by Kat Walters
With a resigned sigh, she reached for an apricot-colored dress. She remembered trying it on for Francesca her first day in Rome. Was that only a week ago? She had liked it then. Today it made her feel cheap and…angry. Why did everything have to come down to deals and negotiations? Why couldn't she sleep with Alessandro without this whole performance? She didn't want anything else from him. She wanted sex. He wanted sex. It could have been that simple, but instead, he had turned their attraction into a negotiation. He certainly wasn't the sort of man she would ever consider marrying. But of course, he would never believe that. The stupid, arrogant man thought every woman he met wanted to trap him into marriage.
In frustration, she nearly ripped the soft fabric as she tugged the dress over her head. She forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. Why am I so angry? Oh yes! Alessandro is paying me to have sex with him. No. He's paying me to go away after I've had sex with him. She growled in frustration and tugged the dress into place. You've got yourself into this mess, Izzy.
Isabella sighed again and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "You can leave anytime." She told herself. "You don't need his money."
No. She didn't. She had survived this long without Alessandro. She stared hard at her reflection. Isabella hardly recognized the face staring back at her. She was different, already. Alessandro was changing her. Did she want to leave? She didn't really need to ask the question. Isabella knew she wasn't going. Every day this week, she had resolved to call off their deal but as soon as she stepped into his office and saw him, her resolve melted away. She wanted him. It was that simple. She would regret it if she walked away now.
Isabella didn't know much about men and sex, but she knew that what she felt for Alessandro was unusual. Unusual enough to have her standing here in this villa in Sardinia about to sleep with a man she hardly knew. She certainly didn't love him. Isabella couldn't even say for sure that she liked him all that much. She closed her eyes and forced herself away from the mirror. Enough thinking, Izzy. You wanted this experience, so get to it. You can't hide in your room all night.
Despite her mixed feelings about the dress, she liked the feel of the silk against her skin. It loosely hugged her body falling to mid-thigh. She paired it with white sandals and tied her hair up in a ponytail. A critical look in the mirror surprised her. She looked… okay. Not stunning, but pretty. The color suited her, and the dress gave the impression she actually had curves. A light touch of make-up, and she was ready.
This was a holiday town; surely there was no need to dress up too much? At least she hoped not, but doubts assailed her, and this only made her mad again. She strode over to the door before she let her doubts control her. She was not going to stand here second-guessing herself, changing her clothes ten times in an attempt to find the perfect outfit for Alessandro. No. If he didn't like what she was wearing…then he would just have to take it off her. She grinned then, at last finding some humor in the situation. She would not be that little mouse he thought she was. She would not hide in her room, cowering and waiting for him to summon her.
Her room.
That had been a surprise. A relief if Isabella was honest. The housekeeper had shown her this room, informing her that Alessandro would join her in the evening. That had been a relief too. She knew he was here now, though. She had heard the helicopter's arrival just over an hour ago and had deliberately stayed in her room to avoid him for as long as possible.
Isabella took a tentative step along the passage, listening for any sound of Alessandro. Stop it, she berated herself. No wonder Henry calls you a mouse. Head up, shoulders back. You can do this, Izzy. Her legs felt unsteady, and she held tight to the handrail as she walked down the stairs. The last thing she needed now was to fall flat on her face in front of him. As her feet reached the bottom step, she risked a glance up. No sign of Alessandro. Isabella breathed a sigh of relief and hurried outside to the terrace.
Alessandro watched Isabella's bowed head as she descended the steps. He noticed her vice-like grip on the railing and the way her eyes skittered around the living room before she rushed outside. Isabella was terrified of him. This thought should have amused him, but it didn't. He was used to women fawning over him, eager to please, willing to do anything to be with him. Alessandro frowned, rubbing his chin in distraction. Why was he doing this? Why was he forcing Isabella to sleep with him?
Forcing? His thoughts went back to the kiss in his study, he remembered how she clung to him. Isabella wanted him as much as he wanted her. It didn't feel like a want. It felt more like a need. His feelings for Isabella were a craving from deep inside. He couldn't find any other way to explain it. And her feelings? Isabella wanted this, but she was scared of it too.
Alessandro pushed a hand through his hair and sighed irritably. He had bullied Isabella into this arrangement. He had let her believe he would stop paying Childsworth if she didn't agree to sleep with him. She was not to know that the costs for Anna's rehabilitation had already been paid in full. Alessandro rubbed at his chest. This sharp pain he had been feeling all day, it was guilt he realized with sudden clarity. Guilt. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Isabella wanted this as much as he did. She wouldn't regret her decision. He would make sure of that. With a decisive nod, he stood and moved towards the door Isabella had fled through just moments before.
She stood on the edge of the patio with her back to him, but even from behind, he could tell she was anxious. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her shoulders were tight. A flash of irritation passed through him. She must have heard him, for he saw her back straighten. Alessandro would have thought it impossible, but she stiffened even more as he took a step closer. She's wound so tight I could snap her in two, he thought grimly.
"Come." Alessandro didn't bother going any closer and turned without saying more. He heard her follow him but her steps were hesitant. She was so reluctant anger flared inside his chest.
"Move faster, little mouse. We don't have all night."
Her footsteps stopped, and he turned impatiently, but the look in her eyes stilled him.
"My name is Isabella."
It was a warning even he couldn't miss. Her eyes were as hard as flint, and he stared at her wordlessly. The silence lengthened became something hotter and more intense. Alessandro felt the shift between them, and just like that, his anger was gone. He gave a bark of laughter.
"Better. I prefer you spitting and hissing at me. No more scampering behind me trying to hide." Alessandro reached for her hand and pulled her close. "Here. You walk next to me from now on." Isabella averted her face, but he had seen the confusion in her eyes. He laced his fingers through hers and brought them up to his mouth, touching them to his lips. "Come on, Isabella, you can hate me if you want. I won't be offended."
He was goading her, and predictably she looked up. She glared at him, her eyes narrowing. Whatever Isabella saw in his gaze, though, stilled her, and he watched the anger seep out of her. She was strong…in her own quiet way. Strong on the inside, he thought reflectively. She might cower a little, avoid him if she could, but underneath it all…when it really mattered…she was strong. This thought haunted him. He didn't want to understand this woman. He didn't want to understand her or know her. He wanted to take her to his bed. Nothing more. Was their relationship too tangled and intense for casual sex? Is that what scared him?
Moving quickly before he had a chance to think about it or she had a chance to react, Alessandro reached behind Isabella's head and pulled her hair free. He watched it fall about her shoulders and laughed at the disdainful look she cast him. Laughed because as cool and angry as she was trying to appear, he had seen the heat in her eyes. It was a heat he had been missing all day.
Chapter 5
The restaurant surprised her. It was small and rustic, the décor unchanged possibly for thirty years. It was tucked away along a narrow lane beside the harbor. No signs or boards advertised its presence, and she threw Alessandro a dubious look as he led h
er through the entrance.
"Don't let the look of the place deceive you. You won't find better seafood in all of Sardinia." His mouth quirked into a wry smile. "Possibly all of Italy, but don't tell Luca I said that."
It was such a normal conversation that for a moment, Isabella floundered. She didn't know how to do normal with this man. Alessandro knew his way around the restaurant and led her to a table in the back. He was holding out a chair for her when Isabella heard loud cursing. Jumping in fright, she spun around as the owner approached them. Isabella cringed, glancing quickly at Alessandro, who…was laughing, a broad smile spreading across his face.
"I don't see you for two years, and then you sneak into my restaurant like a stranger." Still cursing, the man pulled Alessandro into a warm embrace. "If my Ava were still alive, she would…it is no matter. You are here now." He cupped Alessandro's cheeks warmly between his hands.
Isabella squeezed her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. The ruthless tycoon Alessandro DeLaurentis! If the paparazzi could see him now, she thought to herself. Isabella was so busy watching Alessandro she missed the moment she became the center of attention and squealed as she was hauled into an embrace.
"I must thank you, I think, for Alessandro being here tonight."
Isabella blushed and tried to think of something to say.
"Gino, this is Isabella."
"Bellissima." Gino declared, kissing her two cheeks. "I will bring you some wine." He announced with hands in the air and strode off without another word.
Alessandro pointed at her seat, "please," and she slipped into her chair, discreetly touching a hand to her face. She could feel the heat on her cheeks and knew she must be blushing. Alessandro slid into the seat opposite her.
"Gino is an old friend," was all the explanation he offered before they were interrupted again. This time by a young girl, her chocolate-colored hair tied in two plaits. She arrived with their wine and a shy smile for Alessandro. He chatted easily, asking her about school and teasing her about boyfriends while she blushed and ducked her head. "Gino's granddaughter," Alessandro said once she was gone.
Isabella reached for her glass, her hand felt unsteady, and she took a small sip hoping the wine would fortify her. She didn't like the direction her thoughts were taking. She didn't want to like this man. Not if she had to give him up in a week.
"Why the frown, Isabella?" Alessandro asked quietly, those dark eyes watching her closely. She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass, avoiding his gaze.
"Your brother is a chef?" She asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. Luca is an outstanding chef."
Isabella heard the pride in his voice and almost smiled. "He hates me," she said without an ounce of self-pity.
"He doesn't know you."
She sighed, "and you, Alessandro, do you hate me?"
"I want you."
"Yes." But that doesn't mean you don't hate me. "Is your brother on television? He looked familiar."
Alessandro nodded, and it was amazing to see how his expression softened when he was thinking of his brother. "He is something of a celebrity." His voice tinged now more with amusement than pride.
Her mother had been something of a celebrity. Isabella was lost in thought for a moment but, glancing up, found Alessandro watching her again.
"Was your mother Italian?" Alessandro had an uncanny ability to read her mind. It unnerved her. Isabella hardly ever spoke about her mother, and she didn't want to do so now but...
"Yes."
"That is the reason you speak Italian?"
She nodded.
"You are fluent?"
Isabella couldn't help her smile but quickly pressed her lips together to try and hide it.
"That's a yes then?"
"Should I apologize?"
Alessandro chuckled and then shrugged. "I deserve that, I suppose." He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip of his wine. "It's my own fault for not finding out more about you. Did you hear anything worth reporting back to Henry?"
The smile slipped from her face. Henry. Why did it always come back to that?
"I was born in Rome." Isabella wanted him to understand. "I was ten when I moved to London."
"What happened to your mother?"
"Leukaemia." Isabella smiled bitterly. "Henry sent his secretary to fetch me after the funeral, and it was about three months later that I met him… for the first time. We were never what you would call close." Isabella took a sip of her wine before looking at him. "So, to answer your question – no, I didn't learn anything interesting that I thought worth passing onto Henry." Her eyes skittered away as she felt him go still. The silence stretched on, became uncomfortable, she looked up. Alessandro's expression was dark. Forbidding. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were staring past her, unseeing. Isabella nibbled nervously on her lip. She should never have said anything about Henry.
"This week is the anniversary of my father's death. Luca is angry because I am spending this time with you. It is not you he hates."
Isabella shrugged. "Henry has made a lot of enemies. Believe me, I am used to it."
"Regardless, you are not Luca's enemy. He does know this."
Isabella sighed, fiddled again with her wine glass. "Do we have to do this?"
"Talk?"
She shrugged.
"You would prefer it if we remained in bed for the week with no conversation?"
"That's all this is."
"You want more?" Alessandro was frowning at her suspiciously.
"No," Isabella responded quickly, vehemently. "Next week, this ends," she said emphatically, her chin tilting up. "You don't need to know my sad stories. I don't need to know yours." Isabella's chest rose and fell with a panic she hadn't known she was feeling until this moment. She pressed a hand to her chest and rubbed it. It was tight, and she felt breathless, stricken. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and block out the look on Alessandro's face. She felt a desperate moment of wanting to snatch back her words. It was too late. Already, he was cool, that sardonic gaze cutting her apart. Isabella forced herself to meet his gaze, daring him to argue with her. To tell her that he really did want to know her, that he cared… even a little bit.
Alessandro didn't tell her that. He stood abruptly, tossed a wad of bills down on the table, and, reaching for her hand, pulled her to her feet.
“Alessandro. Our food. Gino.”
Alessandro didn't listen, and he didn't let go of her hand. He pulled her tight against him with a strong arm around her waist. She was hurried from the restaurant to the sound of Gino's laughter. Blushing furiously, she was aware of Alessandro saying something to Gino, but the blood was pounding in her ears, and panic made her regret ever goading him. She couldn't look at him. Refused to look at him. Not that he gave her a chance.
Holding open the car's passenger door, he waited while she folded herself into the plush leather seat. The drive back to the villa was conducted in silence. Sneaking a glance at him, Isabella noticed a frown creasing his brow and bit nervously on her bottom lip. Why had she said all that stuff back in the restaurant? Because you're scared, Izzy. Isabella was used to Alessandro looking good, but the sight of him sitting opposite her in worn jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the nape of his neck where he left it a little long… the way he smiled, that husky chuckle that made her toes curl. It was all too much.
The sports car pulled to a stop outside the villa. She got out slowly and followed him inside. The front door slammed shut, and she jumped. Every nerve in her body felt on edge, and she felt him… She could feel him. His heat, his frustration, his desire, and yes, his anger. When she hung back, Alessandro reached for her hand and pulled her up the stairs. She tried to tug her hand free, but he only tightened his hold.
"This is what you want, Isabella."
She didn't dare argue with him. He looked stern as he led her down the passage towards his bedroom. His profile was
stern, his jaw clenched. Her heart was beating erratically inside her chest, but she wasn't afraid. No. It wasn't fear. Isabella didn't know this feeling. It was something more than anticipation. It almost felt like an inevitability, but that was too much for her to consider at this moment. Inevitable. Their coming together was inevitable.
At the entrance to his bedroom, Alessandro dropped her hand. He strode across the room and switched on one of the bedside lamps, then he turned and watched her and waited. A soft glow illuminated the large king-size bed, and her breath caught again. This was real. All she had to do was take one step, and she would be inside Alessandro DeLaurentis' bedroom. Isabella hovered in the doorway, though, stealing a quick glance around the room.
Alessandro didn't say a word, and he didn't move as he watched her examining the room. She didn't know why she was looking at everything in the room when the only thing she wanted was the man standing on the other side of that bed. She still took the time to look, though, it felt necessary. She needed to remember everything about this night. Isabella took a steadying breath and exhaled slowly. She noticed the wooden floors and the soft cream rug thrown across the floorboards at the end of the bed. The bedspread was white, as were the walls. The only decorative item in the room was an ordinary glass jar filled with pebbles. The type of pebbles you might find on a beach. Her gaze lingered on it where it sat beside the bed.
"I thought this was what you wanted, Isabella. This week is all about sex so let's have sex." His voice was rougher than she had ever heard it, and she blinked, her eyes focussing on him. Isabella noticed he was breathing harder than before, and her heart picked up pace despite his cool words. It was beating so loudly she was sure he must hear it.