by Jennie Lucas
She was playing her ice-maiden game now but Edoardo could see straight through it. She couldn’t hide the way her body reacted to him. She was aware of him in the same way he was aware of her. There was a sexual energy in the air between them—a current, a force, that crackled every time their eyes met.
‘You can pour a glass of wine for us both,’ he said. ‘There’s a red open over there, or there’s white, if you prefer, in the fridge.’
She poured a glass of red for them both and handed him one. He felt the zap of her fingers as they briefly met his around the stem of the glass. He saw the flare of reaction in her brown eyes. ‘Salut,’ he said, holding her gaze as the blood thundered in his loins.
She gave her glossy lips a quick darting sweep with the tip of her tongue. ‘Salut,’ she said and lifted the glass to her mouth. It always amazed him how sensual she was, seemingly without even trying. How could taking a sip of wine suddenly be so sexy? He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, how it glistened from the wine. How her lips were so plump and full, just ripe for kissing.
‘So how did you meet this boyfriend of yours?’ Edoardo asked as he dragged his gaze away from her mouth.
‘He was serving meals to the homeless when I walked past from the tube station,’ she said. ‘I thought it was amazing that he was standing out there in the cold and wet, handing out food parcels and blankets. We got talking and then we exchanged numbers. The rest, as they say, is history.’
‘How serious are you about him?’
‘I’m very serious,’ she said, setting her chin at a defiant height. ‘I want to get married in June.’
He took a measured sip of his wine and then placed the glass back down on the counter. Bella married? Not on his watch. ‘You realise you can’t marry anyone without my permission?’ he said.
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘It’s clearly stated in your father’s will,’ he said. ‘I have to approve your choice of husband if you choose to marry before the age of twenty-five.’
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. ‘You’re lying,’ she said. ‘It does not say that. You’re in control of my money, not my love life.’
‘Go check it out with the lawyer,’ he said, turning back to his chicken dish on the stove.
Edoardo could feel her anger building in the silence. It made the air heavy, loaded with anticipation, like that tense period after lightning flashed, just before the thunder bellowed.
‘You put my father up to this, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘You cooked up this little scheme to get absolute and total control of me.’
Edoardo put the wooden spoon down on the spoon holder and turned back round, folding his arms across his chest and crossing one ankle over the other. ‘So why do you want to marry this Julian guy?’ he asked.
She put up her chin. ‘I’m in love with him.’
He laughed and unfolded his arms. ‘Now, that’s funny.’
She sent him a gimlet glare. ‘I suppose it is to someone who doesn’t have an emotional bone in his body,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t recognise love if it came up and bit you on the face.’
Edoardo looked at her mouth again, at those lips he had fantasised about for years, remembering how soft and yielding they had been beneath the pressure of his. He had fantasised about them moving over his body, kissing and sucking on him until he exploded. A red-hot dart of lust shot him in the loins. He could just imagine her taking him to heaven with that sexy little mouth of hers. It would certainly make a change from her spitting at him like an angry little cat. ‘Ah, yes, but I recognise lust when I see it,’ he said. ‘And you are positively simmering with it.’
She hissed in a little breath, her eyes flashing in fury. ‘How dare you?’
‘Oh, I dare,’ he said, trailing a light fingertip down the length of her arm.
She pulled back from him as if he had scorched her. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘I like touching you,’ he said in a low, growly tone. ‘It does things to me. Wicked things. Sinful things.’
Her slim throat moved up and down agitatedly. ‘Stop this,’ she said. ‘Stop this right now.’
‘Stop what?’ he asked. ‘Stop looking at you? Stop imagining how it would feel to thrust inside you right to the hilt? To have you bucking and screaming underneath my—’
She raised her hand so quickly he almost didn’t block it in time. He captured it within a hair’s breadth of his cheek, his fingers clamping around her wrist with bruising force. ‘I can do rough if you want, princess,’ he said. ‘I can do it any way you want it.’
‘I do not want you,’ she said, spitting the words out like bullets.
He felt her thighs bump against his. He felt the softness of her breasts where they brushed against his chest. He felt the drum beat of her pulse against his fingers. He felt his need race through his blood with an almighty primal roar.
It would be so easy to slam his mouth down on hers like he had done before. To taste her, to tempt her with the pleasure he could feel building like a dam inside him. She would go off like a firecracker. He knew they would be dynamite together. She needed someone strong enough to control her wild impulses and reckless behaviour. The men she dated danced around her like moths around a bright light.
He would have her. He knew it in his bones. He would have his fill of her, purging her from his system once and for all.
And she would enjoy every pulse-racing second of it.
Edoardo slowly released her wrist. ‘Got that nasty little temper of yours under control?’ he asked.
She gave him a fulminating look as she rubbed at her wrist. ‘I pity the women you take to bed,’ she said. ‘They probably leave it bruised from head to foot.’
‘They leave it panting for more,’ he said with a smouldering smile.
She made a scornful sound. ‘Why? Because you don’t know how to properly satisfy a woman?’
His eyes mated with hers. ‘Why don’t you try me and see?’
She gave him a withering look. ‘I’m about to become engaged, remember?’
‘So you say,’ he said. ‘Has he asked you, or are you just clearing it with me in case he does?’
She gave him a reaction that reminded him of a bantam hen ruffling its feathers. ‘The man doesn’t always have to do the proposing,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with a woman asking a man?’
‘That could work every four years, but this year isn’t a leap year, so you’ve either got to buck the trend or wait.’ Edoardo picked up her left hand. ‘So where’s the ring?’
She snatched her hand away. ‘I’m having one designed specially.’
‘Who’s paying for it?’
She frowned at him. ‘What sort of question is that?’
‘So you’re paying,’ he said with a mocking look.
‘I don’t have to discuss this with you,’ she said. ‘It’s none of your damn business.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s where you’re wrong, Bella,’ he said. ‘It is my business to see that you don’t get ripped off by some gold-digging sleazebag. That’s why your father appointed me as your financial guardian. He didn’t want you to be taken advantage of until you were old enough to understand how the world works.’
‘I’m twenty-four years old!’ she said. ‘Of course I know how the world works. My father was old-fashioned. He was two generations older than my friends’ fathers. You had no right to agree to this stupid scheme. You should’ve talked him out of it. I should’ve been given control when I turned twenty-one.’
‘You were too young at twenty-one,’ he said. ‘I think you’re still too young even now. You don’t know what you want.’
Her hands were in tight little fists by her sides. ‘I know I don’t want you messing up my life,’ she said. ‘I love Julian. I want to be his wife. I want a family with him. You
can’t stop me marrying him. I’ll fight you every step of the way.’
‘Fight me,’ he said. ‘I’ll look forward to it. But you won’t win this, Bella. I will not allow your father’s life’s work to be frittered away by your impulsive choice of a partner. I’ll put a hold on your allowance. I’ll freeze your assets. You won’t have a penny to buy a cup of coffee, much less pay for a wedding.’
‘You can’t do this!’
‘How long have you known this man?’
Her cheeks blushed like a rose. ‘Long enough to know he’s my soulmate.’
He nailed her with his gaze. ‘How long?’
‘Three months,’ she mumbled.
‘What the—?’
‘Don’t say it.’ She cut him off before he could let out his forceful expletive. ‘It was love at first sight.’
‘That’s a load of crap,’ he said. ‘You haven’t even slept with this guy. How do you know if you’re compatible?’
‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ she said. ‘You don’t even have a soul.’
Edoardo was inclined to agree with her. His childhood had bludgeoned his heart until he had hidden it away for ever. He had taught himself not to feel anything but the most basic of feelings. He hadn’t loved anyone since he was five years old. He wasn’t sure he could love any more. It was a language he had forgotten, along with most of his native tongue. He had taught himself not to need people. Needing people left you vulnerable, and the one thing he would never allow himself to be again was vulnerable.
‘Let’s leave me out of this,’ he said. ‘What I’m concerned about is you. You’re doing exactly what your father was afraid you would do—you’re letting your heart rule your head. It should be the other way around.’
‘You can’t choose who you fall in love with,’ she said. ‘It just...happens.’
‘You’re not in love with him,’ he said. ‘You’re in love with the idea of marriage and family, of security and respectability.’
She flounced to the other side of the kitchen, taking her wine with her. ‘I’m not going to talk about this any more,’ she said. ‘I’m marrying Julian, and you can’t stop me.’
‘Will he wait a whole year for you?’ Edoardo asked.
She lowered her glass and sent him a furious scowl. ‘You heartless, controlling bastard.’
‘Sticks and stones,’ he said, picking up his own wine and raising it in a toast.
She slammed her glass down so hard the stem broke and wine swirled in a red arc like a splash of blood. She yelped and jumped backwards, clutching her right hand.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, stepping towards her.
‘I’m fine.’ She bit down on her lip.
He took her hand and unpeeled her fingers to find a little gash in the pad of her thumb. ‘You silly little fool,’ he said. ‘You could’ve severed a tendon.’
‘It’s nothing.’ She tried to pull her hand away but he didn’t let go. She glared up at him. ‘Do you mind?’
‘You need a plaster on that,’ he said. ‘There’s a first-aid kit in the downstairs bathroom. Come with me.’
She looked as if she was going to defy him but then she gave a frustrated sigh and allowed him to lead her to the bathroom next to the conservatory. ‘I can sort it out myself,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m not a little child.’
‘So stop acting like one.’
She flashed him a furious scowl. ‘Why don’t you stop acting like an overbearing ogre?’
‘Sit on the bath stool,’ Edoardo instructed as he pulled out the drawer where the first-aid kit was stored.
She sat and held out her hand with a recalcitrant look on her face. ‘It’s just a scratch.’
‘It’s just shy of needing a stitch,’ he said as he checked the wound for traces of glass.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry,’ he said.
She glowered at him. ‘I bet you’re not.’
‘You know me so well.’
She gave him a lengthy look. ‘Does anyone know you, Edoardo?’ she asked.
He shifted his gaze to her thumb as he carefully placed a plaster over the wound. She had switched from spitting cat to gentle dove within a heartbeat. He had seen her work her lethal charm on others. He had seen grown men fall over like ninepins when she gave them that misty, doe-eyed look. She knew the feminine power she had and exploited it whenever she could.
But he was not going to let her manipulate him.
‘What makes you ask that?’ he asked casually.
‘You don’t seem to have a lot of friends,’ she said. ‘You don’t seem to need people like other people do.’
‘I have what I need in terms of companionship,’
he said.
‘Who is your best friend?’
He released her hand and moved to the basin to wash his hands. ‘You should take care of that thumb,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to get it infected.’
‘Edoardo?’
He dried his hands on the nearest towel and then shoved it back on the rail. ‘I’d better go clean up that glass before Fergus steps on it,’ he said.
She bit her lip again. ‘I’m sorry...’
He gave her a brief glance before he shouldered open the door. ‘We all have our limits, Bella.’
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN Bella came back from the bathroom, there was no sign of the spill of red wine or any shards of glass. Fergus was still lying on his padded bed near the cooker. Edoardo was dishing up a delicious-looking chicken and tomato dish that smelt absolutely divine.
‘Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?’ he asked without looking up from what he was doing.
‘Here’s fine,’ she said. ‘Fergus looks like he’s settled in for the night.’
‘He’s getting on,’ he said as he set a plate in front of her. ‘He’s slowed down a lot just lately.’
‘How old is he now?’ Bella asked, screwing up her forehead as she tried to remember. ‘Seven?’
‘Eight,’ he said. ‘Your father bought him when you decided you weren’t coming home for Christmas that year.’
Bella frowned when she thought of how she had behaved back then by choosing her social life over her father. It wasn’t just an attempt on her part to avoid Edoardo after that kiss. Her relationship with her father had never really been the same after her mother had left. He had thrown himself into work, spending long hours in the study or going on business trips and leaving her with babysitters.
When he was at home he’d hardly seemed aware she was there. She had felt frustrated that she couldn’t get close to him. She had been frightened he might leave her too and had perversely done everything she could to drive him away. She had blamed him for her mother leaving and had acted out dreadfully. She had thrown terrible tantrums. She had screamed, railed and deliberately made things difficult for him. The various nannies he had employed hadn’t stayed long. In the end she had agreed to go to boarding school even though she hadn’t really wanted to go. ‘Was he lonely, do you think?’ she asked. ‘Did he miss me?’
‘Of course he did,’ he said, frowning slightly.
‘He never said.’
‘It wasn’t his way,’ he said.
Bella toyed with the edge of her plate. ‘After my mother left...it was difficult to get close to him,’ she said. ‘He seemed to shut himself away. Work became his entire focus. I didn’t think he cared what happened to me. I think I reminded him too much of Mum.’
‘He was hurt,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s affair totally gutted him.’
Guilt felt like a yoke around her shoulders. She had made it so much worse. Why had she been so selfish? Why couldn’t she have comforted her father instead of pushing him away? She had ended up hurting him just as much as her mother. S
he looked at Edoardo again. ‘You really cared about him, didn’t you?’ she asked.
‘He had his faults,’ he said. ‘But basically he was a good man. I had a lot of respect for him.’
‘I think he saw you as the son he never had,’ she said. ‘I was jealous about that. I never felt good enough.’
He frowned again. ‘He loved you more than life itself.’
Bella gave a shrug. ‘I was just a girl,’ she said. ‘He was of the generation where sons were everything to a man. He loved me, but I always knew that deep down he thought I was just like my mother. I suspect that’s why he orchestrated things the way he did. He didn’t think I had the sense to make my own decisions.’
‘He was concerned you would be too trusting,’ he said. ‘He didn’t want you to be hoodwinked by shallow charm or empty compliments.’
‘So he appointed you as gatekeeper,’ Bella said with more than a little hint of wryness. ‘A man who never wastes time on charm or compliments.’
He took a contemplative sip of his wine. ‘I can be charming when I need to be.’
She gave a little laugh. ‘I’d like to see that.’
There was a little silence.
‘You look stunningly beautiful tonight,’ he said.
She shifted restively in her seat. ‘Stop it, Edoardo.’
‘I sometimes fantasise about you being in bed with me.’
She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘You’re not being charming,’ she said. ‘You’re being lewd.’
He leaned forward with his forearms resting on the table, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I feel you in my arms,’ he said. ‘I feel your body wrap itself tightly around me. You feel it too, don’t you, Bella? You feel me driving into you. You feel it right now: hard. Thick. Strong.’
She swallowed tightly. ‘Why are you doing this?’
He leaned back in his chair and picked up his wine. ‘I want you.’
She gave him a haughty glare. ‘I’m not yours to have.’
His eyes challenged hers in a hot little tussle that had her spine tingling like high-voltage electricity. ‘You’ve always been mine, Bella,’ he said. ‘That’s why you hate me so much. You don’t want to admit how much you want me. It shames you to think you lust after a bad boy with no pedigree. It’s not done in your highbrow circles, is it? You’re not supposed to slum it with the ill-bred. You’re supposed to mingle your blood with the high flyers, but you just can’t help yourself, can you? You want me.’