‘If there’s some way I can keep the hotel, I’m all ears, but otherwise, please leave.’ She pointed to the door.
Antonio rose slowly. At full height he stood at least a head taller than her. He stood so close she could feel the energy between them – the force so powerful she steeled herself not to quake under its intensity. The tang of citrus aftershave overwhelmed her, mingled with the bouquet of freshly showered man. She battled to remember why she was there. She stepped back, blinking.
‘I know my questions are a little unusual,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to ascertain if my proposal will be successful.’
Sienna stared at him. ‘This hotel has been in my family for over one hundred years and I’d do anything to save it.’ His proximity forced her back another half step.
He drew closer. Too close.
‘Anything?’ His voice was low and dangerous.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled into her palms. He will not intimidate me.
‘Anything,’ she said emphatically. This time she willed her feet to hold their ground.
‘Then marry me.’
The room blurred. She reached out for the desk but missed and stumbled. A strong hand gripped her arm, holding her steady. ‘Marry you?’ she managed. She’d pegged him as ruthless, not crazy.
His face told a different story – sombre and serious.
The room came back into focus and her senses with it. She pulled free from his hold. Shakily, she walked to the window and stared out. He couldn’t be serious. This man’s playing a Machiavellian game and I don’t know the rules.
She clasped her hands tightly together. Her lip quivered and she bit down hard.
‘I don’t appreciate this,’ she said, her voice only a whisper. She closed her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she sensed him moving towards her. His scent, light in the air, surrounded her, confusing her. Her pulse leapt as he laid his hand on her shoulder and turned her gently toward him.
‘I should have explained my situation first,’ he said.
Her gaze flew to his face. He had a situation? Men like Antonio don’t have situations, and if they did, they had people to deal with them.
‘Before I start, I must ask that what I tell you stays absolutely confidential.’
That Antonio, international businessman extraordinaire, considered taking her into his confidence rendered her at a complete loss.
‘Of course,’ she said sincerely. ‘You have my word.’
He didn’t look convinced. She’d given her word. She couldn’t give him any more. She turned to walk away.
He grabbed her hand. Her eyes flashed to his in time to see a stab of pain before the ‘I own the world’ air snapped back. She knew she should hate this man and everything he stood for, but at that moment, sympathy touched her heart.
He let her hand drop and stepped to the window. The seconds ticked by.
‘There’s a hotel in Italy on Lake Como,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s a magnificent building slowly falling into disrepair.’ He glanced around the room. She knew what he meant: Like this place.
‘With the right investment in restoration and technology, this hotel could be the jewel in my Italian chain. Unfortunately —’
‘The owners won’t sell to you?’
He cocked his head. ‘Correct.’
‘Why?’
‘The owners are old-fashioned. They don’t . . .’ He hesitated and frowned. ‘They don’t believe I’d run it with the same family values.’
‘You wouldn’t, would you? Just like you’re planning with this place. You’ll strip it of its heritage, replace all the staff and by the time you’re finished —’
‘My strategy has worked successfully all over the world.’
‘Can’t you see . . .’ She stopped talking. What was the point? Of course he wouldn’t understand. Hotels were his business, not his life. ‘So you think if you turn up married, they’ll sell it to you.’
‘Precisely.’
‘It won’t work.’
‘Why?’
‘Because no one’s going to believe that the famous Antonio Moretti has married some small-time hotelier from Melbourne.’ She laughed. ‘Certainly not one who isn’t the least bit glamorous and who’s totally broke.’
‘You’re very beautiful, Sienna,’ he said. ‘Anyway, people believe what I want them to believe.’
She blinked. Had Antonio Moretti called her beautiful? Or was it only a word meant to distract and flatter her? What else had he said? Fortunately he didn’t seem to notice she’d lost track of the conversation.
‘My intention is to save this hotel in Italy,’ he said. ‘I need the owners to know I am not the wastrel they think I am.’
‘You plan to lie to get what you want.’
The expression on his face made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut.
‘The hotel owners have drawn incorrect conclusions as to the sort of person I am.’ He struggled to keep his voice steady. ‘Marriage will facilitate a sale that will make the owners very rich and save an important part of Italy’s heritage. Sometimes in business the end justifies the means. This is one such example.’
‘Let me get this straight: you’re prepared to marry a complete stranger simply to get your hands on a hotel.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You own dozens of hotels; why is this one so special?’
‘It’s not,’ he said, a little too quickly. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s important for my country’s heritage that this hotel is preserved. Politicians, movie stars, VIPs from all over the world have stayed there. The photographs in the lobby alone are worth a small fortune.’
‘So, this is purely an altruistic enterprise?’ She hoped he noted the sarcasm in her voice. ‘What’s the real reason?’
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stared out at the grey Melbourne weather. His fingers brushed briefly across his scar.
‘That is the real reason.’ He paused. ‘And I suppose it has some sentimental value. I spent all my summer holidays there as a child.’
Sienna considered him closely. This last admission had been difficult for him. It almost made him seem . . . human. The image of the beach shack her family owned in Portsea filled her mind. Running a hotel, her family didn’t have much time off, but each year, after the summer madness, her parents would take her out of school for two weeks at the beach.
Her teeth grazed her lips. Those times represented absolute happiness, now forever gone. She blinked hard. Okay, she got it.
But marriage?
‘Why don’t you simply offer more money?’ she asked.
‘I’ve already offered them twice the value of the place,’ he said, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘It’s me they have a problem with.’
‘And you think a fake marriage will change that?’ She thought about the front page of today’s paper. The shot of Antonio and Amy would surely have made the Italian press. The world followed Antonio’s every move as though he were royalty.
‘It won’t appear fake,’ he said.
She walked to her desk and pulled the newspaper from her out-tray. Opening it to the front page, she held it up for him to see. ‘No one’s going to believe you’re married to me.’
She turned the paper round and stared at the picture on the front page. Dating the glamorous Amy West one week and married to a ‘nobody’ the next . . . I don’t think so.
‘People believe what’s plastered on the front page,’ he said, taking the paper from her and placing it on the desk. ‘When we announce our engagement, it’ll be front-page news. They’ll accept it.’
‘And why should I do this?’ She shivered. Blinked. Was she actually considering this mad idea?
‘I’ll give you a year’s reprieve on your repayments.’
Sienna struggled to keep her face impassive as her heart leapt in her chest. This would save her thousands. She glanced out the window. The maintenance man still struggled with the autumn leaves. With money like that she could kee
p him on. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go, especially with his third baby due any day.
‘Interest-free for a year?’ she asked, buying herself time to think.
‘Yes.’
That might give her time to get things back on track. She looked at Antonio’s face. He gave nothing away. They were discussing marriage, for heaven’s sake.
She slowly drew in a long breath.
‘I want three years interest-free and all the accumulated debt in arrears wiped,’ she said as forcefully as possible.
‘Not acceptable.’ His face still betrayed nothing.
Time to call his bluff. ‘Then I’m sorry, you’ll have to take your marriage proposal elsewhere.’
She walked behind her desk and hoped he didn’t notice her legs shaking. She sat. Taking up a pen, she pretended to work. The pen wobbled in her hand. She dropped it and flicked through some files.
The silence stretched. She stared blankly at the pages in front of her. He didn’t move. She turned the page. Still nothing. Every cell in her body screamed at her to look up.
What’s he doing?
More silence. She crossed her legs and flicked over another page. Now she just felt stupid. She couldn’t sit there all day with Antonio Moretti staring at her.
She slammed the file shut and shot him her best What are you still doing here? look.
He leant so casually against the door she had an overwhelming desire to slap the arrogance from his face.
She jumped from her chair. ‘What?’
‘I don’t often have people pretend to ignore me,’ he said, his eyebrows slightly raised. ‘I’ll give you two years interest-free and half the money in arrears.’
‘Two years and all the money.’
‘Done.’
He strode forward and offered his hand across the desk. She shook it. Although she’d negotiated, all the power emanated from his side of the table. Her hand felt tiny in his firm grasp. Any power she possessed vanished. Alarm grabbed her heart. When he released her, it felt as if she’d lost something of herself.
A moment later, reality slammed home – she’d agreed to marry Antonio Moretti.
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