Italian Marriage: In Name Only

The hard cold words hit her like a punch.

In that moment she hated him—hated his arrogance and his confidence and his power. And more than anything hated the fact that he was right. She could bluster all she wanted but there was no way she could win a fight against this multimillionaire tycoon.

He noted the vulnerable look flickering over her young face and knew with the experience born from many a successful business deal that it was now time to reel her in. ‘Anyway, your loss. I’ll get my secretary to show you out.’

‘No!’ She stopped him before he could reach for the phone and he smiled at her, a light of triumph in the darkness of his eyes now.

‘I thought you’d see sense.’ He lifted his pen and put a red X on the calendar. ‘I have two hours free next Monday afternoon. We’ll sign the paperwork at two…get married at two-thirty.’

Victoria said nothing. The marriage wasn’t going to happen, she reassured herself fiercely. She was just agreeing with him to buy herself time. By next week she’d have found a way out of this. There had to be a way out—there just had to be.

CHAPTER THREE

‘THAT gorgeous guy is here again in the restaurant.’

Emma put her head around the door of Victoria’s apartment, a look of excitement on her young face. ‘And he says he wants to see you.’

Victoria didn’t need to ask her receptionist which guy she meant—she knew full well there was only one man who could cause such a flurry of excitement and she felt an immediate thrust of nervous anticipation.

It had been two days since she had seen Antonio. Two days and two sleepless nights since she had sat in his office and played for time by agreeing to his demand to become his wife.

Since then she’d been going over and over her accounts, looking for a means of escape. She was still sorting through the paperwork now, desperately searching for some solution. But so far she had found nothing and she was starting to feel more and more hemmed in by the stark option that had been presented to her. She either married Antonio Cavelli or she lost everything that she had ever worked for.

Icy cold panic swept through her at the thought. She wasn’t giving up without a fight, she told herself fiercely. Her glance moved from her receptionist back to the paperwork on her desk.

But what could she do?

‘He’s not here on his own,’ the receptionist continued. ‘He’s got two other men with him and a woman. They are going to have coffee in the lounge area.’

Maybe Antonio had changed his mind, she thought suddenly. Maybe he was here to see to other business. The idea made her feel much better.

‘Let me have a look.’ Victoria stood and went through to the hallway that linked her apartment with the restaurant. There was a small window in the doorway behind the reception desk and if she stood on tiptoe she could see Antonio Cavelli standing nonchalantly chatting with some other people.

When she’d lain awake in the darkness of the night there had been a part of her that had wondered if she had imagined how attractive he was, how powerful he was. She’d even wondered if maybe she’d mistaken his ultimatum—got the wrong end of the stick. This couldn’t be happening for real, could it?

But now, looking at him, she realized she hadn’t imagined anything. He was every inch the forceful, dynamic businessman in his expensive suit, his dark hair gleaming under the subdued lighting. The type of man who always got what he wanted. And, more worrying, even from this distance he seemed to exude a magnetising attractiveness that made her senses go into hyperdrive.

Frankly he scared her to death. She dragged her gaze away from him to scan the people who accompanied him—one she recognised as the accountant, Tom Roberts; the second was a man in his late thirties who was also wearing a smart suit and wasn’t bad looking but nowhere in the league of Antonio Cavelli. The third was a woman in her early twenties. She was very attractive—probably just Antonio’s type—long straight blonde hair and a figure to die for encased in a tight black pencil skirt and short cropped jacket.

Victoria looked away from her and back towards Antonio and as she did he glanced towards the doorway and their eyes met through the glass. The shock was intense and she stepped away from the window as if she’d been shot.

Maybe he hadn’t really seen her, she told herself calmly. And even if he had—so what!

‘You OK, Victoria?’ Emma asked from behind her.

‘Yes, of course.’ She tried to smile. But she wasn’t OK; she was anything but OK. Her heart was racing; she felt completely panic-stricken.

‘Shall I tell him you’ll be out in a minute?’

The question made Victoria glance down at her attire. She hadn’t planned to work in the restaurant this morning so she was just wearing an old pair of black trousers and a plain white T-shirt. She couldn’t go out there looking like this! But then she didn’t possess anything much better to change into. She hadn’t bought herself any new clothes for more than a year—hadn’t taken any wages out of the business, hadn’t done anything for herself. Any spare cash went towards getting Nathan all that he needed and keeping this restaurant up and running. And by the time she had paid her staff and Nathan’s nursery fees there was nothing left.

‘Tell him…tell him I’m busy doing office work and could we…reschedule…’ As she spoke she saw Emma’s eyebrows starting to rise.

‘Do I have to tell him that?’ Emma asked warily. ‘Somehow I don’t think he’s the kind of man you ask to reschedule!’

She was absolutely right, of course. Victoria bit down on her lip and moved back through to her apartment. She wanted to lock the doors and pull down all the blinds on her windows—that or run as far away from here as her shaking legs would carry her. There were times when it was brilliantly convenient having her living accommodation in with her work, but today was definitely not one of those days. ‘Tell him…’ The words froze on her lips. Antonio Cavelli was standing behind Emma in the doorway.

‘If you have something to tell me, Victoria, you can say it to my face.’

But Victoria didn’t say anything; she couldn’t, because she couldn’t find her voice.

Emma whirled around. ‘Oh, sorry, I was just on my way back to see you now.’

‘That’s OK.’ He smiled at the receptionist. ‘You can leave us now.’

Without even a glance in Victoria’s direction Emma hurried to do as he asked and closed the door behind her.

Hold on a moment, Victoria thought distractedly. This was her restaurant, her premises. Since when had her staff started taking orders from Antonio Cavelli! How was it he suddenly seemed to be taking over her life?

‘Is there a problem, Victoria?’ Antonio asked her calmly.

With supreme difficulty she pulled herself together. ‘The only problem is…you.’ She didn’t know where she got the strength to say that but she did, and she also managed to meet his cool dark eyes with defiance. ‘These are my private quarters. You have no right to barge in here like this!’

‘You should have come out into the restaurant quicker, then.’ He smiled. There was something quite endearing about the way she tried to face up to him—scared rigid, yet determined to fight. ‘Relax, Victoria. I’ve only called because we have business to sort out before the wedding next week.’

‘So…you still want to go through with that?’ Her voice suddenly sounded like a raw croak.

‘Of course, it’s all set.’ His eyes moved abstractedly over her appearance as he spoke. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and as usual her large glasses covered her face. Her hair was scraped back from her face in a way that did her no favours and just emphasized her pallor. As for her figure—that was hidden beneath clothes that were completely shapeless. The T-shirt looked a size too big for her, and the trousers were loose too. However, from what he could discern she did appear to have some pleasing curves hidden away under all that material, so he hadn’t been completely mistaken in his observations the other day. But why on earth did she dress like that?

The blatant assessment of her clothes and her body made scalding heat flood through her. How dare he zone in on her like that! Hurriedly Victoria snatched up a cardigan from the chair beside her and put it on, wrapping the volume of grey woolly fabric around her like a shield.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ he asked with some amusement.

‘I’m…making myself more comfortable.’ She glared at him, hoping he didn’t know how those bold masculine eyes of his had just turned her to jelly.

One dark eyebrow lifted sardonically.

Yes, he probably did know—just as she knew that his assessment of her was doubtless purely critical. She tried to look confident and unfazed but she was blushing uncontrollably now.

‘You do realize it’s about thirty degrees in here, don’t you?’ His glance swept away from her and around the apartment.

How on earth did she live in here? he wondered. It seemed to consist of just two rooms, which were neat and clean but incredibly basic. ‘Haven’t you got any air conditioning?’

The fact that he was now turning his critical attention to her home made her temperature rise even further.

‘Actually I have! But I haven’t switched it on today because I’m cold!’ In truth she hadn’t turned on the air-conditioning unit because she couldn’t afford to run it and she was trying to save money whilst Nathan was out at kindergarten. But pride made her lie.

‘Then you must be coming down with something,’ He located the control switch for the unit and strolled across to flick it on. And immediately cool air flowed into the room.