by Lynne Graham
Impassive dark eyes rested on her angry face. 'When this is over, you can pick yourself a new position in any one of my companies.'
His complete lack of emotion chilled her. There is no sentiment in business, he had told her. A cold, scared sensation deep down inside drove away her appetite.
'No, thanks,' Jessica said jerkily. 'I'll never be that desperate.'
A phone buzzed and Carlo rose fluidly upright.
She found her attention roamed after him, disobedient to her brain. He was wearing an Italian-cut grey suit that fitted him like a glove and screamed expense, sheathing long, lean thighs and squaring broad muscular shoulders. Briefly she squeezed her eyes shut, despising herself.
What was she doing? Dear heaven, what was she doing? It was as if he had conjured up the dark side of
her character and it was insidiously taking her over. Her skin heated, disturbing recollections of an hour past filling her conscious mind, and so real were those images that she could feel the touch of his hands on her flesh, feel the hot, hungry onslaught of his mouth on hers. With a trembling hand she poured herself another coffee, mortified by her own lack of mental discipline. It was tune she got herself back under control... but just how easy was that going to be with Carlo calling all the shots? Perspiration dampened her brow.
A manservant showed Jessica into a beautiful bedroom. He reappeared several times, laden with the day's shopping, and offered to unpack for her. Her skin warming, Jessica said thank you but no and as soon as he was gone she locked the door behind him.
Before today she had not appreciated that the purchase of clothes could be embarrassing...until Carlo took her shopping, that was. She had been trailed round, thrust in ana out of every outfit which attracted him and forced to parade like a concubine for his appraisal in the kind of revealing clothes she would never have chosen for herself.
The ring on her engagement finger was a stunningly noticeable diamond cluster that literally weighed down her hand. She also had diamond earrings and a slender gold watch that had undoubtedly cost thousands, although nothing as indiscreet as price had been mentioned in Cartier within her hearing.
'What about an ankle chain?' she had said, meaning to be sarcastic.
But Carlo had found that idea a distinct turn-on. For a split-second his businesslike detachment had evaporated. Heated golden eyes had scanned her assessingly, a sensual curve tinging his expressive mouth. 'I believe I'll shop for that item on my own,’ he had murmured in a black velvet purr of anticipation.
You really couldn't afford to be sarcastic with Carlo. 'We'll dine out tonight,’ he had decreed after the limousine had dropped them off at his London apartment.
An hour and a half later, she regarded her reflection in the mirror with scorn. The sapphire-blue cocktail dress lovingly defined every breath she drew, never mind her body. It was the kind of dress which screamed 'I want to be noticed,' and Jessica had never suffered from such a need.
But you're playing a part, she reminded herself doggedly, surveying the ring with a curled lip. And maybe if she could prove to Carlo that she could play that part well, he would be less keen to force her into bed. A subconscious voice told her she was tilting at windmills but Jessica did not easily accept defeat.
Nor did Carlo. Involuntarily she recalled the sheer bloody-minded ferocity of his pursuit six years ago.
He had insisted on driving her home personally from the clinic the next day. He had already alerted her parents without her knowledge. Her father had greeted Carlo as though he had snatched his beloved daughter from the jaws of death and her mother's usual expression of boredom had evaporated the same second she saw Carlo.
He had stayed for dinner. He had talked business with
her father and, when her mother had made some fleeting
reference to the wedding, Carlo had smiled. 'Jessica's
too young for marriage ‘
Tar too young,' Carole had chipped in, making no secret of the fact that she had little time for Simon Turner.
Later, her mother had come to her room. 'Well, well, well,' she had said mockingly. 'So you've found yourself a millionaire,’
'I haven't found myself anything!' Jessica had dismissed with distaste.
'Sometimes I think I must have been handed the wrong baby at the hospital.' Carole Amory had grimaced. 'What's the matter with you?'
'Nothing. I just don't like him.'
'What a shame. I've invited him to join the rest of our guests next weekend.’
'MotherV
'He's loaded, darling. He might just decide to invest in Amory's if we play our cards right. So be nice to him for your Daddy's sake. It was pretty obvious to me that the only thing Carlo Saracini is really interested in is you.’
Flowers had arrived for her every day the following week, each card adorned only with a slashed initial ‘C. Then he had phoned and asked her out to dinner. She had refused and he had laughed. The following evening she had found herself smiling glacially across a table at him, with her parents seated on either side as Carlo re’ turned their hospitality at the Deangate.
With spectacular speed and efficiency, not to mention breathtaking effrontery, Carlo had broken into their lives, offering her father business contacts and advice, flattering the older man with his interest. Her mother had raged at her when she'd attempted to persuade her father that Carlo Saracini was not a man he wanted to know.
'If the firm goes into receivership, it'll be your fault!’ Carole had told Jessica furiously. 'Carlo could help us... but he's not going to help if you offend him!'
Jessica had been shaken to appreciate that the family firm was on such rocky foundations. And the idea that Carlo Saracini had the power to make or break Amory's had horrified her. She hadn't trusted him an inch but her continuing attempts to warn off her father had fallen on deaf ears.
'He knows four times as much as I knew at the same age,' Gerald Amory had said admiringly. 'And he's
already put me in touch with a couple of very useful people.’
Carlo had become a regular visitor to her home. Had she ever actually been naive enough to believe that Carlo might simply invest in Amory's? Yes, she had been.
'I can help your father...' Carlo had drawled softly the night he had called when she was at home alone. 'Take off that ring and you'll find out how generous I can be.'
'I'm not for sale, Mr Saracini, and my engagement to Simon is not some bargaining counter in a sordid deal,' she flashed back, stiff with outrage.
Carlo had anchored one powerful hand round her wrist
and yanked her up against him. 'Isn't it?3 he had mur
mured fiercely, dark golden eyes searching her furious
face. 'You know how much I want you ‘
'Because you can't have me!' she had rebutted, struggling to pull free from the disturbing proximity of his lean, all male body. 'That's the only reason you say you want me, isn't it? I'm not interested and your ego can't take that lying down!'
'But you are interested,’ Carlo had breathed almost amusedly. 'Do you really think I don't know when a woman wants me, caraV
'I love Simon!' she had slung back.
'Who treats you like a little sister '
'That's not true '
'Then tell me when he last kissed you like this...' And before she could forestall him, Carlo had crushed her mouth under his and it had been like being struck by forked lightning. Terrifying.
Jessica sank back to the present and found her fingers shakily touching her lips. She saw more clearly now than she had seen then. Just as Carlo had, ironically, seen more as an outsider looking on. Carlo alone had registered the lack of sexual tension between Jessica and Simon. But Carlo had cynically misread her behaviour.
He had believed she was using Simon as a weapon against him, using Simon and her fast approaching wedding to pressure him into offering her more. And in return, Carlo had used Amory's to balance the equation.
Lifting the phone, she rang Dr Guthri
e to ask after her father and was delighted to hear that her father was still angrily insisting that he had had no thought of harming himself but that he was, none the less, greatly relieved to be told that he was no longer facing prosecution.
She joined Carlo in the lounge with a ramrod-straight back and a rigidly uncommunicative face, unaware that her amethyst eyes sparkled with all the angry turmoil she was struggling to hide.
Lean and lithe in his dinner-jacket, Carlo strolled forward, a faint flush highlighting his hard cheekbones as he scanned her with hooded eyes. ‘Let your hair down. I don't like it up.’
'Tough.' Jessica tilted her chin.
It was a mistake. Carlo caught her to him with one hard hand and ruthlessly released her hair from the sleek plait she had confined it in. A mass of silver cascaded untidily to her shoulders, framing her outraged face and glittering eyes.
'You look messy now... as if you just got out of my bed,' Carlo delineated in a scorching purr of satisfaction. 'I think that's more the look we're aiming
for... and this ‘ He lifted her hand and tugged off
the diamond ring. 'While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I don't want to see you wearing it until we take off for the Caribbean.’
Colour surged painfully up her slender throat. ‘I hate you, Carlo,' she enunciated with husky clarity.
'If you want your father off the hook, cara.. ‘ Carlo let the smooth words hang threateningly in the air between them. 'You really are going to have to work on your attitude.'
Jessica turned paper-white.
Carlo surveyed her with pitiless dark eyes, his powerful features hard and unyielding. 'You're useless to me if you can't act the part with conviction.'
Shattered by the sheer cruelty of that uncompromising reminder, Jessica couldn't even find her voice, but inside herself she seethed with a combustible mix of mortified pride, thwarted fury and helpless fear.
Carlo let the silence drag. He spread both hands in a fluid motion. 'Do you want to go home again?'
Jessica trembled. She wanted to slap him hard. Her feathery lashes lowered over her expressive eyes. He didn't have to humiliate her like this. He didn't have to hold her father over her as if he were flexing a whip over a wild animal. Hatred powered through her slight frame but with the greatest difficulty she held it in.
'No, I don't want to go home,' she muttered grittily. 'Good,' Carlo retorted drily. He handed her a comb in the limousine. 'You didn't need to threaten me,' she said tightly. 'This isn't a game. I don't want any temperamental displays in my father's home. Your act has to be credible.' But why, she wanted to demand. Why.. .why was such a deception necessary? It could only be for money, she decided. Carlo's father must want him to marry and, unwilling to sacrifice his freedom in the long term, Carlo was prepared to deceive in the short term. Her eyes filled with scorn and disgust.
He took her to a fashionable restaurant where then-entrance attracted a discreet wave of turned heads and murmured comment. Studying the menu, Jessica was vaguely surprised to register that she was really hungry. 'Don't you think it's time you told me something about your father?' she prompted.
'Where do you want me to begin?' His clipped tone was not encouraging.
'I'm not likely to put on much of an act withoutsowe
background information. You said that he was
dying ‘
'Heart disease,’ Carlo filled in flatly. 'He's in a wheel
chair '
Jessica felt suddenly very insensitive. 'Can nothing
be V
"The last operation failed. He is not strong enough for another,’
Jessica swallowed. 'Is his wife still alive?’
Unexpectedly, Carlo laughed, but the sound was curiously sardonic. 'Very much so. Sunny is considerably younger than my father.' His handsome mouth hardened, a tiny muscle pulling tight at the corner of his lips, adding a chilling gravity to his dark features. 'She is his fourth wife.'
'His fourth?9 she couldn't help echoing weakly. 'Do you have brothers and sisters?'
'One sister, much older than I, born of his first marriage. I did have a half-brother but he was drowned in a boating accident several years back,' Carlo proffered without emotion.
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. He was so much older, I barely knew him.’
Jessica was silenced. Carlo was describing an impossibly fragmented family tree quite alien to her.
'My sister, Marika, lived with my father. She has never married. They live on a tiny cay in the Turks and Caicos Islands.1
'Were you bora there?'
‘I was born in Greece. After my mother's death, I was sent to school in Italy.'
'Why so far away?'
'I didn't like my new stepmother any more than she liked me,' Carlo said drily.
A tall, rake-thin brunette with huge dark eyes and a ripe, sultry mouth stopped by their table. Ignoring
Jessica, she spoke to Carlo in Italian. His response, whatever it was, was not to the other woman's taste. Her cheeks flamed, her eyes widening. She sent Jessica a scorching look of loathing but her dark eyes were full of pain and jealousy before she shrugged and walked back to a table nearby.
'And who was that?' Jessica couldn't help asking. 'Nobody you need concern yourself with,' Carlo said dismissively.
Jessica could feel the brunette's eyes burning into her profile. Uncomfortable with the sensation, she concentrated on her meal.
She felt claustrophobic in the limousine. 'Who was that woman?' she heard herself ask again as they entered the apartment. Disturbingly, she found that she could think of nothing else.
'Jealous, caraV Carlo cast her a mocking, slanting smile.
Her slender frame taut with disbelief, Jessica very nearly choked. 'Jealous? Are you crazy?'
Before she could move away, Carlo linked his arms round her narrow shoulders and gazed down at her with eyes the colour of molten gold. 'You're the crazy one,' he murmured huskily. 'No woman has ever made me want her as I want you,’
Her breath snarled up in her throat. She was caught unprepared.
'Would you fight for me the way I would fight for you?' Carlo enquired in the same deep-pitched tone of intimacy. 'I should have kidnapped you six years ago...' 'S-stop it, Carlo!' Jessica relocated her voice clumsily, every bone in her body tensing under the perceived threat.
Instead, he dropped his arms to her waist, bent and swept her up off her feet. At the same instant he covered her startled lips with a dark, fierce hunger that de-
voured. She felt the leap of response inside her and fought it to the last ditch.
He laid her down on a bed in the moonlight. 'I don't want this, Carlo,' she protested tautly. 'It isn't enough for me.'
He slung his tie aside, shrugged fluidly out of his jacket and came down beside her. 'What would be enough?' he demanded darkly, harshly, and before she could roll away out of reach to the other side of the wide bed he brought both hands down hard on hers, imprisoning her. 'What did he have that I didn't? What could he give you that I couldn't?'
Stunned by the seething anger she had ignited, Jessica
stared up at him. He was talking about Simon again. 'It
wasn't like that. You couldn't understand '
"Then bloody make me understand!' Carlo invited in raw challenge. 'Was he a better lover than I was?'
Torn by a pain she had never shared with another living soul, Jessica wrenched her head to one side, seeking to evade his glittering scrutiny. 'Carlo...'
'I want to know,' he intoned, twisting one powerful hand into her hair to force her eyes back to his. 'So you tell me, what was it about him that made him so special?'
'I'm not going to talk about this!' Tears stung her eyes in a blinding surge.
'I want to talk about it. I offered you everything I had
to give and you walked away...' Carlo returned with
smouldering bite. 'And yet it was me you wanted '
Wo!' she gasped.
'Si...' Carlo
snarled down at her.
'Wanting isn't enough!’ she suddenly screamed back at him.
'But without it, there's nothing,' Carlo pointed out with devastating simplicity.
And the reality of that fact was like a knife twisting inside her. A tortured sob escaped her convulsed throat. She had had a marriage that was five years of nothing.
'Don't cry...' Carlo smoothed a not quite steady hand over her damp cheek and she found herself turning into the seductive warmth of that caress like a homing pigeon.
The awareness that she could not restrain her physical impulses this close to him merely added to her torment. She was her mother's daughter, a little voice said, and a sick sense of shame stirred inside her. Carlo had eased a supportive hand beneath her shoulder blades to raise her up and her fingers accidentally brushed against his broad chest and heat sprang up beneath her fingertips, the raw heat of his flesh below the thin silk shirt.
He trembled, and for some reason that made her want to do it again. He muttered something rough into the veil of her hair and she let her hand stay where it was, listening to the ruptured rasp of his breathing and feeling the thunderous crash of his heartbeat against her palm.
The atmosphere was explosive, abruptly, inexplicably exhilarating as adrenalin surged through her veins. She let her fingers spread and flex and without warning Carlo groaned, sweeping her with a sudden current of live-wire excitement.
'MaledizioneV Carlo muttered thickly, dragged her lithely back down on the bed. 'With you I have less control than a teenager!'
He was shaking in the circle of her arms. When had she closed her arms round him? It didn't seem important. Briefly, crazily, she experienced an extraordinary sense of power. A heartbeat later it was torn from her by the burning assault of his hungry mouth. Her body leapt into throbbing life and rational thought ended for long, timeless minutes.
The scent of him was so achingly familiar it was an aphrodisiac. His shirt was open and she found the sleek, smooth brown skin of his shoulder with her tongue and he shuddered against her, chest to breast, thigh to thigh in a pagan feast of agonising, uncontrollable excitement. Carlo rolled over and wrenched violently at