A Night In His Arms: Captive in the Spotlight / Meddling with a Millionaire / How to Seduce a Billionaire

There was a murmur from the crowd and Lucy sensed movement towards her. She spun around to confront a sea of faces. Her stomach dived but she drew herself up straight.

‘Touch me or my friend and you’ll answer to the police.’ She kept her tone calm by sheer willpower, her gaze scanning back and forth across the gathering.

* * *

The words were loud even over the mutterings of the crowd. And enough to hold them back...for now.

Domenico took in the defiant tilt of Lucy’s head and her wide-planted feet, as if she stood ready to fight off an attack. But she couldn’t fend them off. Her hands were behind her back, holding Chiara’s.

She looked like a lioness defending her young.

A lioness outnumbered by hunters.

Something plunged through his chest, a sharp purging heat like iron hot from the forge. His hands curled into fists so tight they trembled with the force of his rage. He wanted to smash something. Preferably the shrewish face of the woman stirring the crowd.

He strode up behind Lucy.

She must have sensed movement for she swung round, her face pale.

Her eyes widened. She gulped, drawing attention to the tense muscles in her slender throat and the flat line of her mouth. She looked down, murmuring reassurance to Chiara, but not before he’d seen the fear in her eyes. Half an hour ago those eyes had danced with pleasure at the sight of the pretty town and its market stalls.

Naked fury misted his vision.

Domenico stalked the last pace towards her. In one swift movement he scooped up Chiara and cuddled her close. He looped his other arm around Lucy and pulled her to him. She was rigid as a board and he felt tension hum through her, an undercurrent of leashed energy.

‘I don’t know who you are,’ he growled at the harridan in the thick of the crowd, ‘but I’ll thank you not to frighten my family.’

Beside him Lucy jerked then stilled. He heard her soft gasp and rubbed his palm up her arm. It was covered in goose bumps. Damn him for leaving them alone!

‘But she’s—’

‘It doesn’t matter who she is, signora. But I’ll have your name.’ His voice was lethal. ‘I’ll need it for my complaint to the police. For public nuisance and harassment.’ He watched the woman wilt. ‘Possibly incitement to violence.’

He turned and glared at the gathering, which had already thinned substantially.

‘And the names of anyone else involved.’

He turned to Chiara, giving them time to digest that. ‘Are you all right, bella?’

She nodded. ‘But Lucy isn’t. She was shaking.’

‘It’s all right, little one. I’m here now and Lucy will be fine.’

Domenico felt Lucy shudder and held her tighter, wishing he had both arms free to hold her. Wishing he hadn’t dispensed with security support today. He turned back to the street. Only a couple of people remained, watching wide-eyed. He heard the woman at the front whispering.

‘He’s the one in the magazine. The one whose—’

‘Basta!’ He scowled. ‘One more word from you and I’m pressing charges.’ He gave her a look he reserved for underperforming managers. A moment later, she and her companions had scuttled away.

‘Right, girls.’ He turned towards the main square, his arms tight around Chiara and Lucy, his tone as reassuring as he could make it over simmering fury. ‘Gelato time. I’m having lemon. How about you?’

CHAPTER TEN (#u83a98ce1-24dc-5133-bc01-e47119cd4372)

LUCY SHOVED HER spare shoes into her bag. Just as well she didn’t have much to pack. She’d be done in no time.

Then what? the little voice in the back of her head piped up. Back to the town where you almost caused a riot simply walking down the street?

She’d talk to Domenico—

No, not him.

She’d talk to Rocco. Surely a security expert could suggest how she could get away and lose herself in the crowds of a big city in England. Anonymity was all she asked. She had no hope of ever getting that in Italy. Not with the press hot on her trail.

Unless she gave in and sold her story.

Her stomach cramped at the idea of lowering herself like Sylvia, her stepmother. That betrayal cut deep. How could Sylvia have done it?

Lucy needed the money, now more than ever. But she needed her self-respect too.

She grabbed a shirt and slapped it on top of the shoes, fighting the hot prickle of tears.

What was happening to her? She hadn’t cried in years, not till Chiara’s accident. Now she wanted to curl up and blub out her self-pity. It was as if her defences had collapsed, leaving her prey to weakness she’d thought she’d conquered years before.

She looked at the winking lights of the mainland.

A few hours ago she’d been happy. Happier than she’d believed possible. The day had been glorious, the surroundings spectacular, and she’d basked in Domenico’s approval and solicitude. She’d blossomed into a woman she barely recognised, who actually believed good things might come to pass. Who believed Domenico saw beyond the surface to the woman she was at heart, or was before the last years had scarred her.

She dragged a deep breath into constricted lungs.

He’d been kind, caring, fun. She’d enjoyed his company. More, she’d believed he’d enjoyed hers. And though he hadn’t kissed her again, she’d felt the weight of it between them, a potent presence. A promise.

But there could never be more between them. She tried to tell herself he was softening her up to convince her to sign his contract. But she rejected the idea.

Why?

Because she’d fallen for him.

Her hands clenched so hard the nails bit crescents into her flesh.

Pathetic, wasn’t she? As if he’d ever care for her.

Maybe those years in jail had warped her judgement—made her ready to succumb to the tiniest hint of caring. She was ready for passion and more, for tenderness, because they’d been denied her so long. That had to be the reason. How else could she explain the way she’d fallen for Domenico like a ripe plum?

She was doing the right thing, getting on with life. This time tomorrow she’d be in anonymous London.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

His voice slid like a finger of dark arousal down her spine. Lucy trembled and clutched her clothes tight. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed in danger of bursting free.