by Annie West
Lucy avoided his gaze, rubbing at a stain on her black skirt.
Domenico dragged his eyes from the short skirt that revealed her stunning legs. He had to focus.
Panic stirred and he forced it down. This was the most important negotiation of his life and he couldn’t let nerves wreck his chances.
‘Your stepmother contacted me.’
Lucy jerked her head up. ‘Why you?’
He shrugged. ‘She’d read about me collecting you from prison, and you being with me in Rome. It was the only place she could think of to reach you.’
Wariness was writ large on Lucy’s face. ‘What did she want? Money?’
‘No.’ He paused, remembering that difficult conversation. ‘She wanted to talk with you.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine why.’
‘Apparently she wants to apologise.’
‘And you believed her?’ Lucy’s face was taut with outrage but with something else too. Something that might have been hope.
Domenico’s heart lightened. Lucy tried so hard to be tough and cold, yet always she responded with a good heart. Look at the way she’d taken to Chiara and the way she’d let him into her life. She’d given Pia a second chance. Maybe she’d do it again.
‘I believe she was genuinely sorry for that article. She said she needed the money and thought she could handle the media. According to her, the reporter twisted most of what she said and conveniently removed any positive comments.’
He paused, waiting for her to consider.
‘She said she didn’t want to talk with you before because she felt so ashamed of what she’d done.’
Lucy gnawed her lip and he wanted to reach out and stop her. But he didn’t have the right. She’d walked away from him and who could blame her? Even now he couldn’t believe he’d let her go. Twice now he’d missed his chance with Lucy. Finally he’d learnt his lesson!
‘I’ll think about calling her.’
‘Good.’ He nodded and sat back as a waiter appeared with their afternoon tea. He was glad for a distraction despite the urgency coiling his belly tight. For the first time he could remember he was scared, not able to predict the outcome of this meeting.
‘So, is that all?’ Her tone was brisk, yet she cradled her celadon-green cup as if needing warmth. He didn’t even bother taking his tea. He wouldn’t be able to hold it steady. Too much rode on this and he’d lost the facility to pretend it wasn’t important.
‘No. There’s more.’
Her brows arched. ‘What? Is there something wrong with the case against Bruno?’ For the first time she looked truly shaken.
‘Nothing like that. It’s all going smoothly.’
Her relief was palpable, yet it struck him that she hadn’t looked directly at him. Not since that moment on the street when he’d read shock and something he couldn’t name in her eyes.
‘And so?’
‘And so.’ He swallowed and leaned forward. ‘I want to talk about us.’
‘There is no us, Domenico.’ Her expression was cool. Yet the way she said his name in that scratchy voice gave him hope. He might be fooling himself but he’d take all the encouragement he could get.
She put her cup down and he snatched her hand up. It trembled.
‘Liar,’ he whispered. ‘There’s always been an us. Even when I didn’t trust myself to believe what I felt for you in the beginning. I felt the world crumble around me because I wanted you so much it hurt. I wanted you so much I cursed my brother for having you first. Can you believe it?’
‘Domenico!’ Her voice was a hoarse gasp. ‘You can’t be serious. Back then you hated me.’
‘I thought I hated you because of the bolt of emotion I felt whenever I looked at you. It shook me to the core and it wasn’t just lust. It was a...link I couldn’t explain. A link I pretended didn’t exist because I let myself be swayed by lies and my own jealous pride.’ He heaved in a tight breath.
‘You felt it too, didn’t you, Lucy?’
Her eyes were huge in her pale face. With her blonde hair long enough now to brush her shoulders, she looked more like the innocent who’d stood in the dock all those years ago and stolen his soul.
She shook her head. ‘No. I knew you hated me and I felt...’
‘What? What did you feel, Lucy?’ Urgency made him grip her hand harder.
‘I can’t explain it.’ She looked away. ‘A link, I suppose, from the start. But it wasn’t right. It was just lust.’
Was that what she thought? He grimaced, knowing it was his fault she believed it.
‘No, carissima, it wasn’t just lust.’
She tugged her hand. ‘Please, let me go.’
‘Not until you look at me, Lucy.’
Reluctantly she turned her head and he felt again that blast of heat surging through his veins as their gazes melded. Domenico lifted her hand and kissed it. He turned it over and pressed his mouth to her palm and felt her shiver delicately.
With a sigh he released her hand and watched her cradle it in her lap as if it burned her. Just as his lips tingled where he’d caressed her sweet flesh.
‘I was a fool to let you leave, Lucy. I’ve regretted it from the moment you went.’
‘It wasn’t a matter of you letting me go. It was my decision.’
‘Only because I couldn’t see what was before my eyes.’
‘What are you saying, Domenico?’
‘I’m saying what’s between us is more important than lust. It always was, though I was too shallow to trust my instincts. I’m saying I want you with me, Lucy. In Rome, or here in Britain if you prefer. I want you in my life.’
There. He’d said it. He’d never asked that of any woman.
‘I don’t believe you.’
She looked like a queen surveying a troublesome subject. So proud. So feisty. So hurt. Seeing the pain etched around her pursed lips, shame rose.
‘I was a fool to let you walk away but I was too proud to plead with you to stay.’
‘I can’t imagine you pleading for anything.’
‘Can’t you?’ His lips twisted bitterly.
‘No. You’re too arrogant. Too sure of yourself.’
‘Remind me never to come to you for a character reference. You know me too well.’
‘What is it you want, Domenico? Is this some sort of game?’
‘I was never more serious in my life.’
‘Domenico?’ Her eyes rounded as he slipped from his chair and knelt before hers. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Pleading, carissima.’ And the hell of it was he didn’t give a damn who saw him. All he cared about was convincing Lucy.
‘I don’t understand.’ She blinked, her eyes overbright and he reached to take her hand.
‘Nor did I, in Rome. I was too full of myself. Too pleased with my success in setting things right, and too full of relief that finally I was doing right by you after all those wrongs. I didn’t question what was happening between us.’
For the first time since he’d known her Lucy looked lost for words.
‘I thought I had it all—the satisfaction of seeing justice done, and you in my bed, in my life.’ He paused, the words harder now. ‘I thought that was all I wanted, to enjoy the moment, to have your company and the phenomenal sex, as long as it lasted.’
Her hand clenched in his. ‘I hadn’t thought past that. When you called me on it I wasn’t ready to face what I really wanted. Because what I wanted scared me.’
‘Liar.’ The whispered word shivered through him. ‘You’re never scared.’
Again he lifted her hand to his mouth, inhaling her warm scent, absorbing her taste. He couldn’t bear the thought of not being allowed to touch her again.
‘I was absolutely petrified. So petrified I couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t one of my finer moments. But when you reminded me you hadn’t really been free from the moment you got out of jail, how could I stop you? You deserved the right to the life you wanted.’
&n
bsp; He searched her face but couldn’t read her thoughts. Fear coursed through his bloodstream and his breathing came in short, hard stabs.
‘Cut to the chase, Domenico. What is it you want? Do you want me as your lover while you’re in England? Or in Rome—’ she paused as if searching for words ‘—till you’ve had enough?’
‘No! I want more. I want everything. I fell for you years ago on one magic day in Rome. Then later you were so beautiful and so stoic in the face of all that horror, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.’
His heart pounded as he pressed her palm to his chest. Her touch gave him courage to go on.
‘When we met again I fell for you all over again.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re talking about sex.’
‘That too.’ He smiled at her prim expression, remembering her in his bed. ‘But actually I fell for the woman who made me feel like a new man.’
He sliced his free hand through the air. ‘I can’t explain, but with your honesty, your generosity and your pleasure in everything around you, I became different too. A man who didn’t calculate every last item, who remembered what it was to enjoy life and to feel. I learned there’s more to life than balance sheets and takeovers. There’s caring and forgiveness.’
His words echoed into silence. His pulse drummed a staccato tattoo that surely convinced her as nothing else could, that he was genuine.
‘I want to be with you. I want to live my life with you, wherever you are. I want to make a family with you and be with you always. I love you, Lucy.’
Finally the words ran out. He’d bared himself utterly. In his former life where control meant everything, that would have been unthinkable.
‘Lucy? Say something.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘I say you’re very long-winded, Signor Volpe. But I wouldn’t have missed a moment of it.’ She leaned forward and there were stars in her eyes. ‘You could talk the birds from the trees if you wanted.’
Hope spilled as he saw her glorious smile. ‘You’re the only one I’m interested in. Will you have me, tesoro? Will you be mine?’
‘Domenico—’ she murmured his name as if savouring each syllable and every muscle cinched tight ‘—I’ve been yours for so long I can barely remember what it was like before you burst into my life.’ She sighed and whispered in his ear, ‘I love you, Domenico.’
‘Carissima!’
Finally he was free to do what he’d longed to from the moment he’d seen her in the street. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly he almost forgot to breathe. Breathing was overrated. With Lucy in his arms, who needed oxygen?
Eventually something, a faint noise, caught his attention. He lifted his head, smiling at the beatific glow on his beloved’s face, and turned.
‘Champagne, sir?’ The waiter held a vintage bottle of his favourite bubbly.
‘Excellent idea. In my suite. Now.’
The waiter nodded and melted discreetly away.
‘Lucy?’
‘Mmm?’ She snuggled into his arms as he lifted her. ‘How do you feel about having our honeymoon right here?’
Eyes the pure blue of an Italian summer sky met his and a pulse of emotion beat through him. ‘I think first you need to persuade me to marry you.’ Her smile was that of a temptress.
Domenico turned and carried her out of the room, oblivious to the stares and smiles of the other patrons. The world had never been so right.
‘Ah,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You know how I like rising to a challenge.’
* * * * *
Blackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife
To all the readers who have enjoyed my stories.
To the many who have taken the time to contact me about my books.
And especially to Sofia, Cindy, Gena and Dottie, who were the very first to encourage a brand-new author on her debut.
Thank you all!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
ALISSA STEPPED OFF the tram just as the leaden Melbourne sky opened, releasing a downpour. She had no umbrella. The weather had been the last thing on her mind today.
Thunder cracked so close she expected the pavement to shatter before her. The temperature plummeted. Alissa shivered, suddenly chilled to the marrow.
It’s a sign, an omen.
She grimaced, refusing to heed the superstitious inner voice. The voice of foreboding that had plagued her all day. The storm had been predicted days ago. It wasn’t an omen of disaster. It was mere coincidence.
Alissa ignored the way the hairs on her neck prickled. She hunched her shoulders and darted along the pavement, heedless of the rain’s drenching needles.
She’d planned this afternoon meticulously. Nothing, not a storm or her own doubts, would stop her when so much was at stake. Success was so close.
All she had to do was...marry.
Her pace faltered as her heel jammed against uneven pavement. She was doing the right thing, the only thing she could. Yet fear slid like an icy finger down her spine at the idea of marriage.
Tying herself to a man.
It didn’t matter that this wedding was her idea. That Jason was unthreatening. Safe. Or that the marriage would be short-lived. Experience had taught her the danger of being in a man’s power. All the logic in the world couldn’t stop the atavistic dread freezing her veins.
But this was no time for caution. Donna needed her. This was her sister’s last chance.
Alissa would do anything, even tackle her darkest terrors, to save her beloved sister. No one else could do this. The burden rested on her shoulders.
Setting her jaw, she climbed the steps of the looming public building. One leaden foot in front of the other.
It will be all right...unbidden, the old mantra filled her mind.
Of course it would be all right. She and Jason would marry and after six months they’d go their separate ways, unencumbered but for the money they’d receive. The money that would save Donna’s life.
It was a simple business arrangement. No power play. No threat. A win-win situation.
Nothing could go wrong.
She hurried through the entrance, plunged into the gloomy foyer and tripped over something.
‘Careful there!’ an abrupt voice commanded.
Large hands grasped her elbows, holding her away from the solid body her momentum had flung her against. Heat encircled her, the smell of spicy, warm male skin and citrus aftershave. Alissa’s pulse skittered at the understated yet unmistakable invitation of that heady scent.
She leaned away to see what she’d fallen over.
Shoes. Large enough to match the hands holding her so firmly. Glossy black handmade shoes that had never seen a scuff in their privileged life. The sight of that perfect footwear, of elegant suiting stretched over long, powerful legs, unsettled her as much as the stranger’s silence.
She stepped back but his hands didn’t fall. Annoyance skated through her.
Alissa raised her eyes. Past the exquisitely cut jacket, custom-made to accommodate broad shoulders and a rangy frame. Up to an angular jaw, scrupulously shaved. A firm mouth, wide and superbly sculpted, a slash of sensuality across an otherwise hard face. A long, decisive nose, bracketed by high cheekbones that gave him an aristocratic air of disdain.
The air hissed through Alissa’s teeth as she drew a sharp breath. His face was lean, harsh, arrogant. With his black hair combed back from a widow’s peak he looked impossibly elegant. But his eyes... Alissa reeled as she stared into a charcoal gaze ripe with disapprov
al.
Heaven help the woman he’d come here to marry.
With those looks—male model meets pure testosterone—his bride was probably too besotted to realise what she was in for. But one moment’s collision with his piercing, censorious gaze told Alissa everything. He had an ego big enough to match those shoes. More, there was danger in his superior look, his air of latent power.
Trouble. That was what he was. Why any woman would shackle herself to a man like that...
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered when she got her tongue to move. ‘I was in such a hurry to get out of the rain I didn’t see you there.’
Silence.
His brows arrowed down in a V of displeasure.
Alissa lifted a hand to her soaked hair. A dribble of rain slid down her nape. Her suit clung to her breasts, back and legs. Even her toes were damp. She shivered as cold sliced through her.
What was wrong with him? Did he disapprove of the way she looked? Or the fact that she’d run into him?
Uncontrollable, unladylike little hoyden. The words rang so loud and clear Alissa jumped. But it was her grandfather’s hoarse voice she heard. The stranger’s cold gaze had evoked an unexpected memory. The realisation shook her to the core. She must be even more nervous than she’d realised to hear the old man from the grave.
‘Look, I—’
‘Do you usually burst through doors like that? Without looking where you’re going?’ His voice was low, deep, with a husky edge that made her skin prickle, but not with fear or cold this time. It was a bedroom voice, made for seducing women to mindless compliance. A slight accent lengthened the vowels, producing a tantalising drawl. To her annoyance, she felt the zap and tingle of nerves reacting to the masculine timbre of that voice.
‘I didn’t burst anywhere.’ She stood straighter, yanking her arms free. To her chagrin she barely reached his shoulder. Typical! That excess height no doubt added to his belief in his own superiority.
Those frowning brows rose in supercilious disbelief. He’d probably never been caught without an immaculately cut raincoat, or perhaps a lackey hovering with an umbrella.
‘My apologies for interrupting your...reverie. I’ll leave you in peace.’
Alissa spun round and strode away. She felt his glare graze the bare skin of her neck and the sway of her hips as she shortened her stride to accommodate her heels.