Blackmailed Bride, Inexperienced Wife

by Annie West

  He hadn’t told her his plan to marry. His current housekeeper must have spilled the news so instead of arriving to see his new wife installed in an apartment of her own he’d been faced with Caterina’s joyful excitement. She’d even made up a marriage bed with linens inherited from her grandmother.

  He tunnelled a hand through his hair. Going through the farce of carrying his bride over the threshold had been easier than telling Caterina the truth.

  She’d been at him so long to find a ‘nice girl’ and settle down. He hadn’t had the heart to explain that this was all about business, property and a decades-old feud.

  Now he’d have to. He squared his shoulders and strode out of the room. He ignored the small voice that warned his life, his foolproof plan to get everything he wanted, had suddenly become dangerously complicated.

  It was the middle of the night when Alissa woke on the sofa in Dario’s bedroom. She must have nodded off waiting for him to return. Jet lag and stress had exhausted her, yet she could scarcely believe she’d slept.

  A blanket covered her and she was dressed but for her shoes. She darted a look at the massive bed.

  It was empty. Her heartbeat notched up a pace when she saw it had been slept in. Where was he now? She sat up.

  That was when she noticed the deep murmur. Not the sound of the sea—the roll of incoming waves was slower and more distant. She stared into the silver-grey moonlight, realising it was Dario she heard, his voice husky, rich and deeply male. It tingled across her senses like the prickle of approaching lightning, making her skin contract.

  Alissa squirmed. She was too aware of the big, bothersome Sicilian. She tried to convince herself anxiety tensed her muscles but her restlessness had more to do with feminine awareness. It had been like that from the moment she met those clear-as-crystal eyes and felt a jolt like a fast-dropping elevator in the pit of her stomach.

  If she could concentrate on Dario Parisi as her enemy she could fight him. But as she finally spied him, almost naked on the balcony, her determination to do just that slipped from her mind.

  The moon revealed a sleek body of honed muscle, broad shoulders and long, taut limbs. Her breath stopped then escaped on a whoosh of desperation.

  How did she fight the devil when he had the body of an angel?

  He paced, talking into his phone. Each powerful stride revealed leashed energy and supreme fitness, as if he were an athlete impatient for his event. Even the shadow of dark boxer shorts low on his hips promoted the fantasy.

  She caught one word, ‘Maria’, as he turned near the open glass door. His girlfriend? Was that why he was impatient? He was stuck here with a wife he didn’t want when perhaps he’d rather be with Maria, working off some of that sizzling animal energy.

  Alissa swung her legs to the ground, shoving aside the blanket and leaning her elbows on her knees. Nausea hit her at the idea of Dario and another woman.

  It couldn’t be jealousy. That was absurd. She didn’t even like him. She wasn’t attracted to that…master manipulator. The man who’d shown no compunction and every sign of chilly contempt as he bent her to his will.

  ‘Ah, you’re awake. My apologies if I disturbed you.’

  He stood before her, legs planted wide and hands on hips in a stance that was purely male and appallingly attractive. The fact that he wore nothing but a pair of silky boxers and an enigmatic smile obviously didn’t concern him in the slightest.

  He was so supremely self-confident.

  Every cell of her body clamoured to alert. Not with fear but with something far more dangerous.

  Alissa jerked her gaze to his gleaming eyes, pretending she hadn’t just imprinted a stunning picture of raw male beauty onto the dazzled lenses of her eyes.

  She refused to be attracted to him. No matter what her body thought. Her mind was stronger.

  Surely it was stronger.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Her voice, high and breathless, sounded like a stranger’s.

  ‘Why disturb you when you were comfortable?’ His tone had a satisfied, unsettling edge.

  ‘Don’t play games, Dario.’ She paused, astonished at the shot of pleasure that speared her at the sound of his name on her tongue. The enveloping darkness had altered the atmosphere between them. The very air felt charged. ‘I didn’t want to sleep here.’

  He lifted his shoulders and, despite herself, Alissa was enthralled by the ripple of muscle and sinew on his lean, hard body. Moonlight lovingly silvered each taut curve and plane.

  ‘As you fell asleep and refused to rouse, I assumed you weren’t serious.’

  ‘You tried to wake me?’ Her mouth dried at the thought of those long fingers touching her while she slept. A tickle of sensation feathered her waist, her hip, as if in response to the light brush of a hand.

  Was it possible he desired her? Had he wanted her awake to consummate their marriage? Anxiety and outrage flared. And a thrilling undercurrent she preferred to ignore.

  He stepped close and her fingers curled into the sofa’s fine leather. His gaze pierced her, as if he saw the weakness weighting her bones. She strove to look away, horrified at the drift of her thoughts. The tang of the sea on the breeze tickled her nostrils and the scent of warm skin mingled with it. She tugged the blanket over her knees, wishing for a more substantial barrier.

  ‘You seem very much at home in my bedroom.’ His voice was deeper than ever. A deliberate taunt. Alissa’s eyes flickered to the wide bed. Even in this light she could make out a scattering of rose petals.

  The marriage bed they were supposed to share.

  The thought was unnerving. A traitorous part of her wondered how it would be sharing that space with this man—fit, strong and no doubt practised in every sensual skill.

  Madness!

  Yet she recalled the dreamy look on her mother’s face years ago when she’d described meeting Alissa’s father. Like a bolt of lightning, she’d said. So strong she hadn’t hesitated to marry him weeks after they’d met.

  Instant attraction was appallingly dangerous. Her mother hadn’t known what sort of man he really was. That he’d dump her just after the birth of their second child.

  Alissa had more sense than to fall in love, especially with someone like Dario. But here in the warm night, where she felt the caress of his breath on her face, she wondered if women in her family had a predisposition to instant, all-consuming lust. To attraction that drove out logic.

  Had that happened to her mother? Had Alissa inherited a terrible weakness for the wrong man?

  No! It was a midnight fantasy, fuelled by anxiety. In the morning she’d feel nothing. She lifted her head and met the glitter of his eyes head-on.

  ‘Don’t get carried away by your ego, Signor Parisi. I was jetlagged, that’s all.’ She busied herself, holding her breath while she folded the blanket. ‘You can show me to my room now.’

  He said nothing, just stood, arms akimbo, watching her. His eyes waited to trap her as she looked up. Once more she felt the shock of awareness shudder through her.

  ‘I’ll make a deal with you.’ His voice was low and even. No sign that he felt anything except impatience. ‘If you can live quietly for six months with no embarrassing scenes, no attempts to score points in front of others, I’ll ensure you’re comfortable till we inherit and divorce. You’ll have the freedom of the estate and the local towns. I’ll even provide a driver for you.’

  Alissa stared, wishing the lights were on so she could fathom his expression.

  ‘Why should you do that?’

  He raised his shoulders and spread his hands palm upwards in a gesture that was pure Sicilian.

  ‘A truce is easier for both of us.’

  ‘What do you get out of it?’ He wasn’t obliged to provide anything but the roof over her head. After her grandfather’s mean ways and a taste of Dario’s dislike, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d charged her board.

  ‘Contrary to what you think, you’re not my top priority.’ His voic
e dipped into sarcasm. ‘I have major commercial projects underway, more important things on my mind than continually sparring with a Mangano.’

  ‘I’m not a—’

  ‘No, how could I have forgotten?’ The soft chill of his words stopped her. ‘You’re a Parisi now.’

  It was true. For the next six months she was no longer Alissa Scott. The realisation unnerved her. As if in acquiring his name she’d somehow mislaid something of herself. Something vital.

  ‘I’ll never be a Parisi,’ she said in a rush. ‘I’m a wife on paper only, not your possession.’

  Her fingers clenched. She’d had enough of men shoving her into moulds of their making, treating her as a chattel to be bartered and negotiated over, like a lifeless piece of property. His stare grazed her but she didn’t look away.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said at last. His husky voice rasped across her nerves. ‘You’ll never be a Parisi.’

  Odd how his dismissal jarred. As if she cared what he thought, cared whether he believed her good enough to grace his oh-so-special family tree.

  ‘But meanwhile you are my temporary wife. Why not accept my hospitality graciously? All I ask is that you behave with propriety.’

  ‘Propriety?’ Lava-hot anger coursed through her blood. She shot to her feet and paced away from him, needing an outlet for her simmering temper. ‘What? No wild parties, you mean? No drugs?’ She swung round to glare at him from the other end of the room. ‘Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll contaminate the illustrious Parisi name?’

  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.