She heard his footsteps returning. He tied a strip of cloth around her finger.
“Thank you. That’s—”
“Sit still.”
“I’m trying to tell you, I’m okay.”
“Of course. That’s the reason your face is as white as paper.” He took her hand, examined it and muttered something in an Italian dialect she didn’t understand. “The cut looks deep. It might need stitches, and you might need a tetanus shot.”
“I don’t need a shot, and the cut isn’t deep.”
“How do you know how deep it is until you see it? Why must you argue with everything I say?”
“I’m not arguing. I’m simply telling you…” She took a breath. She was arguing, and there was no reason for it. She didn’t have to explain herself to him. “Let go of my hand so I can see the cut.”
“Will you pass out if you do?”
“No. I don’t know why…” She did know. She’d been thinking about her son, about Dominic, and then she’d looked up and he was there, so big, so masculine, so real. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
His mouth twisted, just the way Jonathan’s had when she’d told him she didn’t think that Godzilla could really, truly destroy Tokyo.
“If you faint again, I’m taking you to the nearest hospital.”
“I didn’t faint. I won’t faint.” Arianna jerked her hand free of Dominic’s. The cut was small, as she’d thought, and not very deep. The blood had already changed from a flow to a slow ooze. “It’s fine,” she said briskly. “Now, please leave my house.”
“You need a proper bandage.”
“I don’t.”
“Where are they?”
“I said—”
“I heard you. Where are the bandages?”
Unbelievable! He really thought he could boss her around in her own home. She opened her mouth to tell him that, then thought better of it. What mattered was getting him out the door, and fast.
“In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” she snapped. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”
She sat tapping her foot until he returned with a small packet, tore it open and put the bandage over the cut.
“That’s better.”
Insolent bastard, she thought, but just then his fingers brushed hers and a rush of electricity sizzled through her. She snatched back her hand, as annoyed at herself as she already was at him.
“I’m glad you think so. Now go away.”
“Such a generous display of gratitude,” he said, his sarcastic tone a match for hers. “I’ll go when we’ve finished our business.”
“Didn’t the marchesa tell you? I’m not going to participate in whatever little victory ceremony you planned for today.”
“Victory ceremony?”
Dominic got to his feet and folded his arms. Arianna tried not to notice how he towered over her. He was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that revealed muscled, tanned forearms lightly dusted with black hair.
Manhattan overflowed with men who wore outfits like this on weekends. She supposed it was to make them look young and fit, but she’d always thought such styles just made men accustomed to custom-tailored suits look slightly foolish.
Dominic didn’t look foolish. Not that it mattered. How he looked was what had gotten her in trouble in the first place.
“Yes,” she said, “victory ceremony. That’s the reason you came to New York, isn’t it? To enjoy seeing my face as you took the Butterfly from me?”
It was too close to the truth to deny. Dominic narrowed his gaze on those innocent-looking blue eyes.
“Your grandmother offered it as collateral.”
“Yes, well, that was her mistake.”
“It would seem she made another mistake.” His eyes glittered. “She tells me you found her merger suggestion amusing.”
“Her merger sugg…” Arianna flushed. “The marriage thing, you mean. Come now, signore. Surely you don’t expect me to think…” Her color deepened at the amused smile that curved his mouth. “She would never have come up with such an idea.”
“And you think I would?” He laughed. “Trust me, Arianna. You’re beautiful and I enjoyed the night we spent together, but I’d hardly give up my freedom to have you.”
“Have me?” God, how despicable this man was! “Believe me, I’m not for sale.” She shot to her feet, marched into the kitchen and picked up the salad bowl. “And I wouldn’t marry you if my life depended on it.”
“How about if your grandmother’s future depended on it?”
She swung toward him, the bowl clutched in her hands. “What do you mean?”
“I lent your grandmother money. She was supposed to repay it in kind, not with the dubious honor of your hand in marriage.”
“I don’t believe that’s what she tried to do. Besides, she is repaying the loan.”
“She owes me three million dollars.”
“You’re getting the Butterfly.”
“It’s not worth three million dollars.”
Arianna lifted her chin. “Don’t blame me if you made a bad bargain, signore.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Did it?” Arianna put down the bowl and slapped her hands on her hips. “Why did you lend her so much money in the first place? Did you find out who I was after that night? Was this all some sick scheme to get even with me for walking out on you?”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “How about you? Did you know who I was when you came on to me at that party? Were you an appetizer, meant to sweeten the deal before the marchesa approached me with her request for money?”
“You bastard!” Arianna’s eyes filled with angry tears. That she’d gone to bed with a man like this made her feel sick. “Do you really think I’d sell myself so cheaply?”
“No, probably not, or why would you have slunk away without telling me your name? Maybe you simply went slumming that night, and now you see that the price is higher than you expected.”
The price she’d paid was an unplanned pregnancy, but he’d never know that. How right she’d been not to have tried to identify the man who’d fathered her son. Jonathan was hers. She loved him with all her heart—loved him as fiercely, as intensely, as she despised Dominic Borghese.
And she had to get Dominic out of here, before their child returned.
“All right.” She took a step back, as if putting some distance between them would help. “You came to New York to get even. Well, you’ve succeeded. I was wrong that night. That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”
Was it? How could he have known it wouldn’t be that simple? That everything would change in this moment?
Five years ago, they’d been equals. A man and woman caught up in passion, wanting each other and not giving a damn about the rest of the world. Now, she was a del Vecchio princess who’d been offered for sale to a peasant.
The rules had changed.
The look on her face when she saw him at the door, that mix of fear and loathing, twisted inside him like a knife. Her desperation to get rid of him now, as if his very presence might contaminate her home, fueled his anger.
A man could let anger consume him, or he could use it. Dominic had learned that early.
“Say something,” Arianna demanded. “Don’t just stand there with that—that look on your face. I’ve apologized. What more do you want?”
Dominic didn’t hesitate. “I want you to become my wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS too much.
Arianna had endured almost twenty-four hours of lunacy and this was…
A bad joke? A madman’s taunt? She looked at Dominic. He seemed cool, self-possessed, and entirely sane.
Maybe she was the one having the problem.
“You want me to…” She couldn’t even say the words. “You want me to do what?”
“I want you to become my wife.”
Become his wife? Well, of course. She should have known that he�
��d propose after everything he’d just said, that the idea was not his but her grandmother’s, that he’d never give up his freedom to have her—as if she were an object that could be had—after all that, of course he’d propose.
They didn’t know each other, didn’t like each other, had nothing in common except a son he’d never know existed… Why wouldn’t he want her to be his wife?
Arianna began to laugh. What else could you do when the whole world had gone mad?
Dominic’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You find my proposition amusing, signorina?”
At least he hadn’t dignified it by calling it a proposal, she thought, and laughed harder.
“Basta,” he growled. “There’s nothing funny about this.”
He was right. Actually, this was horrible. She took a couple of deep breaths.
“No, there isn’t.” The hysterical laughter drained away. Arianna folded her arms and looked up into that coldly set face. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what form of humiliation you expect me to endure next.”
“Asking a woman for her hand is hardly asking her to endure humiliation.”
Neither was being trapped in your own kitchen with the father of your child, when that child could be home at any minute. The timing of a trip to the pond was hard to predict. Jeff and the kids could be gone for hours, but if the boys got bored or the weather turned chilly…
Never mind trying to figure out what Dominic was up to. All that mattered was getting him out the door. He couldn’t see Jonathan. For one thing, he’d tell the marchesa. For another…
For another, her son looked like his father.
Arianna had never realized it. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to, but she could see the resemblance now. They had the same dark, slightly curling hair; the same full mouth; the same classic Roman nose.
But those things didn’t make a man and a boy father and son.
She knew women who reached a certain age, gave up hoping to meet Mr. Right and turned to sperm banks to create the children they wanted.
As soon as she’d realized how much she wanted her baby, Arianna had thought of the child in her womb as having been conceived with the help of an anonymous donor. Now that she knew the identity of the man who’d impregnated her, knew that he was an unfeeling, inflexible egotist who took pleasure in wielding his power, she was more convinced than ever that the only parent her boy would ever know—or need—was her.
Dominic was playing head games because she’d nicked his ego.
Maybe he hoped she’d panic. Pass out at his feet again. Well, he’d wait forever. He was up to something and whatever it was, she could handle it.
“Still no answer?” He took a step toward her. “Perhaps you’re waiting for me to say it again. I want you to marry me.”
Arianna smiled, picked up a bunch of carrots and turned on the water in the sink.
“Nice try,” she said politely, “but wasted.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you get your kicks trying to shock people? This ‘I want you to be my wife’ thing. That stroll into my office yesterday. ‘Hi, I’m the man who seduced you and oh, by the way, I’m here to take your grandmother’s company from her.”’
“Be careful what you say, Arianna.”
“What didn’t you like? Being reminded of how you got me into bed—or how you set up my grandmother?”
“I set up no one. I’m not a bank. I don’t solicit borrowers. Your grandmother came to me for money, I took pity on her and we made a deal. As for seduction… If you need reminding of what happened that night, I’ll oblige you.”
He moved just enough so that she felt her heart hammer against her ribs. She swung toward him, brandishing the carrots like a weapon.
“Stay where you are!”
Dominic looked at the carrots and raised his eyebrows. Arianna flushed, tossed the carrots in the sink and shut off the water. The idea was to show him he couldn’t rattle her. That meant holding her ground, no matter what.
“Let’s not argue over semantics. What happened between us is old news. As for my grandmother… She handles her own affairs. If she was foolish enough to borrow three million dollars from you, that’s that.”
“Unfortunately for the del Vecchios, it isn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You heard my proposition. I’m still waiting for an answer.” “You mean, will I marry you?” She flashed a smile. “No, I will not. Is that clear enough or would you like me to say it in Italian?
“I know something that might change your mind.”
“Nothing could possibly—”
“The marchesa is penniless.”
She stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t be.”
“She’s as close to flat broke as one can be and still put food on the table.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Because she’s a del Vecchio?” He smiled in a way that made her breath catch.
“Because she has a fortune. A palazzo. Land. Paintings by old masters. Jewels. She has—”
“She has nothing. The palazzo is mortgaged to the hilt. The paintings and jewels have gone to the highest bidder. Think, Arianna. There have been signs. Did you choose not to see them?”
“What signs? Have you taken to reading tea leaves? If my grandmother had sold anything…” She stopped, stared at him in dawning horror. She thought of the Tintoretto that no longer hung in the great hall of the palazzo, the Rembrandt that was gone from the salon. The marchesa said she’d lent them to a museum. She thought of a ruby pendant, a diamond necklace, other jewels her grandmother no longer wore. Too expensive to insure, she’d said, when Arianna asked about them.
She stared into Dominic’s eyes. By now, she knew that Dominic Borghese was a lot of things she didn’t like, but instinct told her he wasn’t a liar.
“Ohmygod,” she whispered.
“Indeed,” he said dryly. “But God didn’t put her in this position.”
“No. You did!”
“I had nothing to do with your grandmother’s financial situation.”
He was right. If anyone had done this to the marchesa, it was she. Did she say it aloud? Did Dominic read what he saw flash across her face? Either way, he spoke before she could.
“It wasn’t anything you did.”
“I talked her into all kinds of expenses.” She swung away from him and clutched the edge of the counter. “New designers. More expensive fabrics.”
“Listen to me.” Dominic clasped Arianna’s shoulders and turned her to him. “The del Vecchio fortune began draining away long ago. The marchesa’s father lost an enormous amount of money on a foolish venture in Naples. Her brother lost almost as much at the gaming tables in Monaco. And the marchesa only made things worse. She made bad investments, refused to listen to her advisors, and she’s lived a certain life style. I suspect she refused to believe she could run out of funds.”
“But she did.” Arianna’s voice broke. “And I made it worse by demanding money for the Butterfly.”
“You had no way of knowing the true situation. But yes. She liquidated the last of her assets, took the loan from me and poured it all into the Butterfly.”
Arianna made a little sound of distress and sank into a chair. Dominic squatted before her and cupped her chin. She tried to brush his hand away but he ignored her. He slid his hand around her neck and urged her head forward and she gave in to the gentle pressure and rested her forehead against his shoulder. He smelled of sunlight and soap and man, and she felt as if she could stay in his arms forever.
All the more reason to lift her head and free herself of his embrace.
“When she loses the Butterfly, she’ll have nothing left. How will she live?”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. “She doesn’t have to lose the Butterfly.” He rose to his feet. “I never wanted it in the first place.”
“You never…?” Arianna shook her head. “I don’t understand. You accepted it as collat
eral.”
“Your grandmother is an unusual woman.” His smile softened his face. It made her think back to the first time they’d made love, the way he’d smiled afterward and left her wondering how many other women he’d looked at that same way. “Did she ever tell you how she managed to meet with me?”
“No. I mean, I assume she made an appointment.”
“She bluffed her way past two reception areas to my assistant’s desk, and refused to leave until she saw me. She said she needed six billion lire. I said I wasn’t a bank. She talked some more and I said I’d give her the money. She was too proud to accept it.”
Arianna laughed softly. “Yes. That sounds like… You said you’d give her the money?”
Dominic shrugged, as if embarrassed to admit to such weakness. “She refused.”
“She’d have seen it as charity.”
“Yes. So we agreed on a loan. And on the interest rate, which was more than I wished her to pay.”
“And you checked on her finances after the fact?” Arianna lifted an eyebrow. “Not a very clever way to do business, signore.”
“I checked because I sensed she was a woman in distress. And if you’re hoping it’s all a mistake, cara, it isn’t. My people were thorough.”
“I should have suspected something was wrong. I asked her why she was borrowing money instead of investing her own, and she said it was on the recommendation of her advisors.”
“If she’d paid attention to them years ago,” Dominic said wryly, “all this could have been prevented.”
Arianna nodded. She thought about her grandmother, living her final years in poverty. No. She wouldn’t let that happen. There had to be a way.
“My nonna is an old woman,” she said softly. “She’s in poor health. Once you take the Butterfly, what will become of her?”
Dominic tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and paced the kitchen.
“Dominic?” She rose and went toward him. “Let me pay back the money she owes you.”
He shook his head.
“I can do it. Four hundred dollars a month.”
He shook his head again.
“Five hundred.”
He smiled. Arianna didn’t blame him. Five hundred dollars a month on six billion lire… Doing the math was pointless. At that rate, she’d never pay off the loan.
The Borghese Bride Page 6