A Devilishly Dark Deal

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A Devilishly Dark Deal Page 7

by Maggie Cox


  ‘Now I have to go and locate my bodyguard José. I regret we have to attend this function with a third party accompanying us, I really do. But I know for a fact that the paparazzi will be very much in evidence this afternoon, and they can be intimidating—even to those of us who are quite familiar with the lengths they will go to in order to get a picture. Sit down, relax and enjoy the sunshine. I will be back soon.’

  There … she’d done it. She’d said yes to Marco Aguilar’s astonishing invitation to spend the remainder of her holiday with him in the full knowledge that she was also agreeing to a short affair.

  Just the thought made her feel weak. But it wasn’t the kind of weakness that emanated from being frightened, she realized. Quite the opposite, in fact. A frisson of shivering excitement ran through her. She was twenty-five and had not yet experienced having a lover. Because of her highly upsetting and demoralising experience she had kept men at a distance—but the truth was she had often yearned to know what it would be like to have someone make love to her that really liked and regarded her. Ultimately she yearned for a man to love her with all his heart, but if she refused to give in to her fears of being hurt again being with Marco might turn out to be an important step on the road to healing the shadows that dogged her. Fervently, Grace hoped so.

  Sighing, she mentally shook her head in wonder at the extraordinary situation she found herself in. Now that she’d committed herself to going through with Marco’s request to be his companion she was determined to try and be more confident and face everything. That included every potentially intimidating situation she might encounter during the next few days—situations that would no doubt occur simply because she was in this man’s revered company.

  To help her deal with whatever challenges might arise she would simply remind herself that when her totally unexpected sojourn with him was at an end she would return home to London, to her normal everyday routine and her work with the children’s charity. The upside of that was that she would be returning with the knowledge that—thanks to Marco—the charity now had the necessary funds to rebuild the orphanage. It would make a monumental difference to the orphaned and abandoned children she’d so come to love, and that made everything else pale into insignificance.

  She dropped back down into the comfortable sunchair, and into her mind stole the memory of Marco’s voice saying, ‘If, in the course of our time together, it should transpire that you share a similar fascination for me, then, yes … of course I want to take you to bed.’ Well, she she’d admitted that she was attracted to him. Now all she had to do was just let things unfold and see what happened. It sounded so easy, but Grace knew it was anything but …

  Arranging her sunglasses back in front of her eyes, she found her avid glance cleaving to the arresting sight of his tall, athletic figure strolling nonchalantly back across the verdant grass to the house …

  As he pointed out various interesting landmarks on the hour long drive to his friend’s residence, Marco’s level tone definitely conveyed pride. Yet Grace detected a strange ambivalence too. As if he was somehow conflicted about his right to take pleasure in his beautiful country. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by the thought. But then, the more time she spent in his striking presence, the more she became intrigued by everything about him. Sometimes when he leaned nearer to her, to point out something of interest through the passenger window, she breathed in the subtly arousing warmth of his body that mingled with his expensive spicy cologne and everything in her tightened and contracted, in case she completely yielded to the disturbingly powerful urge to touch him that so worryingly kept enveloping her.

  ‘We are here.’

  Miguel, with the much bigger-built José in the passenger seat next to him, drove the sleek Mercedes up to the tall iron gates that had appeared at the end of a narrow road shaded with tall pines. Just before they reached those imposing barriers Grace saw several cars haphazardly parked in front of them, and their waiting owners hurriedly exiting their vehicles with high-tech cameras in tow. She sucked in a breath. At the same time she sensed Marco’s cool hand firmly slide over hers.

  ‘There is nothing to worry about, meu querida. They will get their pictures and then hopefully leave us alone. If not, José will help them to do just that.’

  There was a distinct twinkle in his deep brown eyes as his glance met hers, and her stomach plummeted again—but this time with pleasure.

  As soon as the car manoeuvred to a stop in front of the gates the photographers literally swarmed over it, their fast-flashing cameras and camcorders all trained on Marco and Grace seated in the back. José had climbed out as the vehicle had glided to a halt, and Grace heard him shout commandingly at the voracious throng to clear a space so that they could drive through the gates. She heard plenty of curses and yelps of protest too, as he physically removed bodies from climbing across the car’s bonnet, with intrusive cameras pointing at the windscreen in a bid to get pictures of Marco and his guest.

  With her heart pounding, Grace turned to glance out through the tinted window beside her at the exact same moment as a camera flash blinded her from seeing anything other than that disorientating bright light.

  José jumped back into the front seat and shouted, ‘Go!’ as a uniformed man standing behind the gates spoke urgently into a mobile, nodded towards the car in recognition of its VIP passenger, and stood aside as the now opening electronic gates allowed the vehicle entry.

  As the gates rapidly closed again behind them, Marco tapped on the small front window separating him and Grace from the two men in the front. When the window immediately opened, he leaned forward to speak to his bodyguard. Although she didn’t understand what he said, because he spoke in his native Portuguese, Grace intuited by the concern in his voice that he was asking his employee if he was okay. The intrepid José must have taken quite a few knocks dealing with the unruly mob that had accosted their car, she realised.

  The window closed again and Marco leaned back in the luxuriously upholstered leather seat, cursing softly beneath his breath.

  ‘Is José all right?’ she ventured.

  ‘He’s fine. He has dealt with much worse than that before, I assure you. Now, let us forget about that rabble at the gates and try to enjoy ourselves … okay?’

  After driving for a while through stunningly landscaped gardens, with orange, lemon and tall palm trees lining the straight drive that led to the dazzling white villa that was their destination, Marco’s chauffeur steered the car onto a sickle-shaped gravelled area that was already filled with impressively gleaming vehicles. Grace’s stomach plunged at the prospect of meeting and mingling with other no doubt extremely wealthy and important people like Marco. In a moment of doubt and uncertainty her fingers curled anxiously into the crisp cotton of her dress. She sent up a silent heartfelt plea for help.

  Miguel politely helped her out of the car. As she straightened she briefly met his eyes and saw that they had a reassuring twinkle in them, as if he’d intuited how overwhelmed she must be feeling and wanted to lend his support. José was already standing outside, conversing quietly with Marco. As she tentatively moved towards the man who was his boss, Marco caught hold of her hand and smiled.

  ‘Grace … this is the home of—’

  ‘Marco!’

  The loud male shout made them both turn round abruptly. Hurrying towards them was a well-built middle-aged man in a smart petrol-blue suit and an open-necked white silk shirt, with the kind of craggy good-looks that suggested the legacy of a life well lived and perhaps a little too over-indulgent?

  A ripple of surprised recognition went through Grace. Lincoln Roberts … The man was a seriously famous movie-star, whose visit to rehab in California a couple of years ago had been splashed all over the tabloid newspapers … as had his previous affair with another star’s very young wife. Was that why Marco had known for a fact that the paparazzi would be very much in evidence this afternoon? An A-list celebrity like Lincoln was bound to attract major intere
st.

  ‘So glad you could make it, my friend. Francesca and I were afraid you wouldn’t. God knows, you’re a hard man to pin down!’ The well-known actor gave the businessman a brief hug and then, before releasing him, slapped him affectionately on the back.

  ‘I was pleased to be invited. You’re looking well, Lincoln. Very well.’

  Marco sounded somewhat reserved, despite his words, and the edges of his well-cut lips lifted in a smile that was quite some way short of being as open as his friend’s. When he stepped back and automatically reached for Grace’s hand, to enfold it almost possessively inside his palm, a distinct wave of warmth and pleasure quivered through her.

  ‘Thanks. I’ve been taking much better care of myself since I’ve been with Francesca. The woman has transformed me! By the way, she’ll be along any moment now. She’s powdering her nose … you know what women are like! And who’s this lovely lady that you’ve brought with you?’ Lincoln asked, his interested, almost greedy blue eyed glance moving from Grace’s face down to the modest cleavage of her dress in one disturbing swoop. She found herself moving a little closer to Marco’s side, as if subconsciously seeking his protection. Lincoln Roberts might be one of the most famous movie stars on the planet, but she knew almost instantly that she didn’t like him … didn’t like him one bit.

  ‘This is Grace Faulkner.’

  Marco had provided the other man with her name almost reluctantly, Grace thought.

  ‘A beautiful name for an undoubtedly beautiful lady … I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Grace. I really am.’

  In a blink he had separated her hand from Marco’s and clasped it firmly between his own bigger, slightly sweaty palms. It was hard not to cringe. ‘It’s nice to meet you too, Mr Roberts,’ she murmured politely, at the same time quickly disengaging her hand.

  ‘Call me Lincoln, sweetheart. We don’t stand on ceremony here. Francesca wants all her guests to feel relaxed and to make themselves at home. These little gatherings she has are always very informal … aren’t they, Marco?’

  ‘They are indeed.’

  ‘Talk of the devil—here she is now. Doesn’t she look ravishing?’

  ‘Ciao, Marco … I’m so glad that you were able to come. I doubted that you would, you know …’

  Both men turned to greet the vision in figure-hugging white that had joined them. The dark-eyed brunette with her perfectly arched eyebrows and scarlet-painted lips had straight away made a beeline for Marco and was regarding him with undisguised pleasure, Grace noticed, watching apprehensively as the woman kissed him resoundingly on both cheeks, then dropped slender hands with myriad glinting diamond rings lightly yet almost possessively onto his arms.

  ‘Handsome as ever, I see. Broken any poor woman’s heart lately—like you broke mine?’

  Grace’s stomach flipped as she waited to hear his answer.

  ‘No. And I doubt very much that any man could break your heart, Francesca.’

  Their eyes locked for a scant second, and Grace didn’t think she imagined the regret in the Italian woman’s beautiful dark gaze. Did Marco feel the same? She was about to distance herself from him a little when he turned towards her, smiled, then once again, enfolded her hand in his.

  ‘Grace, this is Francesca Bellini, our charming hostess. She is becoming a force to be reckoned with in the world of high fashion. Francesca, I’d like to introduce Grace Faulkner.’

  ‘Grace … delighted to meet you.’ The woman shook her hand limply and almost instantly let it go. She was anything but delighted, Grace thought wryly. Clearly she and Marco had once been an item, and it was obvious that the Italian wished that they still were. The realisation didn’t exactly bode well for a relaxed afternoon …

  Lincoln stepped in just then, to loop his arm round his girlfriend’s tiny waist, cinched in with a broad patent leather white belt with a huge gold buckle. Could she even breathe in such a tight outfit? Grace wondered. She was suddenly very glad of her own more comfortable and practical summer dress.

  ‘Darling, I was just telling Grace that our parties here are always very relaxed, informal affairs.’ The American smiled.

  Informal and relaxed weren’t the two descriptions that naturally sprang to mind, Grace wryly reflected as she scanned the perfectly manicured grass that ran down to a shimmering blue lake with two pairs of regal swans gliding across it, then looked back again to the sight of small clusters of guests dressed glamorously enough for a garden party at Buckingham Palace.

  To add to the indisputable impression of the kind of wealth that went far beyond most ordinary people’s dreams, on the air floated the sound of a well-known Vivaldi composition played by a sublime string quartet. Grace immediately had the strongest urge to move closer to where the musicians were performing, so that she could simply stand in the sunshine and listen to them play at close quarters. It would be such a privilege, she thought.

  She glanced up at the dark-eyed man by her side, and something told her that he too would infinitely prefer to do just that, rather than spend too much time with their hostess and her infamous boyfriend.

  The knowledge made her suddenly bold, and briefly buried her disquiet that Marco should bring her to a garden party at the house of an ex-girlfriend. ‘Is that lovely music being played nearby?’ she asked, proffering what she hoped was an eager and appreciative but not too presumptuous smile to the party’s glamorous hosts.

  ‘Yes, honey—they’re sitting right over there by the fountain,’ Lincoln answered.

  ‘It sounds so wonderful. Marco? Shall we go over and see them?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Francesca urged helpfully, but not before Grace had witnessed the undisguised flash of jealousy in her glance. ‘I’m sure we’ll hook up again later. By the way, there are a lot of people you know here already, plus a few that you don’t who are anxious to meet you. In the meantime, go and enjoy the music with the beautiful Grace.’

  When they were less than halfway across the shimmering lawn that led to a spectacular fountain with an audacious sculpted mermaid, Grace murmured, ‘I hope you didn’t mind that I suggested going to listen to the quartet?’

  Touching his hand to her bare arm, Marco came to a standstill. Staring back at him in surprise, she saw the frown that creased his tanned brow as his dark eyes thoughtfully roved her face. ‘Francesca and I dated for a short while about five years ago. These days she is no more than a business acquaintance I occasionally bump into at corporate functions. Did you think that she meant something more to me than that? As far as I know she is quite happy to have her name linked with a movie star like Lincoln. She’s always been very ambitious, and their romantic partnership certainly hasn’t hurt her career.’

  ‘She’s seriously stunning.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I just wondered why you would bring me to a party thrown by an ex-girlfriend. I know we’re not serious or anything, but—’

  ‘I told you … we were over a long time ago and there’s nothing for you to worry about. Can’t we simply enjoy the party?’

  Grace shrugged, feeling slightly miserable that she might be spoiling things between them before they’d really even begun. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Come here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said come here.’

  Catching hold of her by her slim upper arms, Marco impelled her against him so that she was suddenly on dizzyingly intimate terms with the hard, lean physique she’d been secretly admiring since setting eyes on him again that morning. The heat from his body all but burned her through the elegant cotton of his shirt.

  Tipping up her face, he gazed down at her, saying, ‘You know … I have a sudden profound urge to make you stop talking.’

  The unexpected confession was accompanied by the most enigmatic of heart-stopping smiles. His seductive warm lips covered hers. She didn’t even have time to gasp her surprise.

  It was a kiss that sent a molten river of irresistible longing pumping right through her body, and Grace�
�s lips parted almost the instant he touched his lips to hers. Less than a moment later her knees all but threatened to fold at the hotly melting exploration of his erotically silken tongue. Her hands automatically moved either side of his straight lean hips to anchor herself.

  Just when the incredible assault on her senses felt as if it might grow even stronger—turn into a veritable wildfire that would burn them both to cinders with its power—Marco cupped the side of her face with a warm palm and gently and regretfully separated his mouth from hers. ‘I desired to stop you talking so that I could sample the sweetness of your lips … but now I am almost rendered speechless myself due to the fire you have stoked in me, Grace.’

  He meant every word.

  Inside his chest, Marco’s heart was thundering in an amalgam of desire, urgent longing and deep, deep shock at the depth of feeling that kissing this woman had aroused in him. All he could think right then was that he wished he hadn’t been so hasty in making the decision to come to Francesca Bellini’s garden party—if he were at home now with Grace he would be making it his mission to get her into bed …

  Carefully moving her to his side, Marco slipped a deceptively casual arm round her waist, just so that he could maintain the contact that was becoming the most essential factor of all for determining his happiness that day—especially after that explosive little kiss they’d just shared. He was still walking on air from the sheer pleasure of it.

  ‘Let’s go and listen to the music together, shall we? I’ve heard this particular string quartet perform before at La Scala in Milan …’

  After some companionable time had passed, during which Grace and Marco sat side by side sipping champagne on the edge of the sculpted fountain, listening to the sublime soaring notes of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Marco was invited to join the well-dressed group of businessmen and women who had been eyeing him ever since he’d walked across the perfect emerald lawn to sit by the water fountain with Grace.

  Assuring him that she was quite happy to sit there by herself for a while as he conversed with them, Grace shut her eyes to simply let the stirring music envelop her. It had the same delicious effect as cooling summer rain after a hot, dry spell. In truth, she was glad of the opportunity not just to listen to the music but to mull silently over the soul-stirring kiss that Marco had initiated and she had eagerly complied with.

 

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