‘I have a new proposal for you,’ he said, laying her coat over a nearby chair.
‘Who are you planning to swindle this time?’ she said tightly. ‘For all I know, you planted that accountant, organised the fraud.’ She knew that couldn’t be true, but she wanted to throw every cruel word, every accusation she could think at him. She wanted him to feel some of the pain and the hurt he’d inflicted.
‘With the evidence we’ve accumulated against him, he’ll be behind bars for a very long time,’ Antonio said.
At least that was some good news, but he wasn’t off the hook.
‘So are we going back to Villa Paradiso to continue where we left off – cheating decent people out of their life’s work?’
‘Actually, Sergio and Rosa know everything.’
Sienna stared at his smiling eyes. Had she heard him correctly? ‘They know? You told them?’
‘Every sordid detail.’
‘So the hotel . . .’
‘Will never be mine,’ he said, matter-of-factly.
‘But . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Your family . . .’
He stepped closer and tipped up her chin with his hand. ‘I want to start a new family.’
His simple touch brought tears to her eyes. Another game, another trick. He needed her back and he knew her weakness.
‘You’ll have a family.’ She stepped away, determined to keep him at bay. ‘With Amy.’ Her voice choked again.
‘The child is not mine.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Amy agreed to a paternity test. I received the result after you left. She confessed she’d slept with someone else. Someone she didn’t want a child with. For some ridiculous reason, she thought I’d make a good father.’ Sienna could tell by his voice this wasn’t a lie. If it were, she’d find out soon enough – with the rest of the world.
‘Congratulations,’ she bit out. ‘No burdensome children to weigh you down – just how you wanted it.’ Grabbing the handle of her case, she marched towards the lifts. She heard Antonio barking instructions and a bellboy appeared from nowhere and took her bag. Fury coursed through her veins.
‘How dare you,’ she said, her cheeks aflame. ‘This is my hotel. What right do you think . . .’
Antonio strode to her and pulled her into his arms. He laid a finger on her lips. ‘Just listen. Then, if you want, I’ll go . . . forever.’
A lifetime without Antonio . . . beige walls . . .
She wriggled from his arms. She couldn’t think straight with his body so close to hers. His smell, his touch, his voice. She missed him in every way possible.
‘You have one minute,’ she said with more defiance than she felt.
‘Not enough – I want a lifetime,’ he said. ‘I love you, Sienna De Luca, and I’ll do anything to prove it.’
It was as though the world dropped away around her. She blinked stupidly. Love?
‘How can I believe you?’ Angry tears sprang into her eyes. She brushed them roughly away. She couldn’t take lies about love. Not from him.
Antonio sighed.
‘All my life I’ve been filled with shame, guilt and anger. I blamed myself for my family’s death. I turned my heart to stone, as it was the only way I knew how to survive. I wouldn’t let anyone close; I couldn’t. I was afraid of letting them down or hurting them.’
The desire to comfort him nearly neutralised her anger, but she’d been down that road before and it ended in pain.
‘As for having children, I . . .’ He paused and drew in a deep breath. ‘I was afraid. But you changed all that. With you, whatever happens, we’d handle it together.’ He drew her close. ‘The episode with Amy made me realise that if I ever did have children, I could only have them with you.’
Sienna blinked hard but it didn’t help. Tears fell freely from her eyes. ‘Oh, Antonio.’ She slipped her arms about him. What did he have to gain from lying now?
He held her so tightly Sienna thought she’d stay melded to his body forever.
‘I love you, cara,’ he said. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment you threw me out of your office.’
A lightness filled her spirit. She laughed. ‘You have no idea how terrified I was.’
He brushed his lips over hers. ‘Not terrified any more?’
‘You’re the one who needs to be terrified,’ she said, dropping light kisses on his lips. ‘I haven’t told you how many children I want,’ she whispered in his ear.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I’ll have a dozen if that makes you happy,’ he said.
‘Let’s not get too carried away.’
‘Okay, let’s start with one.’ He scooped her into his arms and hit the button for the top floor.
She laughed. ‘You’re staying in the penthouse?’
‘You know me, nothing but the best.’ He walked into the lift. ‘And now I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you get the best.’
‘I only need you,’ she said.
He shook his head and looked serious. ‘What would have happened if I hadn’t found you?’
‘Let’s leave the past behind,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and make the future.’
‘That sounds like a good plan,’ he said.
When he kissed her, she knew all her grief and loneliness was over.
Epilogue:
Five Months Later
Sienna looked across the Plaza’s crowded ballroom. Everyone chatted happily. As she caught people’s eyes, they smiled and waved. Everything looked incredible. Antonio had poured money into the place since they’d been engaged – for real this time.
She’d managed the renovations and her father had gradually taken up some of the management responsibilities. They’d hired him an assistant and everything was running smoothly again, just like in the hotel’s heyday.
She turned her gaze again to the gorgeous man sitting next to her in his wedding suit. She couldn’t imagine it was possible to love a man more. Antonio had insisted on holding another wedding, the wedding she’d always dreamed of. One where her father walked her down the aisle, where friends and family packed the pews and where every word of her vows was said with a heart bursting with love.
Antonio’s arm slipped about her shoulders. ‘Have I told you how beautiful you look?’
‘Only a few hundred times, but I’ll never get sick of you saying it.’
‘You were right,’ he said.
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Right?’
‘Your mother’s wedding dress is so much better than that meringue Mario designed for you.’
She looked down at the antique lace with its hand-sewn pearls. ‘Mum would have loved this day,’ she said quietly.
‘Your father certainly seems to be enjoying himself.’
She looked up, following Antonio’s line of sight to the table off to their left. Marco De Luca had his head in close to an Italian lady, like he’d used to do when listening intently to her mother. He looked happy. Happier than she’d seen him in the past three years.
‘Who is she?’
‘My godmother, Julia Madonsa. Her husband died of cancer ten years ago.’
Her father threw his head back and laughed. Could this day be any better? Sienna hadn’t seen him laugh for years. She blotted her eyes with the tip of her napkin.
‘I can’t believe Dad’s laughing,’ she said, her voice catching slightly.
‘Julia mentioned she wanted to see a bit of Australia. Perhaps we could encourage your father to accompany her.’
‘Are you playing matchmaker?’
‘Well, I’ve done a pretty good job for myself.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Look at that,’ he said, gazing past her.
Sienna watched as her father stood and held out his hand, obviously asking Julia to dance.
‘You know, I don’t think Dad’s going to need any encouragement from us.’ She held Antonio’s hand tightly as her father waltzed Julia around the dance floor, his face shining with joy.
‘You did a beautiful job on the ballroom,’ Antonio said.
Sienna gazed about the room at the flowers and decorations she’d chosen with such care.
‘I know something else that will look beautiful when you’re done with it,’ he continued in a conspiratorial tone.
‘What?’ she asked suspiciously.
Antonio reached into his pocket.
‘I wanted to give it to you in private, but I couldn’t wait.’
He handed her a photo. It took her a heartbeat to register. The picture depicted the little rundown Venetian building she’d so loved. The abandoned one with the rotten doors.
‘It’s my wedding present to you.’
Her chest grew tight as she struggled to take a breath. ‘It’s ours?’ She blinked to clear her teary vision.
‘Yours,’ he announced. ‘Yours to renovate any way you like.’
Sienna threw her arms about her husband’s neck. Every day she thought it was impossible to love him more and every day she was proved wrong.
‘Antonio, Sienna.’ Sienna looked around as Sergio and Rosa arrived at their table. She quickly pulled herself together and stood to embrace the elderly couple. Antonio did the same.
‘We have something to give you.’ Sergio handed Antonio an envelope.
‘No,’ Antonio said, holding up his hands. ‘No presents. Your being here is gift enough for us.’
Sergio thrust the envelope into Antonio’s hand. ‘It’s only twice I get to see my only nephew married,’ Sergio said with a sparkle in his eye.
They all laughed, the pain of Sienna and Antonio’s convenient marriage forgotten. She and Antonio had flown back to the Villa Paradiso several times over the past months.
Antonio opened the envelope and unfolded an official-looking document. Leaning over, Sienna saw immediately it was the title deed to the Villa Paradiso. She wanted to throw her arms about Sergio’s neck, but this was Antonio’s moment.
Antonio stared at the document for a long moment, then looked at his uncle.
‘Are you sure, Zio?’ he asked, his voice choking with emotion.
‘A man who admits his mistakes and makes amends is a man of great honour,’ Sergio said solemnly. ‘There is no one better to look after our heritage than you.’
The two men hugged for a long time. Sienna reached for Rosa’s hand and squeezed it gently. Tears glistened in the older woman’s eyes. Sienna felt her heart could burst with happiness.
‘Isn’t it time you danced with your wife?’ Sergio asked when the men broke apart.
Antonio took Sienna’s hand. ‘May I have this dance?’ he asked.
‘This and every one,’ she said.
Antonio led her to the dance floor. The band played a slow-moving ballad. Sienna melted into her husband’s arms.
‘There’s nothing that could make me happier than I am at this moment,’ he whispered in her ear.
Sienna smiled to herself. ‘Really?’
He held her from him and looked at her carefully. ‘What on earth could be better than this?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. She rose up on tippy toes to whisper in his ear: ‘Having a baby?’
Antonio pulled back and stared into her eyes, his face a picture of surprise.
‘A baby?’ His eyes glistened with joy.
‘Yes.’
As he picked her up and whirled her about, Sienna knew that her life would be full of love and passion forever.
Chapter One
Her muscles burned. Her lungs screamed for air.
No-one came.
Another wave washed over her. Kicking hard, Charlotte Wentworth tried desperately to haul the child’s limp body to shore. A larger wave smashed over them. The undertow tugged at them as if the devil himself had decided it was their time. Strength drained from her body and cold shuddering fear rushed to take its place.
I won’t make it.
The little girl dragged her down but Charlotte kicked madly for the surface. Warm Mediterranean seawater filled her mouth and bile rose in her throat. Gagging, she made one last, frenzied attempt to break the surface.
Suddenly the little girl’s weight disappeared. A hand gripped her shoulder, heaving her . . . up, up, up. Holding her on the surface, her saviour waited until she gulped in a breath.
‘Can you get in?’ he shouted as he pushed for the shallows, the child limp in his arms.
‘Go. Go,’ she panted. Air had never tasted so incredible.
Treading water, she watched the man who’d so captivated her a few minutes ago tow his unconscious daughter to the beach. Charlotte stroked to shore. She pushed her way through the crowd already surrounding the pair. Dozens of dark eyes, most just staring, paralysed. Someone shouted.
In the water, the child had simply looked asleep. Lying prone on the sand she looked . . . Tears stung Charlotte’s salt-ravaged eyes. Her throat constricted. She’d watched the man play with his kids earlier. It’d been hard not to admire his striking physique; he clearly made exercise a priority. She’d enjoyed a guilty pleasure in keeping a distant vigil. Now she could taste his despair.
‘She’s not breathing.’ He looked wildly at the crowd for an answer.
From nowhere, Charlotte’s high school first aid course flashed through her mind like a movie: clear, exact and actionable.
‘Has she got a pulse?’ The authority in her voice surprised her as she slammed down onto the sand next to him.
He grabbed the child’s wrist and went still for a moment. ‘Yes.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Amelia.’
Charlotte gently shook the girl’s shoulders. ‘Amelia, can you hear me?’ she shouted.
Nothing.
Charlotte tried to swallow. How long since the kid had taken a breath? One minute? Two?
‘Did you check her airway?’ she asked.
‘No.’
Rolling Amelia onto her side, Charlotte hooked her finger down the little girl’s throat. A small, ragged chunk of seaweed flicked out onto the sand. Almost immediately the child coughed, retched seawater and began to cry. The crowd erupted with collective joy. The man pulled his daughter to him, his face streaked with tears.
Charlotte collapsed back on the sand and shut her eyes against the glare. Her rough breaths roared in her ears. Slowly, slowly the world came back into focus. The sound of the waves. Italian chatter. The wail of a siren.
She sat up. Numb.
Safe.
She’s safe.
I’m safe.
The whole episode had probably lasted less than five minutes, but Charlie’s body ached as if she’d just climbed Everest. She shivered even as the sun heated her skin. They’d come within seconds of tragedy.
A couple of people patted her shoulder. One elderly man shook her hand. A little English voice mewed through the noise. Amid rapid-fire Italian, the crowd quickly dispersed.
‘Amelia. Amelia.’
The man’s son, who couldn’t have been more than four, stood near his father and sister, his little body trembling. Without a thought, Charlotte scooped him into her arms.
‘Your sister’s fine. Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘See, she’s talking.’
Charlie leaned her head close to the boy’s as they listened. Between the sniffles, Amelia sputtered a few words.
‘See?’
The boy nodded. Tears were still pouring down his chubby face.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked, turning him away from the scene.
‘Rupert.’ He sniffed. ‘My leg still hurts.’ He threw out the last word in a wail.
Of course. Before his sister disappeared underwater, a jellyfish had stung the little boy. His screams had drawn everyone’s attention. She’d grabbed her backpack and run down the beach to see if she could help. She’d stood close by, worried about the child, as every Italian mother descended on the family. That’s when she’d realised the father wasn’t Italian. His piercing eyes were as blue as a mid-summer’s sky, his skin a lovely gold
en caramel, and he spoke with an English accent.
Everybody had a different theory on the treatment of jellyfish sting and the scene had been chaotic. And now, the red and angry welts still looked very painful. She noticed the bottle of vinegar someone had been using to ease the sting was still on the sand nearby.
‘Come on,’ she said, sliding Rupert off her lap. ‘Let’s put some more vinegar on.’
‘It’ll hurt.’ His voice shook.
‘No,’ she said, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘It’ll make it better.’
‘You talk funny,’ Rupert said, screwing up his eyes to look up at her.
‘I’m from Australia.’
‘Where the kangaroos live?’
‘That’s right.’
As Charlotte poured the vinegar on Rupert’s legs, ambulance officers reached Amelia. Charlotte had been holding herself as rigid as steel and now she slumped a little on the sand. The professionals were here.
‘Rupert!’ The man looked about wildly.
‘It’s all right,’ Charlotte called. ‘He’s here.’
The man’s eyes took a moment to focus. When his gaze settled on her with Rupert by her side, the alarm vanished. He turned back to his daughter.
He trusts me. Warmth touched her heart. Trust had been sadly lacking in her life lately.
Charlotte held Rupert’s hand and walked him back to his father. The ambulance officers eased Amelia onto a stretcher.
‘They’re taking Amelia to hospital,’ the man said.
‘Is she all right?’ Charlotte stared at the small figure covered with a blanket. Sand peppered her blonde hair. Her face looked ashen, but she smiled weakly when she caught her father’s eye.
He shook his head, incredulous. ‘She seems fine. They just want to keep her under observation for a few hours. I can’t tell you . . .’
Before Charlotte could respond, the man’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. He pulled her close, his face buried in her long hair. Her breath stalled. His touch, his strength, his smell, flooded her with conflicting emotions. Only grains of sand separated her cheek from his bare chest. She closed her eyes, drawing a breath, long and dreamy – an intoxicating mix of salt, sunscreen and man.
Sweet Seduction Page 16