The Italian's Baby Bargain: The Italian's Wedding Ultimatum / The Italian's Forced Bride / The Mancini Marriage Bargain

‘Jonny wouldn’t believe it…’ She thought about it, and added. ‘Nobody would believe you.’

‘Why not?’

Was he serious? Her eyes travelled up the long, lean, gorgeous length of him before settling on his dark, fallen angel features. ‘Because you’re…’ She just stopped short of saying incredibly beautiful, and substituted a husky, ‘I don’t like you. Everyone knows that.’

One dark brow lifted at everyone, and he looked amused. ‘Liking is not a prerequisite to…’ he slotted in.

‘Ownership…?’ she suggested sweetly. ‘Look, this conversation is going nowhere—but I am.’

She edged towards the door, but he blocked her way with his body.

Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, she glared up at him. ‘You’re in my way.’

‘Before you go I want to make very sure that you know it would be unwise for you to continue your pursuit of Trelevan.’

A whistling sound of frustration escaped her clenched teeth. My God, the man was fixated! ‘Where do you get off, making a judgement about me?’ she demanded, indignation making her voice shrill. ‘How many times have we met…? Five…? How dare you? You don’t even know me!’

‘Eight. Not including today.’

The smooth correction made her stare. ‘You were counting…?’ Her brows lifted and she laughed nervously. ‘Should I be flattered?’ Her expression hardened. ‘Or afraid…? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But then bullies always do,’ she contended grimly. ‘Only I’m not afraid of you, Mr Di Livio. Not at all,’ she stressed shakily, before she was forced to pause to gasp for breath.

‘There is nothing preventing us getting to know one another better, if that is what you would like.’

Sam rubbed her damp palms against her skirt and didn’t even let herself think about what he meant by that. ‘Other than mutual dislike. And I wouldn’t like.’

‘Dislike…?’ he mused contemplatively. After a moment he shook his dark head and a predatory smile split his lean features. ‘Dislike is such a mild word. I think it goes much deeper with us than mere dislike.’

The tactile quality she had noticed before in his deep, darkly textured voice was stronger than ever. Sam swallowed. This man really did have the market in enigmatic and disturbing cornered!

‘You lack caution and judgement.’

‘I was just thinking the same thing.’ Her response had worryingly little to do with caution and a lot to do with the excitement that was tying her stomach in knots! ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s a bit cold out here.’ Actually, she no longer felt the cold—her skin was burning.

Instead of moving out of her way, he leaned against the ajar door, causing it to close with a loud click.

Sam’s voice was flat, even though inside she was panicking. ‘Excuse me…’

His dark eyes slid down her slim figure before returning to her face. The overt contempt in his expression brought a sparkle of anger to Sam’s wide-spaced eyes.

‘No, I will not excuse you.’

Taken aback by the overt provocation in his response Sam blinked.

A long silence followed, which he showed no signs of filling until he suddenly said accusingly, ‘Your eyes have turned green.’

‘Pardon me…?’ It was possible she had misheard him. It was equally possible her aquamarine eyes had turned green. This happened when she was in the grip of strong emotions. Chameleon eyes, her father called them. Though the colour-change did not disguise but reveal the depth of her feelings.

‘No, I will not do that either.’ Without warning he reached out and took her chin in between long brown fingers and carried on looking into her eyes, which were still green. ‘You would not want me for an enemy, cara.’

Gazing up into the dark mesmeric depth of his astounding eyes, Sam felt the breath leave her body in one long, shuddering sigh. Her knees began to give, and she closed her eyes while she tried to tap into her reserves of wilting composure.

She opened her eyes and gave a contemptuous smile. ‘Almost as little as I’d want you as a friend.’

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer. ‘Friendship is not possible between men and women.’

That he held this chauvinistic viewpoint did not surprise Sam at all. ‘You would think that. It just so happens that one of my best friends is a male.’

‘And sex has never got in the way…?’

He said it as calmly as if he was asking her how she liked her steak. Sam was less then comfortable about discussing sex in the same county as this man, let alone while he was touching her. She looked away, aware of the flush that had mounted her cheeks. ‘I’m talking about Jonny.’

‘So am I.’

Sam’s horrified gaze flew to his face. ‘All I am to Jonny is a s…supportive friend. I’m getting tired of telling you—there’s never been anything like that between us!’ she protested shrilly.

‘And you wouldn’t want there to be? Do not play the innocent with me. I have been watching you.’

‘The all-knowing, all-seeing Alessandro Di Livio?’ Sam cut in, her voice a successful marriage of boredom and amusement. Inside, however, she was struggling to control her rising panic. She lifted her chin, carefully focusing her gaze somewhere over his right shoulder to avoid contact with those hateful knowing eyes. ‘In case you’ve forgotten,’ she reminded him, ‘Jonny is married.’

Alessandro arched an ironic brow and wondered if the copper hair felt as silky as it looked. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His voice dropped to a low, threatening purr as he pushed his point home. ‘And I suggest you don’t.’

Sam felt the humiliating colour in her cheeks deepen.

Of course it wouldn’t occur to him that she might have the odd principle or two. ‘I’ve told you—Jonny and I are just good friends.’

A quiver of irritation crossed his olive-skinned face and he gritted something soft and angry in his native tongue.

‘Well, let’s just say your mouth says one thing…’ He paused, a slightly distracted expression drifting across his face as his glance zeroed in on the soft full curves of her lips. ‘And,’ he continued, anger hardening his voice, ‘those big, hungry eyes say another thing entirely. Have you been waiting for him to notice that you’re a woman?’ He released a low, scornful laugh as his eyes raked her stricken face. ‘Of course it is entirely possible you wouldn’t like it if he had,’ he mused, half to himself.

‘I wouldn’t know—he never has!’ Sam was pushed into yelling.

A moment later she connected with his eyes and wanted to curl up and die from sheer humiliation. But pride, and the scorn in his eyes, made her stick out her chin and pronounce in a low, but clear voice, ‘But I’m not the type to give up at the first hurdle.’

His dark brows twitched into a disapproving straight line above his masterful nose. ‘Are you totally without conscience?’

The irony made her laugh. ‘Gosh!’ she sighed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. ‘You’ve seen right through me. I’m your original scarlet woman. Your sons are not safe while I’m around.’ Her lips twisted into a derisive grimace. ‘For goodness’ sake, you silly man, I don’t represent a danger to anyone.’

He stiffened, and from where she stood she could distinctly hear the sound of his startled inhalation. Sam studied his face and thought, I’m guessing that nobody has ever called him a silly man before. More’s the pity. If they had he might have learnt not to take himself so desperately seriously.

His dark eyes narrowed to slits, but the startled annoyance glittering in the dark depths was mingled with reluctant admiration as he registered the mockery shining in her eyes. ‘You are a very aggravating female.’

She glared back up at him, torn between exhilaration and exasperation and wishing that he’d yelled—not used that purring tone which made more places than the soles of her feet tingle. ‘And you,’ she declared, dumping diplomacy in favour of bluntness, ‘are much more likely to be the cause of the break-up of your sister’s marriage than I am!’

His lips curled. ‘Me…?’ He dismissed her words with a shrug of his magnificent shoulders. ‘You think you can shift the blame that easily?’ A suspicious expression slid into his deep-set eyes. ‘You are talking as though a break-up is inevitable…?’

When Sam turned her head away, her lips tight, Alessandro placed a finger under her chin and drew her face round to him. His narrowed eyes scanned her angry face.

‘What do you know…?’ he demanded, his voice dropping in volume in direct proportion to the degree of threat in his tone.