Scandals Of The Powerful: Uncovering the Correttis / A Legacy of Secrets (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) / An Invitation to Sin (Sicily's Corretti Dynasty) (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Carol Marinelli

  Horrified, she tried to pull back but her body was weakened by pleasure. ‘My dress—’ The words were swallowed by the heat of his mouth. ‘Luca—’

  ‘I agree. The dress has to come off.’

  ‘No.’ She was laughing and appalled at the same time, her hand covering his as she stopped him sliding the fabric upwards. ‘You’ve ripped the stitches.’

  ‘No, you ripped the stitches,’ he purred, ‘when you wrapped your leg around me.’

  ‘You pulled my leg round you—we shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want to be doing this.’

  ‘Tell that to your pulse rate. It’s revving like the engine of my Ferrari.’

  ‘I thought you were trying to prove to the board you’re responsible?’

  ‘I’ll use a condom. Does that count?’

  Appalled by how much she wanted to laugh, Taylor locked her hand in the front of his shirt, feeling hard male muscle against the backs of her fingers. ‘I don’t think that’s what they have in mind. You don’t want to take this risk and neither do I. We have to get back to the wedding before the bride comes.’

  ‘If I have my way you’ll come before the bride.’ Laughing wickedly, he delivered a slow, sensual kiss to the corner of her mouth. ‘Some things are worth taking a risk for and you, Taylor Carmichael, are definitely one of those. You are sexy enough to make me forget all about being good—’ his hand was buried in her hair and his mouth was on her neck ‘—and it really turns me on to know that underneath your icy, composed exterior you are still a bad, bad girl.’

  Taylor closed her eyes but that simply intensified the crazy swirl of feelings so she opened them again. ‘You’re wrong. That isn’t who I am.’ It couldn’t be. ‘I don’t want this.’

  ‘You’re crushing me, dolcezza.’ He was kissing her jaw and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Think of my poor, delicate ego.’

  Nothing about him was delicate. Not the powerful shoulders, nor the rock-hard biceps. He was all muscle and masculinity and Taylor was so desperate for him her whole body ached. ‘I don’t want you.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You want me as much as I want you but you’re determined to deny your true self.’

  ‘I’m not denying anything.’ Panicking, she shoved at his chest. ‘Enough! Damn it, Luca—get away from me.’ In the past two years she hadn’t even looked at a man and suddenly here she was, pressed against the hardness of him, her body melting against the heat of his. The chemistry was off the scale and it terrified her. Of all the men she could have found herself with, he was the most dangerous of his species. ‘I’m not that person any more. I’ve changed.’

  ‘That person? What person? You mean the woman who embraced her life without apology?’

  ‘The woman who screwed up her life by trusting men like you,’ Taylor snapped, ‘and I’m not doing it again so stay away. I mean it, Luca. If you want to live up to your reputation then go ahead, but I’m not going to let you take me down with you.’

  ‘Why are you so ashamed of yourself?’

  ‘I’m not ashamed—’ she spoke so quickly she stumbled over the words ‘—but I’ve grown up.’

  ‘Grown-ups accept their mistakes instead of running from them.’

  Hers haunted her.

  The threatening messages never ended.

  Her heart was pumping as she backed away from him. ‘Good luck with your future. I hope you manage to convince the board to trust you before you give in to the worst part of yourself and blow it completely.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s the difference between us, angelo mia.’ Reaching for the bottle of champagne again, he leaned his hips against the fountain, effortlessly sophisticated and insanely sexy. ‘I consider it to be the best part of myself. The fact that no one else appreciates it is their problem, not mine.’

  For a brief moment she felt a flash of envy that he was so indifferent to what people thought and then the urgency of her situation propelled her into action and she jammed her feet into her shoes, the movement parting the seam of her dress as far as the waist. Gripping it with her hand, she held the two sides together and hurried through the shadowed corridors of the maze, grateful for the high hedges that concealed her from prying eyes.

  If a photographer had been hiding in the maze, or even another guest—one of Luca’s disgruntled women—it would have looked awful and no amount of explaining would have worked.

  She would have ruined everything before she’d even started filming.

  The thought of how close she’d come to doing just that made her feel sick.

  Weak with relief that her reputation was still intact, she pulled her phone out of her bag and texted the designer one-handed.

  Ready to be sewn back into my dress. Meet me by the maze.

  Luca let her go, that exercise in self-restraint costing him dearly in terms of physical discomfort. He shifted slightly and decided he didn’t dare leave the maze until his hormones had settled down.

  Lifting the champagne to his lips, he paused as he spotted a woman approaching down another green-lined tunnel.

  ‘Luca, there you are!’

  Cursing under his breath, he lowered the bottle of champagne. ‘Paula!’

  ‘It’s Portia.’

  ‘That’s what I said. The maze distorts sound.’

  Her eyes were a little less warm than they’d been earlier. ‘Were you hiding from me?’

  ‘I didn’t trust myself around you,’ Luca said smoothly. With the taste of Taylor still on his lips, he felt no inclination to take her up on her less than subtle invitation. ‘Last night should not have happened. You’re a beautiful woman but I need to behave myself.’

  Her eyes narrowed and she stared down the path where Taylor had recently disappeared. ‘Really? So you’re telling me women are off the agenda today?’

  Something in her tone made Luca wonder if she’d seen Taylor but he decided that wasn’t possible. No one could have sneaked up on them without him noticing.

  ‘Sadly, yes. What we shared was very special—’ he pulled out one of his stock phrases ‘—but I can’t risk anything else at this point which is killing me because last night was one of the best of my life.’

  ‘All right. If that’s the way it has to be then so be it.’ She looked at him for a long moment, as if she were working something out. ‘You’re never going to forget me, Luca Corretti.’

  ‘Of course I’m not.’

  ‘And you’ll never again forget my name.’

  ‘It’s your own fault for being beautiful—I take one look at your face and my memory goes.’

  Three minutes, Luca thought idly, glancing to the place he’d last seen Taylor and missing the jealous glint in the woman’s eye. That was how long it would take him to forget her.

  *

  Forty-eight hours later Taylor sat in the back of a limo as she was driven to the docklands for filming to begin. She’d spent the entire previous day locked in her hotel room checking every online newspaper and gossip column for pictures, terrified that her momentary lapse with Luca might have been captured on camera. When she realised she’d got away with it she’d been weak with relief.

  From now on she was going to keep well away from men like Luca Corretti.

  Never again would she do something that gave a man power over her.

  But even as she thought that, she knew that her response hadn’t been driven by stupidity but by a raw attraction so strong nothing could have prepared her for it.

  And it wasn’t just his physical appeal that had caused her downfall, it had been something else. Something layered beneath the surface of masculine perfection. An honesty that presented a stark contrast to the atmosphere of falseness that had hovered over the wedding. Yes, that was it. Luca Corretti embraced everything he was. He took what he wanted without explanation or apology and that was—she struggled to describe it—refreshing.

  She felt a twinge of envy and dismissed it instantly. She didn’t want to be like Luca, a slave to her emotions. Her life had
been so much happier since she’d been in control.

  ‘We’ll be there in ten minutes, Miss Carmichael.’

  The voice of her driver came through the intercom and excitement buzzed through her. She couldn’t wait to be back on a film set. She was going to throw herself into her work and forget about her narrow escape. And forget about Luca.

  Blocking out disturbing memories of that kiss, Taylor leaned her head back against the seat, finally able to think back to the wedding and laugh. What a crazy day. She still couldn’t believe that Luca’s brother Matteo had run off with the bride before she’d made it as far as the altar. Bad behaviour was obviously in the DNA, but she was grateful for that because all the attention that had been focused on her had immediately switched to the Corretti family.

  She shook her head at the irony of it.

  And Santo Corretti had been worried about her causing a scandal.

  As the car approached the docklands area, she noticed the pack of photographers pressed against the security fence and her heart sank.

  There were so many of them, no doubt all waiting for her to screw up on her first day and give them a nice juicy headline.

  Was it going to be like this all the time?

  Her phone buzzed with a text and she checked it quickly, her heart rate doubling when she saw it was from Rafaele.

  New phone. New number. And still he had no trouble contacting her.

  She hesitated and then opened the text.

  Good luck today. Enjoy Sicily.

  Flinging the phone back in her bag, she rubbed her forehead with fingers that shook. She felt as if she’d been dipped in iced water. He wasn’t wishing her luck, he was telling her that he knew exactly what she was doing and where she was doing it.

  She was never going to be rid of him. Never.

  Knowing that she couldn’t afford to think of him now, she took a deep breath as the car slowed and shut off all those parts of herself she no longer showed to the world. Maybe everyone at the wedding had been fake, but she was the biggest fake of all. No one saw the real Taylor. She hadn’t even been sure she could access the real Taylor any more until that moment in the maze with Luca.

  Pushing that thought aside, she stepped out of the car, telling herself that the media attention would die down after the first day of filming.

  Her confidence lasted as long as it took her to notice the black expression on the director’s face. She’d assumed he was meeting her in person out of courtesy and respect for her position on the movie, but one look at his face told her that was a false assumption.

  It was a struggle to keep her smile steady. ‘Sorry about the media circus. Hopefully they’ll lose interest soon enough.’

  ‘Why would they lose interest when you are a never-ending source of juicy stories?’ His voice was cold. ‘Your brief was to create interest in the movie, not in your personal life. The moment Santo told me he wanted you on the project I knew it would be a disaster.’

  ‘Oh.’ Shaken by that unwelcome news, Taylor spun a few more layers of protection between her feelings and the world and kept it professional. ‘I’d like to think you’d judge me on my performance now, not on something that happened years ago.’

  ‘The whole world is judging you on your performance at the Corretti wedding.’ His face was scarlet with anger and for the first time Taylor noticed the newspaper clutched in his hand.

  ‘The wedding never happened, but even I couldn’t be blamed for that, surely?’ Confused, she eyed the newspaper. Did people even still buy those things? If she ever wanted to glance at headlines she just used her phone. ‘If you’re worried about the fact the wedding didn’t go ahead, then don’t be. I’m sure Santo Corretti will deal with it. The publicity might even be good for the film.’

  His mouth opened and closed. ‘“Good” that the movie-going public see you as a man-stealer?’

  She looked at him blankly. ‘A what?’

  ‘Just in case you were too drunk to know what you were doing, you can read it for yourself.’

  Taylor almost lost her balance as he thrust the paper at her. ‘I don’t drink. And I remember everything.’ An image of Luca’s handsome face floated into her head and she pushed it away as she fumbled with the newspaper.

  ‘Portia Bateman.’ He enunciated every syllable. ‘Are you going to tell me that name doesn’t mean anything to you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you because it doesn’t. I’ve never heard of Portia Bateman.’ Taylor’s mind was working in slow motion. Her fingers were clumsy as she unfolded the offending paper. ‘In fact, I don’t know a single person called Portia—’ The words stuck in her mouth as a snippet of conversation rose in her mind.

  So who is this woman you’re hiding from?

  Apparently her name is Portia.

  Driven by a horrible, awful suspicion, she shook her head. ‘Oh, no, no, she can’t have done that. I checked. I looked...’ She muttered the words to herself but the director was watching her keenly.

  ‘So you do know someone called Portia.’

  ‘No, I don’t! I’ve never even met her. She’s just someone he...’ She scanned the piece, saw the photograph of a tearful blonde woman under the caption Exclusive—Taylor Carmichael Stole My Man. And there beneath the caption was a photograph of her and Luca. His bronzed hand was plastered against her bare thigh and they were kissing. Not just kissing. Devouring each other. Passion was painted into every line of the photo and she stared at it in dismay.

  Her fingers gripped the paper.

  The sounds faded around her.

  Dizziness washed over her.

  She’d congratulated herself on the fact that no paparazzi had caught her moment of indiscretion. She’d forgotten that since the advent of camera phones, everyone was a photographer. And this one had hit the jackpot.

  Bathed in horror, Taylor closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening to her. It just couldn’t be. She couldn’t think through the panic. ‘Why did she wait a day to publish this?’

  ‘She says she offered Luca Corretti the chance to buy the photograph but he just laughed and told her to go ahead and sell whatever story she wanted to print. So she did. She sold her story to the highest bidder.’

  He’d laughed?

  Taylor felt cold.

  What had she done?

  The answer to that was nothing, but no one looking at this photograph was going to believe that. She’d dropped her guard for a few moments, that was all, and this was the result.

  Keeping her expression neutral, she handed the newspaper back to the glowering director. She wanted to wake up and start the day again. She wanted to wind the clock back. She wanted to never have gone to that damn wedding. Most of all she wanted to kick Luca Corretti in a place that would ensure he’d never seduce a woman again.

  ‘I understand your concerns and I realise that the story looks bad, but I’m asking you to trust me. This piece isn’t—’ how on earth could she even begin to justify it in a way that would change his expression from sour to sympathetic? ‘—accurate. Please judge me on my acting ability, not the media circus that follows me.’

  ‘You think that pack of journalists are interested in your acting ability? Your movie comeback is over before it began. Santo Corretti is on his way here now and I can tell you he is not amused. After that wedding fiasco he isn’t in the best of moods as it is and this project means a lot to him. He doesn’t want it hijacked by your never-ending need to grab the headlines.’

  He wasn’t interested in an explanation, Taylor thought numbly. The truth wasn’t going to help and a small part of her couldn’t even blame him for that because the picture did look incriminating. It had just been a kiss. Other people kissed all the time and did a whole lot worse and no one knew or cared. She slipped for one moment and the evidence was plastered everywhere and she had her mother to thank for that. She’d ensured the media had been fed a steady diet of Taylor Carmichael from the first moment she’d stuck her child in
front of the camera.

  Taylor wondered if Luca had even seen the pictures.

  He’d probably laugh, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t his naked thigh that was up there for the world to see. It wasn’t his career that was ruined. Even if the board refused to give him more responsibility, he still had the fashion house. And anyway, he didn’t appear to care what the world thought of him. In fact, he seemed to behave in a way designed to invite and encourage salacious headlines.

  ‘I can tell you that Luca Corretti isn’t involved with that woman. It’s a kiss and tell. He rejected her and she’s getting her revenge.’

  ‘So you’re trying to tell me that picture is Photoshopped?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘It’s not you he’s kissing?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me, but—’

  ‘It’s not your dress that’s ripped?’

  ‘The dress isn’t ripped. The stitches came undone.’ Feeling like a fox with a pack of hungry hounds snapping at her heels, Taylor gritted her teeth. ‘They sewed me into it which I knew was a stupid idea right from the start.’

  The director looked disgusted. ‘This story is everywhere. Tell me how I’m supposed to deal with this. How am I supposed to focus on making this movie when every single person on my set is looking at the bare thigh of my leading lady and sniggering? Just being this close to you is making me feel dirty.’

  The whole world is going to know you’re dirty, Taylor.

  Her breathing grew shallow.

  Anger burst free inside her. This was all Luca’s fault. Because he didn’t care what people thought of him, he’d exposed her. He’d stripped her, almost literally, with no thought to the consequences. If he hadn’t been so careless with that Portia woman’s feelings, this would never have happened.

  ‘The press have embellished this to make it look bad, but it isn’t how it seems.’

  ‘The truth doesn’t even matter.’ The director made a hand gesture to signify two minutes to someone over her shoulder. ‘I can’t work in this circus. You’re off the movie.’