyddie go into care. She’d heard what could happen to thirteen-year-old girls, and as long as she had breath in her body no one was going to take her sister away—only fate could do that, Jen reflected wistfully.

  ‘Reach for your wallets!’ Jay-Dee’s strident voice shook Jen alert. ‘You know you want to!’ he bellowed. ‘The charity needs our help! We might need help from the charity one day—think of that!’ He glanced towards the wings where Jen was standing. ‘Dig deep, my friends! Our first lot...’ He gestured frantically that it was time for Jen to join him on the stage. ‘What will you give me for this plump rabbit, ready for the pot...?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Jen exploded with laughter as she checked her long furry ears were fixed in place. ‘How am I supposed to walk on stage after an introduction like that?’

  ‘With attitude,’ one of Jen’s best friends, casino manager Tess, who was standing with her, advised.

  ‘Does Jay-Dee have to whip the crowd into such a frenzy? If this retro night wasn’t in aid of such a worthwhile charity you’d never get me up there.’

  The charity was particularly dear to Jen’s heart. Its volunteers had helped her when her sister died. One of them had been at her side from the moment she first saw Lyddie lying in a coma in ICU, right up to the heart-wrenching memorial service for her sister.

  ‘Raising money for this charity is the only reason I’ve allowed myself to be dressed by a sadistic corset engineer and have a powder puff stuck on my bum,’ Jen said as she silently dedicated the next hour or so to the sister who would have loved nothing more than to be here in the midst of the fun to cheer her on.

  ‘The more excitement you generate, the more they’ll pay,’ practical-minded Tess declared as she tweaked the bow tie she was sporting with her boxy, forties-style suit. ‘You’ll enjoy it once the spotlight hits you.’

  ‘Can I have your word on that?’ Jen asked wryly.

  ‘Hop to it, bunny! Hop!’ Tess commanded, miming a whip-crack.

  ‘I feel like a rabbit trapped in headlights, while the hounds bay blue murder from the side of the road—’

  ‘You don’t strike me as anything short of a tiger—if a rather small one,’ Tess conceded with amusement. ‘You should be proud of your assets,’ she added, casting an appreciative eye over Jen’s closely bound form.

  ‘With those lights at least I won’t be able to see any of the medallion men bidding to have dinner with me—if any of them bid, which I doubt.’

  ‘They’ll bid,’ Tess assured her. ‘Now, get out there and strut your stuff, Ms Wabbit!’

  ‘What will you give me for this plump rabbit, ready for the pot?’ Jay-Dee said again in a slightly hysterical tone as he glanced repeatedly into the wings.

  ‘Here goes nothing!’ Jen declared, knowing she couldn’t put off her entrance any longer.

  She felt exposed in the spotlight. Her satin suit was cut like a particularly revealing swimming costume. High on the leg, it left very little to the imagination, paired with flesh-toned fishnet tights, and stratospheric heels. Even Jen had to admit that with her long red hair left flowing free beneath her bunny ears the effect was startling—if a little different from her normal, understated-to-a-fault self.

  ‘Here’s to you, Lyddie,’ she murmured as the stage lights blinded her.

  Jay-Dee, who was dressed in garish eighties flares and platform boots, gasped with relief as he rushed to lead Jen centre stage.

  ‘You look beeeoootiful,’ he gushed as the crowd went wild.

  ‘I look ridiculous,’ Jen argued, laughing. Getting into the mood of the night, she struck a pose.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HIS FATHER ONLY confided in him when he wanted something, Luca reflected as he parked up outside the exclusive London club. They had never been close. Never would be close. Luca had built his own life, far away from the family compound, where he’d grown up behind razor wire with guards patrolling the grounds, with their automatic weapons ostentatiously cocked.

  Tipping the valet to park his car, he pulled on his jacket, brushed back his hair, and shot his cuffs. Black diamond links glittered at his wrists. This was his London look, the passport that gained him entry to even the most exclusive Members Only club. As he approached the entrance, the door swung wide to welcome him. His first impression of the upmarket gambling den was that it was as dreary as his father’s study. Subtle lighting set the mood, and, though he doubted the glass was bulletproof, the deep shadow still reminded him of a fortress home he preferred to forget.

  ‘Are you here for the auction, sir?’ the smiling hostess asked, putting on her best smile.

  ‘Apologies,’ he said, glancing down. ‘My mind was elsewhere. An auction?’ he
queried.

  ‘For charity, sir—to support those with head injuries, and those who care for them, or who are bereaved.’ She risked a broader smile as she gained in confidence. ‘Don’t think it’s a depressing night—it’s anything but. It’s a riot in there—I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’

  He doubted that. He handed her a high-value note. ‘For your trouble,’ he said.

  ‘Have a good evening, sir—’

  He doubted that too.

  It took him a moment to adjust his gaze. If the entrance to the club was poorly lit, the interior was positively Stygian. None of the gambling tables was in operation and everyone’s attention was fixed on the brilliantly lit stage, where a skimpily dressed girl, clad in a satin swimsuit with cock-eyed rabbit ears balanced precariously on top of her head, was gyrating to the pounding music, while punters called out bids to an excessively excitable MC.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked a waiter hurrying past with a tray of drinks.

  The man followed his glance to the stage. ‘Dinner for two with Ms Bunny up there is on offer.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He slipped him a twenty, and then leaned back against a pillar to watch.

  He understood at once why there was such interest in this particular lot. Ms Bunny had something unique about her—almost enough to make him smile. It wasn’t that she was so good at what she was doing, but that she was so utterly hopeless, and that she couldn’t have cared less. She had good humour in plenty, but no sense of rhythm, and even less idea of how to walk elegantly in her high-heel shoes. She was throwing herself about in a way that made him want to take off his jacket to shield her from the baying crowd—but at least they were on her side, he noticed, glancing around. His attention returned to the stage.

  She felt his interest and their stares connected briefly. A raised brow told him that a rescue attempt would not be appreciated.

  There was fire beneath that costume, and it was enough to hold him to the end of her act. She was attractive, but not showy or flashy, however hard she was trying to appear so. The punters were wolf-whistling and stamping their feet for more by now, which she gladly gave them. Spotting the maître d’, he remembered the reason for his mission and reluctantly pulled away from the pillar so he could ask if a Ms Jennifer Sanderson worked at the club.

  ‘Jen’s a waitress,’ the maître d’ confirmed. ‘But not tonight,’ he added, glancing at the stage. He leaned in close to make himself heard above the noise. ‘For one night only, Jen’s taking part in the charity auction. It’s a cause very close to her heart,’ he added, piquing Luca’s interest. ‘That’s her up on the stage now,’ he enthused. ‘Sensational, isn’t she? I’ve only seen Jen in her server’s uniform before, or in jeans. It’s surprising what a difference a pair of ears can make.’

  It wasn’t her ears Luca was looking at.

  And his plan had just folded. Dealing with a mouse was one thing, but from the way she was handling the audience at the club he doubted Ms Jennifer Sanderson was even close to the pushover his father had imagined. She’d got all the hard-bitten punters in the casino eating out of the palm of her hand. The more she gambolled around the stage, sending herself up, the more the audience loved her. In another life she could have been an entertainer. The maître d’ was spot on. She was sensational, but Jennifer Sanderson was as much a mouse as Luca.

  * * *

  Jen couldn’t believe how high the bidding was going. ‘Keep it up,’ Tess advised in the loudest stage whisper ever from the wings.

  Turning her back to the audience, Jen stuck out her rump and wiggled her powder-puff tail so enthusiastically it encouraged a fresh round of bidding from the crowd.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be a feminist,’ Jen chastised Tess when she finally sashayed off stage to thunderous applause.

  ‘I’m happy to leave my principles at the door when ten thousand is in the bag for the charity,’ Tess exclaimed.

  ‘Ten thousand!’ Jen hugged her friend excitedly. ‘I was so busy wiggling I wasn’t listening to the bidding. Who on earth paid that much to have dinner with me?’

  ‘Someone who doesn’t mess around?’ Tess suggested, pressing her lips together as she shrugged. ‘Time to get your Miss Prim on, and start serving those hungry diners,’ she added. ‘They’ll need something to settle them down after the excitement you’ve given them.’

  Jen hurried off with a wide grin on her face. She couldn’t wait to release her straining body from the too-tight costume. One thing that could be said for the club was that no two days were the same. She loved her job. If she didn’t work here, she wouldn’t hear the stories she did. Some of the customers were lonely, and only gambled to while away their lonely nights, they told her. Jen thought that, for at least some of the members, gambling was an illness, but she’d always been a good listener and credited the customers at the club with saving her when Lyddie had been fatally injured in a cycling accident. Talking to people, and having a routine to cling onto, had helped Jen to climb back from a dark hole of grief. The volunteers from the charity had told her that shutting herself away was the worst thing she could do. She had to get out and start living again for her sister’s sake. Life was precious and she shouldn’t waste a moment of it. They were right, hence her outrageous outfit tonight. She would do anything she could to support them after what they’d done for her.

  Having exchanged the sexy satin suit for the sombre black and white uniform she wore as a server, Jen squeezed her way through the customers clustered around the bar.

  ‘Excuse me—’ She inhaled sharply as a man barred her way.

  Jen’s body reacted violently with approval. Too tanned and fit to be a regular at the club, he was tall, dark and swarthy, with thick, wavy black hair, and an unwavering stare. Lean and muscular, he was ferociously commanding. Maybe he was someone important. He certainly had shedloads of presence, but there was something about him that made her shiver inwardly.

  He was brutally masculine. That had to be it, Jen reasoned. And she thought she knew him from somewhere. He’d been leaning against a pillar watching her dance tonight, and they’d exchanged a couple of glances—his interested, hers a warning to keep off the grass. But now she could see him close up, she wondered if she’d seen him before at the club.

  ‘I’d appreciate having a word with you in private,’ he said.

  ‘Me?’ She had been glancing round for Tess, thinking an important visitor would ask for the manager.

  ‘Yes, you. Alone.’

  He might be the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but a private interview wasn’t going to happen. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to work.’

  He didn’t take well to her flat-out refusal. As one sweeping ebony brow rose in disapproval she was already looking for a member of the security staff.

  ‘You won’t need them,’ he said, as if he could read her mind. ‘I don’t mean you any harm.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ she said, forcing a laugh into her voice. ‘Sorry, but I really do have to go now.’ She stared past him towards the restaurant, but he remained like a roadblock in her way.

  ‘I’ve paid a lot of money to have dinner with you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, remembering the ten thousand. And now she remembered why he was familiar to her.

  She raised a brow as his bold stare swept over her, heating every part of her on the way. ‘You’re Italian, aren’t you?’ she said.

  His eyes warmed briefly. ‘Sicilian, to be exact.’

  That was right. She’d got it now. ‘Very glamorous,’ she said distractedly as she thought what this might mean.

  ‘Hardly,’ he said.

  But arrogant, she thought. Meanwhile, her body was going crazy. He exuded pheromones like room haze. Celibacy had become a habit Jen had seen no reason to break. She was certainly paying for those years of denial now.

  He frowned as he angled his stubble-shaded chin to stare down at her. ‘What makes you think Sicilians are glamorous?’

&n
bsp; ‘Oh, you know...’ She waved her hand airily. ‘Sicily seems such a glamorous destination—the fabulous scenery on the island, the emerald-green sea, the sandy beaches, the Godfather—’

  ‘That’s a fantasy,’ he cut in.

  ‘I do know that. Look, is there anything else I can do for you before I go to work?’

  ‘Yes. Confirm our dinner date,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid it can’t be tonight. I’m really sorry, but I’m sure we can work something out.’ She hoped he’d take the hint and move on—arrange something with Tess, or with Jay-Dee. He didn’t move. He remained squarely in her way. ‘You could speak to the casino manager, Tess, about your prize. She’s right over there by the door.’ She turned and pointed.

  ‘I’d rather talk to you,’ he said in a way that made all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand erect.

  There was no give in him at all, and he had paid a lot of money that would go to Jen’s favourite charity. She mustn’t do anything to jeopardise that.

  ‘Just a few moments of your time,’ he said with a faint smile that couldn’t rub out her first impression that he looked like a pirate on a raid, though he’d shaved recently and she wasn’t sure if pirates had access to razors. Nor did they wear custom-made suits, she thought, though with those shoulders she doubted he could buy anything off the peg.

  ‘Something amusing you?’

  ‘I’m just a little tense,’ she admitted, drunk on the faintest hint of his exclusive cologne. ‘I’m going to be late for work.’

  ‘Surely, they’ll forgive you this once? You have been otherwise occupied.’

  ‘And now the auction’s over, and we’re short-handed tonight.’

  ‘Pity.’

  His lips pressed down in the most attractive way, and his stare was warm on her face. But...from the collar of his handmade shirt, to the tip of his highly polished shoes he radiated money, power, and success. So why was an affluent, good-looking Sicilian prepared to fork out ten thousand for a date with a waitress? Surely he could take his pick from a long line of society beauties? Or did he just have a big, charitable heart, and had happened to call in at the club by chance?