Blackmailed Bride, Innocent Wife

‘We need to talk. I have news for you.’

‘From Jason?’ Was that why he’d been loitering in the foyer? To explain Jason’s absence? Why hadn’t he said so?

‘Si.’ The single word was curt, his expression sombre, and Alissa felt a presentiment of trouble, deep trouble.

He gestured for her to accompany him, not waiting to see if she complied before striding away. Alissa scurried to keep up, her feet sliding in her damp shoes.

He’d reached the foyer, heading for the main door, when she caught him up.

‘Where are you going?’

He paused and turned his head, eyes narrowing on her. ‘My limousine is outside. We can talk privately there.’

She shook her head. She was going nowhere with a man she didn’t know. Especially not this man. Especially not into some anonymous vehicle. She was desperate, not a fool.

‘We can talk here.’ She angled her chin up.

‘You wish to discuss your private affairs here, in such a public place?’

She met his gaze steadily. Better to err on the side of caution. ‘You said you had news for me?’

Dario looked into that upturned oval face and felt it again—the stab of physical awareness. Despite everything, his hatred of the Mangano family, his contempt for this woman, his fury at the steps he’d been forced to take to secure what was his, there was no mistaking her impact on him. An intense jolt of desire carved a hole right through his belly. Its burning trail was hot as flame.

A similar, unexpected surge of need had held him still when she’d run into him five minutes ago. He’d been stunned by its intensity—far stronger even than his disgust.

This was the woman who’d rejected his offers, rejected him not once but twice now, not even deigning to meet him in person. That alone was an insult for which he required satisfaction. No woman had ever denied him what he wanted. More, she connived to thwart his plans to recoup what was his. She’d schemed behind his back, collaborating with Donnelly to prevent Dario winning back his birthright.

She wanted it all for herself. If she’d planned to marry for love he might have understood. But this was a greedy, calculating attempt to keep the old feud alive and stop him acquiring the one thing that meant everything to him. The castello in Sicily her grandfather had stolen from Dario’s family.

He breathed deep, suppressing a lifetime’s hatred.

This woman was everything he despised. Shallow, conniving, spoiled. She’d grown up with every advantage money could buy yet she’d squandered her opportunities, turning instead to drugs, drink and wild parties. Till even her grandfather would have nothing to do with her.

Dario should feel nothing but contempt for her. And yet…

Her pale, pure skin, her wide-open cornflower eyes, her plump bow of a mouth, the voluptuous curves on that tiny figure…even her air of barely suppressed energy, comprised a feminine package that was far too alluring.

It infuriated him. It was not supposed to happen. And things which were not supposed to happen had a way of disappearing silently out of his life: bought off or simply banished by his superior power and strength of will. Dario had worked hard for what he had. He had no patience with things or people, or feelings, that did not comply with his plans.

‘What I have to say isn’t for public consumption.’

He punched down irritation at her contrary attitude in refusing to accompany him. What had he expected? Her previous actions, having her lawyer reject his more than generous offers out of hand, illustrated her selfish obstinacy.

He drew a breath, trying to block the rich scent of lilies and damp woman that played havoc with his concentration.

‘Come. Let us find a better place for this conversation.’ He’d be damned if he discussed matters of such importance in an echoing public foyer. She might have few scruples but he had more respect for himself than that.

He stalked across the vestibule and found an empty office. He held the door and waited for her to precede him.

His gaze strayed down over her compact, curvaceous figure as she entered, the sway of her pert bottom in the tight skirt. Even in a rain-stained suit, with saturated hair, her complexion milky with shock, she drew his unwilling gaze.

Despite those top-class legs, reason dictated she wasn’t his type. Pocket Venus redheads with attitude and tarnished reputations weren’t his style. Give him a brunette with a madonna smile and a docile nature any day.

Unfortunately the voice of reason stayed silent on this occasion.

‘What is this place?’ She stared at the desk before them. ‘Are we allowed in here?’

He shrugged and closed the door. ‘We are here. And we have privacy. That’s all that matters.’

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to argue then clearly thought better of it.

Good. Things would proceed more easily when she learned to accede to his wishes. A shaft of anticipation warmed his belly at the thought.

‘Your bridegroom—’

‘What happened to Jason? Have you seen him?’ No mistaking the concern in her voice. He catalogued the fact for later consideration. Perhaps, after all, their wedding hadn’t been purely a convenient arrangement. Perhaps lust as well as greed had been a factor in her marriage plans.

He remembered Jason Donnelly’s weak, handsome face—good looks but no substance. Was he the sort of man that attracted her? The idea was strangely disquieting. He had no interest in this woman’s weaknesses, except insofar as he could exploit them to his advantage.

‘I saw him this afternoon.’

‘Is he all right? What happened?’

Dario felt a stirring of pleasure, remembering the ease with which this afternoon’s interview had followed the map he’d laid out for it.

‘Nothing happened. Your Mr Donnelly is perfectly well, though he is no longer your Mr Donnelly.’

Her brow puckered in a frown and Dario wondered if he’d let his satisfaction show. What did it matter if he had? There was nothing she could do about it. He held all the cards. No matter how much she protested, she’d find the only way forward was his way. After all the trouble she’d caused the knowledge pleased him.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘He has decided he no longer wishes to marry you.’

‘But why? And why not tell me himself? Why send a stranger?’

‘He didn’t send me. I chose to come.’

Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Then she sagged back against the desk, shaking her head.

‘Look, can’t you just tell me? What’s going on?’

‘Mr Donnelly had a better offer. An offer he found it impossible to refuse. As a result he changed his mind about marriage.’ Dario had made absolutely sure of that.

‘An offer of what? Not marriage!’

Dario paced further into the room to stand before her, his feet planted wide, his hands finding his pockets as he enjoyed this moment of triumph.

‘An offer of money, of course. That’s the language the two of you understand best.’ He watched her pupils dilate, darkening her eyes. Her jaw sagged to reveal even white teeth and a glimpse of moist pink tongue.