Surrendering All but Her Heart

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She met his gaze again. ‘Can we get to the point?’ she asked. ‘I’ve come here to pay for the damage my brother allegedly caused. If you won’t accept my money, then what will you accept?’

  It was a dangerous question to be asking. She knew it as soon as she voiced it. It hung in the ensuing silence, mocking her, taunting her for her supposed immunity.

  She had never been immune.

  It had all been an act—a clever ploy to keep him from guessing how much she’d wanted to be free to love him. But the clanging chains of her past had kept her anchored in silence. She couldn’t love him or anyone.

  Angelo’s diamond-hard gaze tethered hers. ‘Why don’t you sit down and we can discuss it?’ he said, gesturing to a chair near to where she was standing.

  Natalie sank into the chair with relief. Her legs were so shaky the ligaments in her legs felt as if they had been severed like the strings of a puppet. Her heart was pounding and her skin was hot and clammy in spite of the air conditioning. She watched as he went back to the other side of his desk and sat down. For someone so tall he moved with an elegant, loose-limbed grace. His figure was rangy and lean, rather than excessively gym-pumped, although there was nothing wrong with the shape of his biceps. She could see the firm outline of them beneath his crisp ice-blue shirt. The colour was a perfect foil for his olive-toned skin. In the past she had only ever seen him in casual clothes, or wearing nothing at all.

  In designer business clothes he looked every inch the successful hotel and property tycoon—untouchable, remote, in control. Her hands and mouth had traced every slope and plane and contour of his body. She could still remember how salty his skin tasted against her tongue. She still remembered the scent of him, the musk and citrus blend that had clung to her skin for hours after their making love. She remembered the thrusting possession of his body, how his masterful touch had unlocked her tightly controlled responses like a maestro with a difficult instrument that no one else could play.

  She gave herself a mental slap and sat up straighter in the chair. Crossing her legs and arms, she fixed her gaze on Angelo’s with a steely composure she was nowhere near feeling.

  He leaned back in his own chair, with his fingers steepled against his chin, his dark gaze trained with unnervingly sharp focus on hers. ‘I’ve heard anybody who is anybody is sleeping between your sheets,’ he said.

  She returned his look with chilly hauteur. ‘I don’t suppose you are doing so.’

  His lips gave a tiny twitch of amusement, his dark eyes smouldering as they continued to hold hers. ‘Not yet,’ he said.

  Natalie’s insides flickered with the memory of long-ago desire. She’d fought valiantly to suppress it, but from the moment she had stepped into his office she had been aware of her body and its unruly response to him. He had always had that power over her. Just a look, an idle touch, a simple word and she would melt.

  She couldn’t afford to give in to past longings. She had to be strong in order to get through this. Lachlan’s future depended on her. If this latest misdemeanour of his got out in the tabloids his life would be ruined. He was hoping to go to Harvard after this gap year. A criminal record would ruin everything for him.

  Their father would crucify him.

  He would crucify them both.

  Natalie blamed herself. Why hadn’t she realised how disenfranchised Lachlan was? Had she somehow given him some clue to her past history with Angelo? Had her lack of an active love-life made him suspect Angelo was the cause? How had he put two and two together? It wasn’t as if she had ever been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. She had been busy building up her business. She had not missed dating. She’d had one or two encounters that had left her cold. She had more or less decided she wasn’t cut out for an intimate relationship. The passion she had experienced with Angelo had come at a huge price, and it wasn’t one she was keen to pay again.

  She was better off alone.

  ‘I understand how incredibly annoyed you are at what my brother has supposedly done,’ she said. ‘But I must beg you not to proceed with criminal charges.’

  His dark brow lifted again. ‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’re begging me?’

  Natalie momentarily compressed her lips in an attempt to control her spiralling emotions. How like him to taunt her. He would milk this situation for all it was worth and she would have to go along with it. He knew it. She knew it. He wanted her pride. It would be his ultimate trophy.

  ‘I’m asking for leniency.’

  ‘You’re grovelling.’

  She straightened her shoulders again. ‘I’m asking you to drop all charges,’ she said. ‘I’ll cover the damages—even double, if you insist. You won’t be out of pocket.’

  His gaze still measured hers unwaveringly. ‘You want this to go away before it gets out in the press, don’t you?’ he said.

  Natalie hoped her expression wasn’t giving away any sign of her inner panic. She had always prided herself on disguising her feelings. Years of dealing with her father’s erratic mood swings had made her a master at concealing her fear in case it was exploited. From childhood her ice-cold exterior had belied the inner turmoil of her emotions. It was her shield, her armour—her carapace of protection.

  But Angelo had a keen, intelligent gaze. Even before she had left him she had felt he was starting to sum up her character in a way she found incredibly unsettling.

  ‘Of course I want to keep this out of the press,’ she said. ‘But then, don’t you? What will people think of your hotel security if a guest can do the sort of damage you say my brother did? Your hotels aim for the top end of the market. What does that say about the type of clientele your hotel attracts?’

  A muscle flickered like a pulse at the side of his mouth. ‘I have reason to believe your brother specifically targeted my hotel,’ he said.

  She felt her stomach lurch. ‘What makes you think that?’

  He opened a drawer to the left of him and took out a sheet of paper and handed it to her across the desk. She took it with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. It was a faxed copy of a note addressed to Angelo, written in her brother’s writing. It said: This is for my sister.

  Natalie gulped and handed back the paper. ‘I don’t know what to say … I have never said anything to Lachlan about … about us. He was only thirteen when we were together. He was at boarding school when we shared that flat in Notting Hill. He never even met you.’

  Nor had any of her family. She hadn’t wanted Angelo to be exposed to her father’s outrageous bigotry and her mother’s sickening subservience.

  ‘You must have said something to him,’ Angelo said. ‘Why else would he write that?’

  Natalie chewed at her lip. She had said nothing to anyone other than that her short, intense and passionate affair with Angelo was over because she wanted to concentrate on her career. Not even her closest girlfriend, Isabel Astonberry, knew how much her break-up with Angelo had affected her. She had told everyone she was suffering from anxiety. Even her doctor had believed her. It had explained the rapid weight loss and agitation and sleepless nights. She had almost convinced herself it was true. She had even taken the pills the doctor had prescribed, but they hadn’t done much more than throw a thick blanket over her senses, numbing her until she felt like a zombie.

  Eventually she had climbed out of the abyss of misery and got on with her life. Hard work had been her remedy. It still was. Her interior design business had taken off soon after she had qualified. Her online sales were expanding exponentially, and she had plans to set up some outlets in Europe. She employed staff who managed the business end of things while she got on with what she loved best—the designing of her linen and soft furnishings range.

  And she had done it all by herself. She hadn’t used her father’s wealth and status to recruit clients. Just like Angelo, she had been adamant that she would not rely on family wealth and privilege, but do it all on her own talent and hard work.

  ‘Natalie?’ Ange
lo’s deep voice jolted her out of her reverie. ‘Why do you think your brother addressed that note to me?’

  She averted her gaze as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘He must have known it would cause immense trouble for you,’ he said.

  Natalie looked up at him again, her heart leaping to her throat. ‘A hundred thousand pounds is a lot of money, but it’s not a lot to pay for someone’s freedom,’ she said.

  He gave an enigmatic half-smile. ‘Ah, yes, but whose freedom are we talking about?’

  A ripple of panic moved through her as she held his unreadable gaze. ‘Can we quit it with the game-playing?’ she said. ‘Why don’t you come straight out and say what you’ve planned in terms of retribution?’

  His dark eyes hardened like black ice. ‘I think you know what I want,’ he said. ‘It’s the same thing I wanted five years ago.’

  She drew in a sharp little breath. ‘You can’t possibly want an affair with someone you hate. That’s so … so cold-blooded.’

  He gave a disaffected smile. ‘Who said anything about an affair?’

  She felt a fine layer of sweat break out above her top lip. She felt clammy and light-headed. Her legs trembled even though she had clamped them together to hide it. She unclenched her hands and put one to her throat, where her heart seemed to have lodged itself like a pigeon trapped in a narrow pipe.

  ‘You’re joking, of course,’ she said, in a voice that was hoarse to the point of barely being audible.

  Those dark, inscrutable eyes held hers captive, making every nerve in her body acutely aware of his sensual power over her. Erotic memories of their past relationship simmered in the silence. Every passionate encounter, from their first kiss to their blistering bloodletting last, hovered in the tense atmosphere. She felt the incendiary heat and fire of his touch just by looking at him. It was all she could do to stay still and rigidly composed in her chair.

  ‘I want a wife,’ he said, as if stating his desire for something as prosaic as a cup of tea or coffee.

  Natalie hoisted her chin. ‘Then I suggest you go about the usual way of acquiring one,’ she said.

  ‘I tried that and it didn’t work,’ he returned. ‘I thought I’d try this way instead.’

  She threw him a scathing look. ‘Blackmail, you mean?’

  He gave an indifferent shrug of one of his broad shoulders. ‘Your brother will likely spend up to four years waiting for a hearing,’ he said. ‘The legal system in Italy is expensive and time consuming. I don’t need to tell you he is unlikely to escape conviction. I have enough proof to put him away for a decade.’

  Natalie shot to her feet, her control slipping like a stiletto on a slick of oil. ‘You bastard!’ she said. ‘You’re only doing this to get at me. Why don’t you admit it? You only want revenge because I am the first woman who has ever left you. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Your damned pride got bruised, so now you’re after revenge.’

  His jaw locked down like a clamp, his lips barely moving as he commanded, ‘Sit down.’

  She glared at him with undiluted hatred. ‘Go to hell.’

  He placed his hands on the desk and slowly got to his feet. Somehow it was far more threatening than if he had shoved his chair back with aggressive force. His expression was thunderous, but when he spoke it was with icy calm.

  ‘We will marry as soon as I can get a licence. If you do not agree, then your brother will face the consequences of his actions. Do you have anything to say?’

  She said it in unladylike coarseness. The crude words rang in the air, but rather than make her feel powerful they made her feel ashamed. He had made her lose control and she hated him for it.

  Angelo’s top lip slanted in a mocking smile. ‘I am not averse to the odd moment of self-pleasuring, as you so charmingly suggest, but I would much rather share the experience with a partner. And, to be quite frank, no one does it better than you.’

  She snatched up her bag and clutched it against her body so tightly she felt the gold pen inside jab her in the stomach. ‘I hope you die and rot in hell,’ she said. ‘I hope you get some horrible, excruciatingly painful pestilent disease and suffer tortuous agony for the rest of your days.’

  He continued to stare her down with irritatingly cool calm. ‘I love you too, Tatty,’ he said.

  Natalie felt completely and utterly ambushed by the use of his pet name for her. It was like a body-blow to hear it after all these years. Her chest gave an aching spasm. Her anger dissolved like an aspirin in a glass of water. Her fighting spirit collapsed like a warrior stung by a poison dart. Tears sprang at the back of her eyes. She could feel them burning and knew if she didn’t get out of there right now he would see them.

  She spun around and groped blindly for the door, somehow getting it open and stumbling through it, leaving it open behind her like a mouth in the middle of an unfinished sentence.

  She didn’t bother with the lift.

  She didn’t even glance at the receptionist on her way to the fire escape.

  She bolted down the stairs as if the devil and all his maniacal minions were on her heels.

  CHAPTER TWO

  NATALIE got back to her hotel and leant against the closed door of her suite with her chest still heaving like a pair of bellows. The ringing of her phone made her jump, and she almost dropped it when she tried to press the answer button with fingers that felt like cotton wool.

  ‘H-hello?’

  ‘Natalie, it’s me … Lachlan.’

  She pushed herself away from the door and scraped a hand through her sticky hair as she paced the floor in agitation. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last twenty-four hours!’ she said. ‘Where are you? What’s going on? Why did you do it? For God’s sake, Lachlan, are you out of your mind?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m only allowed one call. I’ll have to make it quick.’

  Natalie scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting to picture the ghastly cell he would be locked in, with vicious-looking prison guards watching his every move. ‘Tell me what to do,’ she said, opening her eyes again to look at the view of the River Thames and the London Eye. ‘Tell me what you need. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Just do what Angelo tells you to do,’ Lachlan said. ‘He’s got it all under control. He can make this go away.’

  She swung away from the window. ‘Are you nuts?’ she said.

  He released a sigh. ‘He’ll do the right thing by you, Nat,’ he said. ‘Just do whatever he says.’

  She started pacing again—faster this time. ‘He wants to marry me,’ she said. ‘Did he happen to mention that little detail to you?’

  ‘You could do a whole lot worse.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Lachlan, you’re surely not serious? He hates me.’

  ‘He’s my only chance,’ he said. ‘I know I’ve stuffed up. I don’t want to go to prison. Angelo’s given me a choice. I have to take it.’

  She gave a disgusted snort. ‘He’s given me a choice, not you,’ she said. ‘My freedom in exchange for yours.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be for ever,’ he said. ‘You can divorce him after a few months. He can’t force you to stay with him indefinitely.’

  Natalie seriously wondered about that. Rich, powerful men were particularly adept at getting and keeping what they wanted. Look at their father, for instance. He had kept their mother chained to his side in spite of years of his infidelities and emotional cruelty. She could not bear to end up in the same situation as her mother. A trophy wife, a pretty adornment, a plaything that could be picked up and put down at will. With no power of her own other than a beauty that would one day fade, leaving her with nothing but diamonds, designer clothes and drink to compensate for her loneliness.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. ‘Why his hotel?’

  ‘Remember the last time we caught up?’ Lachlan said.

  Natalie remembered all too well. It had been a weekend in
Paris a couple of months ago, when she had been attending a fabric show. Lachlan had been at a friend’s eighteenth birthday party just outside of the city. He had been ignominiously tossed out of his friend’s parents’ château after disgracing himself after a heavy night of drinking.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in stern reproach. ‘It took me weeks to get the smell of alcohol and vomit out of my coat.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I saw that gossip magazine open on the passenger seat,’ he said. ‘There was an article about Angelo and his latest lover. That twenty-one-year-old heiress from Texas?’

  She tried to ignore the dagger of jealousy that spiked her when she recalled the article, and the stunningly gorgeous young woman who had been draped on Angelo’s arm at some highbrow function.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘What of it? It wasn’t the first time he’d squired some brainless little big-boobed bimbo to an event.’

  ‘No,’ Lachlan said. ‘But it was the first time I’d seen you visibly upset by it.’

  ‘I wasn’t upset,’ she countered quickly. ‘I was disgusted.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  Natalie blew out a breath and started pacing again. ‘So you took it upon yourself to get back at him by trashing one of the most luxurious hotel rooms in the whole of Europe just because you thought I was a little peeved?’

  ‘I know, I know, I know,’ Lachlan said. ‘It sounds so stupid now. I’m not sure why I did it. I guess I was just angry that he seemed to have it all together and you didn’t.’

  Natalie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘I’m running a successful business all by myself. I’m paying for my own home. I’m happy with my life.’

  ‘Are you, Nat?’ he asked. ‘Are you really?’

  The silence was condemning.

  ‘You work ridiculous hours,’ Lachlan went on. ‘You never take holidays.’

  ‘I hate flying, that’s why.’

  ‘You could do a desensitising programme for that,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t have time.’

  ‘It’s because of what happened to Liam, isn’t it?’ Lachlan said. ‘You haven’t been on a plane since he drowned in Spain all those years ago.’