Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender

‘It’s not going to go away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to go away.’

She continued to glare at him. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m here to take you out to dinner.’

‘What if I’m not hungry?’

‘Then you can sit and watch me eat,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

‘You are totally sick—do you know that?’ she said.

‘Did you like the roses?’

She turned away from him and began stalking down the wide corridor. ‘I hate hothouse flowers,’ she said. ‘They have no scent.’

‘I didn’t buy you hothouse flowers,’ he said. ‘I had those roses shipped in from a private gardener.’

She gave a dismissive grunt and pushed open a door leading to a large formal sitting room. Again the attention to detail was stunning. Beautifully co-ordinated colours and luxurious fabrics, plush sofas and crystal chandeliers. Timeless antiques cleverly teamed with modern pieces—old-world charm and modern chic that somehow worked together brilliantly.

‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked uncharitably.

‘What are you having?’

She threw him a speaking glance. ‘I was thinking along the lines of cyanide,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Not quite to my taste, mia piccola,’ he said. ‘Can I have a soda and lime?’

She went to a bar fridge that was hidden behind an art deco cabinet. He heard the rattle of ice cubes and the fizz of the soda water and then the plop of a slice of lime. She fixed her own glass of white wine before she turned and passed his drink to him with a combative look on her face.

‘I hope it chokes you,’ she said.

He lifted the glass against hers in a salute and said, ‘To a long and happy marriage.’

Her gaze wrestled with his. ‘I’m not drinking to that.’

‘What will you drink to?’

She clanged her glass against his. ‘To freedom,’ she said, and took a sip.

Angelo watched her as she moved across the room, her body movements stiff and unfriendly. She took another couple of sips of her drink, grimacing distastefully as if she wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. ‘I drove past your studio on the way here,’ he said. ‘Very impressive.’

She gave him a quick off-hand glance over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

‘I have a project for you, if you’re interested,’ he said.

She turned and looked at him fully. ‘What sort of project?’

‘A big one,’ he said. ‘It’s worth a lot of money. Good exposure for you, too. It will bring you contacts from all over Europe.’

She stood very still before him, barely moving a muscle apart from the little hammer beat of tension at the base of her throat. ‘Go on,’ she said, with that same look of wariness in her gaze.

‘I have a holiday villa in Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast,’ he said. ‘I bought another property nearby for a song a few months back. I’m turning it into a luxury hotel. I’m just about done with the structural repairs. Now it’s time for the interior makeover. I thought it would be a good project for you to take on once we are married.’

‘Why do you want me to do it?’ she asked.

‘You’re good at what you do,’ he said.

Her mouth thinned in cynicism. ‘And you want a carrot to dangle in front of me in case I happen to find a last-minute escape route?’

‘You won’t find an escape route,’ he said. ‘If you’re a good girl I might even consider using your linen exclusively in all of my hotels. But only if you behave yourself.’

The look she gave him glittered with hatred. ‘You’ve certainly got blackmail down to a science,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise you were this ruthless five years ago.’

‘I wasn’t,’ he said, taking another leisurely sip of his drink.

She tightened her mouth. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said. ‘I have a lot of work on just now.’

‘How capable is your assistant?’ Angelo asked.

‘Very capable,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of promoting her. I need someone to handle the international end of things.’

‘It must be quite limiting, not being able to do the travelling yourself,’ he said.

She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive manner. ‘I manage.’

Angelo picked up a small photo frame from an intricately carved drum table next to where he was standing. ‘Is this Lachlan as a toddler?’ he asked.

Her deep blue gaze flickered with something as she glanced at the photo. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not.’

Angelo put the frame back on the table and, pushing back his sleeve, glanced at his watch. ‘We should get going,’ he said. ‘I’ve booked the restaurant for eight.’

‘I told you I’m not having dinner with you,’ she said.

‘And I told you to behave yourself,’ he tossed back. ‘You will join me for dinner and you will look happy about it. I don’t care how you act in private, but in public you will at all times act like a young woman who is deeply in love. If you put even one toe of one foot out of line your brother will pay the price.’

She glared at him, her whole body bristling with anger. ‘I’ve never been in love before, so how am I going to pull that act off with any authenticity?’ she asked.

Angelo gave her a steely look. ‘Make it up as you go along,’ he said, and put his glass down with a dull thud next to the photo frame. ‘I’ll be waiting outside in the car.’

Natalie waited until he had left the room before she picked up his glass. She mopped up the circle of condensation left on the leather top of the table with the heel of her hand and then wiped her hand against her churning stomach.

Her eyes went to the photo of Liam. He was standing on the beach with a bucket and spade in his dimpled hands, his cherubic face smiling for the camera. It had been taken just hours before he died. She remembered how excited he had been about the shells he had found. She remembered the sandcastle they had built together. She remembered how they had come back to the pool with their parents to rinse off. She remembered how her mother had gone inside for a rest and her father had left her with Liam while he made an important phone call …

She gently straightened the photo frame with fingers that were not quite steady. And then, with a sigh that burned like a serrated knife inside her chest, she went to get ready for dinner.

The restaurant Angelo had booked was a popular one that attracted the rich and the famous. Natalie had been a couple of times before, but no one had taken much notice of her. This time everyone looked and pointed as she came into the restaurant under Angelo’s escort. A couple of people even took photos with their phones.

She tried to ignore the feel of his hand at her back. It was barely touching her but it felt like a brand. She could feel the tensile strength of him in that feather-light touch. It was a heady reminder of the sensual power he had over her.