The Italian's Stolen Bride

‘Understand me!’ His eyes blazed unshakeable resolution as he reinforced it with all the turbulent passion stirred by the situation. ‘Skye Sumner should have been my wife. I want her as my wife. And I will have her as my wife.’

CHAPTER FOUR

NOTHING felt safe anymore.

Skye told herself that was another reason why she had to meet Luc Peretti this morning. Ever since the solicitor had come, showing her all the legal documents and the private investigator’s report on her stepfather, she had been feeling the power of the Peretti family closing around her, squeezing for a claim on Matt. She had to find out what their aim was—the end goal.

Right from her first encounter with Luc two weeks ago, she’d been afraid he wouldn’t just walk away. Now she knew he’d confronted his father and moved relentlessly to demonstrate how terribly deceived she’d been by her stepfather. But that didn’t make the Peretti family right in what they’d done, she argued to herself.

Her pulse kicked in shock as she glanced at the clock and saw it was already nine-thirty.

She had to get moving.

A last check in the door mirror of her bedroom showed she had eaten off some of her lipstick, probably from nervously chewing at her lips. Her hand was shaking as she quickly replenished it. Stupid to worry about her appearance, she thought. It didn’t make any difference to what would happen.

Luc’s mother would probably sniff her disapproval of the cheap cotton sundress she wore, but she wasn’t meeting Luc’s mother and never would again. It had been the hottest summer on record in Australia and even though it was now mid-March, the weather still hadn’t cooled. She had a half-hour walk ahead of her and the sundress should keep her from feeling overheated and sticky at the meeting with Luc.

She’d pulled her long hair into a clip at the back of her neck and she quickly jammed the wide-brimmed straw hat on her head, slid her feet into comfortable sandals, grabbed her sunglasses and handbag, and left the house, her heart fluttering uncontrollably over having to deal with the man who knew he was Matt’s father.

At least, he hadn’t asked for Matt to accompany her. In fact, there had been no threatening pressure attached to his request for a meeting, as relayed by the solicitor. The choice of time and place had been hers and it was to be just the two of them.

The request had seemed reasonable, the meeting necessary, given the dreadful fraud her stepfather had perpetrated, including forging her signature on some papers, using her pregnancy to extort the awesome sum of money from the Peretti family.

One hundred thousand dollars!

Her mind still boggled over it.

And the cheque Luc had written to cover the loss of it was burning a hole in her handbag. It had been attached to all the other papers the solicitor had left with her, but she couldn’t keep it. Firstly, the money had been stolen by her stepfather, not by Luc. Just because it was irrecoverable didn’t make it right for her to accept full replacement of it.

Besides, if she was to stick to her independent stance, she had to return the cheque, and meeting Luc was the most direct, most telling way to accomplish it. She had to make it clear to him that she hadn’t asked for money and didn’t want it now. None of it. No way could she use the trust fund. It would tie Matt to the Peretti family, and she didn’t believe that was a good connection for him at all.

Tainted money.

Better not to owe the Peretti family anything.

She could manage to bring up Matt by herself.

Skye bolstered this determination with every step she took towards the meeting place—the waterfront park, directly across from the Brighton-Le-Sands Novotel Hotel, a public area which she could check out before showing up. It was just on ten o’clock—her stipulated time—when she reached the hotel and hurried up to the first floor to take the overhead walkway spanning the busy coast road to the park. From there the whole area could be scanned.

She spotted Luc instantly, seated on a park bench under the shade of one of the Norfolk pines that skirted the shoreline. His head was turned towards the long runway at Mascot Airport where big jets were constantly landing or taking off. One arm was casually hooked over the back rest of the bench, making him look relaxed.

Skye certainly wasn’t. The tension gripping her nerves was so bad, she paused to take several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. It was important to appear cool and confident, not get rattled. It was totally irrelevant that he was still the most attractive man she’d ever met, still able to tug at her physically. Luc Peretti and everything related to him had to be ejected from her life. With this resolution firmly fixed in her mind, she forced herself to walk on.

His gaze swung to her as she descended the steps on the park side of the walkway. Although her thighs started quivering, her legs kept carrying her down, driven by sheer willpower. He stood up, waiting by the park bench, watching her approach, his dark brilliant eyes keenly observing everything about her.

She was glad she’d armoured herself with sunglasses. Not only did they hide her thoughts and feelings, but they allowed her to return his scrutiny without being obvious about it. Again he was wearing casual clothes; beige cotton slacks, a loose cotton knit top in white and beige, V-necked, short sleeves—very smart, undoubtedly expensive, but not intimidating.

Skye surmised he hadn’t come to throw his weight around. Or were the clothes another deception, meant to put her off-guard while he set up the big guns to attack her position?

His mouth twitched into a sensual little smile, making her acutely conscious that her sundress left a lot of flesh bare.

Was it possible he still found her desirable?

Her stomach curled at the thought.

Worse—her pulse-rate zoomed into overdrive as his smile widened and his eyes warmed with pleasure.

‘Good to see you again, Skye,’ he said with what seemed genuine sincerity.

Her mind jammed for a moment, then spun with wild speculation. Was this manner aimed at winning her compliance with whatever he wanted? Did he think she could forget how he’d spurned her? Casting her out of his life on the very night she’d meant to tell him she was pregnant with his child!

A surge of anger spilled into a bitter outpouring. ‘I can’t say it’s good to see you, Luc. I only came to return your cheque. To place it in your hands personally so it can’t get mislaid or misappropriated or mis…anything else.’

She started fumbling with her handbag, desperately eager to get the zippered compartment open, extract the cheque, get rid of the burden of Peretti money.

‘Skye, you’re owed child support for the past five years,’ he argued in a gentle, soothing tone. ‘The law courts would award it to you.’

‘I don’t want it. I didn’t ask for it,’ she gabbled. The wretched zipper had stuck. ‘I didn’t know my stepfather had gone to your family for money until he handed me the thousand dollars for…for…’

‘Yes, that was very clever of him, handing over enough money to convince you it was meant for an abortion. Which, of course, neatly tied off the scam for him. No child. No more interest from the Peretti family. No comeback for him to worry about.’

Luc rolled off his interpretation of the situation so fast, Skye was distracted by how closely it matched her own anguished reasoning. She stopped struggling with the zipper to stare at him. ‘You believe me?’

‘Without a doubt,’ he assured her.

Which instantly played havoc with her heart. If only he had believed her against his brother and those terrible photos…

‘It’s abundantly clear that your stepfather saw the opportunity to milk the situation for all he could get, intending to feather his own nest,’ Luc went on, reminding Skye he was working off evidence this time, as well.

His belief in her word meant nothing!

Easy enough to deduce the truth from the investigator’s report, which had supplied the date when her stepfather had left Sydney, flitting off to the Gold Coast in Queensland. It had also stated the money had been gambled away and her stepfather’s current credit rating was not only nil, but criminal charges were pending over embezzlement at the used car yard where he’d worked as a salesman.

Her stepfather!

Skye burned over the rotten deception he’d played.

‘At least he isn’t my real father,’ she flashed at Luc. ‘I don’t have to live with him like you do yours.’

Maurizio Peretti had also played a rotten deception, keeping the news of her pregnancy from Luc, intent on feathering his nest with the right kind of woman for his precious son.

Skye resumed tugging at the zipper, telling herself it was stupid to be affected by anything Luc said. He had probably moved on to relationships with women who were far more compatible with his family. Which would make his father’s judgement ultimately right.

‘My father has been made very aware of my feelings about his past actions on my behalf,’ Luc answered grimly. ‘He knows not to interfere between us again.’

‘I just don’t want him or you or anybody employed by your family to interfere with me,’ Skye said fiercely, finally getting the zipper open, removing the cheque and thrusting it at Luc. ‘Take back your blood money. It won’t buy me or Matt.’

He shook his head, leaving the cheque hanging from her hand. ‘It wasn’t meant to buy you, Skye. It was meant to contribute what a father should, at least in financial support, towards his child’s upbringing.’