The Blackmailed Bridegroom

by Miranda Lee

  CHAPTER SIX

  PAIGE froze, her back pressed against the leather, her hands gripping the seat belt once more, lest Antonio forcibly undo it and drag her out. ‘No! I’m not going up there. You can’t make me!’

  ‘I’m not taking you up to Waltham’s apartment. I’m taking you up to mine. Then I’m going over to Waltham’s.’

  ‘But…but what for?’ she asked shakily.

  ‘To get back your clothes, for one thing. And to have a quiet little word,’ he added, in the kind of low, coolly civilised voice she imagined a clever hitman might use to lure his prey to their deaths.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she realised Antonio didn’t want a quiet word with Jed. He wanted to beat him to a pulp. The vengeful part of Paige wanted him to do just that. But her softer, more sympathetic side knew she’d seriously provoked Jed by not responding or co-operating with him, and then in not denying his accusations.

  Not that those things justified hitting her.

  ‘I can’t let you do that, Antonio,’ she said, almost regretfully.

  ‘Do what?’ he asked.

  ‘You know what. You’re going to pulverise Jed. I can see it in your eyes.’

  ‘You can read me that well? My poker face must be slipping. But so what if I want to teach Waltham a lesson he won’t forget? Are you saying you don’t want me to, that you still care about the creep?’

  ‘No. But I do care about you.’ Her eyes remained steady on his, despite her heart fluttering wildly inside. ‘I don’t want you having to answer to some assault charge because of me. I would really appreciate your getting my clothes. But for the rest…I would much prefer you left well enough alone, and came back to me safe and sound.’

  Antonio didn’t know if he felt triumphant or troubled. Nothing was going as planned. The Paige who’d always irritated him to death was now engaging far more than his carnal desires. He wanted to know more about her, wanted to put the pieces of her puzzle together.

  What was real and what had he presumed? Was she shallow and silly, or sensitive and misunderstood? Was she genuinely promiscuous, or a love-starved woman, desperate to find some real affection from any man?

  Antonio noted that most of her lovers had been some years older then herself. Perhaps she was looking for a father figure. Perhaps her never-ending bed-hopping was the result of a quest to find the sort of love she’d never had from Conrad.

  Antonio appreciated that everyone who’d ever been emotionally neglected as a child craved love as one would crave a drug. He himself had once been needy in that regard. He’d thought he’d found the answer to his need in Lauren, lavishing all the love he’d had to give on her. But he’d been as deluded by Lauren as Paige had obviously been by Waltham.

  He wished he knew exactly what had happened last night. He could not imagine a man like Waltham being an inadequate lover. If he was unsatisfactory in bed, then why had Paige moved in with him in the first place?

  Unfortunately, Paige was not going to give him any details. She’d been adamant about that.

  Whatever, Waltham was about to wish he hadn’t struck Conrad Fortune’s daughter.

  Antonio had never told his neighbour what he did for a living, other than to make some casual remark about being in business. He always kept a low profile, media-wise, letting Conrad have all the limelight. Antonio wasn’t into that kind of thing. He valued his privacy too much. Consequently, he could give his position at Fortune Productions any slant he wanted.

  ‘Did Waltham know you were Conrad Fortune’s daughter?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Heavens, no. I never tell anyone that! I’m not stupid, you know.’

  ‘Stupid?’

  ‘Aside from the security angle, I like to be liked for myself, thank you very much, not because I’m a rich man’s daughter.’

  Antonio found it ironic that her being a rich man’s daughter had always been an obstacle in his liking her. Before tonight, that was. Tonight he was finding he liked Paige a lot. Far too much, actually. He would have preferred keeping his feelings for her firmly on a lust basis. Lust he was comfortable with. Lust he could handle.

  ‘Are you coming up?’ he said a touch sharply. ‘Or are you going to just sit there and wait till I come back down with your clothes?’

  ‘How do you know Jed’s home?’

  ‘That’s his car over there, isn’t it?’ he said, and pointed to the red Ferrari in the next row.

  Paige nodded.

  ‘Then he’s home. Men who drive Ferraris don’t use taxis.’

  Antonio waited while she gnawed at her bottom lip for a full ten seconds. ‘You won’t let him anywhere near me, will you?’

  She really was frightened. ‘You have my word,’ he assured her, and hardened his resolve to give Jed Waltham a taste of his own medicine. And right where it hurt most!

  Paige scooped in a deep breath before letting it out with a shudder. ‘Okay, then.’

  He deposited her safely in his apartment, with instructions not to answer the door to anyone. He told her to make herself comfortable. There was whatever she might wish to drink behind the bar in the main living area, food or coffee in the kitchen, television, video and stereo in another smaller living room. He would be back, he said, as soon as possible.

  ‘Be careful, Antonio,’ were her last words.

  His parting smile didn’t seem to soothe her anxious face. But he couldn’t let her natural female tendency for taking the line of least resistance sway him from doing what had to be done.

  For a while Antonio thought Waltham wasn’t home. But he answered his doorbell at long last, the considerable delay explained by his semi-naked state and frustrated expression. His chest and feet were bare, his trousers hanging around his hips, the zipper gaping. His lack of underwear was disgustingly obvious.

  ‘Who the hell—?’ he began aggressively, then stopped. ‘Oh, it’s you! Tony, isn’t it?’

  ‘Antonio,’ came the cold correction. ‘Antonio Scarlatti.’

  ‘Really? You don’t sound Italian.’ Waltham started doing up his trousers. ‘Sorry about this. I was in the middle of something.’ And, zipping up his fly with a pretty risky flourish, he threw Antonio one of those conspiratorial man-to-man grins.

  Antonio just stared at him, his emotions wavering between distaste and disbelief. How could Paige have been taken in by this womanising creep, even for a moment?

  The stockbroker wasn’t at all fazed by Antonio’s chilly expression, his own face still smirking. ‘Is there something I can help you with, Tony? A cup of sugar? Packet of condoms?’

  ‘I can’t imagine you’d have any left,’ Antonio drawled icily, and the man’s smile finally began to fade.

  ‘Honey, who is it?’ A female voice drifted from the depths of the apartment. ‘I’m getting cold in here. If you’re much longer, I’m going to have to put some clothes on.’

  ‘I’ll just be a moment or two, sweetheart,’ Waltham called over his shoulder. ‘Go pop in the spa and keep it warm for me.’

  Antonio’s top lip curled with contempt at the sound of the female’s empty-headed giggle. The stockbroker began eyeing his visitor with a more thoughtful expression. ‘I take it this is not a social call?’

  ‘You take it correctly,’ Antonio returned. ‘I’ve come to collect Miss Fortune’s clothes.’

  ‘Miss Fortune?’ the creep repeated, frowning his confusion.

  Antonio’s temper was starting to seriously fray. The louse didn’t even know Paige’s surname.

  ‘The lady’s first name is Paige,’ came his frosty elaboration. ‘But you probably called her honey. Or sweetheart. Or babe.’

  Now he got some reaction. Waltham’s face darkened, then tightened. ‘Oh, I see. She ran along to you, did she? Probably told you a whole lot of bull about how I beat her up. Hell, it was only a little slap. If it had been any other guy she’d have gotten a lot more than that! Look, man, don’t be fooled by the likes of her. She’s nothing but a cheap, gold-digging little slut. And fri
gid to boot.’

  Antonio tried not to look startled at this last highly unexpected announcement.

  ‘Not that you would ever guess by looking at her,’ Waltham raved on. ‘That hot-looking body of hers promises more moves than a chess champion. I spent a damned fortune on taking her to the best restaurants and shows in town. But would she put out afterwards? Not even remotely! At first she said it was too soon, and then she said she just couldn’t sleep with a man who didn’t love her. She made me so crazy I told her I loved her. I even asked her to move in with me, to prove it. Which, of course, was her plan: to move in with some rich mug so she could claim half of everything they own. Usually I’m too smart for that caper, but I was so frustrated I wasn’t thinking straight.

  ‘I wouldn’t have minded if she’d been good in bed, but, hell, anyone would think she was a virgin the way she carried on, crying afterwards and then saying she didn’t want to do it again. I thought a bit of oral would get her going, but oh, no, she wouldn’t have a bar of that, either. It was about then that I lost it and hit her. The silly little cow ran into the bathroom and locked herself in. She was in there so long I had a few drinks, then eventually passed out on the bed. I guess it was while I was asleep that she let herself out and went along to your place.’

  Antonio was having difficulty keeping his hands off the bastard. ‘She didn’t come along to my place,’ he bit out.

  ‘Oh? What happened, then? Did you run into her in the lift, was that it? Well, whatever, just watch it, buddy. She’s bad news. A fruit loop. Toss her out before you get caught in the same trap I did. Meanwhile, don’t believe a word she says about what happened last night.’

  ‘The bruise on her face rather speaks for itself, don’t you think?’ Antonio said with cold fury. ‘As for Miss Fortune being a gold-digging slut, I don’t think what you described to me just now are the actions of a slut. Sluts, I’ve found, have no aversion to giving men like you whatever you want. As for her being a gold-digger, I would imagine most people would consider you the gold-digger for pursuing her.’

  ‘Huh? What in hell are you talking about? The girl hasn’t got a dime. She hasn’t even got a job at the moment!’

  ‘Paige might not personally have any money. But her father could buy your pathetic little stockbroking firm several times over without missing the money. Since Paige is Conrad Fortune’s only child and heiress, some people might think she’s a very desirable catch, whether she’s good in bed or not!’

  Antonio rather liked seeing Waltham’s mouth flap open like a floundering fish.

  ‘I gather you’ve heard of Conrad Fortune of Fortune Productions? Their television programmes win awards all over the world every year.’

  The four-letter expletive which fell from those flapping lips expressed the stockbroker’s situation pretty well, Antonio thought with savage satisfaction.

  ‘I happen to be in Mr Fortune’s employ,’ he went on mercilessly. ‘I see to his security and other personal needs. Italians are, by tradition, very good bodyguards. They don’t shirk from doing what other men find…irksome.’

  Antonio let his words sink in, with their implied threat. He gave private thanks to all those films which had painted every second Italian male—especially ones dressed in black—as potential killers.

  ‘Recently, Mr Fortune gave me a different brief,’ he continued, in the classically emotionless monotone of a movieland Mafia assassin. ‘His daughter. I was charged with seeing no harm comes to her. So you see, Jed, I was concerned when it came to my attention that you’d raised your hand to her, then threatened her further.’

  Antonio didn’t know that Waltham had threatened Paige further, but it seemed likely, given her fear.

  Waltham had gone a sickly ashen colour.

  ‘You are fortunate that Miss Fortune wants your miserable hide spared. All she asks is the return of her clothes. So if you could get them, please, I’ll be on my way.’

  Now Waltham went dead white. ‘I…I can’t get her clothes.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I…um…I burnt them,’ he muttered, in the lowest of voices.

  ‘You…burnt…them.’

  ‘Look, when I woke up to find her gone, naturally I was angry,’ he tried to explain.

  ‘Naturally?’ Antonio repeated coldly.

  Waltham suddenly found some spirit. ‘Damn it all, what did she expect? That I would calmly take what she dished out? I wanted to teach her a lesson. I’m a man, not a mouse!’

  ‘I agree that you’re not a mouse. But you’re not a man either. You’re a louse! And it’s you who’s going to be taught the lesson.’ The back of Antonio’s left hand swiped hard across Waltham’s face before the other man could even blink, snapping his head round as the blow landed forcibly on his cheekbone, pretty well in the same place Paige had been struck.

  Antonio had no intention of leaving it at that. Taking the stunned man by the shoulders, he let his knee come up between Waltham’s legs and crunch into the sleazebag’s ill-protected equipment. Antonio stepped back and watched him sink to his knees, grasping his genitals as he groaned in agony.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll live,’ Antonio told the crouched form at his feet. ‘You’ll probably even get to be a pathetic lover again. But not tonight, I would imagine. Your ladyfriend will have to keep it warm for a few more days, I would think. Needless to say, if you ever bother Paige again…if you even speak to her…either personally or by telephone, you won’t get off this lightly a second time. Do you get my drift?’

  Waltham managed to nod.

  ‘Smart man,’ Antonio said, and walked off.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PAIGE couldn’t settle to doing anything Antonio had suggested. Television was beyond her powers of concentration at that moment. She’d never been much of a drinker. And eating was the last thing she could manage. The revolving in her stomach would have rivalled that of a tumbledrier.

  She paced up and down the spacious room, oblivious and uncaring of its luxury, her anxiety increasing with each passing minute. Logic suggested it would take Jed time to pack her clothes, but logic was not as strong as the intuitive feeling that something else was going on in the apartment next door besides clothes-packing. Her ears strained to detect any sounds of scuffling or shouting through the walls, but of course million-dollar penthouses were well insulated.

  Agitated beyond belief, Paige found herself eventually making her way through the huge sliding glass doors and standing on the equally huge balcony. Again she strained to hear sounds, but nothing came to her ears but the faint sound of music from one of the opened windows below. Sighing her frustration, she leant against the curved steel railing and let the fresh sea breeze blow the heat from her face.

  Distraction came in the form of the view of Sydney Harbour. It was magnificent, and very different from that at her own home, which was understandable. The two residences were on opposite sides of Port Jackson, for starters, and opposite sides of the bridge. Antonio’s penthouse was also much higher, so that a larger body of water plus the whole of the inner city area was set out before her in one vast, hundred-and-eighty-degree panorama.

  At that hour, and with the night sky perfectly clear of cloud, it was a sight to behold. The stars competed with the city lights to create a fairyland carpet out of the black waters of the harbour, a perfect foil for the bridge and the tall buildings beyond. In the distance, Darling Harbour glowed. No doubt its brand-new glitzy casino still buzzed with tourists and compulsive gamblers, but the rest of the city was pretty quiet. It was Monday night, after all, and those balmy summer evenings which brought Sydneysiders out onto the harbour in droves were still a few weeks off.

  Paige shivered as a swirl of much stronger wind brought her out in goosebumps. Truly, it was too cool to be comfortable out here, and she turned to go inside. So much for Antonio’s suggestion that they sit out on his balcony sipping coffee. He must have known it was out of the question. Which meant he’d probably never intended to bot
her with supper at all. Till this awkward business with Jed had cropped up, it probably would have been straight to the bedroom.

  And she would have been with him all the way!

  The thought annoyed her, and she slammed the glass door behind her. Why on earth was the infernal man taking so long?

  The need for further distraction drove her to look around the place. Frankly, she was surprised and impressed. Although identical in floor-plan to Jed’s penthouse, Antonio’s was furnished in a more sophisticated and elegant style. The floors went from a grey granite in the foyer and hallways to a deep burgundy carpet in the living rooms, the furniture a mixture of lacquered black wood and the coolest of cream leathers.

  Jed’s place was over the top, with lots of dark studded leather, animal print furnishings and mirrors. Oh, yes, Jed liked mirrors!

  Each place reflected the personality of its owner, Paige began to appreciate. Jed was a show pony, who needed pseudo-macho accessories to boost his self-image. Antonio didn’t. His natural class and taste shone through in the things he’d chosen to surround himself with. This was the home of a man who knew what he was, and what he wanted out of life.

  Antonio had obviously done very well for himself over the years, Paige realised as she wandered over to stare through the glass wall at the city skyline once more. A million-dollar view to go with the million-dollar penthouse. That Jag he’d been driving tonight wasn’t cheap, either. And his clothes spoke for themselves. Still, her father was no fool. He would be paying Antonio a huge package to make sure no other company head-hunted him.

  And, of course, Antonio had no dependants to drain away his finances. No doubt he meant to keep it that way, too. If a man meant to marry and have children he didn’t leave it this late to start. Not that Paige knew exactly how old he was. But he had to be in his mid-thirties.

  The sound of a key rattling in the front door lock propelled Paige back to the moment at hand and over to the foyer, her heart pounding as Antonio came in. Frantic blue eyes searched his face and hands for any evidence of a scuffle.