The Italian's Demand

by Sara Wood

  ‘Because I know I am right,’ he said, grim and unnervingly determined. ‘My son is small and too thin and his speech is non-existent for a child of his age. I can’t stand by and watch him suffer. I mean to take him home, where he’ll be loved and safe, and where he can grow up normally.’

  ‘You’re really taking him, then?’ she whispered, aghast.

  ‘Yes.’

  She felt sickness clawing at her insides. For Lio’s sake she had to go along with this stupid plan.

  ‘You don’t care about his needs,’ she accused bitterly. ‘You’re just satisfying your own selfish wants—’

  ‘You’ll come?’ he barked.

  ‘You know I have to!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want to. I don’t want Lio uprooted, either. But you know I can’t stop you. So go ahead. Force me to live in your wretched house! I suppose I’ll have to lock my door every night to stop you taking droit de seign…senn…’

  ‘Squatters’ rights?’ he suggested, drily amused.

  Furious, she raised her hand to hit him but he caught it. They tussled and she was in his arms, her body bent back as she writhed and squirmed helplessly. For a glorious moment his mouth was on hers; fierce, hard, crazily welcome. Her body melded into his and she felt control slipping away from her again.

  ‘You are irresistible,’ he murmured, imbuing even those words with slow, languorous sensuality. ‘Verity. Think of the pleasure we’ll have together!’

  ‘Go to hell!’ she sobbed and, fleeing her own weakness, she ran up the stairs—or rather, fell up them.

  He was with her in a moment. ‘Here,’ he said soothingly, rubbing her shin with gentle fingers.

  His eyes silvered. She gave a little whimper as his hand slid further, caressing the back of her knee and then, with heart-stopping slowness, moved up her thigh. Then it was removed. And he must have known that her gasp was one of disappointment.

  ‘I loathe you!’ she jerked miserably.

  ‘I like the way you do it,’ he countered with a smile.

  This time her hand connected in a hard slap, though not with his face. His palm met hers, his fingers entwining like a knot as he stared intently into her eyes.

  ‘I will make love to you,’ he promised huskily, and sexual hunger exploded inside her again. ‘Sooner or later, you will succumb. I want you, Verity. More than any woman I’ve ever known.’

  His head swooped and she gritted her teeth so the kiss gave him no pleasure. But when he let his mouth soften and coax her lips apart, her senses began to reel.

  He was a skilled lover, she thought in despair. And if she didn’t keep reminding herself what a shallow Casanova he was, she’d be another notch on his bedpost.

  If there was any room left there. In any case, she would lose all self-respect. With a sudden twist, she released herself and stalked on up the stairs, turning to glare at him.

  ‘I’m impressed you can remember all your women to make a comparison,’ she said sourly.

  He joined her on the landing, casually leaning on the balustrade.

  ‘Every single one,’ he assured her in amusement.

  And to her dismay, that raised a terrible jealousy within her that scoured the pit of her stomach. Sex, to him, was a game. A male right. And she’d been marked out as his next victim.

  All she had to do was to make sure she never let down her guard, never surrendered. All! She groaned inwardly, knowing how hard that would be when her senses clamoured for him.

  Stony-faced, she levelled her violet gaze at him and said with glacial contempt, ‘I will come with you because I have no choice. But don’t expect me to encourage Lio to become fond of you. I don’t think that would be in his best interests.’

  The dark eyes glittered. ‘You’d deliberately turn him against me?’

  ‘No. That would upset him,’ she muttered. ‘I’m just not doing a PR job for you.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it. Verity, I know what I feel about him. I also know what I feel when I am with you,’ he murmured.

  Marching towards her bedroom, with Vittore close on her heels, she quelled the wicked, treacherous excitement that was trying to ruin her rejection of him, and wished she could find a way to protect herself. If he succeeded in getting her into his bed, then…

  Her breath drew in sharply as something awful occurred to her. Was that a deliberate tactic? Did he think that Lio would look more favourably on someone she slept with and openly kissed and cuddled?

  Her stomach swooped like an express lift as reality set in. Look at her! Unsophisticated, tousled, lacking glamour… She had to be honest. Why would a man like Vittore even glance at her, when he could be trawling the night clubs of Monaco and Paris and New York for svelte, glossy women who knew one end of a Sharutti handbag from another? She couldn’t even spell the designer name, let alone afford anything attached to it.

  That was it then. He’d imagined the three of them snuggling up on the sofa like a happy family. And once he had Lio’s confidence, she’d be for the chop.

  Huh! She’d never let him near her, she thought darkly. She paused by her bedroom door. Vittore was so confident that his scheme would work… She gave a small, triumphant smile. She’d use that arrogance to her advantage.

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘You’ll come?’

  She turned, found him disconcertingly close. Her eyes warned him to back off and he did so. She had the impression that he was waiting anxiously for her answer and that gave her a small advantage.

  ‘Yes, I’ll come, without argument or complaint. But I have one condition,’ she declared calmly, pleased with her brainwave.

  He gave an expansive wave of his hand. ‘Name it.’

  Got him! she thought. Now she had a chance to become the legitimate guardian of Lio, to give him the attention he craved—and to bring him up to be honest and decent and to respect women.

  There was something so innocent and untouched about a small child, and she shuddered to think of Vittore’s dreadful morals gradually perverting her nephew. She owed this to Linda. She’d been given a responsibility and she intended to guard her nephew from any bad influence.

  ‘Right. It’s this. You must win Lio’s confidence in the next six months. Otherwise you must admit defeat and let me bring him back to England,’ she stated boldly. ‘You can visit him, of course,’ she added as an afterthought.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said, supremely self-assured, just as she’d hoped. ‘You have my word.’ He grinned, a teasing light making his eyes sparkle.

  ‘Shake on it,’ she ordered.

  ‘With pleasure.’

  ‘It will be!’ she promised grimly.

  With an eyebrow arching in query, his hand clasped hers. The light bulb effect lasted for the few, tingling seconds that their hands were joined and then he slowly withdrew his fingers, letting them trail tantalisingly across her palm to her trembling fingertips.

  ‘You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ he mused.

  ‘Positive. We’ve seen how he’s been this past week. You’ve made no progress. Lio needs me,’ she said firmly. ‘Linda wanted him to be in my care, not yours. I intend to fulfil her wishes.’

  ‘What about a bet on your chances?’ he murmured.

  She gave him a scornful glance. ‘I don’t have any money to bet.’

  ‘But you do have something I want.’

  The breath left her lungs. She swallowed and her hands found the reassuring solidity of her bedroom door.

  ‘Oh?’ she said, as if she didn’t know. She trawled around for a witty remark but her brain had become filled with fog.

  ‘Prove how sure you are,’ he goaded. ‘Take my bet—’

  ‘If it involves playing nanny and playboy with you, forget it!’ she scathed.

  He smiled and she had the distinct feeling that she was a fly, about to fall into his web.

  ‘This is a more interesting version,’ he drawled. ‘You see, I am convinced that Lio will soon become comfortable with me, and that he wil
l be happy to stay with me even when you’re not around.’

  ‘You are so wrong!’ she retorted scornfully.

  ‘Then you’ll have no hesitation in agreeing to my suggestion,’ he said with wide-eyed innocence.

  But she knew Vittore’s innocence had been lost a long time ago. ‘Which is?’ she said, assuming a bored expression.

  ‘Very simple. If I win Lio’s confidence before the next six months are up, then you will come willingly to my bed and we will be lovers until I have had enough of you.’

  Her jaw dropped in amazement and now the door met her spine as she slumped against it, the wind taken from her lungs.

  ‘I can’t believe you just said that!’ she croaked. ‘It’s outrageous—!’

  ‘Yes.’ His hands came either side of her shoulders, trapping her. His dark eyes gazed down inscrutably. ‘But you are so sure it will never happen, so…’

  Wide-eyed, she stared at his sensual mouth, parted as if for a kiss, the teeth pearly white, lips arched and inviting…

  Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a multitude of shocking whispers ricocheting around inside her head. She cringed back against the door, trying to keep a space between the two of them.

  Unbelievably, her body and her brain were excited by his challenge. It was as if she wanted him to win. But of course, he wouldn’t. No problem, then—she would be safe. A virgin still.

  A twinge of disappointment scurried its wicked way through her, shaming and thrilling her in equal measures. Any excuse, it seemed, and she’d let him bed her!

  It was because she’d never had a megawatt man interested in her before and had never felt so horribly out of control as she did whenever he turned his power-station electrics in her direction.

  She’d get used to it in time. She wanted to be a woman in a million—a billion, even!—and not one who’d be bedded and forgotten in a few months by the biggest love rat in Europe.

  Until he’d had enough of her, indeed!

  He was looking at her with such smug amusement that she wanted to shock him, wanted to call his bluff and show he was wrong. She would be the one that got away.

  She’d prove to him that not all women succumbed to a handsome face, a hunky body, charisma, money, breeding, good manners and elegant tailoring.

  Verity blinked then frowned at the list of his attributes. Too much for any man, she thought crossly. Time he discovered that kindness, honesty and reliability were just as important to some women.

  And recklessness got the better of caution and she found herself tossing up her head till her curls bounced, declaring haughtily, ‘Fine by me! You haven’t a snowball’s hope in hell.’

  The pool-deep eyes liquefied. She felt the hunger, that surge of nerve-wrecking electricity, forming an irresistible connection between them. Her body almost swayed towards him helplessly.

  This was madness, she thought in panic. What was she agreeing to?

  ‘Then you have nothing to worry about, have you?’ he murmured, his lashes making achingly beautiful black crescents on his cheeks as he stared entranced at her softly parted mouth.

  She shut it tightly and pinched it in. Now she didn’t feel so sure of herself. He’d said he’d do anything…

  ‘No dirty tricks,’ she warned him coldly, pressed as flat against the door as any curvy body could be.

  Warmth flowed from him: warm body, warm breath, warm eyes. She did her best to stay frosted even while her limbs turned to meltwater.

  And he was doing that innocent look again. ‘Like what?’

  She had to think back for a moment, plundering her memory banks for her last remark. Yes. Dirty tricks.

  ‘I don’t know!’ she snapped, wishing he’d ease up on the close body contact. ‘Plying Lio with chocolate and ice-cream to bribe him. Locking me up so he has to bond with you. Spiking my drink so I can’t defend myself when you pounce—’

  ‘I’m not a pouncer,’ he said in amusement. ‘Allow me a little more finesse than that.’

  It wasn’t funny. She glared. ‘Everything above board. Promise,’ she insisted.

  ‘I promise,’ he said solemnly. ‘No injections of love-potions at dead of night, no rose petals on your pillow or vodka in your tea—’

  ‘There’s no need to make fun!’ she said crossly, quite liking the idea of rose petals on her pillow. ‘You could get up to anything, and I have to protect Lio and myself.’

  ‘And I admire your touching concern for him,’ he replied quietly. The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow smile. ‘Even while I find your suggestions highly amusing. I’m looking forward to the time we spend together, Verity. I find the prospect…exciting.’

  So did she. And worrying, too. She sighed. It was all so confusing. Had she thought of everything? No… Her face clouded.

  ‘There’s one big problem, Vittore,’ she said, her eyes pastel with anxiety. ‘If Lio is clearly desperately upset in Italy, before the six months are up, what then?’

  He winced and pulled away, freeing her from his claustrophobic presence. She could breathe freely at last, instead of taking little gulps of air and fighting to get them down to her starving lungs.

  ‘What then, Vittore?’ she demanded, more in control of herself.

  ‘In that case, you must take him back to England,’ he said huskily. ‘I wouldn’t want to put him through hell. Nor could I bear to watch him suffer. All I ask is for a little time for him to settle down.’ His voice grew quieter and he said in choking tones, ‘If he doesn’t, I will accept that he will be better off with you.’

  He had a few scraps of decency, it seemed and for that she had to be grateful. She shifted uncomfortably, his tense expression oddly painful to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I’ll pack my stuff, then Lio’s.’

  Extraordinarily, it took a great effort to resist the urge to put a comforting hand on his arm. Who knew where that might lead? But she did feel compassion for him. Losing his son for the second time would be a devastating blow.

  ‘Shake on it.’

  Their hands clasped. She shivered at the sudden glow that lit his feral eyes and she fought to break the spell he seemed determined to cast over her.

  ‘I wish you weren’t so optimistic. You ought to prepare yourself for failure,’ she warned.

  The smile that played around Vittore’s lips was worryingly confident and made her heart skip a beat.

  ‘I won’t fail. You see, Verity, there is no such word in my vocabulary,’ he informed her.

  ‘May I remind you of the colours that ran in the washing machine?’ she countered sarkily.

  ‘That wasn’t failure. Just lack of information,’ he excused with an airy wave of his hand. ‘When I have time with Lio in my own home, he and I will become very close.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ she retorted firmly, and strode off to pack.

  But despite her bravado she was scared. Although he’d promised no dirty tricks, she wondered fearfully what he had in store for her. She was going into the unknown. And taking an innocent child there, too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOR the first part of the journey she hardly spoke, feeling so angry with Vittore for treating her like a commodity that she could barely bring herself to do more than scowl. But that was tiring after a while, and it wasn’t in her nature to sulk.

  Besides, whether she liked it or not, she felt very cherished. She had to admit that Vittore could be very attentive. And, she reflected, his wealth had made the trip smooth and easy. No wonder Linda had been addicted to being pampered and had tried to keep up her previous lifestyle.

  A hired chauffeur had stowed their luggage and fussed the three of them into the back of the limousine, offering tea, coffee and canapés to amuse them on the journey to the airport. Verity had sampled everything as a matter of principle.

  They’d swept through customs without any effort, a porter carrying the sleeping Lio as if he were transporting beaten gold. Which he virtually was, of course.

  For th
e very rich, it seemed there were no queues, no hold-ups, no two-hour check-ins. The jet had been waiting on the tarmac and took off once they were comfortably settled with magazines, papers and telephones.

  She used one of the latter to call her close friends. All fourteen of them. Vittore didn’t seem bothered at all and she supposed the price of fourteen lengthy phone calls was a drop in the ocean to him.

  Sitting in opulent comfort on Vittore’s private jet, Verity sighed and nibbled a hand-made chocolate. Lemon cream. Her favourite. She sighed. A girl could get used to such luxuries.

  And she might as well make the most of them. Lio would make his feelings clear and she’d be back in England with him soon, heaving the buggy on buses again and tramping the streets comparing the price of bread.

  ‘Brandy?’ murmured the steward, with a delightful smile.

  ‘Thank you…’ Smiling at the steward, she returned to her final call. ‘No, Sue. I’ll be fine. I’ll send you a postcard… What was that? Oh, him!’ She flushed as if her friend had sussed out her secret feelings for her brother-in-law. ‘The words “arrogant” and “egocentric” spring to mind,’ she reported scathingly. The pink Italian newspaper, which Vittore was reading, rustled with annoyance. Verity smiled with satisfaction and answered Sue’s next question. ‘Nothing to write home about. Horribly unshaven at the moment. Tall, dark, wears suits,’ she dismissed, trying not to think of the way those suits flattered the hunky body beneath. ‘Sure. When we return. Lunch will be great. I’ll do scrambled egg on toast. OK? See you. Bye.’

  Rakishly handsome with his designer stubble, Vittore peered out from the newspaper, his expression cynical.

  ‘When Lio wakes he’ll need your undivided attention,’ he drawled. ‘I suggest you sleep while you can. There’s a bed in the inner cabin.’

  She cut him with a glance. ‘No thanks. I don’t want to become a member of the mile high club,’ she said coldly.

  He laughed. ‘You will,’ he promised. ‘Give me time.’

  And he resumed reading his paper while Verity glared, unnoticed, at the pink sheets covered in columns of figures till she realised that Lio was stirring. He moaned, his eyes opening wide.