Summer Surrender: Capelli's Captive Virgin / Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim / The Italian's One-Night Love-Child

‘I felt sorry for you strapped up in that starched suit. You couldn’t possibly get the rest you needed. Is the headache gone?’

She moved her head slightly to test it and then nodded gingerly. ‘Yes. Thank you. Where did you find a doctor in mid-air?’

‘In the cockpit of my plane.’ In no apparent hurry, Alessio sat up, suppressed a yawn and then sprang from the bed with unconscious grace. He strolled to the far side of the bedroom, yanked open a cupboard and removed a fresh shirt. ‘My copilot is medically trained.’

It didn’t matter what he was doing or what he was wearing, he was unfairly good-looking, Lindsay thought helplessly. Whether he was stripped to the waist and sweaty from exercise, sleek in a suit, or rumpled from a few hours’ rest on the bed, he still managed to look gorgeous.

With a moan of frustration, she closed her eyes, reminding herself that his looks concealed an ice-cold temperament and a complete lack of emotional intelligence.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it?

He could have walked away and left her to her agony, but he hadn’t. Nor had he been remotely fazed by the fact that she’d taken ill on his plane. Remembering the glass of water he’d held to her lips at one point, she turned her head into the pillow, terrified by her feelings.

It didn’t change a thing, she told herself desperately. All right, so perhaps he did have a human side. But that didn’t alter the fact that he didn’t believe in love, had no desire to sustain a relationship and made his living from ripping the guts from people’s marriages.

It didn’t change who he was.

And it didn’t change who she was, either. Didn’t change the way she felt inside.

She opened her eyes and found him looking at her.

‘Are you all right?’ He frowned. ‘Headache back?’

‘No. I’m fine.’

‘Good. We’ll be landing in another two hours. I’m going to take a shower and then make some calls. Help yourself to the bathroom.’

‘Wait.’ Scooping her hair away from her face, she raised herself on her elbow. ‘You haven’t even told me where we’re going. You just said it was the Caribbean.’

‘We’re going to Kingfisher Cay, west of Antigua. One hundred acres of isolated palm-fringed beaches and guaranteed isolation.’

‘I’ve never heard of it.’

‘The only people who have ever heard of it are the people who can afford to go there,’ he said dryly. ‘A holiday on Kingfisher Cay is by personal invitation of the owner.’

‘And your prospective client is holidaying there as we speak?’

‘He needed a rest from the publicity surrounding his disintegrating marriage. He’s treating himself to some rest and relaxation.’

‘And you’re taking advantage of his vulnerability by turning up and offering him legal counsel?’

Alessio gave a cool smile. ‘A good divorce lawyer is what makes him able to relax. Without me protecting his interests, he wouldn’t be able to risk turning his back on the scheming hussy he married.’

Lindsay’s mouth tightened and she gripped the quilt in her fingers. Clearly the thoughtfulness he’d displayed during the night had just been a blip.

‘Don’t you think the owner of the island might object to you using his exclusive Caribbean hideaway for your own commercial interests?’

‘No.’ Alessio looked as though something had amused him and she frowned.

‘Does he know you’re bringing me?’

‘Why does it matter?’ A dangerous light in his eyes, he strolled purposefully towards her, his smile widening as she retreated to the far side of the bed.

The closer he came, the harder it was to breathe and she felt as though her body were on fire. ‘There might not be enough accommodation.’

‘We can always share.’

Lindsay flattened herself against the bed head. ‘I’d rather sleep with the sharks.’

He stopped, his expression mocking as he registered her growing agitation. ‘Then you’d better hope that your little sister did at least one part of her job correctly and booked two suites.’ With that disconcerting observation, he turned and walked through to the bathroom, leaving her with a pounding heart and a guilty conscience.

Ruby.

She hadn’t even thought about her sister since she’d woken up and she knew why, of course. There had been no room in her brain for anything or anyone except Alessio Capelli.

She needed to call Ruby. She needed—

With a groan, Lindsay flopped back down onto the pillows. What she really needed was to be back in London living her life. Not trapped in a private jet, en route to a billionaire’s Caribbean hideaway.

The seaplane soared above a sparkling turquoise sea.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Lindsay breathed softly, her gaze drawn to yet another emerald-green island surrounded by deserted sandy beaches. ‘It’s incredible. So beautiful. I had no idea. I’ve never before understood everyone’s obsession with accumulating wealth, but if wealth means seeing a place like this—’

It was idyllic. If it weren’t for her anxiety about Ruby, she might even have been able to relax.

Lindsay frowned, realising how ridiculous that was. If it hadn’t been for Ruby, she wouldn’t be here! And if she started thinking that this was a holiday, she’d be in trouble. The only way to survive a week with Alessio Capelli was to be businesslike.

Absorbed by the contents of the file on his lap, Alessio appeared unaware of her inner turmoil. ‘You’ve never been to the Caribbean?’

‘No, I—’ She broke off. She didn’t want to reveal anything about herself to this man. What would someone like him make of her disordered, disastrous childhood? He’d laugh or make one of his sharp, lawyerlike comments that always made her shrink. ‘I haven’t really travelled.’ Not wanting to think about her past, she peered down at the surf breaking on a beach below her. ‘Is that where we’re going?’

‘Yes.’ Unlike her, he hadn’t once glanced out of the window, instead concentrating on working his way through the thick sheaf of documents. Occasionally he scribbled a note in the margin, sometimes he underlined, rarely he frowned and crossed out a chunk of text with big, bold strokes of his black pen.

Did he ever relax? She studied his profile for a moment. He’d showered and shaved and was now dressed in lightweight trousers and a cool shirt.

‘Why do you work so hard? Is it all about the money?’ She blurted out the question and he lifted his head and looked at her.

‘Money is important up to a point. After that, the amount becomes irrelevant.’

Lindsay tried to imagine having so much money that the total became irrelevant. ‘Well, you’ve long passed that point,’ she muttered, ‘so why do you carry on?’

‘Because it entertains me.’ He slid his pen into his pocket and closed the file. ‘I enjoy the process.’

‘You mean you enjoy making people miserable.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘On the contrary, I free them from misery to begin a new life.’

‘Don’t you ever worry that you’ve taken apart something that could be fixed?’