Blackmailed Bride, Inexperienced Wife

by Annie West

  Casually he turned. Their gazes connected and his heart accelerated. He took in her creamy skin, the swell of her breasts beneath the square neck of her black velvet dress. She wore no jewellery, but with her sapphire eyes and fiery hair she needed no adornment. Her dress clung to her curves but was puritanical in its simplicity. Perversely it made him more eager to remove it. Her legs in sheer stockings and high heels were incredibly sexy.

  It took a moment to notice the woman beside her. Bianca Cipriani. Was she dripping poison into Alissa’s ears? Dario was surprised to find he wished the two women hadn’t met. As if he cared for his wife’s good opinion.

  ‘Dario, are you listening?’ His companion pouted. Automatically he apologised, realising he’d barely listened to her chatter. Dario frowned. For months he’d considered her a contender for the position of permanent wife after Alissa left. She was sophisticated yet eager to accord with his wishes. She had breeding, beauty, brains. She wanted children. She was Sicilian. She was perfect for the role.

  And yet…His gaze strayed to Alissa, demurely dressed to kill. His temperature rose and his groin tightened. It annoyed him to find he was more interested in his unwanted wife. He excused himself and went to fetch her.

  She stood alone now. Her eyes were a blaze of colour, lips a plump, perfect invitation, at odds with her rigid posture. Tension stiffened his every muscle and sinew as he approached. Anticipation weighted his limbs, stirred his pulse to a heavy, needy throb.

  Tonight. He’d deal with this tonight, he decided as their eyes locked and fire scorched his blood. He’d spent weeks pretending abstinence could master this unwanted desire. The time for denial had passed.

  He’d do whatever it took to get her out of his system for good.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘SIGNORA PARISI. There was a long-distance call for you. A message to ring your sister.’

  Instantly the low-level anxiety Alissa had lived with for so long rocketed to the surface, morphing into fear. Donna had been fine last night, or so she’d said. Had something changed?

  ‘Thank you.’ She nodded to the housekeeper and hurried towards the stairs.

  ‘Alissa.’ Dario’s voice, low and resonant, made her pause. Even through her worry the sound of his husky, deep tone could stop her in her tracks.

  ‘Yes?’ She turned but didn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t need that challenge.

  ‘We need to talk. When you’ve made your call I’ll be in my study, waiting.’

  Startled, she looked straight at him but couldn’t read his impassive expression. He had the face of a poker player. Of a man who wheeled and dealed in multi-million-dollar enterprises. And yet…there was something about the way he held himself, like a predator waiting to pounce…

  A tremor rippled through her. No! She was being fanciful. Worry over Donna made her imagine things.

  ‘All right.’ She turned and headed for her room, praying with each step that bad news wasn’t waiting.

  Dario poured himself a single malt, and then, in a move unusual for him, another.

  The potent alcohol did nothing to soothe his tension. He was wound too tight, his body burning up with a hunger so rampant he felt like a raw adolescent. Except this attraction was nothing like the spike of physical desire he’d experienced as a callow youth. This was more intense, more disturbing, an omnipresent awareness that hijacked his mind as well as torturing his body.

  It was enough to make him question his judgement. He wanted to believe she was all she seemed, feisty yet sweet, innocent even. Yet he had proof enough of her wild ways, her reckless carnal pleasures. She’d tried to steal his birthright, refusing his generous offers while conniving to wed another. She’d acted as his enemy.

  Frustration and anger hummed through him. These growing doubts weren’t like him.

  He’d had his fill of decadent socialites. Of shallowness and avarice. Yet his gut instinct urged him to believe in her. More, something about her tugged at emotions he’d almost forgotten. That made him vulnerable.

  He burned at the thought of her sharing her favours with other men. He couldn’t repress a surge of jealousy at the memory of her ex-lover, Jason Donnelly. Dario’s yearning made a mockery of his pride and his standards.

  He swallowed the last of his Scotch, barely noticing it burn his throat. He poured himself another, furious that with her alone his formidable control was nonexistent. Just the sound of her voice, a whisper of her scent on the air and his mind blanked. His hands shook as he poured the whisky. Savagely he swore. He would conquer this weakness.

  A breath of air feathered the back of his neck as the study door opened. It couldn’t be reaction to her presence. No woman had that sort of power over him.

  He turned. She stood inside the closed door, silhouetted by lamplight that caressed each dip and swell of her hourglass figure. His throat tightened as need, instantaneous and all-consuming, devoured him.

  God, how he wanted her!

  He’d expected her to flaunt her abundant charms. Instead she’d tortured him in a dress that covered her arms, her shoulders, her thighs. It should have been demure. But, in a devious twist of feminine power, that hint of cleavage and the way the fabric wrapped itself round her like a lover’s caress turned demure into sinfully sexy.

  ‘Dario, we need to talk.’ His jaw tightened. The sound of his name in that breathless voice made him hard.

  ‘Precisely what I had in mind. Drink?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She walked further into the room and he read determination blazing in her eyes. Her posture was rigidly perfect. His wife had something on her mind.

  Something in her set face tripped his internal alarm system. Something not quite right. Instantly he was alert.

  There was nothing warm about her expression. Dario felt his ardour cool as his mind clicked into gear. Part of him loathed the suspicion but it rose with devastating inevitability.

  Would this be the moment she showed her true colours? When she tried to persuade him to alter their agreement? Would she again try milking him for the wealth she’d grown accustomed to and now missed? From the moment she’d signed the prenuptial agreement along with the notice of intention to marry, he’d wondered.

  Something stirred deep in his belly. Disappointment?

  ‘I want to renegotiate our arrangement.’ Her look seemed direct, honest and just a hint wary.

  The stupid, fragile hope that he’d been wrong died instantly, leaving a queer hollowness in its place.

  ‘There’s nothing to renegotiate. When we inherit I’ll organise the divorce and your payment.’

  She stepped closer and he got the full impact of that wide-eyed look. For all his cynicism he melted a little under her soulful gaze. That stirred his resentment. He didn’t take kindly to being played. He’d long ago developed armour against the wiles of avaricious women.

  ‘Something important has come up.’ She drew a slow breath, a predictable feminine ploy but effective. His gaze slid down to her full breasts.

  ‘Really?’ He kept his tone noncommittal.

  ‘Yes.’ She paused, as if hesitant. ‘I need money now. The money from the sale of the castello. So I thought…’

  What? That he’d give it to her? He owed her nothing. To the contrary, she’d grown up with the fortune and opportunities that should have been his. His fingers wrapped tighter round the glass as the old wrath took hold. He’d almost forgotten it these past weeks as he’d let her lull him into half believing he’d got her wrong.

  Had that touching scene on the beach with the girls been window-dressing? Part of an elaborate ploy to allay his suspicions? Women had gone to greater lengths before now to win his attention. Could he have been that gullible?

  No one made a fool of Dario Parisi.

  ‘We could sign an agreement, a contract. I’ll agree to sell you my share of the estate when we inherit and in return you give me my share of its value now.’

  Dario shouldn’t be surprised, yet the sour tang of disappo
intment filled his mouth.

  ‘That’s not possible.’ He downed his whisky. The blaze of heat rocketing down his throat couldn’t rival the flare of anger in his belly. Anger at himself for ever thinking he’d been wrong about her. Fury with her for not being what he’d hoped.

  ‘Of course it’s possible.’ She paced closer and her scent, like an invitation to paradise, filled his senses. ‘Your lawyers could draw up such a document.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you’re right. But what good would it be when there’s no guarantee I’d ever own the estate?’

  ‘I don’t follow you.’ She tilted her head, the picture of innocent confusion.

  ‘It’s simple, moglie mia. Once you have my money, what’s to stop you leaving?’ For a moment an image of Alissa, shackled to his bed, wearing nothing but a beckoning smile, distracted him. Heat twisted in his gut. It would be one way of keeping his wife close. Pity he was supposed to be an enlightened twenty-first-century man.

  ‘You’d have our contract.’

  ‘Much good that would do when you desert me. I can’t claim the estate unless we live together for six months.’

  She spread her hands, palm up. ‘But that wouldn’t change. Don’t you see? I’d stay here. The only difference would be that I’d have my share a little early.’

  ‘A little?’ He tilted a derisory brow. ‘More than a little. Besides, I’d have no guarantee you’d remain.’

  ‘You’d have my word. And a contract.’ She approached and his body stirred.

  ‘Contracts can be broken. So can promises.’ He put his glass down. He had to steel himself against the shudder of need that ripped through him as he looked down at her. Even now, when she tried to squeeze cash out of him, the hunger didn’t abate. What would it take to exorcise this woman?

  ‘But…this is important!’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you think so—’

  ‘It is. Really.’ Her fingers touched his sleeve, then she jerked her hand away as if she too felt the jag of electricity that sparked from the point of contact.

  He’d never known such awareness.

  ‘It’s not for me.’ Her voice was urgent, her eyes pleading. She raised her clasped hands to her breasts and he felt a primitive surge of satisfaction at the picture she made. The beautiful woman poised as a suppliant.

  He wondered how it would be to have her beg him, not for money, but for pleasure. For the release and ecstasy he could give her. Heat steamed off his skin as dangerous excitement scored his soul.

  ‘It’s for someone else.’ She paused and he watched her hands clench tight against her breast. ‘You don’t know about my sister—’

  ‘I do know. I made it my business to know.’ He watched her eyes widen. ‘Donna. Younger and with your colouring. Left school early. Recently married.’

  Her eyes widened. Obviously she hadn’t expected him to be so well acquainted with her circumstances, despite the background check he’d ordered.

  ‘That’s right.’ She licked her lips with a delicate pink tongue and Dario almost groaned. Another blatant tactic, yet he wasn’t immune.

  She baited him, deliberately torturing him in the hope he’d weaken. Her tactics were so obvious they should be amusing. Except they worked. His libido roared into rampant life as he watched her.

  ‘Well, it’s for Donna. She needs money, a lot of it.’

  His raised palm stopped her. He’d been angry before. Now fury hummed through him. She dared use her sister as an excuse for her greed? Only someone like him, who no longer had a family, could appreciate the depths she’d sunk to with this despicable lie.

  She didn’t appreciate what she had. She didn’t deserve it.

  Dario recalled the private investigator’s report. Her precious sister had been found nightclubbing while under age, including the night of Alissa’s drug bust. Now this woman had the temerity to paint herself in the role of caring older sibling! She hadn’t been a decent role model when her teenage sister needed her. Any normal woman would have protected the girl, not led her astray.

  ‘What’s that to do with me?’

  ‘You have money. Plenty of it. And Donna needs this cash desperately.’ Her wide eyes looked so innocent even now he felt a tremor of response. Damn her.

  ‘I know all about her need for money,’ he said slowly, remembering the rest of the investigator’s report. The younger woman had married a cattle farmer in the middle of one of the worst recorded droughts. The bank held an enormous mortgage over their heads. But he knew there was no danger of foreclosure. The drought had broken while he was in Australia. The bank wouldn’t call in debts now there was every sign of a bumper year to come.

  No, Alissa was using this as an excuse.

  ‘You do? You’ve known all this time?’ Eyes dark as the sea met his.

  He nodded. ‘I’ve read a comprehensive dossier on you and your family, remember?’

  She stared silently, her face curiously blank, as if from shock.

  ‘Well, then.’ Her voice trembled a fraction. She really was a talented actress. ‘You understand why I need to get hold of this money as soon as possible.’

  ‘Then by all means find a way to help her. But don’t expect me to give you a handout.’

  Alissa gaped at the man before her. So powerful, so arrogant, so unfeeling. How could he look her in the eye and refuse her request? How could anyone be so inhuman?

  He’d known about Donna’s need for cash all this time! She could barely believe it. Her mind reeled at the thought. Yet Dario’s calm face revealed a horrible truth: he’d known and he hadn’t cared. Any decent man in his position wouldn’t wait to be asked, he’d offer to help straight away.

  Something inside withered at this appalling revelation about the man she’d almost convinced herself she cared for. She’d thought he was different. Thought she’d somehow been wrong about him. What a pathetic fool she’d been, letting herself fall prey to his powerful allure. She should have learned her lesson about heartless men years ago.

  ‘It’s not a handout! It’s only what I’m entitled to. What I’m due to inherit.’

  ‘After we’ve lived as man and wife for six months.’

  Alissa jammed her fists on her hips and glared at him, impotent fury igniting. ‘You’re something else, Dario Parisi. You’re a callous, selfish bastard.’ Pain tore at her, clogging her throat so the words emerged thickly.

  She’d been a naïve innocent. Despite the harsh realities of life with her grandfather she had little experience of dealing with men and none of dealing with anyone like Dario. She’d let his surface charm, those glimpses of a warmer, caring man, lull her into believing she’d somehow been mistaken in her initial estimate of him.

  Under the spell of his potent sexual allure she’d forgotten the one thing that counted above all else—his hatred of her family.

  So what if he was pleasant and polite to the elderly people at tonight’s reception? If his staff liked him? That he had a soft spot for children? Maria and Anna were his people, living on his estate.

  Alissa was an outsider. Worse, she was a Mangano, member of a family he abhorred. She knew first-hand about the tight-knit bonds of Sicilian families and their feuds. How could she have forgotten when it was obviously part of what made Dario tick?

  She caught her breath on a stifled sob. She’d been ready to believe the best of him too because, despite his fury the day he rescued her, he hadn’t resorted to violence as an outlet for his anger. How pathetic could she get?

  Her first assessment of him had been right. He was a callous manipulator, more interested in property and ownership than people. Only tonight he’d been accused of causing the death of a rival.

  ‘How do you sleep at night?’ she whispered, anguish choking her.

  Glittering eyes stared at her from a face pared to stark lines. ‘This really matters so much?’

  ‘Of course it matters!’ What sort of unnatural sister did he think her?

  ‘You’d do whatever is necessary to h
elp her?’

  A tide of hope rose. He was human after all. He’d find a way to help them. He had to.

  ‘Of course.’

  His lips curled in a dangerous smile. It sent a discordant jangle of premonition through her. ‘Then I have a solution to your sister’s problem.’

  Relief surged and Alissa realised her hands were clamped together so tightly they were numb. Carefully she unknotted her fingers and wiped her clammy palms on her skirt. Dario followed the movement and a frisson of unease shivered through her. His gaze was like a hot caress, as real as the touch of a hand.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You haven’t heard my solution.’

  ‘As long as there is a solution.’ Her voice shook.

  ‘Oh, there is.’ Her nape prickled at his tone, a soft, predatory growl. ‘It occurs to me we’re not fulfilling the terms of your grandfather’s will.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ One moment they were talking about Donna and now the will. ‘We’re married, living together.’

  ‘But not as husband and wife.’

  Alissa’s pulse slowed to a dull thud as she looked up into a face devoid of expression, but for the hint of satisfaction that curled the corners of his mouth.

  ‘We’re living under the same roof—’

  ‘But not as husband and wife.’

  His words sank into her bemused brain. At last she understood that masculine smirk. She froze.

  ‘You want sex!’ Her voice was strident with shock.

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised. It’s what husbands and wives do.’

  ‘But not us! We’re not—’

  ‘Married? Ah, but we are, cara.’ His eyes glittered and that devilish smile widened. ‘Here’s my proposition. Live with me as a proper wife, in every sense, for the rest of our six months and I’ll advance half your share of the money now. The rest you get at the end of our marriage. I need a guarantee you’ll stay.’

  Alissa opened her mouth to object. No sound emerged.

  ‘I’ll see my lawyers and organise the transfer of funds tomorrow…’ his voice was a rumble of sensual anticipation ‘…if you start by satisfying me right now.’