by Annie West
His stillness told her that was exactly what he meant. Disappointment swamped her. Why was she surprised? He knew about her conviction. That she was intimately acquainted with the less salubrious entertainments awaiting young girls in a big city. She shuddered as she remembered those nightmare days.
‘Don’t sound disappointed, Alissa.’ Her name in his mouth was a lethal weapon, carving through even her fury to burrow deep inside her flesh. A weak part of her responded even now to the sexy promise of this man.
She clenched her jaw, horrified to find she fought two enemies: Dario Parisi and herself. Never had she reacted like this to any man!
‘Definitely no drugs,’ he said. ‘No wild parties.’ He paused and she lifted her chin. ‘But I was thinking more of romantic liaisons. You will not see other men while you are my wife.’ His voice dropped to a rumble that reverberated across her skin. His wife. She rubbed her hands over her arms, smoothing away the sensation.
‘Publicly we’ll maintain the fiction of marriage but in reality we need have little to do with each other.’ He paused. ‘If you can behave with decorum. And believe me, there will be people checking that you behave.’
Minders. Spies. He’d employ a private detective or bodyguard to watch her every move. It was like the past all over again. But she sensed Dario Parisi’s authority was even more potent than Gianfranco’s had been.
For a moment the darkness pressed down on her, stifling, heavy, like a velvet weight that muffled the senses and impeded her breathing. Her chest tightened and blood rushed in her ears. Finally she forced down the welling void of fear.
‘And you?’ she said into the waiting silence. ‘Will you also behave with decorum?’
‘Cosa?’
She stalked towards him, anger driving her on. She revelled in it. Better that than fear. ‘Will you give up your indulgences? Give up your women, your pleasures, so people believe we’re married?’
Dario shifted his weight. He loomed taller, ominously threatening. Alissa stood her ground, noticing the sharp line of his jaw and the tendons taut in his neck.
‘Careful, cara. It’s dangerous to pick a fight with me.’ His words were a whisper. ‘Goad me too far and I may decide the best approach is to make this marriage real in every sense. Perhaps then you’ll be more amenable.’
Time stood still as he held her gaze, letting his threat sink in. Her insides curled at the hint of anticipation in his tone. At the scent of sexual danger in the air. As if he’d like the excuse to seduce her. At this moment he might even succeed. Despite her fear and her wariness, she responded to him in the most appalling way.
‘I just want to ensure you play your part in this charade.’ Her voice wobbled.
Finally he nodded, a bare fraction of movement, and Alissa breathed again. ‘For the next six months no one will have cause to think I’m interested in any other woman. They’ll believe we’re devoted.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant! You don’t have to pretend we’re...’
‘Intimate?’ Suddenly he was right there before her, filling her senses, invading her space.
Silently she nodded, fearful of the quicksand of hidden desires and emotions beneath her feet.
‘Perhaps you’re right. That would be too much.’ Yet he didn’t move, just stood, a living, breathing masterpiece of maleness. Alissa sucked in a deep breath then wished she hadn’t. He smelt like sun shining on lemon groves, like the sea’s salt spray, like hot sexy man.
She broke away, needing distance. ‘So we behave impeccably and live separate lives?’
‘Precisely. We’ll need to be seen together sometimes. At civic receptions, that sort of thing. But that won’t be often. You’ll have your own rooms.’
Tendrils of relief spread and flowered inside her. ‘Perfect. Why don’t you show me now?’
‘Your suite isn’t ready. Tomorrow will be time enough.’ For the first time his words were rushed, as if he was uncomfortable.
What was he hiding? Something about her room? That wasn’t likely. Or perhaps about the old lady, Caterina, who’d welcomed her so warmly and made up the marriage bed?
‘You didn’t tell her the truth, did you? Signora Bruzzone. You let her believe this marriage is real!’
Again he shrugged, but this time the movement was stiff, as if she’d hit a sore spot. ‘It’s only for one night. Tomorrow she’ll be gone.’
Alissa stared, sensing his tension. Her mind whirled. Caterina thought they’d married for love. Had he withheld the truth because he didn’t want to disappoint her? Because he cared for her good opinion? The knowledge stunned Alissa. Had Dario lied, sharing a room with a woman he distrusted, for Caterina’s sake?
That made him suddenly...human. Flesh, blood and feelings. Warm, compassionate feelings, caring for someone else. This the man who’d chastised her for dressing as a bride so as not to disappoint her sister!
She stood still, stunned to realise his aloof exterior perhaps hid a chink of finer feeling. Who’d have guessed?
But why was he so sensitive of Caterina’s good opinion? She was his ex-housekeeper, not his mother.
Suddenly Alissa realised the significance of that scene when they’d arrived. Not one member of Dario’s family had been present. She frowned.
Had he fallen out with them all? It was odd, when he talked so much about family honour. Maybe his sense of honour was of the destructive variety, like her grandfather’s.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he crossed to a set of doors on the other side of the room.
‘Getting dressed.’ He disappeared into a huge dressing room. ‘You can spend the rest of the night here.’
When he emerged, he was dressed all in black. It suited him, far too much.
‘I’ll see you at breakfast. I have work to do.’ He didn’t even glance her way as he strode from the room.
Instantly Alissa felt that tiny spark of warmth vanish. She fooled herself if she believed he was motivated by anything other than self-interest.
Was he already breaking his promise to behave discreetly? Did his ‘urgent work’ go by the name of Maria?
Alissa grimaced as anger and nausea swamped her.
The suspicion that he’d gone to meet his lover in the night should be nothing to her. She should welcome his departure. So why did she feel sick at the thought of Dario spending the rest of the night in another woman’s arms?
CHAPTER SIX
THE SOUND OF feminine laughter on the sea breeze curled insidiously into Dario’s consciousness. Evocative, familiar laughter. The sound of his wife enjoying herself.
Not that she laughed around him. Then she was stiff and careful, as distrustful as he of the undercurrent of desire that rippled, strong as the tide, between them.
His brows drew together. He had to concentrate on this contract. He jabbed a finger at a clause then slashed it out and scribbled his initials in the margin.
A murmur of voices from the garden replaced the laughter and the next clause blurred.
Who was it this time? In just a week his bride had charmed all the household staff. She’d even broken through the grim professional barrier of the security staff rostered to accompany her when she left the premises.
At the crackle of paper he looked down and smoothed the contract that had crumpled in his fist. It was impossible to work.
Grimly he faced the unpalatable truth: Alissa intruded into his thoughts too often. Each day he received a report on her activities. Even that, short and factual, tugged his mind away from important business.
She swam, explored the estate, visited quaint towns and took scenic boat trips. She had cooking lessons with his chef, shopped for souvenirs and spent evenings in her room. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that she’d done exactly as he’d demanded.
She’d behaved with perfect propriety. If you could call it propriety to charm every male she met!
When he worked at home, like today, her presence was everywhere. From the daisies in
the hall where once there’d been formal floral arrangements, to the sound of her laughter, breathless and enticing, drifting inside.
He’d waited for her to step out of line, show her true colours. But she’d deprived him of that satisfaction.
He barely saw her, rarely spoke to her. Yet she haunted him. He dreamed of her as he tossed in his empty bed. He woke with the taste of her in his mouth, imagining her exotic lily scent on his sheets. Despite his attempts to ignore her, this attraction gnawed at him incessantly.
Dario looked at his white-knuckled fists, felt the heavy throb of frustration low in his body and wondered how he could go another twenty-five weeks without decent sleep. He wouldn’t seek sexual relief elsewhere. Even though this marriage was just a convenient merger, he had more self-respect than that. And he couldn’t sleep with his wife. Giving in to this desire would hand her power on a platter.
Which left him furious and frustrated. He never gave in to weakness, no matter what the provocation.
A gurgle of laughter interrupted his thoughts.
Dario shoved his chair back from the desk.
* * *
Alissa’s smile faded as a frisson of awareness crept up her spine. It didn’t take Giorgio’s wide-eyed look or the sound of footsteps on the path behind her to let her know Dario was approaching.
That telltale tingle was enough. It never failed.
Time and again she’d felt that delicious shiver and found him watching. Usually he turned and left without a word and each time her gaze followed hungrily. She couldn’t help it. There was something about Dario. Something she’d never experienced with any man. Something dark and strong and irresistible. She fought it with her mind but her body hadn’t got the message. He was dangerous. Yet something stirred inside whenever he came near.
Even concern for Donna couldn’t prevent Alissa’s alarming reaction, especially since her worries had been allayed a little by regular phone calls and by knowing she’d get the money her sister needed.
With a smile for Giorgio she turned down the path to the sea. She’d reached the shade cast by a stand of pines when Dario’s voice stopped her.
‘Running away, Alissa?’
She froze, her hand on the railing at the top of the steps to the beach. He was close, his voice soft in her ears. Her body tensed in awful anticipation. She hated that he could do this to her. She avoided him when she could but her reaction to him had only intensified, like a blade honed keen to razor-sharpness.
‘Why should I run? I haven’t done anything wrong.’
She turned, grateful for the railing as her knees threatened to buckle. She’d grown accustomed to him in tailored suits that emphasised his suave leanness and complemented the strong contours of his face. But in jeans that hugged long, powerful thighs and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to reveal sinewy, golden forearms, he was devastating.
Despair threatened. The craving grew stronger each time she saw him. She should hate him, and yet...
‘Why indeed?’ He frowned as he paced closer. ‘Feeling guilty at being caught flirting with my gardener?’
‘Flirting?’ Alissa’s eyes widened. ‘All we did was chat! He was telling me about his daughters.’
She liked Dario’s staff. She enjoyed their hospitality in introducing a newcomer to Sicily. What surprised her was their enthusiasm for Dario. Their loyalty and admiration went beyond lip-service. They genuinely liked and respected him. Just as Caterina Bruzzone’s affection had been real. There’d been tears of happiness in the old lady’s eyes as she wished them well when she left for her home on the mainland the day after Alissa’s arrival.
The locals Alissa met were pleased when they discovered she was from the Parisi estate. Her husband was respected. People spoke of his generosity, his support for charities and his schemes to rejuvenate the region.
It was as if there were two different men—the chilling manipulator who’d turned her life upside down and the generous man, admired by all. The dichotomy only increased her wariness and confusion.
Did something in her bring out the worst in him? Whenever he drew near every instinct warned of peril. Yet even that couldn’t douse the thrill she felt deep within when they were together.
‘If you say so. I’m sure you found the subject fascinating.’ Dario’s eyes were dark as storm clouds as they raked her. She wished she’d worn something other than a short denim skirt and singlet top. Something more substantial so she couldn’t feel his gaze on her. Armour perhaps. She clung to the railing, tilting her head to meet his stare, ignoring the way her nipples tightened. Hoping he hadn’t noticed.
He stepped near and automatically she paced back, only to find her foot dangling in mid-air.
‘Careful!’ Strong hands encircled her arms and pulled her close. A shaft of heat scorched her as she inhaled the unique scent that was Dario. A second later he moved away to stand looking out to sea, as if the sight of her pained him. As if touching her contaminated him. Her heart squeezed in indignation and distress.
‘You don’t want to fall and break your leg. That would impair your activities.’ His tone was sardonic.
‘Activities?’ Was he still worried she yearned for a wild nightlife with good-looking guys and designer drugs? Stupid how the idea hurt.
‘Your swimming and sightseeing.’
‘I see.’ She stared at his grim profile. So her ‘chauffeurs’ had reported her movements. She’d suspected it but the confirmation disappointed her. He didn’t trust her an inch. She felt hemmed in, restrictions binding her tight. She was in limbo, unable to get on with her life, forced to live here on sufferance. Try as she might she couldn’t pretend this was a holiday.
‘What do you want, Dario?’ Steadfastly she ignored the tiny thrill that came from saying his name.
‘Must I want something?’ He slanted a look her way. The banked heat in his gaze stoked unwilling need deep inside her.
‘Yes. You spend most of your time avoiding me like the plague.’
‘Does that disappoint you, Alissa?’ The devil was in his eyes and in that slow, provocative curl of his sensuous lips. She shivered, imagining she saw an answering flare of sexual interest in his expression. ‘Would you rather I danced attendance on you?’
‘I couldn’t think of anything worse.’ She crossed her arms tight over her chest, telling herself it was only half a lie. The thought of being with him filled her with excitement as well as trepidation. That worried her sick. If only she could detest him as thoroughly as she ought.
‘As it happens I do have a reason for interrupting your morning—to tell you we’re invited to a business reception. I assume you have something formal to wear.’ His gaze skated down her bare legs as if the sight annoyed him.
‘Do I have to go?’ Just ten minutes in his company unnerved her. How would she survive an evening? The air zapped and crackled with the energy pulsing between them. Yet, she hated to admit it, she’d never felt more alive than when she sparred with him. It was scary.
‘I told you we’d need to be seen together. If we don’t go the curiosity of the Press will mean no more pleasant outings for you. We give them some pictures and we satisfy local interest. It will only take a few hours.’ His eyes narrowed as if he read her turmoil. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
Alissa couldn’t think of anything calculated to disturb her more.
‘What sort of clothes?’ she said quickly. ‘I haven’t got a cocktail dress.’ Her wardrobe wasn’t extensive.
His brows climbed. ‘I’ll have one of my staff drive you to a suitable boutique. Aim for classy rather than provocative if you can.’ Again his gaze dipped disapprovingly.
‘Since you asked so nicely, I’ll try.’ Saccharine dripped from her tongue. She had a good mind to buy something outrageous to provoke him. But the thought of his gaze on exposed flesh deterred her.
‘You do that.’ He stared across the bay, obviously dismissing her. She’d turned to leave when his deep voice stopped her
.
‘You haven’t been out to inspect the castello you’ll inherit. Why?’
She swung round, her gaze following his to the grim, squarish castle of sand-coloured stone climbing up from the rocky headland at the end of the beach. It was forbidding with its turrets and crenellated walls.
‘That’s the castello?’ It hadn’t occurred to her. She’d expected something less mediaeval. Not a real castle. That explained Dario’s autocratic attitude. If the place had been in Parisi hands for generations his family was local aristocracy. He’d be used to deference and immediate compliance with his wishes. No wonder she made him scowl when she refused to acquiesce to his every whim.
‘That’s the Castello Parisi. Home of my family.’ His voice was rich with possessiveness and pride. Alissa watched his face set in determined lines.
But what fascinated her was the glimpse of raw emotion in his expression. His eyes held a yearning look she’d never noticed before. It surprised her. It made him appear almost...vulnerable.
Dario really had a passion for the place. This was deeply personal to him. It wasn’t just about acquiring real estate. What did the castello mean to him?
From the look on Dario’s face his determination was about far more than besting the Manganos. She couldn’t imagine any property being so important she’d sell herself in marriage to acquire it.
Nothing was that important to her. Nothing except her family.
Alissa flicked a look at the modern masterpiece that was his current home. Despite its unusual style it was homey and comfortable by comparison.
‘You don’t mind living so close? Overlooking what your family once owned?’
‘Mind?’ He gave the villa a cursory glance. ‘I built here so I could see my birthright every day till I possessed it.’ There was a chilling hint of obsession in his voice.