Bought with His Name & the Sicilian's Bought Bride

by Penny Jordan

  ‘That’s what I told myself,’ Rico agreed. ‘That’s what I kept on telling myself as she started fiddling with the buttons on my jacket….’

  ‘She didn’t!’

  ‘That’s not the half of it.’ He gave a small shudder and Catherine started to laugh. ‘If your sister had settled for a good Catholic wedding, then none of this would have happened.’

  ‘That’s Janey for you,’ Catherine said dryly, and for a second so small it was barely there they shared a knowing smile.

  ‘I excused myself, of course—said I had to get back to my girlfriend; so if you don’t mind I’m going to have to borrow you for a while.’

  ‘Borrow away.’ Somehow she smiled. Somehow she accepted the champagne glass he offered with hands that were amazingly steady, given her heart-rate!

  It had been the best night of her life—even if it had been a false togetherness; even if it had been just for Esther’s benefit he’d made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was the only woman in the room.

  Later, alone in his hotel room, those dark, brooding and suspicious eyes had softened, gazing into hers as that strong, inscrutable face had moved in to kiss her. She could still almost taste the velvet of his lips, smell the heady tang of his cologne, feel her fingers in that jet hair as she had drowned in his kiss, responded to his urgent demands in a way she never had before. His kiss had fueled responses, unfamiliar, yet achingly welcome. Her breasts had pushed against his chest, her groin had pressed into his as his hand had worked the buttons of her dress, his frustration mounting as the tiny pink buttons proved too much for the frenzy of emotions that had gripped them. He’d ripped the pale pink tulle till her shoulders had been exposed, and she hadn’t cared—hadn’t cared he’d ruined her dress. She had hated it anyway, hated Janey for forcing her to wear it.

  She had stood exposed but curiously excited, her dilated pupils struggling to focus, as one olive-skinned hand moved the fabric apart. The contrast of his dark skin on her soft white breast had caused her breath to catch in her throat, a tiny groan of ecstasy escaping as he’d buried his face in her bosom, his lips hot on her stinging nipples, flicking them with a firm tongue. The blood had rushed down—not to her breasts, though, down to her groin, and then the flicker of her first orgasm, as impatient hands slid up her legs, tearing the tiny panties aside. His fingers had snaked inside her wet warmth, his breath hot and hard as he sucked on her breasts, and she’d shuddered in the palm of his hand, lost in the frenzy of it all, stunned at how easily her body had responded, scarcely able to fathom how she could yield so much to him.

  He had seemed to understand how overwhelmed she had been, had held her afterwards, and for that slice of time, for one tiny moment, life had felt safe.

  ‘We have to go back down,’ he whispered into her hair as the world slowly drifted back into focus, seemingly understanding that this was alien for her, that she was feeling overwhelmed by the frenzy of emotion that had gripped her.

  But even Rico’s tender embrace wasn’t enough to stop cruel reality invading, the sting of shame to prickle her senses. She barely knew this man, had met him only that night, and yet here she stood in his arms dishevelled, her groin still curiously alive, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. Her arousal was still only a whisper away, yet he quelled her doubts in an instant, reading her mind as if she were a book.

  ‘Don’t regret this.’ His voice was a low, delicious throb of reassurance in her ear. ‘You are beautiful—this was beautiful.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Hush.’ His own arousal still pressed into her and she felt a stab of guilt: No longer the situation, but at her own selfishness, sure all the pleasure of the moment had been hers.

  One woefully inexperienced hand tentatively moved down, clasping the steel of his erection, terrified of her own boldness, yet sure it was expected.

  ‘Catherine, no.’ His voice was breathless, his hand clamping over hers like a vice, and she flushed with embarrassment, terrified she had hurt him, sure he could feel the inexperience of her touch. ‘We must go back, I am the best man and you are the bridesmaid. It is my brother’s and your sister’s wedding.’

  ‘But I haven’t…’ She swallowed hard. ‘You didn’t…’

  ‘There is time for that later.’ His accent caressed her like a warm blanket on a cold night, and the glimpse of tomorrow, of another time, satisfied her craving in an instant. ‘After the bride and groom leave I have to go to the airport, I have to go to the States, but before then we will talk—arrange to see each other again.’ He kissed her then, slow and hard, but laced with tenderness.

  She held onto his words all night, like a precious jewel clasped close to her chest, and it made the night bearable—made the night she had dreaded suddenly exciting.

  ‘Well, you’ve changed your tune.’

  Helping Janey out of her wedding dress and into her leaving outfit, Catherine was barely able to keep her hands still enough to undo the zipper.

  Rico was downstairs waiting for her. In an hour or so she would be in his arms again.

  ‘See—I knew if you actually let your hair down you might enjoy yourself.’ Turning, Janey stared for a moment, taking in the dark, dishevelled curls, the glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘How come you changed your dress?’ Her eyes dragged over the simple rust silk tunic Catherine had changed into, watching her sister’s cheeks darken.

  ‘Pink tulle really isn’t my thing,’ Catherine answered as blithely as she could with her heart in her mouth.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly Rico’s thing. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’ Calculating blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Where did you two disappear to after the speeches?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Catherine was flustered, appalled that her sister might know. ‘Come on, Janey, you’ll miss your flight.’

  ‘It will wait,’ Janey said airily, ‘When you’ve got your own private plane it doesn’t leave without you.’ Her voice dropped then, suddenly serious, and her eyes were wide with an urgency that made Catherine suddenly nervous. ‘Play your cards right, sis, and all this could be yours.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous…’

  ‘It really could. I’ve paved the way for you, Catherine, do you know how hard I had to work to convince Marco I wasn’t just after him for his money? That I wasn’t some cheap little gold-digger?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Janey.’

  ‘But I am a cheap little gold-digger.’ Janey gave a malicious smile. ‘And now I’m married to a very rich man. You could do it too, Catherine.’ She gave a dry, mirthless laugh as her sister shook her head and covered her ears, her voice rising in excitement as she pulled Catherine’s hands away, enjoying her sister’s embarrassment as she warmed to her subject. ‘You hate your job, hate working with those awful children, hate your poky little flat…’

  ‘Janey…’ Catherine gave in then. Gave up trying to reason with her sister. Janey would never believe that even though she moaned about staff shortages and even her students at times, she loved her work—truly adored it. And, yes, her flat might be small, but it was home.

  Tears were threatening now, at a vision of her sister so alive, so excited—such an appalling contrast to the cold, lifeless body that lay just a few rooms away. Balling her fists into her eyes, Catherine held them back. There was no point in tears, none at all. There was no one to wipe them—hadn’t been since the day her parents had died—and there was no one to comfort her tonight. Her memories flicked back in a second to the awful reality she faced—a reality she had to accept.

  Janey was dead.

  Rico despised her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘CATHERINE.’

  Gripping the jewellery tight in the palm of her hand, she stilled, her breath hot in her lungs. Even her heart seemed to stop for a second, then thudded back into action, tripping into a gallop as the scent that had fuelled her dreams for a year reached her nostrils, as the low drawl of o
ne single word catapulted her senses into overdrive.

  ‘Catherine?’

  This time she looked up, praying somehow that the passage of time might render her impervious to his beauty, that a year might have dimmed the passion in those dark eyes, that somehow she might see that her imagination had been working overtime, had built him up to a status that cold reality would knock down. But if anything, Catherine realised, her imagination had underplayed his exquisiteness. Hadn’t quite captured the haughty, effortless elegance, the razor-sharp cheekbones, the jet-dark hair, superbly cut, the tiny fan of silver at the temples that accentuated those inscrutable coal eyes.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard.’

  She didn’t respond—couldn’t respond. His presence was too overwhelming to allow for speech. Instead she gave a small nod, struggled with lips that didn’t seem to know how to move any more.

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Since five.’ Her voice was a croak, the two words all she could manage, but as his eyes bored into her Catherine realised more was called for and she cleared her throat, knowing he deserved the facts. It was his brother who was dead, after all. Their one night of passion and bitter parting had no place in this conversation, this was no time to rake over their past. ‘I came back from work and the police were at my door. They drove me here.’

  ‘Have they told you how it happened?’ When she didn’t answer he pushed harder. ‘I know there was an accident. I know that Marco and Janey are both dead and that Lily is on the children’s ward, but that is all I know.’ His fists were bunched in tension. Catherine could see a muscle galloping in his taut cheek and she knew how hard it must be for a man like Rico, who always knew what was happening, always had everything in control, to be in the dark—to know that for once there was absolutely nothing he could do to put things right.

  ‘I have tried to speak with the doctors and the police, but everyone who dealt with it directly is off duty. I will of course speak with them in the morning, but for now I would appreciate it if you could fill me in.’

  His voice was supremely polite, as if he were addressing a stranger, and Catherine realised with a stab of sadness that that was exactly what she was to him—a stranger who had passed by once, no more and no less.

  ‘Of course.’ Again she cleared her throat, opened her mouth to speak, but his rather forebidding stance wasn’t inspiring and she dragged her eyes away, resting her head in her hands and massaging her temples for a moment, willing eloquence to come.

  ‘I need to know what happened, Catherine.’ There was an impatient note to his voice.

  ‘I’m trying to tell you, if you’d just—’

  ‘I need to know now!’ His fingers snapped in her face, an impatient Latin gesture that held no charm at all, and Catherine blinked and jumped back as Rico raised his voice. ‘I am sorry you have had to deal with this—sorry you have had to face it all. But that is not my fault. I was in a closed meeting, my phone was off, and my secretary had taken an early flight back to Melbourne. I came as soon as I heard. I have been stuck in traffic, held up at the airport, and sitting on a plane going out of my mind with worry. I need some answers!’

  The fire suddenly seemed to go out of him, his eyes taking in her shocked expression, the reddened rims of her eyes, the pale and trembling lips. ‘I know it has been hard for you today, and I am sorry you have had to face this alone, but I am here now and I will take care of everything.’

  ‘Take care of everything?’ An incredulous laugh shot out of her pale lips, the anger that had simmered since the tragic news had been delivered, unleashed now. And however misdirected, however much this wasn’t Rico’s fault, he was the nearest target and Catherine turned a furious glare on him, her words coming out staccato, her body trembling with rage. How dare he waltz in here and demand answers? Swan in past midnight and say he would deal with it now when it had been she, Catherine, dealing with it—she alone facing the police, the social workers. She alone who had stood and identified the bodies.

  ‘I have taken care of everything, Rico!’ she shouted. ‘Just as I took care of everything when my parents were killed. I should be used to it by now, I suppose. I guess I’m an old hand at identifying bodies and filling in forms!’

  He didn’t move a muscle, just stood in grim silence as her outburst continued, and his inaction incensed her, spurred her on to new levels of anger.

  ‘I’ve been in this hospital for seven hours taking care of things, so don’t you dare march in here and expect an eloquent detached statement, then snap your fingers in impatience if I don’t speak quickly enough for you!’ She looked up at him, her eyes furious and her chin jutting defiantly. ‘I am not a member of your family, Rico, and neither am I one of your staff. You have no right to demand anything from me, no right at all. However, if you will sit down and exercise some patience I will tell you, as best I can, what little I know.’

  For a second she thought he might hit her. Anger blazed in his eyes, the pent-up frustration of what must have been a hellish few hours undoubtedly exacerbated by her venom. But just as she thought she’d pushed him too far his wide shoulders slumped in an almost dejected fashion, and almost imperceptibly he gave a small nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing a couple of times as he looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. Registering the fake leather chairs, he chose one next to her and sat down, raking a hand through his short hair, over the dark stubble of his chin, before turning to face her.

  ‘I came as soon as I could,’ he said again, but this time, his words were quiet, raw with emotion—apologetic even—his eyes utterly bereft as he stared at her, and for a tiny slice of time she caught a glimpse inside the beautiful head of Rico Mancini. Understood the pain behind the inscrutable mask he wore so effortlessly for she felt the agony of this senseless loss too.

  ‘They went out for lunch,’ Catherine started, her voice almost a whisper. ‘They took Lily because apparently their nanny, Jessica, had walked out on them this morning.’

  He opened his mouth, then closed it quickly, and Catherine gave a grateful nod. She would answer the whys in her own time.

  ‘I went round last night, Rico.’

  ‘You were there last night?’ His eyes widened and she could almost hear his brain whirring into motion, almost foretell the questions on the tip of his tongue. But somehow he managed to hold them in, to let her tell her tale in her own time.

  ‘I was at a parent-teacher night at school. It didn’t finish till after nine, and for some reason—for some reason I…’ Her fists clenched in her lap as the pain became almost more than she could bear, and only when he took her hand, only when he held it in his, was Catherine able to go on. ‘I went round,’ she whispered. ‘I just couldn’t be a bystander any more. What Janey and Marco got up to might have been their business, but if it was affecting Lily I couldn’t just sit back and watch…’

  Her eyes met his, imploring him to understand, and she was rewarded with a small nod. ‘Of course they weren’t at home, but I decided to wait. I spoke to Jessica—I wanted to find out if things were as bad as I feared or if I was just imagining it—and believe me she was only too happy to unload. Apparently she was sick of the way they carried on—the wild parties, the mess, and the fact they consistently forgot to pay her didn’t help. It was supposed to have been her night off, but yet again Janey and Marco had gone out without telling her.’

  Catherine was staring at their hands now, their fingers interlaced, and the contrast between them had never been more obvious. His dark and strong, a heavy watch on his wrist, such a contrast to her pale and trembling hands, an inkstain on her fingers, her nails short and neat but certainly not as groomed.

  ‘We both waited for them to come home.’

  For an age he said nothing, just held her hand tighter before gently saying, ‘There was a confrontation?’

  ‘I believe that would be the polite term for it.’

  She screwed her eyes closed, the images of last night to
o horrible to relive. The harsh words she had spoken in anger were out now, with no hands of time to soothe them over the years.

  ‘Jessica said she was leaving in the morning. That as soon as they’d sobered up enough to take responsibility for Lily she was going to get out of there—which is presumably why they took Lily to lunch with them,’ Catherine carried on. ‘You would have thought that might have slowed them down, forced them to behave responsibly…’ Her voice trailed off, and this time when Rico broke in it wasn’t unwelcome.

  ‘They were drinking.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement, but Catherine shook her head.

  ‘I’m not sure what they were doing. According to the blood test Marco wasn’t over the limit, but the police have ordered a drug screen. Apparently Marco was stumbling when they left the restaurant, and the doorman said he was utterly incoherent as they walked out. The lunch went till four. The only sensible thing they did all day was make sure that Lily was strapped in her car seat before they took off.’

  ‘Who was driving?’

  ‘Marco.’

  ‘Was anyone else…?’ His questions weren’t rapid now, and they were no longer unwelcome. The whole sorry mess was easier shared.

  ‘No one else was hurt. It seems Marco lost control or fell asleep at the wheel. They shot through the safety barrier onto the other side of the road, but thankfully they didn’t hit anyone else.’

  ‘Did they…?’ Rico’s eyes screwed closed and his fist balled again, only this time not in anger.

  ‘Apparently they didn’t suffer.’ She repeated the nurse’s words, hoping they might bring Rico the comfort that had eluded her, but the wry twist of his mouth told her the effect was about the same.

  ‘They left that part to us.’

  Us.

  Even in the depths of despair the word offered a shelter for her mind to run to and hide for a while from the onslaught of the day and she took welcome refuge. Rico’s hand tightened harder around hers; his grip warm and strong and it helped—helped her get through the next few seconds at least.