Sicilian's Bride for a Price

by Tara Pammi

  He still said nothing. Ali had never seen him so shocked, or so intentionally rude. Hoping to cover up the protracted silence, she offered her hand to Sylvia. “Hello, Mrs. Ferramo. Please, stay for as long as you like. I’m gone for most of the day anyway and in fact, if it gets too tight here, I can just bunk out on the sofa in my studio on the forty-eighth floor.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Dante commanded, just as Sylvia shook her hand.

  Though there was no warmth in her eyes, her smile was polite and open. She examined Ali as if she were a foreign insect. As if she could weigh just from one look whether Ali was good enough for her son. “I was quite surprised to read about your wedding in the news. I have no idea why my son chose to hide his bride from me. Or why it all happened so quickly.”

  This time, there was no mistaking the implied innuendo in her words. “Mama, if you want to spend time with my wife and me, without being invited in the first place, then you will at least be civil. You’ll keep your numerous innuendos and suggestions and caustic remarks to yourself. Alisha is mine to protect and I will not tolerate the kind of poison you’re so good at spreading here, capisce?”

  Mine to protect. Her heart crawled into her throat.

  Her cheeks paling, Sylvia nodded.

  “Now let me show you to your rooms.”

  Feeling like a fourth wheel who didn’t understand the undercurrents, Ali picked up her handbag and portfolio from the sitting lounge. The coffee would be cold now anyway. She didn’t miss the longing, doe-eyed look Francesca cast Dante either. The woman had come with the express purpose of renewing a friendship, even knowing that Dante had a wife of barely a month.

  Maybe because Dante had told her how it was between them?

  She came out into the foyer and pressed the button to call the elevator. This was good. Francesca and his mother were exactly what she needed until she figured out her next step.

  “Where are you going?” Dante said right behind her, and before she could respond, he took her portfolio from her. “I told you I’d take you to the meeting. And before you ask again, for God’s sake, I didn’t invite my mother, or Francesca.”

  “So, is she the blast from your past?”

  “What?”

  Very much not the question she needed to ask. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

  Holding her gaze, he put her portfolio down with the utmost care and then advanced on her. Like a frightened rabbit, Ali stepped back until her bottom hit the back wall. Leaning forward, he caged her on all sides. He was all over her and yet he wasn’t touching her at all. “Ask me, Ali. Anything.”

  She wanted to ask him why he was so cold toward his mother, or why he never mentioned her. Or why she’d not been a part of his life for all these years. Why a man who’d been so devoted to her father, who’d grieved Vikram and who cared about Ali, didn’t care about his own family.

  Instead, she asked the question she knew would devour her for the rest of the day. “Who is she?”

  “The girl I wanted to marry a long time ago. She broke it off and, with hindsight, I’m glad she did. And she’s firmly in the past.”

  “So that...thing between me and you back there was petty revenge?”

  “Nessuno.” The foyer rang with his denial. “I would never, never use you like that.”

  “Then what was it?” She closed her eyes. Their relationship was like a minefield—so many unexploded and untouchable subjects. But one touch and the passion between them ignited. One step and their bodies would connect and it would be heaven and she was shaking for the effort it took to hold herself back. “Don’t play games with me, Dante. I’m not as strong as you think.”

  “I think you’re the strongest, bravest, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” His breath caressed her cheek, sending sparks swooping down her skin. “Ali?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t you want to wait until tonight to know?”

  She opened her eyes and as she saw her reflection in his gray eyes, Ali knew. It was too late for her. “Know what?”

  With each word, he moved closer, until his nose was buried in her neck. Until she felt the tension swathing his powerful frame. Until he was everything, her entire world. “I want this...us to be real.” He lifted her left hand and stared at her bare finger. “I...want you never to take off your rings again. I want to take you to bed and stay there for a month. I want your loyalty and your fidelity. I want you to be my true wife.”

  “And what do I get?” she whispered automatically, mesmerized by the intensity of his expression, unable to kill the hope fluttering in her chest.

  To belong to Dante, to be his in every way...

  He smiled then and it was a thing of wicked beauty. “I never intended to marry, you know. After the thing between Francesca and me. Never. But you... I don’t think I can go another day without making you mine. You will have everything I have to give. My fortune at your feet, my body and my fidelity. It’ll be my privilege to call you my wife, my privilege to take care of you, my privilege to give you all the pleasure you could ever want.”

  Not love. Everything but love.

  She knew him well and she knew that he hadn’t left the word out on purpose. For a man who’d never meant to marry, for a man who had a long-standing mistress in Matta Steel, of course, love wasn’t a priority.

  Love wasn’t even in his thoughts.

  He hadn’t said he wouldn’t love her either. God, was she clutching at straws?

  He touched his forehead to hers and let out a long exhale. “Say yes, Alisha, and you’ll never be alone again. You’ll never want for anything.”

  Before those words could sink in, before her world could tilt back to its right axis, he pulled away. His gorgeous eyes shimmered with desire, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets pulled at the front, calling her gaze to his arousal.

  A soft sound fell from her mouth as desire hit her hard and fast. She fisted her hands, fighting the urge to trace the shape of him, the urge to beg him to take her here, in the foyer, while his mother was in the next room.

  “No. Don’t take another step. Be my wife and I’m all yours.”

  Ali cursed as even now he denied himself and her.

  “This is the only way this is going to happen.” He ran his palm over his jaw, devouring her with his gaze, his shoulders tight. “In fact, I’m shocked at how long it took me to realize how perfect you and I will be. I’d like to think even Neel would have approved. I want you and I like you and I want to protect you. We know each other. The fire we have...is no common thing. Together, we can build a good marriage based on respect and a bond that will never break. Together, we’ll be his legacy.”

  She spoke through panic, from the same desire running fierce in her veins. “If you say marrying me is paying his debt to you, I’ll never look at you again.”

  “No, cara mia. It’s not a debt. But I’m a man with principles and as much as I want to be inside you right now, it won’t happen. You are not any woman. You’ll never be just any woman to me. Be my wife, Alisha, give me your vows truly. Promise me your commitment. There will be no cheap, dirty affair so that you can scratch an itch and run away when it suits you. Or when it gets hard. Or when it gets old.

  “For once in your life, have the courage to stay.

  “It has to be all the way between us, tesoro. All or nothing.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Come to me, Alisha.

  DANTE’S TEXT FROM two hours ago drummed in her head as Ali finally rode the elevator to the penthouse. It wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t explained his disappearance for most of the evening, with Francesca in tow, after stealing the ground from under her with his announcement.

  He didn’t say please.

  He didn’t cajole or persuade even.

  He just commanded her as if she were his to com
mand. As if there was no doubt she’d accept this. As if she was so desperate to be with him that she would simply breeze into being his wife.

  And this was how their relationship would be too, she had no doubt. He might as well have said Give me your heart and soul outside the elevator earlier in the day.

  Oh, but she desperately wanted to belong to him. Not because she’d spent her whole life looking for a place to belong. But because he was what she’d been searching for.

  Because he was right, she was tired of running away. Of being scared.

  She wanted to stay and fight for him, for this, for them.

  But incensed by his arrogance, she’d texted back.

  Say plz.

  His silence for almost a half hour had killed her. She’d just stared at her phone waiting, watching, desperately yearning.

  Sitting in the quiet blackness of her darkroom, the ping-ping-ping of her cell phone had set her heart thundering in her ears. Her fingers shaking, she’d looked at the texts.

  Just “please”, cara mia? Come to me and I’ll go down on my knees for you.

  You’re mine, Alisha. So stop playing games.

  Take one step toward me and I’ll give you heaven.

  The possessiveness, the promise, the passion... She had trembled at the picture he painted, laughed at how, even in his texts, he was so...Dante.

  Because what he did give was absolute. It was in his actions, it was in the way he gave everything to her father’s legacy and it was in the way he cared about his employees. In the way he’d gotten to the core of her in mere weeks. In the way he’d prodded and pushed her into being her best.

  She could tour the world another decade and she’d never find a man like Dante.

  So there she was, standing outside his bedroom door while her future waited on the other side. The rectangle of light peeking from under the door made her pulse dizzy. It was half past one in the night and finally, thankfully, the flat was silent.

  Of course, Ali could never forget the fact that Sylvia and Francesca were just a few doors down, after refusing again his offer that they’d be more comfortable at the Four Seasons. For her part, Sylvia seemed desperate to make a connection with Dante and Ali couldn’t begrudge her that.

  She’d give anything to see her papa or Vikram just one more time and say sorry for all the hurtful things she’d done. But Dante’s ex was another matter altogether.

  Ali had ended up going alone to the meeting with the agent. Because something had blown up with the Japanese merger and Dante had had to leave. She hadn’t pinned her hopes on him coming and yet she’d been disappointed.

  She’d been waiting on tenterhooks most of the evening for Dante and Francesca to return from some urgent meeting. During dinner, Sylvia having grilled Ali enough to last a lifetime, about Papa and Vikram and their wedding, he hadn’t offered any more info on the big secret meeting.

  Now here she was, outside his door, her heart battering against her rib cage. But if she didn’t go in, she’d never forgive herself for chickening out, for not even giving them a chance.

  Gathering a long breath, she twisted the knob, walked in and closed the door behind her.

  He was sitting at his desk, the lamp playing with the planes and hollows of his face. He was still in his white dress shirt, unbuttoned all the way now, and black trousers. His hair stood out at all angles, making even more of his high forehead and the slashes of his cheekbones.

  The air around him thrummed with palpable tension, and Ali saw there was nothing in front of him on the desk except the phone.

  She hadn’t texted back after his messages, which had been a half hour ago. And as he stared at her, she saw in his face the same desperation she felt, the taut need, the uncertainty in the tight line of his mouth.

  His gaze swept over her from top to bottom—from her hair in that messy topknot to the tight stretchy sweater dress.

  She leaned against the door, digging her nails into the wood grain. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

  He shrugged and the action parted his shirt wider, giving her a peek of his defined pectorals with flat brown nipples and tight abdominal muscles. She licked her lips, imagining running her tongue against that rock-hard band.

  He made a low, growling sound that went straight to her sex.

  “Tell me.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He ran his hand through his hair as if the admission cost him.

  She thought it would make her feel better, less vulnerable to see that he hadn’t been sure of her. She didn’t. Suddenly, she wasn’t interested in power games with him. Not anymore. “Why didn’t you come to me then? Why this mind-play?” A raw vulnerability filled her, coating her throat with tears. She wanted him so much. She ached to be held by him, she longed to belong to him.

  “Isn’t it enough that I’ve been yours for the taking from that first evening in Bangkok? Enough that I came back to the flat against every rational instinct? Enough that I waited all evening, after you disappeared for the evening with your ex?

  “What do I have to do—crawl to you on my knees to make you understand that this isn’t just an itch? That this is not a phase or a stopgap or a...”

  He pushed off from the desk, reaching her before she could blink. His hand went around her neck, pulling her to him. His mouth took hers in such a roughly erotic kiss that her throat dried, her breath stuttered, her belly swooped. She gasped and he swooped into her mouth with a mastery that made her sex clench and throb.

  “It had to be your choice, Alisha. Do you not see, bella mia? This is far too important to me. This is...” he whispered against her mouth, his gaze so intense that she felt stripped to the bone. “This can’t be some boardroom deal where I use your weakness against you to make you surrender. This can’t be a taking. I needed you to come to me, to choose this on those conditions.”

  He clasped her cheeks and peppered kisses all over her face, a desperate intensity in his words. “This is the first time in my life I’ve waited, and wanted, not knowing what the outcome would be. But now that you’re here, cara mia, you’ll never have to take that step again.

  “I’ll forever cherish what you give me. You’ve undone me, tesoro.”

  His teeth bit, his tongue stroked, his body pressed her against the wall until every inch of his hard body was plastered against hers. His unrelenting chest crushed her breasts. His lips—God, his lips—nipped and rubbed until Ali was nothing but a quivering mass of sensations. Until hunger for more consumed her.

  His deep groan soothed and excited at the same time. And then his tongue was inside her mouth again, laving at her with rough, long strokes. She stroked hers against his and then sucked on it. His arms around her tightened, one hard thigh wedging between hers.

  Hardness and heat, he was hers. Tremors swept through her.

  His mouth moved to her jaw. He licked her earlobe before his teeth bit down on the tender flesh. Ali jerked and rubbed her core against his thigh.

  “Wait,” he said, jolting his lower body away from her, his glorious chest falling and rising. “Francesca...her ex pumped all her money into some get-rich scheme and she came here for my help.”

  “She came here for more than that, believe me.”

  “We spent all evening with my team of lawyers and PIs to figure out how to help her. And I did it tonight because I want her out of here as soon as possible. Whatever she and Mama thought about coming here, I have no interest in her.” He took her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm. “You’re my wife and tell me you believe me that I’ll never look at another woman like that again. My word means everything to me.”

  Ali nodded, feeling a catch in her throat.

  He gathered her into his arms, his forehead brushing hers. And sighed. “Tonight is your lucky night, cara mia.”

  “Why just me?” She dug her teeth into his ch
in and he jerked. “I’m a good lay too, you know. If you want proof—”

  He tugged at her hair roughly, thrusting his tongue in, murmuring something in Italian that she was pretty sure meant her mouth was going to get her into a lot of trouble. Or that he was going to shut her up the only way he knew.

  He was hot, rough, thrusting in and out with his tongue. His hands moved compulsively over her back, her waist, coming to rest on her buttocks. In a rough movement that betrayed his lack of control, he pulled her up until his erection pressed up against the V of her legs. Their groans rent the air, the hard ridge of his shaft a perfect fit against her soft core. “I forgot to buy condoms.” His hands snuck under her top and her belly clenched at the rough contact of his palm. “So, it’s all you tonight.”

  Ali shivered at the wickedness in his tone. “As exciting as that sounds, why do you not have condoms here?”

  “I don’t bring lovers here. You’re the first woman who’s lived in this flat, who’s come into my room and who’s going to share my bed.”

  “That makes me feel special,” she said flippantly. Because flippancy had always been her default response when she was protecting herself from hurt.

  “You think I do this lightly?”

  Ali shook her head. The one thing she’d never doubt was Dante’s word, his commitment once he gave it. “Two lovers. I’m clean and I’m on the pill.”

  His eyes took on a thunderous look, as if he didn’t like hearing that. He rubbed his jaw, and studied her. “Five. I’m clean.”

  That unpleasant feeling gripped her and she tried to chase it away. He was hers now. “Five? Maybe you forgot how to count because I can recount off the top—”

  “Rumors and gossip? I took Matta Steel to a net worth of five billion dollars in ten years. I don’t have time to have as many affairs as the media hints.”