Sweet Seduction

by Jennifer St George

  Antonio banged his open palm against a pillar. Damn them. His relatives lived in the dark ages. Hotels weren’t run as little family businesses any more. Success lay in economies of scale across multimarkets. He’d built the best boutique hotel business in the world, one that attracted the rich and famous, but his so-called fast lifestyle wiped any of his achievements from his relatives’ minds. He’d made the Moretti name famous, not brought it into disrepute.

  ‘Use that huge brain of yours and come up with a plan,’ Antonio pushed. ‘There has to be a way to convince them.’

  ‘Unless you can find a nice Italian girl who happens to know everything there is to know about running a family hotel and marry her, then you’ll have to forget it.’

  Antonio smiled as an idea took shape in his mind. He turned slowly and looked back towards Sienna’s office. Italian heritage. Hotelier. Single?

  ‘Brad, you’re a genius,’ he said, striding across the floor.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Antonio laughed at the concern in Brad’s voice. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘Wait.’ Brad’s voice ratcheted up a notch. ‘Don’t do anything —’

  Antonio snapped the phone shut. He halted and stared at Sienna, who still had her head down, engrossed. She pulled repeatedly on a strand of her hair. Even stressed, she radiated classic Italian beauty. Nothing about her looked flashy or showy. His aunt and uncle would love her. This might work.

  He strode back into her office, not bothering to knock. She leapt from her chair, clearly ready to let him have it.

  ‘Sienna,’ he said, cutting her off before she could speak. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

  A proposition?

  The words of fury died on Sienna’s lips. What did he want now?

  ‘You have everything,’ she said, grabbing the legal papers from her desk and brandishing them in his direction. ‘What else do you want? The clothes off my back?’

  As soon as she’d uttered the words, she regretted them.

  Antonio’s eyes travelled down her body. A warm tingle engulfed her. She swallowed hard. If this were a tactic designed to unsettle her, it was working.

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ He sat and leant back in the chair, waiting.

  Antonio held a reputation as a notorious seducer. She needed to keep her head. Stay in control. She sat on the edge of her chair.

  ‘What’s your marital status?’ he asked.

  Sienna felt her face flush and her mouth drop open. So much for control. Did this man know no bounds?

  ‘The terms of this document might be watertight,’ she said grimly, ‘but I don’t remember my personal life being part of it.’

  A smile played about his lips.

  That’s it. Meeting adjourned. She stood up and folded her arms across her chest. ‘It’s time you left.’ She bristled at her own words. It felt awful to be so rude, but this man asked for it.

  Antonio sat quite still for a moment. ‘Sit down, Sienna.’ All traces of amusement had vanished. ‘If you want an extension on that loan, I suggest you hear me out.’

  Her heart rate kicked up a notch. An extension? A tiny sliver of hope touched her heart. She sat.

  ‘So?’ she said, trying to disguise the desperation in her voice.

  ‘Are you married?’ He leant forward, his black eyes intense. ‘In a relationship?’

  She frowned. Could these questions be more inappropriate? Perhaps if she answered he’d get to the point. ‘No.’

  No boyfriends. Not even a sniff of romance in her life since her mother’s death. Sure, friends had been kind. Even her male friends stayed around and provided a shoulder to cry on. But over time, everyone drifted away. What did she expect? Friendship was a two-way street. Who wanted to be friends, let alone be romantic, with a workaholic, grief-ravaged girl – in bed by nine and up again for the morning shift at four. If she didn’t save the hotel, her father’s already broken heart would surely stop.

  ‘Perfect,’ Antonio announced. ‘In my assessment, your situation is hopeless, yes?’

  The statement didn’t need an answer. Leaning back in her chair, she matched his body language. Arms crossed. Head tilted.

  ‘And I suspect,’ he continued, ‘you’d do almost anything to keep the Plaza, correct?’

  She straightened in her chair. Where was this going?

  ‘Yes,’ she said carefully.

  He leant forward, put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin down in his hands. ‘Do you have what it takes?’

  Enough!

  Standing with all the dignity she could muster, she walked stiffly around her desk and stood over him. She hoped her heels afforded her enough height to present some intimidating effect.

  ‘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 o
wners 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 keep 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.

  Chapter Two

  Sienna dropped heavily into her chair. A weighty cloak of dread forced her further down. Had she really agreed to marry the wealthy, womanising Antonio Moretti? The man who wined and dined with the rich and famous and owned hotels in nearly every major city in the world?

  She watched as Antonio casually reached for his briefcase. ‘Wait,’ she said, her spine suddenly rigid with fear. What would happen next? What was she supposed to do? ‘That’s it? You’re leaving?’

  He threw her a bemused glance. ‘Missing me already?’

  She gave him her best death stare. ‘Don’t we need to discuss the details?’

  ‘I’ll have a contract drawn up for you to sign this afternoon. The terms will be agreeable.’

  The terms dominating her mind wouldn’t be included in any legal document. Marriage tended to be accompanied by love, passion – sex. An image of her ripping the shirt from his chest seared across her mind.

  ‘We need . . .’ She swallowed as her imaginary hands moved to his trousers. His near-black eyes surveyed her with such intensity she feared
he could read her mind. Breathing became an exercise in concentration. The image moved from hot to X-rated.

  ‘We need some ground rules,’ she blurted, jumping from her seat, hoping the jarring movement would dislodge the spicy fantasy.

  ‘Ground rules?’ He placed his briefcase on the floor and leant against the doorjamb.

  Was Antonio Moretti the most infuriating man alive? Real marriages were complicated enough. Fake ones, she felt sure, infinitely more so. What did he think? They’d pretend to be married? He’d acquire the hotel? They’d annul the marriage? Done.

  ‘Don’t we need to discuss . . .’ Would they elope? Where would they live? Where would they sleep? Suddenly it seemed very important to tidy up the few paperclips scattered around her desk.

  ‘Discuss?’

  When she finally met his eyes, his casual smile remained. Curse the man. He knew exactly what she was getting at. She walked around her desk. He needed to understand this loud and clear. But the intensity of Antonio’s scrutiny made it difficult to think.

  ‘Obviously in public. However . . .’ she began.

  His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Yes?’ he coaxed in a deep, magnetic voice.

  ‘Obviously I won’t be required to . . .’ It was as though Antonio’s eyes stole her words before she could form them. They needed rules, definitely needed rules. If having him fully dressed across the room elicited such erotic mind games, how could she trust herself when they were actually married? ‘I want to make it clear this marriage is for public consumption only. There will be no . . . no sex.’

  ‘If you insist,’ he said dismissively, as if they were discussing the weather.

  ‘Right.’ She knew she should feel relieved but deep down there was a tinge of regret. Beautiful she might be to him, but obviously not desirable. ‘Just wanted to be clear,’ she mumbled.

  ‘It is important our marriage looks authentic.’ He took a step towards her. ‘For example . . .’

  Before Sienna could react, Antonio pulled her into his arms. His hard body pressed against her from chest to thigh. A fire of desire swept through her. It’d been so long since anyone had held her. But this was unacceptable. She pushed him back.