Harlequin Presents February 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Dealing Her Final CardUncovering the Silveri SecretBartering Her InnocenceLiving the Charade

by Jennie Lucas

  And that simple question told her more about her mother than she ever wanted to know. ‘It ended badly.’

  ‘Because he didn’t express his undying love for you? Oh God, Valentina, you’re so naive sometimes.’

  Her mother’s words stung, deep inside where she’d promised she’d never hurt again. And maybe that was why she said it. Because she didn’t want to be the only one hurting here. ‘He said I was a chip off the old block. That, like you, I did my best work on my back!’

  Her mother paused, forgetting momentarily about the delicate glass dolphin in her lap that she’d been lovingly dusting till then. And then she laughed, absolutely delighted. ‘He said that? And you didn’t take it as a compliment?’ She took one look at her daughter’s stricken face. ‘You didn’t, did you?’ She shrugged and started polishing again, before she gave it a final check in the light and replaced it with another ornament. Rub rub rub. Polish polish polish. And the more she polished, the more Tina’s nerves screamed.

  ‘Would you please stop doing that?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Dusting those wretched ornaments of yours.’

  ‘Valentina,’ her mother said, incensed, rubbing on, ‘they’re Murano glass, they deserve to be shown to best advantage. Of course I have to dust them.’

  ‘I was pregnant, you know!’

  Lily looked up at her, and this time she put the ornament right back on the side table where it had come from. Finally, Tina thought. Finally she managed to look aghast. ‘You were pregnant? To Luca Barbarigo?’

  Tina nodded, a sudden tightness in her throat, a sudden and unbidden urge to cry stinging her eyes as she released a secret she had been holding inside for too long. Finally her mother might understand.

  Finally.

  Lily just sat there and shook her head. ‘So why didn’t you make him marry you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you know how rich he is? His family were once Doges of Venice. He’s Venetian nobility and you didn’t marry him?’

  ‘Lily, we had a one-night stand. One night. A baby wasn’t part of the deal. Anyway, I lost the baby. And thank you so much for asking about the fate of your grandchild!’

  ‘But if you’d married him,’ her mother continued, unabashed, ‘then we wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

  Tina’s world reeled and spun. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I lost the baby. At twenty weeks. Do you have any idea what that’s like, giving birth to a child that is destined to die?’

  Lily flicked away the argument as if it were no more than a speck of dust on one of her ornaments. ‘You didn’t really want a child, did you? Besides, you could have been married by then. You would have been, if you’d told me at the time. I would have arranged your marriage within a week.’

  ‘And what if I didn’t want to get married?’

  ‘That’s hardly the point. You should have made him do the honourable thing.’

  Tina doubted she had ever hated her mother quite so much. ‘Like you made Mitch do when you got pregnant? Tell me, Lily, were you hoping for a miscarriage once you had that ring on your finger? Were you hoping to escape the birth once you had the husband, given you never really wanted a child?’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Isn’t it? Sorry I didn’t oblige. Lucky, though, in a way, given the mess you’re in now.’

  She turned to leave. ‘Goodbye, Lily. I don’t expect to see you again while I’m here.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  And she looked back over her shoulder. ‘To hell. But don’t go thinking it’s on your account.’

  * * *

  The taxi dropped him back at the water door of his own palazzo overlooking the Grand Canal. Aldo came down to meet him, swinging open the iron gate as he alighted from the vessel. ‘And the company you were expecting?’

  ‘A change of plan, Aldo. I will be dining alone tonight. I will eat in the study.’

  Luca crossed the tiled floor and took the marble steps up into the house three at a time. A temporary change of plan, he had no doubt. Once Valentina slept on the choices she had, she would see she had no choice at all. She would soon come crawling, begging for him to rescue her family from the nightmare of her mother’s making.

  He entered the study, but eschewed the wide desk where his computer and work waited patiently and went straight to the windows instead, opening a window door leading to a balcony and gazing out over the canal at night, the vaporettos lit up with the flash of a hundred cameras, the heavy barges that performed the grunt work in place of trucks. Never did he tire of the endless tapestry of life in Venice, the slap of water against the pilings, the rich tenor strains of a gondolier as he massaged his gondola’s way along the canals. But then his family had been here for centuries after all. No wonder he sometimes felt his veins ran not with blood but with water from these very canals.

  It spoke to him now. Told him to be patient. That he was closer than he thought.

  He saw the colour of her eyes in the golden light from a window across the canal. Amber eyes and hair shot with golden lights—she might have lost weight, she might have been travelling for more than a day and the skin under her eyes tired, but the intervening years had been good to her. She was more beautiful than he remembered.

  And he hungered for her.

  But she would soon come crawling.

  And he would have her.

  * * *

  She got the address from Carmela, who hugged her tight to her chest before putting her at arm’s length and kissing her solemnly on both cheeks. ‘You come back if you need anything, anything at all. You come back and see Carmela. I will help you, bella.’

  She hugged the older woman back, clutching the piece of paper with the address and the rough map Carmela had drawn for her. Luca had said it wasn’t far. It didn’t help that evening had closed in and that the canals were inky-black ribbons running between islands of jam-packed buildings, it didn’t help that she knew she had been awake for a dozen hours too many to feel alive, but she was running on anger now, her veins infused with one hundred per cent fury, and there was no way she was staying in her mother’s house a moment longer and no way she could have slept if she tried.

  She made a mistake with the vaporetto, boarding the wrong one in her rush to get away and she had to get off at the next stop and backtrack to find another. She found herself lost in the dark calles three times, stumbling onwards as if she were blind until she found a sign on a wall with a name she recognised, telling her she was on the right track.

  But all of these inconveniences just gave her the time to think. To reconsider why she was so prepared to jump into the lion’s den—a place she had promised herself never to go again.

  It wasn’t for her mother, she knew. She’d been prepared to turn her back and walk away and leave her mother to her own devices.

  It wasn’t for herself. Oh God, no. She hated him after what he’d said, and what he’d done. Hated him for not caring when he could have. Hated him for the unsettling, unwanted effect he had on her, even in the midst of hating him. She wanted nothing more to do with the man.

  No, this was for her father, who somehow thought that if he helped Lily in this current crisis, he was making it easier on his daughter. What had Lily told him of her plight? What dramas had she woven around the thin ribbons that still bonded them together, even after a divorce of more than twenty years?

  But their property was operating on a shoestring, already mortgaged heavily to the banks. Another mortgage, another bad season would see her father’s dream ruined.

  She could not let him do that, for whatever misguided sense of loyalty he still had.

  She could not let it happen.

  She made another wrong turn and swore under her breath as she retraced her steps again. But all of the
inconveniences of her journey, all these frustrations fed into her anger. So by the time she reached the sign on the locked gate that announced she was at the right number of the right street, she felt ready to tear the gate apart with her bare hands. Instead she pressed a buzzer, waited impatiently the few seconds for a response and asked to see Luca Barbarigo.

  When she met with hesitation, she countered it with, ‘Tell him it is Tina Henderson...Valentina Henderson. He will see me.’

  A few moments later the gate clicked open and a stony-faced valet met her at the door, giving her a once-over that told her that in faded jeans and a cheap zip-up jacket she was seriously underdressed for a meeting with his boss. But that was okay because she had plans for her wardrobe. ‘Signore Barbarigo will receive you in the study,’ he said, before gesturing for her backpack. ‘If you would care to leave your bag?’

  ‘I’m good with it,’ she said, her hand on the shoulder strap, ‘if it’s all the same to you.’ Luca would be under no misapprehension why she was there if she had anything to do with it. He would know she meant business if she turned up with her pack. Besides, if she was going to be sharing the master’s bedchamber, it was going to have to be carried upstairs at some stage.

  The valet nodded, his disapproval clear on his set features, and led the way up the wide flight of stairs leading to the noble floor. A stunning palazzo, she registered as they climbed, with terrazzo floors and stuccoed walls and heavy beamed ceilings so high they were in no way oppressive.

  Or were they?

  Only one flight of steps, but suddenly she needed oxygen, as if the air was thinner the higher they climbed. But it wasn’t the air, she knew. It was being here, in the lion’s den, about to take on the lion at his own game.

  It was anticipation, both terrifying and delicious, for what would come next.

  And what could have been a spike of fear and the chance for cowardice to surface and set her fleeing down the stairs turned into a surge of strength. Did he really think she could be forced into something, to tumble meekly into his bed? Damn the man but she would not crawl to him like some simpering virgin begging for favours.

  The stairs opened to a sitting room so elegant it could feature in a magazine—maybe the sofas and dark timber leant towards the masculine—but the overall effect was of light and space.

  How her mother’s house was meant to look, it occurred to her. Probably had looked, before Eduardo had taken her for his wife and she’d become addicted to the factory shops of Murano and let her passion for glass suck up every last euro and every available inch of space.

  Through a set of timber doors, the valet led her, and yet another reception room until finally they were at another set of sculpted timber doors where he knocked and showed her in, pulling the door closed behind him as he left.

  Her heart kicked up a beat when she saw him.

  The lion was in.

  He sprawled arrogantly in a chair behind an acre of desk across a room that went on for ever and then some. And still he owned the room. It was an extension of him, paying tribute to his inexorable power. She wrenched her eyes from his and studied the desk before him. Antique if she wasn’t mistaken, but masculine and strong and with legs that were solid and built to last whatever the ages would throw at it.

  It would do nicely.

  ‘Valentina,’ he said, without standing, his voice measured, his dark eyes waiting for answers. ‘This is a surprise.’

  ‘Is it?’ She looked around at the door. ‘Does that lock from the inside?’

  He cocked his head, the shadow of a frown pulling his brows closer together. ‘Why do you ask?’

  She shrugged the straps of her backpack from her shoulders, hoping no hired help was about to rush in—not with what she had planned—before letting the weight drag it to the ground at her feet, making no move to stop it hitting the floor. She summoned up confidence along with a smile she didn’t feel. ‘It would be a shame to be interrupted.’

  ‘Would it?’ he asked, as if he didn’t care one way or the other, and she almost panicked and fled while she could. It was so long since she’d last made love. Years since that last unforgettable night with Luca. Was she kidding herself that she could pull this off? She was so unpractised in the arts of the seductress, so unskilled.

  And she almost did flee.

  Except she noticed the way he’d already eased his body a fraction higher in his seat, his limbs a little less casually positioned.

  And so she licked her lips in preparation for the show. Oh God, she was such an amateur! Such a fake! But still she touched a finger to the zip of her jacket and toyed with it a while, teasing it lower—she was way out of her depth and it had to show!—until she was certain he was watching. ‘It’s warm in here. Don’t you think it’s warm in here?’

  ‘I can open a window,’ he said guardedly, his eyes not leaving her fingers, no part of him looking like it was willing to move far enough to open a window any time soon.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said, feeling suddenly empowered, sliding the zip all the slow way down, peeling it from her shoulders lovingly, like a lover would do from behind, sighing a kiss against one bare shoulder. ‘It’s probably just me.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ The words were short, but his trademark velvet voice was thick and already curdling at the edges from heat.

  She smiled and flicked off her sandals, cursing when one needed another kick, feeling clumsy. Inadequate for the task. But he wasn’t looking at her feet and so she pressed on. ‘You offered me a position,’ she said, letting him wait for the rest. She tugged the hem of her singlet free from her belted jeans, waited just a moment to ensure she had his full, undivided attention, before pulling it over her head, letting her hair tumble free over her bare shoulders. She put her hands to the belt at her belly, letting her arms frame her breasts, clad in their white T-shirt bra. It was probably the plainest, dullest bra he had ever seen, but right now it was all she had and it was too late to worry about her underwear. Besides, from the glint in Luca’s eyes, he probably hadn’t even noticed that she was wearing one. That glint gave her the courage she needed if she was going to do this, courage to bare a body nobody had seen for three long years. A body that had been shut away from the world lest it betray her again. Was she asking too much of it now?

  She held her breath as she slid the leather of her belt through the buckle and popped the button on her jeans. ‘I’m accepting it.’

  She slid the zip down, gave a wiggle of her hips to help push them down and hesitated, leaning forward just enough to turn cotton-clad breasts into a cleavage. He wasn’t looking relaxed any more, she noticed. He was sitting up. Paying attention. ‘Oh. I thought of something,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ he croaked, his eyes not shifting.

  ‘Conditions.’

  Was that a groan she heard or a growl? It didn’t matter. Either worked for her. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

  ‘How long am I supposed to be your mistress? Only you didn’t say.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it. However long it takes.’

  ‘I thought a month.’

  ‘A month?’

  ‘A month would be more than adequate. I mean, I don’t know what the going rate for mistresses is, but I’m thinking high end, late model, low mileage—well, that has to be worth more. Right?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Only I have work to do back home. And I’m sure you have something to be going on with. And it’s not like we want this thing messing with our lives, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  Her hands lingered at her hips. She looked at him, watching her, feeling the power of his need feeding the anger that had been building ever since that phone call from Lily, the anger that had worked itself into a volcano set to erupt today, and smiled knowingly. You utter bastard, she thought with satisfaction
. And you thought you were going to have this all your own way.

  It was almost too good to be true. Almost.

  ‘And you will never contact or threaten my father with anything financial or otherwise. Never again.’

  ‘Never.’

  It wasn’t just too good to be true. It was perfect.

  ‘You have such a lovely big desk, Luca.’ She edged her jeans a fraction lower, spun around to give him a view from the back as she eased the soft denim lower, making sure her underwear went with it, and looked at him over her shoulder. ‘It would be such a shame to waste all that glorious space on work, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think,’ he said, standing awkwardly, kicking off his loafers while he attacked the buttons of his own shirt, shrugging it off to expose a chest made in heaven and stolen from the gods. ‘I think you need help getting those jeans off.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  CONTROL. It was one of the things Luca prided himself on. He had patience. He had nerve. He had control of his life and his world. It was the way he liked things to be. It was the way things had to be.

  But watching a flaxen haired, amber-eyed minx from Australia strip down to her underwear in his study was threatening to bring him undone.

  If only she could get those damned jeans off.

  She laughed when he picked her up, the sound half-hysterical, half-intoxicated, wild and free, and he was intoxicated as he spun her around and headed for the desk, sweeping it clear with one arm, sending papers and pencils and phones scattering in all directions before he planted her hard upon the desk and ripped off her jeans, tearing the bra from her breasts with a snap in the next testosterone-fuelled action.

  That gave him pause. Naked on his desk, her legs parted by his, she was almost too much to take in with his eyes, too much for one hand to drink in as it swept over creamy skin from knee to thigh to belly to cup one perfect breast.

  She stopped laughing then, her breath coming fast and furious, her eyes wide as he pulled his belt free, tugged his zip down and kicked off his pants, her eyes so suddenly cold as he freed his aching erection that she looked almost...angry.