His For The Taking

by Kat Walters

  His For The Taking

  Loving The Enemy Series Book 1

  Kat Walters

  Waterfall Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 Kathleen Waterfall

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 9781838484927

  Cover Design by James

  www.goonwrite.com

  Thank you

  Paul, for your unwavering support.

  Sofie and Luke, my life is so much richer with you in it.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About The Author

  Books In This Series

  Chapter 1

  Alessandro swore quietly as he scanned the email. He was needed in Rome. A swift glance at his watch told him it was nine o'clock. He was expected in the office in the next hour, and a day of back-to-back meetings meant that he wouldn't be able to leave until later in the afternoon. He swore again and reached for his phone. The door to his office flew open, and his head shot up. No one interrupted him while he was working.

  "Miss Sullivan. I am on a call." He managed to hold onto his temper, just.

  "Where is she?" She stormed towards him. She didn't know him well enough to recognize the leashed anger in his voice. Either that or she didn't care. She was wearing another one of her hideous boxy suits, navy this time, hair scraped back from her face making her look severe and older than her twenty-four years. She was angry, her chest rising and falling as she prepared to unleash hell for whatever it was she was sure he'd done. While there was a part of his brain that was curious, another part just didn't care. The second part won, and besides, he'd be damned if he let anyone talk to him like that. A cold, chilling smile slid onto his face, and any other member of his staff would have uttered a quick apology and backed quietly out of the room at once. She wasn't a member of his team, though, and she wasn't wise enough to know better. Glaring at him, she opened her mouth, but he beat her to it.

  "As I told your father. One for the office. One for the bedroom." He paused long enough for his words to sink in before adding softly, "You chose the office."

  He waited for the explosion. He was even looking forward to seeing her out of control, cheeks flushed, eyes spitting fire at him as they had yesterday. It didn't happen, though. The blood drained from her face, and she clutched at the corner of his desk as though she might fall over.

  "She's a child. Only seventeen." Her voice trembled as she whispered these words. Alessandro glanced at Miss Sullivan's bowed head, his eyes falling lower to where her hands gripped his desk. She was holding on so tight her knuckles had turned white. The cold mask slid from his face, and he frowned in consternation. Was her reaction genuine?

  Her sister may only be seventeen, but Anna was no blushing virgin. Alessandro read the papers. He'd seen the headlines. All of them. The devil in him pushed a bit more. This woman had wriggled her way into his life with this crazy plan of hers. The least she could do was be honest about her sister. Watching her closely, Alessandro added.

  "Seventeen is legal."

  Although he'd spoken quietly, his words sounded loud in the office. She didn't utter a word. Not one. She was still, barely breathing and deathly pale. Her arms trembled as they held tight to the desk.

  "What have you done?" It was an agonized whisper.

  Miss Sullivan looked like she was about to faint. Her head moved slightly, twitched, as if she was trying to shake it or shake an image from her mind maybe. She still had her head bowed, though, as if she couldn't even look at him now. Alessandro noticed her sway unsteadily on her feet, but he was out of his seat and beside her before anything more dramatic than a sigh could happen. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, ensuring that she remained upright. This snapped her out of her malaise, and her two hands found their way to his chest, and she gave him a surprisingly strong shove. Swearing quietly, he placed his two large hands on her waist and held her at arm's length, peering into her face. She fought back, arms flailing, trying to get away from him until he wrapped his bigger arms around her, pinioning her arms to her side in a steel grip. Holding her against him, he lifted her bodily into the nearest seat and dumped her there.

  "Stay there." He growled, more concerned now than he would have her know. Hysterical women were really not his type. Even as he thought this, he couldn't stop his body from remembering how his hands had felt wrapped around her waist. Her surprisingly tiny waist. Her body, held against his, smelt of apricots and sunshine. How was it possible to smell of sunshine? Reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the drinks’ cabinet, he poured a small measure and turned back to her.

  "Drink this."

  “I don't want-"

  "Drink it before I pour it down your throat for you."

  Wisely, she took the drink without further argument. Alessandro frowned to disguise his concern. She looked as pale as her sister had earlier that morning before she left for the institute. Alessandro watched Miss Sullivan take a small sip. He leaned against his desk, his gaze narrowing on her. She winced as she drank, and Alessandro had to hide his smile behind a frown. Colour flooded back into her cheeks, but he could see her hands were still shaking as they clutched the glass tumbler.

  Miss Sullivan was in shock, and it was genuine. This wasn't a game to her. He frowned as he realized this and moved away, retreated to his seat behind the desk. He needed a barrier between them before he did anything foolish, like try to hold her again.

  "Your sister left for Childsworth this morning."

  Her eyes flew to his, but she hesitated as though unsure whether to believe him or not. Had Miss Sullivan really thought he would take a child into his bed? Alessandro had only meant to goad her, never considering for a minute that she would take him seriously. Is that what she really thought of him?

  She pressed her lips tightly together as though stopping the words that rested on her tongue. What had she been about to say? Before he could ask, she dropped her head, preventing him from seeing her face. He watched her bowed head, the way she sat, that innate grace he had come to realize was such an integral part of her. All he could see of her face now was the golden softness of her cheek. His fingers itched to cup that cheek, to stroke it, brush his lips against it, kiss away the tears he knew were brimming now behind her eyelids. She had the most expressive eyes of any woman he'd ever met.

  "I would like to speak with her."

  Her cold words clamped down on his wayward thoughts.

  "Don't you trust me?" He asked, baiting her, wanting her to look up at him. He needed to know that she was feeling better. Predictably, she did look up, her eyes flared defiantly. Alessandro did not hide his amusement. He knew it would incense her further. Alessandro wanted her angry. He wanted her fighting with him. Her anger he could handle, her tears… made him want to do things he had no business even thinking about.

  "She is my sister. I am responsible for her."

  "I would have thought she was your father's responsibility." He said coolly, still probing, still trying to understand this woman he had saddled himself with for the next two months. What had he been thinking? Then he remembered the look of rage on Henry's face when he heard the news. Revenge. It had been sweet, more satisfying than he had believed possible. Distracted by the continuing silence from the woman sitting across from him, he raised one mock
ing eyebrow.

  "Anna is Henry's daughter. Not yours." But even as he said the words, he got the uncomfortable feeling that it was Henry himself she was protecting Anna from. Her eyes turned a deeper shade of green, intense and angry. For a second, he thought she might answer, but then her eyes dropped to her lap, her long lashes shielding her eyes from his curiosity.

  "What would you like me to do today?"

  Alessandro's eyes narrowed, thrown by her question. What did he want from her? He felt a stirring in his groin, knew what his body wanted from her.

  "Nothing for now. I'm going to the office." He said, adding an extra layer of ice to his voice. He couldn't soften towards this woman. She was Henry Sullivan's daughter. "Use the phone in your room to call your sister," he said dismissively, already turning back to his laptop. He kept his eyes firmly on the screen as she rose, heard the clunk of the whiskey glass as she placed it on his desk, her quiet steps as she retreated. He stopped her before she reached the door.

  "I'm needed in Rome. The car will be here at four. Be ready."

  He heard the hesitation but stubbornly refused to look up. A moment later, she continued out the door closing it quietly behind her. He gave up all pretense of work and found himself staring at the closed door, almost willing her to come back and fight with him some more.

  He could not let this woman get to him.

  Henry Sullivan's daughter. Don't ever forget that. Blood is thicker than water. But she had come to him… Why did she hate her father so much? Maybe she didn't. She loved her sister; that much was clear. Henry still had his house in Mayfair and his silver jag. The car would have more than covered the fees for Childsworth. Was driving a jag more important than his daughter's recovery? Alessandro's frown deepened, he'd bet his company that she'd asked Henry to sell the car, and he'd refused. What kind of father refused to help his own child? He hadn't spent more than ten minutes in the girl's company, and even he could see how fragile Anna was.

  Alessandro leaned back in his chair, still watching the door, waiting.

  For what?

  With an impatient sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his face, rose to his feet. Damn this woman, she had taken up enough of his morning!

  The mouse? He paused in the act of slipping on his jacket. Not once had Henry used his daughter's name in their brief exchange. The mouse, that was what he had called her, and Alessandro had the feeling it wasn't an affectionate nickname either. Certainly, there had been no display of affection between them. But why would there be? Henry had just learned his daughter was leaving with the man he hated most in the world.

  Alessandro didn't like the guilt that sliced through him. Henry had practically thrown her out, told her she would never be welcome in his house again. Alessandro had his revenge. Anna had her place at Childsworth.

  What did Miss Sullivan get out of all this? Henry had disowned her, and the worst part? She hadn't so much as blinked as Henry ranted. She had held herself as still and graceful as she always did, saying nothing, only watching Henry as he shouted obscenities at her. When Henry was done, she had turned and walked out the door without a backward glance.

  Damn! He was developing a conscience. That was never part of the plan. She is a grown woman. Twenty-four years old. Old enough to know what she's doing. Old enough to know that if she played with fire, she could get those lovely fingers of hers a little singed.

  The car bumped over the cobbled street, jolting Isabella out of her thoughts. Cars honked, and scooters flashed past them, zipping between the vehicles. Nighttime Rome. Memories flooded her mind leaving her shaky, vulnerable.

  She had spent the first ten years of her life here in Rome until her mother's death. Before Henry and her stepmother and Anna and London and Sullivan Investments… Before any of that, there had been Isabella and her mama and an apartment here in Rome. There had been dancing and gelato and the theatre. Elena Ferrante. Isabella's throat constricted with the thought. It always did when she thought of her mother. She still missed her, every day.

  But at least I know what love is, she thought ruefully, her mind wandering back to her sister. Anna had been three when Isabella joined the family. As beautiful as a toddler as she was now at seventeen, but she had also been sad and lonely. Two selfish parents. Henry too busy working and her mom too busy socializing. Anna's mom died in a skiing accident when Anna was four, and then it really had been just the two of them. Two little girls in a big house with a housekeeper and a gardener for company.

  How did she explain all of this to Alessandro? How did she make him understand that sometimes she felt like Anna was her daughter, not Henry's? Anna with all her insecurities, her constant need for validation, her desperate need for love. Isabella squeezed her eyes shut to keep herself from crying. How do you make a man like Alessandro understand? You don't.

  Anna was safe now. At last, she was getting the help she needed. For years, Isabella had been asking Henry to pay for Anna's therapy. Since Anna was fourteen, since the drinking started… Stop. She's safe. You can relax now. Anna is going to get better. Childsworth is the best rehabilitation program in Europe.

  Isabella felt some of the tension leave her body and even allowed herself a small smile. Anna really was going to be okay this time. "But what about you? Are you going to be okay, Izzy?" Anna had asked her that very question the night before. She didn't even know how to begin to answer it.

  Isabella flicked a quick glance at Alessandro sitting beside her in the back of the car. His profile was severe, his attention fixed squarely on his phone as he returned emails and took one call after another. Anna may be safe, but Isabella felt… she sighed and moved restlessly on the seat. She felt uncomfortable, itching to move, or just itchy, she thought irritably. Alessandro. He made her think… He made her feel, and she didn't like that. She didn't want to feel anything for this man.

  She angled her body away from him, facing the window, edging as close to the door as she could get without actually climbing out of a moving vehicle. It didn't help. Even with the space between them, she could still feel him. His body radiated heat and power. She shifted in her seat, again.

  "Be still," he snapped without looking at her.

  "I can't," she snapped back, regretting it immediately. Alessandro's mouth twitched in irritation, but he didn't say anything else. She didn't want to fight with him. She didn't want to do anything with him. But why couldn't she get him out of her head? She could smell him. His aftershave lingered subtly between them and beneath that a more earthy smell that made her want to lean in closer and inhale deeply.

  The limousine drew to a stop, forcing Isabella out of her thoughts. She sighed in relief. She needed to get out of this car and away. She grimaced. Away? There was no getting away from Alessandro. Not for another eight weeks. Alessandro ended his call, and she waited impatiently for him to open the door. Instead, he swiveled in his seat and pinned her to hers with a single look. He'd ignored her for the entire flight and car trip. She preferred it that way. Isabella would have assumed he'd forgotten she was there, but she could feel his resentment, his tightly reigned in anger. If she was right, he was regretting this deal he had made with her.

  Alessandro's moment face to face with her father had been all he wanted. He had nothing to hold against her. She had seen the satisfaction in his eyes, the cold and cruel smile he had given her father in parting. But what now? Now they had to convince the world that they were a couple. Impossible.

  They didn't need to convince the world, she reminded herself. They only had to persuade Henry.

  Alessandro had now taken everything from her father, business, wealth, and now… his daughter. He would keep her with him for the time agreed. She smirked, but it was more resigned than bitter. Keeping her with him didn't mean he had any intention of being nice to her, though. If today was anything to go by, he had no intention of interacting with her at all. If the tension in the car hadn't been so palpable, she would have laughed out loud. The idea of them as lovers was ludicrous.
Who would believe it? As though Alessandro would ever give her a second look. She bit her lip to stop a giggle from escaping. In normal circumstances, he wouldn't have given her a first look, never mind a second.

  Now she'd forced him to look at her. And he was looking. His eyes narrowed on her, noting every expression that crossed her face.

  "You have found something that amuses you, Miss Sullivan?"

  She shook her head, suddenly tongue-tied. He always did this to her. He was so amazingly beautiful to look at that she lost the power of speech… and thought. He had always been striking, or maybe it was the power of the forbidden that was so attractive to her. He had been her father's enemy for so long. He had fascinated her, and she had devoured all newspaper articles about him when she was a teenager.

  His eyes scanned her face and he gave a nod, clearly dismissing her from his thoughts.

  "Andiamo," was all he said as he turned from her and stepped from the car. Isabella allowed a small sigh to escape her lips and her shoulders slumped in relief. He dismissed her so casually, she wished she could do the same to him. She wanted, for once, to be the one to turn away.

  Isabella had seen the disbelief in Henry's eyes when Alessandro had told him they were lovers. The way his eyes had narrowed on her, hardening. Isabella knew he was trying to work out what Alessandro saw in her. She had even seen the flash of understanding, the bitter twist of his mouth the moment he worked it out. Revenge. The insults had flowed fast after that, but they were nothing Isabella couldn't handle. She'd done what she always did when Henry was in one of his rages. She'd gone quiet and still. Isabella would have left years ago if it wasn't for Anna. She let out a shuddering breath and, despite Alessandro, felt some of the tension leave her body. Her sister was safe now, and Isabella never had to see her father again.