Seducing His Enemy's Daughter: Christmas at the Castello (bonus novella)

by Annie West

  She imagined giving in to him. There’d be no fumbling, no awkwardness. She guessed with him sex would be far too easy and utterly devastating.

  ‘Why me?’ She set her jaw. ‘There are plenty of glamorous women here. Quite a few would give you sex if you asked.’

  ‘You don’t think you’re glamorous?’

  How had he latched onto that? On the fact she felt like an imposter even dressed in silk and diamonds.

  ‘I know my limitations.’

  ‘And you think your looks are one of them?’

  ‘The way I look doesn’t matter.’ She ignored the tension clamping her stomach.

  He put down his drink beside hers and she wondered, frantically, if he’d reach for her. Instead he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. The movement emphasised the power in both his broad shoulders and muscular thighs.

  ‘I think it matters very much, to you.’

  Ella wiped clammy hands down her dress. Her sister’s dress. Fuzz would look delicate and gorgeous in it. On Ella it strained at the seams and the skirt rode too high.

  ‘I was wrong when I called you pretty.’

  She froze. She’d asked for the truth, hadn’t she? What did it matter if these last few years she’d begun to believe she was attractive in her own quiet way? His admission shouldn’t feel like such a blow.

  ‘Pretty is for little girls. And you’re all woman, Ella.’ She saw his hands bunch in his pockets, drawing the fabric of his trousers tight. ‘You’re the only woman here that I want in my bed.’

  Her breath was an audible gasp.

  ‘You’re stunning. The fire in your eyes, that sassy mouth of yours, all that lovely lush bounty of hips and breasts and long, long legs. I want—’

  ‘That’s enough!’

  Ella pressed a palm to her pounding chest. Her heart hammered up high as if it had broken free. ‘We’re not discussing my looks or who you want in your bed.’

  ‘We’re not?’ His mouth kicked up at the corner in a tiny smile that was far more devastating than the one he’d given her before. It was the sort of smile a friend or lover might give, a shared intimacy.

  Ella tugged the silk dress further down her thighs. ‘No. We’re discussing the fact that you marrying into the Sanderson family is totally unnecessary.’

  ‘Unnecessary? Yes.’

  At last! She felt as if a huge stone lifted off her chest. Finally some of the tension drained from her body.

  ‘But definitely appealing.’ His eyes traced a sinuous line down her tall frame and it was a wonder Ella didn’t self-combust. If any other man had ogled her like that she’d have slapped him. Instead her shoulders tightened, pushing out her breasts as if she revelled in that proprietorial look.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Pity the words sounded breathy rather than outraged.

  ‘You heard me, Ella. Don’t play coy.’

  ‘I’m not playing anything!’ Had the world gone mad? Had lust addled her brain? ‘You can’t seriously tell me you think my father’s plan makes sense.’

  ‘Actually—’ his eyes locked with hers ‘—I think it’s an excellent idea.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She stared into that steady blue gaze, waiting for some sign that Donato was joking.

  No sign came. Ella folded her hands over her chest then wished she hadn’t when his gaze flickered to her breasts, pushed up under the tight silk. She hated how that split-second glance flustered her.

  ‘It’s not going to happen. Felicity won’t marry you.’

  ‘So you said.’ He leaned forward, holding her gaze. ‘You’re repeating yourself. Do I make you nervous?’

  ‘Nervous? No.’ Casually she reached for her discarded glass and took a slow sip.

  ‘Something else then?’ His voice was a dark purr. Instead of reassuring, it primed her fight-or-flight response. Donato was no tame cat. He was about as safe as a panther eyeing its next meal.

  ‘Several things spring to mind, Donato, but I’m too polite to spell them out.’

  His chuckle was warm treacle spilling through her veins. ‘It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you tonight, Ella. I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself so much.’

  ‘I amuse you?’ Her jaw firmed, her look dared him to laugh at her.

  ‘That’s not the word I’d use.’ Abruptly his laughter died. His expression was sombre and intent.

  ‘I don’t want to know.’

  His eyebrows arched. ‘You don’t? I hadn’t pegged you for a coward, Ella.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ She was too busy being terrified of the stranger she’d become while she was with him.

  ‘Good, that will make things so much more enjoyable.’

  ‘What things?’

  He rocked back on his heels. ‘Our relationship.’

  ‘We don’t have a relationship. I’m going to leave and you’ll spend the rest of the evening enjoying the party.’ It was a test of willpower not to look at the pool terrace, where the laughter had escalated to riotous. He’d be welcomed with open arms. ‘We won’t see each other again.’

  The realisation was like a rock plummeting inside her stomach. Despite all tonight’s negatives, Ella felt invigorated, more energised than she had in ages.

  ‘Why? Do you have a man waiting up for you?’ Donato dragged his hands out of his pockets, his stance widening as he folded his arms across his chest. The movement transformed him from lazy spectator to belligerent adversary. Or maybe it was the way he scowled.

  ‘There’s no one waiting up for me.’ Ella could have bitten her tongue. He brought out the reckless, unthinking side she usually managed to squash.

  ‘Excellent. I won’t be stepping on anyone’s toes.’

  Ella read his smug expression and her fingers slipped on the damp glass. There was a crash. Water sprayed her bare leg as the glass shattered on the flagstones.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He stepped forward, so close he stole her air. His hand lifted as if to touch her and something engulfed her—a warmth, a frisson, an unseen shimmer of electrical charge.

  ‘Fine! I’m fine.’ Ella assumed it was water trickling down her calf, not blood from a tiny cut. She’d look later.

  She stepped back, coming up against the stone wall. She swallowed down panic. ‘It’s been a very long day and I’m tired.’ With an effort she kept her words even. ‘Find someone else to play your games.’

  Piercing eyes scrutinised her, then Donato nodded and stepped aside to let her pass. Relief stirred.

  ‘You underestimate me, Ella. I’m not playing games. I’ll call for you in the morning.’

  ‘Why? There’s no point.’

  There was no smile on his features when he answered. ‘To get to know you before the wedding, of course.’

  ‘Cut it out, Donato. The joke’s over.’ Was that a wobble in her voice? Great. Just great. Ella stalked past.

  To her horror he turned, his long stride fitting to hers, his hand hovering at the small of her back. She felt it as surely as if he’d pressed his palm to her spine.

  ‘I’ll walk you to the house.’

  ‘I can get there alone.’

  ‘You’re tired. I’ll keep you company.’

  Ella slammed to a halt and a whisper of sensation glanced down her back as his hand skimmed her dress. An instant later he’d stepped back.

  It was more than tiredness bothering her. Being back in her father’s house, she had that awful sensation she’d known in her teens, that she was dressing up, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She’d even grown klutzy again, though she worked with her hands all the time.

  Worse, being watched by Donato unnerved her. As for his pretence that he wanted to marry her! That made her burn from the soles of her feet to the tips of her
ears.

  ‘Now you listen!’ She swung around and lifted a hand to jab her index finger into that imposing chest.

  To her surprise Donato stepped back before she made contact.

  ‘Don’t.’ The single word was terse. His face hardened, grew still but for the tic of a pulse at his temple.

  ‘What?’ He didn’t like her invading his personal space? Tough. She didn’t like being the butt of his joke. She planted her hands on her hips and moved even closer.

  ‘Not a good idea, Ella.’

  ‘Why not? You can dish it out but you can’t cope with a woman who stands up to your cruel little games?’ Silly to taste disappointment. For a while there she’d almost believed there was more to Donato.

  That proved it. She was tired.

  His lips thinned, curling up in a smile unlike either of the ones she’d seen before. This one held no warmth or humour. It was a hunter’s assessing look and it was full of satisfaction. It brought her up sharply, her heart thrumming frantically.

  ‘On the contrary, Ella.’ His voice slowed to syrup on her name. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to you standing up against me.’

  Dazed, Ella wondered if he too pictured them locked together, she held high in his embrace, her legs around his waist. She swallowed, willing the fiery blush away.

  Then she read the tension in his neck and shoulders, in his clenched hands. ‘Don’t try to con me, Donato. You don’t like me being this close to you.’

  ‘Brave but foolish, Ella.’ He unfurled his hands, stretching his long fingers, and abruptly Ella felt far too close for comfort. ‘I don’t want you near me. I want you against me, skin to skin, with nothing between us. I want to watch you blush, not just with arousal—’ his gaze trawled her heated face ‘—but with ecstasy.’

  Her gasp was loud in the throbbing silence.

  He breathed deep, his chest rising so high Ella could swear she felt a disturbance in the air, brushing her breasts and drawing her nipples to tight buds. Her body blazed with the fire he’d ignited.

  ‘I drew back,’ he murmured, ‘because when we do touch, I want us to be alone. So we can finish what we start.’ His eyes were heavy-lidded yet there was nothing lazy about his scrutiny. She felt it in the jangle of her nerves. That only made her angrier.

  ‘You expect me to believe one touch from me and you wouldn’t be able to control yourself?’ Her eyebrows arched. She wasn’t that naïve, despite the foolish way her body responded. She was no siren, to make men forget themselves.

  ‘I know neither of us would want to pull back once we...connected.’ He let his words sink in. ‘I also suspect your desire for privacy might be even stronger than mine. Anyone could walk down here and interrupt us.’

  He looked around as if searching for a suitable spot for them to get naked together.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  His gaze collided with hers. ‘You want to test it?’ His nostrils flared, his eyes gleaming slits. He looked primitive, dangerous, like a warrior daring her to combat.

  Her brain screamed a warning and Ella stepped back. The scrape of her heel on the flagstone was unnaturally loud. Even her breathing was amplified, and her pulse, beating that quick tattoo.

  ‘No, I don’t want to touch you. Not now, not ever.’ Just as well there was no summer thunderstorm tonight or she might have been struck down for the enormity of that lie. ‘I won’t be seeing you again, Donato. Goodbye.’

  Squaring her shoulders, half expecting him to stop her, Ella turned and strode along the terrace back towards the bright lights and people.

  He let her go. See, it had been easy after all. She’d called Donato’s bluff and that was the end of it.

  That was not disappointment she felt. It was relief that she’d never have to see him again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DONATO WATCHED ELLA march away. He’d thought nothing about Reg Sanderson could surprise him. Yet Sanderson’s daughter had stopped him in his tracks.

  Ella. He savoured her name.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake pulling away from her. Maybe if he hadn’t kept his distance he’d have shattered this illusion that she was different.

  Except it would take more than a quickie up against the garden wall to quench what was inside him.

  Which, he assured himself, fitted his plans perfectly.

  That was what he had to concentrate on. Revenge. He’d always known it would be sweet. With Ella as an added bonus it would be delicious.

  He sauntered to the house. There was no one here he wanted to spend time with. Only Ella. Despite her bravado he’d read her fear. Sensible woman. But he’d allay those fears and ensure she enjoyed their time together.

  He’d stopped to tell a waiter about the broken glass on the lower level when Sanderson appeared. His pale eyes looked almost febrile, belying his casual stance. Satisfaction stirred. This had been a long time coming. Too long. He intended to enjoy every moment of Sanderson’s descent into ruin.

  ‘All alone, Donato?’ He scowled. ‘Where’s that girl of mine? Don’t tell me she’s left you alone?’

  ‘Ella was tired.’

  ‘Tired? I’ll give her tired!’ he roared. ‘I—’

  ‘It’s better she gets her sleep tonight.’ Donato kept his voice bland though he wanted to grab Sanderson by the scruff of his neck and shake him till his teeth rattled.

  Because Donato hated him with every fibre of his being? Or because of the way he spoke of Ella? Didn’t the man realise how precious family was? Had he no concept of protecting his child against a man whom everyone knew was as implacable and dangerous as they came?

  What sort of man sold his daughter to a stranger?

  Donato already knew the answer. Reg Sanderson. The bastard had already destroyed too many lives.

  It would be a public service as well as a pleasure to see he got his just deserts.

  Darkness engulfed him. No, Donato wouldn’t see him dead, which was what he deserved. Donato had come close to killing once and he’d learned a lot since then. This way was better. Sanderson’s suffering would be drawn out.

  ‘She should have stayed here, with you. I apologise.’

  Donato raised his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll see her tomorrow.’

  ‘You will?’ The older man’s expression stilled. ‘So, you’re interested? In Ella?’ Was that barely concealed shock in his voice? Sanderson had no notion what a gem his daughter was. The man was blind as well as deplorable.

  Donato had seen the photos of Ella’s sister, a golden girl with obvious allure. Yet if he really sought a bride he wouldn’t choose Felicity Sanderson. If reports were accurate, she hadn’t a loyal bone in her body.

  Did Ella really believe her sister would stick with this new lover, or did she merely try to protect her from the danger he, Donato, represented?

  The idea of her protecting anyone from him was ludicrous, given his far superior power and resources. Yet the notion stuck and he filed it away for future consideration.

  ‘It was a delight meeting someone so refreshing and intelligent.’ Forthright and clever enough to be suspicious, Ella had intrigued from the instant she’d looked at him.

  Sanderson didn’t quite hide his satisfaction. His smile was hungry. ‘It’s wonderful you hit it off so well. I’d hoped you would. There’s no telling with Ella; sometimes she can be a little...’

  ‘A little...?’

  Sanderson shrugged and took a swig of his drink. ‘To be frank, she can be a little outspoken sometimes. But in a good way, of course. Refreshing, as you say.’

  He smiled that conspiratorial smile as if they were good buddies and Donato had to repress the compulsion to slam his fist into the other man’s whiter than white capped teeth. He’d done a lot of things in his time, s
ome of them society had labelled reprehensible. But nothing that sickened him like playing Sanderson’s temporary friend.

  ‘I prefer honesty to polite platitudes.’ Especially when those platitudes hid murky secrets.

  ‘Don’t we all?’

  ‘Meeting your daughter has helped me feel I know you better. That’s important if we’re to work together.’

  ‘I thought you’d see it that way.’ Sanderson paused, then said carefully, ‘So, you want to proceed with the partnership and the loan?’ His absolute stillness gave him away. He was strung tight.

  Grim satisfaction filled Donato. ‘Definitely. This is too good an opportunity to miss.’

  It had taken years of preparation to reach this point, and now he was poised to destroy Sanderson financially and socially. If he couldn’t put him behind bars for his crimes, Donato would at least see he lost what he cared for most. ‘My staff are ready to meet at ten tomorrow to discuss the details.’

  ‘You won’t be there?’ Concern flared in Sanderson’s eyes. Excellent. It was time he discovered he couldn’t keep running from the consequences of his actions.

  ‘My staff are competent to handle the meeting. I plan to be with Ella, getting to know her better.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll love that.’

  Not initially, Donato knew, but he’d change her mind. He looked forward to it.

  ‘Does that mean you liked my notion of a Salazar-Sanderson marriage?’ Sanderson looked urbane and relaxed, yet the ripple on the surface of his whisky betrayed him.

  Donato scrutinised him, from his deep tan and perennially gold hair to the gloss only close acquaintance with serious money could buy. That didn’t hide the mean lines around his mouth, the avaricious gleam in those pale blue eyes or the pugnacious angle of that thick jaw.

  He knew what Sanderson was. Imagine him as a father. No wonder his eldest daughter was a beautiful waste of space. Which made his younger daughter...what, exactly?

  ‘Donato?’ Sanderson didn’t sound quite so smug now.

  ‘The marriage idea?’ Donato took his time, relishing the other man’s unease. ‘I think it’s an excellent one.’