by Annie West
Dario! She was sprawled across Dario like some...
‘Morning, cara.’ His voice, gravel and satin, evoked delicious memories of pleasure. ‘I trust you slept well?’
He stroked her spine, making her shiver and arch her back so her breasts pushed into his torso. The friction of skin on skin brought her fully awake. She recognised the pulse of arousal quickening her blood, beating in that tender place between her legs.
She sucked in her breath, drawing with it the rich, addictive scent of Dario’s skin. Her bones melted as her body, conditioned after just one night to pleasure at his touch, softened in anticipation.
‘I—’
He swallowed her words in an open-mouthed kiss, lifting her up so she stretched full-length against him. As his tongue stroked hers the taste of bitter chocolate and honey, of Dario, filled her mouth. He kissed with the leisurely expertise of a master.
Last night he’d turned the tables, seducing her so thoroughly her angry energy had transformed into erotic abandon.
He’d been so gentle as he wiped away the tears of release and wonder from her eyes. He’d tucked her close and carried her to his suite. Relying only on the moonlight, he’d bathed her with warm water and gentle hands before depositing her, dazed and exhausted, in his bed. He’d spooned close, wrapping himself round her like a blanket. In the night she’d woken to his coaxing voice and it had seemed natural to turn to him. Allow him access to her body. Allow herself the ecstasy of his lovemaking.
He cupped her face and kissed her, his skin with its morning roughness gently abrasive. The stroke of his tongue, the caress of his mouth, the slide of one restless thigh between hers awoke delicious sensations. She craved again the mindless ecstasy, the tenderness, the feeling of warmth that excluded all cares.
‘Cara.’ His voice dropped to a low note that made her shake with desire. It was enough to make her forget...make her forget...
Donna! The blinding flash of remembrance blasted her. She jerked in his embrace as realisation hit.
How could she have forgotten, even for an instant? Her sister was counting on her. Alissa had only gone through with this because... The skein of thought frayed as he tugged her close and deepened their kiss.
Had she submitted to Dario simply for Donna’s sake? Or had that been an excuse? A voice in her head accused her of hiding behind Donna’s problems so she could reach out for what she’d secretly wanted from the first.
Had she been motivated by altruism or selfishness? And now Dario’s ruthlessness, bargaining with her sister’s life, came crashing into her brain.
Suddenly her night of unexpected joy was a tainted, guilty pleasure.
‘No.’ Breathless, she pushed against his shoulders, levering herself away, till she could look down at him.
That was a mistake. His dark hair was rumpled from her touch, his eyes slumberous, sizzling with the concentration he gave to physical pleasure. His jaw was shadowed, giving him a potently sexy bad-boy look. His lips... Alissa looked at that perfectly sculpted mouth, remembering the bliss of his kisses.
‘Stop!’ Her voice was uneven and her chest heaved against his. She squeezed her eyes shut, torn between self-disgust and delight at the erotic sensation of her nipples against his powerful chest.
‘What is it, cara?’ Dario relaxed his hold and she shuffled away, dragging the sheet across her chest.
Her head bowed as guilt speared her. How could she have forgotten her sole reason for being here? It didn’t matter that last night had been the most wondrous experience of her life. What a few moments ago had seemed a short, blissful respite from care now condemned her as heartless and selfish. And condemned Dario as...she didn’t want to think about it.
Alissa sat up, focusing on the clock beside the bed. She didn’t trust herself to look into the silvery depths of his eyes.
‘You promised to transfer the money this morning.’ She drew in a sustaining breath. ‘The banks are open now.’
* * *
Dario couldn’t believe his ears. He reared back as if she’d struck him.
Minutes ticked by as he stared at Alissa. The woman who’d given him more passion, warmth and pleasure than he’d ever had. Who’d made him question everything he’d been so sure of yesterday. Not with clever words, but with the apparent honesty and generosity of her body’s responses. He’d actually believed she couldn’t be the mercenary little go-getter he’d thought her. He’d decided that, despite all the evidence, he’d somehow been mistaken.
His mouth tightened as he fought down rising bile. His bed reeked with the musky scent of sex. Of her deviousness and his gullibility.
When he’d discovered her to be a virgin he’d felt guilt at pressuring her into his bed. He’d felt like the lowest slime ball that had ever slunk out of a gutter. Until his senses overrode his conscience. After that he hadn’t been able to stop himself, for the ecstasy surpassed everything he’d known.
Afterwards he’d believed his view of her character flawed. She couldn’t be all he’d thought her. Yet his guilt hadn’t stopped him reaching for her again. His scruples were no match for his need.
He’d told himself that this morning, in the clear light of day, he’d discover the truth.
But the truth was, despite her virginity, she’d played him all along. There’d been no connection between them, no melding of souls that went beyond the boundaries of physical pleasure. He’d imagined that as he’d reeled from the most erotic, satisfying experience of his life.
Shame flooded him that he’d let himself imagine there was anything more between them. She’d laugh if she knew.
‘I said the banks are open now.’ Her chin jutted up, her mouth settling in a firm line.
His hands clenched as he surveyed her. She looked like a queen refusing to acknowledge a dirty peasant, despite the fact they were in bed together.
Was she trying to put him in his place? After last night’s intimacies?
Ingrained memories of condescending looks and arrogant words rose instantly. For years he’d endured the stigma of not fitting in, not being good enough. He’d been too independent to please prospective foster parents. They’d wanted him to forget his past and his family and pretend to be theirs. When he hadn’t he’d been labelled difficult, a kid who’d never amount to anything.
He thought he’d obliterated any sensitivity to such things. He had done. Until Alissa played havoc with his libido and his judgement. Until she’d awakened emotions long forgotten. That was what he couldn’t forgive.
‘Probably not the best way to greet your lover,’ he drawled, trying not to react to the seductive picture she made, her hair a sensuous curtain around pale, perfect shoulders. The sunlight outlined her sweet curves through the linen.
‘Why not?’ Her voice was sharp. So different from last night’s throaty purrs and moans of delight. He wished he could have her now as she’d been then. Pliant, eager and so responsive. ‘It’s the only reason we’re in bed.’
Fury surged, stirring an unfamiliar turmoil of emotions. How could he be disappointed that she was motivated by money? That last night had been about hot sex and mercenary gain?
‘You’ll need to improve your bedside manner, cara, or your next lover mightn’t be so generous.’
‘Generous?’ It was a squawk of outrage. ‘You’ve got a hide.’ Her eyes flashed fire that scorched his bare skin. ‘There’s nothing generous about you, Dario. You’d sell your grandmother if you thought you could turn a profit.’
A shaft of anger pierced him at her accusation. She couldn’t know how much family meant to him.
‘I earned every penny of the money you owe me.’ He watched her swallow hard. Her eyes flicked away as if the sight of him offended her sensibilities. ‘No doubt you’ll make sure you get your money’s worth over the next months.’
A chill descended with her words. Part of him cringed at the truth of what she said. Even now, nothing would keep him from taking her to his bed again and again. Despite his lace
rated pride, one night with her wasn’t enough. The realisation made him lash out.
‘Then it’s as well you have a natural talent for pleasure, isn’t it, Alissa?’
Satisfaction was an inner glow as he watched a blush rise in her throat. Surely at least some of her responses had been genuine. He recalled her wide-eyed wonder as he’d brought her to the brink of climax again and again. The sweet pulse of need in her body, the clumsy yet entrancing way she’d taken her turn at pleasuring him.
Hell! He was hard just remembering.
‘Why were you a virgin?’ He’d blurted the words without thinking, still shocked by the discovery.
Her brows arched. Energy sizzled between them at the intensity of her glare.
‘Because I don’t like men,’ she snarled.
Stunned, he registered a plunging sensation in the pit of his belly. She couldn’t be... No, not when she’d responded to him the way she had.
‘At least not enough to want to go to bed with one of them,’ she added, as if reading his thoughts.
‘Why not?’ He had to know.
‘I’ve yet to have a close relationship with one who doesn’t want to control my life.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Can we cut the chat while you organise my money?’ Her words might have been chipped from glacial ice. Just like her profile of regal disdain.
Deliberately Dario stretched and linked his hands beneath his head. He’d promised so he’d deliver on the money. But it went against the grain to jump to her tune.
‘Congratulations,’ he murmured. ‘You have to be the most blatantly greedy woman I’ve met.’
‘You expect me to apologise?’ She leaned forward as if spurred by feelings so strong she couldn’t sit still. ‘You think I should be ashamed, when you know why I need it?’ To his astonishment tears glittered on her lashes before she blinked them away.
They were back to that. Suddenly he’d had enough of this conversation, sickened by the way, even now, she tried to play on his sympathy. He flung back the sheet and stalked to the dressing room to tug on some jeans.
‘Don’t think you can walk out on our deal.’ She’d followed him. He swung round to find her, swathed in a trailing sheet, hair in disarray and a mutinous expression on her face. The hunger for her grew in him anew.
What did that say for his judgement? He turned his back so she wouldn’t see how she affected him.
A small, firm hand arrested his movements, dragging at his arm, trying to tug him around.
‘You owe me, Dario!’
He swung back, face taut as he battled the urge to silence her with his mouth. Disgust filled him at the predictability of his need for this woman.
‘Enough! Get me your bank details. By lunchtime you’ll have enough cash to keep a dozen farms afloat.’ Or, more likely, spend it on herself.
‘Farms? What farms?’ She frowned as if he spoke a foreign language.
Had she forgotten the excuse she’d used last night? The need to save her sister’s cattle station? He shook off her hand, zipping his jeans and reaching for a T-shirt. ‘You said you want cash for your sister.’
‘That’s right.’ She stood behind him. He felt her warmth, smelled her skin. ‘But she’s not buying a farm.’
‘Saving a farm, then.’ He flung out one hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Wasn’t that your excuse for wanting to cut a new deal? To save her from foreclosure?’
Silence. Except for a hissed intake of breath.
‘You thought that’s why I wanted the money?’ Something about the quality of her voice made him still. He turned to find her white-faced. ‘You said you’d had us investigated, that you knew all about us.’
He nodded. ‘I paid an Australian detective agency. They were thorough,’ he said, thinking of the dirt they’d dug up on her past.
‘Not thorough enough,’ she murmured. ‘They didn’t check medical records, did they?’ He watched her press one clenched hand to her breast.
‘Not that I know of.’ There hadn’t seemed a need. ‘Why?’
Alissa lifted her chin to meet him stare for stare. ‘Because my sister is ill. Her only hope is a radical new treatment in the U.S. Without it she’ll die.’ She breathed deep. ‘It costs a fortune. Money Donna and her husband don’t have. Money I could only get by marrying you.’
The world tilted and spun crazily off its axis as he met her unwavering gaze.
It couldn’t be. And yet...it would be easy enough to check. She must know that.
Dario’s lungs laboured. His chest constricted under the impact of an invisible blow that shoved him back against one mirrored wall, leaving him stunned.
Could the investigators have missed something so crucial? He’d employed the best. But perhaps the best hadn’t been enough. He should have used his personal staff.
He met her unflinching gaze, read the shock in her face, the horror in her eyes. His certainty cracked.
It was possible.
A yawning chasm ripped open inside him as the implications struck home.
Che diavolo ha fatto? What the devil had he done?
* * *
‘Tell me.’ His voice was strained and his features set in a mask that hid his emotions. Only his searing eyes hinted he felt anything at her news.
Alissa told herself she didn’t care what he thought. All she cared about was saving Donna. If she concentrated on that she could ignore the crazy yearning for the comfort of his strong arms about her. Tremors of fatigue and reaction ran through her and she slumped into a chair.
‘Tell me.’ The words were stronger now. He planted his feet wide. He’d dropped the T-shirt and stood bare-chested, his hair all dark, tousled locks, his arms at his sides.
She couldn’t stop a thrill of appreciation at his male perfection. She hated herself for it.
‘There’s nothing to tell.’ She lowered her gaze. Even his feet, strong and sinewy, reminded her of how she’d abandoned care and duty and given herself to pleasure in his embrace. Self-disgust was bitter as aloes in her mouth. ‘The specialists in Australia can’t help and our health system won’t fund her treatment overseas.’ She fisted her hands in the cotton at her breast.
‘When did this happen?’
‘We got the news a couple of months ago.’
Alissa saw emotion flicker in his eyes. Did he believe now that she’d only gone through with a marriage for Donna’s sake? That, after refusing to marry him when her grandfather was alive and then again immediately after the old man’s death, this was why she’d agreed? She bit her lip. She shouldn’t care what he believed.
‘You didn’t ask me for money then.’
‘Ask you?’ Fury surged. ‘Why would you help? From the first you made it clear you hated me because of my grandfather’s plans for us to marry.’ She sucked in oxygen, trying to calm her racing pulse as she remembered the contempt in Dario’s eyes, the mocking chill in his tone. ‘I had everything planned with Jason until you stormed in breathing fire and brimstone and wrecked everything.’
‘You could have told me.’ His voice was low.
‘As if that was likely!’ She fixed him with a glare. ‘You gave the impression you’d revel in our misfortunes.’
‘You believed I’d ignore the fact that your sister was dying?’ His jaw hardened. ‘That I’d stoop so low?’
‘What? Lower than forcing me into bed when we hate each other?’ Her voice broke and she looked away, wrapping her arms tight round her torso. She lashed out at Dario but it was she who felt guilty. She who’d let herself wallow in pleasure when she should have withstood his seduction. She who’d forgotten her responsibility to her sister.
‘You thought I’d let her die. That I would negotiate such a bargain knowing all the circumstances.’ His voice held a strangely distant note that made her turn.
What she saw made her suck in a stunned breath. A stranger looked back, eyes devoid of life, lines etched deep around his mouth. An unnatural pallor greyed his skin.
‘Dario?’ Shock held her r
igid. He looked as if he’d been dealt a fatal blow, sheer willpower keeping him on his feet. She’d been so ready to believe the absolute worst of him last night. It seemed now she’d been wrong.
Regret streaked through her. Could she have convinced him of the truth last night? He’d been implacable. But then she’d been so ready to judge him badly. She’d let her prejudices blind her. She’d judged him her grandfather’s equal, reviving old fears and mistrust.
She opened her mouth to speak when he forestalled her.
‘What’s wrong with your sister? Was it an accident?’
‘No, nothing like that. Donna has liver damage and other complications. It’s a result of...problems. She went off the rails for a while.’
‘Define “off the rails”.’ His gaze narrowed.
Alissa stared at one mirrored wall, seeing Dario, tall and imposing, and herself, huddled in a swathe of white.
‘Drink. Guys. Drugs.’ After a lifetime of obedience to their grandfather, Donna, the quiet one, had finally rebelled in spectacular fashion. Alissa hadn’t been able to stop her. Familiar guilt scorched her conscience. It was as if Donna had sought the quickest way to destroy herself: sex and drugs at seventeen, rehab at eighteen. Married and dying at barely twenty.
A deathly chill ran up Alissa’s spine.
‘She was under age at the time. Yes?’
Alissa turned to find Dario watching her, something like understanding in his eyes. ‘How did you know?’
‘The investigator got some of it right.’
‘I worked two jobs, making ends meet after we left home. Donna was old enough to live with me, but not old enough for clubbing.’ But that hadn’t stopped her. ‘I didn’t realise she’d used my ID to get into nightclubs and bars until it was too late.’
‘That explains it. She was mistaken for you. Her behaviour, the drugs, the men...it was her, using your ID, pretending to be you.’ His expression was grim as he held her gaze till she assented.
‘And the night of the drug bust?’
Alissa couldn’t look away. That invisible connection she’d imagined last night was back, drawing her into his power. ‘I went looking for her.’