Mediterranean Tycoons: The De Santis Marriage / The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife / The Sicilian's Virgin Bride

‘Probably—’ he grimaced ‘—but seemingly you are not, because I was about to say that I prefer to speak to your father before you do. Not up for discussion,’ he added when she went to speak. ‘Also, you will not be returning to the hotel in Milan because you will be living right here from now on.’

Lizzy pressed her fingers to her lips to try and stop them from trembling. ‘Like a prisoner.’

‘No,’ he denied that. ‘I can protect you here from the fallout about to hit us when I make the announcement later today, whereas the hotel in Milan will be put under siege. I also have an itchy suspicion that the Morenos are not going to like this turn in events. You will feel sorry for them. I, on the other hand, will not.’

‘What a joke.’ She laughed thickly. ‘Why do you think they delegated the job of coming here to me?’

Surprise momentarily lit his golden eyes up. ‘So they’re scared. Good, that works in our favour.’

‘Will you stop talking as if this has anything to do with me when it hasn’t?’ Lizzy choked. ‘I’m just the pawn here you’re using to salve your wounded arrogance!’

‘Pawns are very powerful pieces on the chessboard.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ she flared up. ‘Have you no idea how infuriating it is that you have a slick answer to everything?’

‘Seemingly not.’ A hint of a wry smile touched the corners of his mouth. ‘I will try to curb the habit,’ he offered.

Pulling in a deep breath, Lizzy let it out again. ‘Now can I go?’ she repeated.

Reaching out for the telephone sitting on his desk, he stabbed in a set of numbers, then began shedding instructions in Italian to whoever was listening on the other end while Lizzy listened and wished to God that she didn’t find the rich smooth tones in his voice so attractive when he spoke his native language.

‘Did you understand any of that?’ he asked a moment later.

‘Some.’ She nodded. Having Bianca as a friend meant she’d learned to speak Italian pretty well over the years. ‘You were arranging a room for me.’

‘It will be ready in a few minutes.’

Stepping around the desk, he began walking towards her. Lizzy immediately tensed up, sheer instinct placing her onto the balls of her feet like a runner waiting for the sound of the gun.

‘W-what?’ she said warily when he pulled to a stop in front of her.

He said nothing, just held her eyes with one of his disconcertingly steady looks and lifted up a hand to her cheek with a crazily disturbing gentle touch. Lizzy released a broken little gasp, one part of her wanting her to jerk back from him, but another part refusing to let her give in to it when it would only tell him things she didn’t want him to know.

And he was beautiful, there was just no denying it even though she very much wished that she could. For all of his coldness and his arrogance, his ruthless determination to have his way and the grim anger she instinctively knew was still stirring away behind the control, Luc De Santis possessed a physical beauty that was just so dangerously compelling.

His eyelids drooped as he moved his fingers to gently touch the corner of her mouth. ‘I will make you a deal,’ he said in the husky dark tones of a man about to get really personal. ‘You can pay me back the money you owe me with kisses. Let’s say—one kiss a euro,’ he suggested. ‘Starting from now…’

His dark head lowered and his lips parted, his fingers sliding to curve around her nape beneath the heavy fall of her hair.

Push him away, her one single working brain cell was screaming at her, but she remained perfectly still, tingling inside and breathlessly fascinated by the expression on his face as it came ever closer to hers.

A soft, helpless breath prized her lips apart, he scooped it away with the lick of his tongue, then he was kissing her, crushing his lips against her lips, warm and soft and undeniably—nice.

Then he was drawing back a little, searching her eyes to check out her response. ‘Grey,’ he murmured and grimaced. ‘I am going to have to do better than that.’

He lowered his head again, long fingers guiding the tilt of her face to accept his second kiss and this time the sensual thrust of his tongue. Heat flared inside her for a second, and she was dimly aware of making a helpless groan.

Once again he withdrew. ‘Almost green,’ he said, ‘and that makes two euros repaid to me.’

Then he smiled a brief smile, let go of her face and turned to stride away, pulling the door open and closing it behind him again, leaving Lizzy standing there, numbed by the knowledge that she’d just given him, free and for nothing, all the proof he needed that what he’d said about her wanting him was true.

She had no resistance to fight him with. She had been struggling with her attraction to him for weeks. And she did go up like a flame when he kissed her. Even if the flame had been only brief—it had happened. He’d felt it. As far as he was concerned their deal was sealed.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MEDIA went into a frenzy. Lizzy learned, reluctantly, to be thankful that Luc had shown the foresight to move her into his home. No one was allowed near the villa without his express permission. No one was allowed to contact her by phone.

Except for her father. When Lizzy was eventually allowed to contact him she found him hurt and angry and confused. He couldn’t believe that she of all people could put herself between her best friend and the man Bianca was supposed to marry. He was disappointed in her. ‘I tell you, Lizzy, I hope you’re not taking a leaf out of your mother’s book.’

It had been the ultimate criticism that made her cringe in shame.

Matthew, on the other hand, had at last done something to earn their father’s respect because—apparently—he’d chased over to Milan and taken poor Bianca away before the scandal hit the press. No, he had not heard from her brother. No, he had no idea where they’d gone.

And, most amazing of all, he hadn’t a clue that Matthew had emptied the company bank account. ‘An error,’ he called it when she dared to broach the subject, ‘which the bank put right the very next day.’

Even Luc came in for her father’s reluctant respect because he’d been so ready to apologise for the distress they had caused so many people. And, of course, Luc was going to make recompense helping Hadley’s to get back on its feet.

Only Lizzy was to be left out in the cold and his comparison to her mother told her why. But, yes, of course he would be there to give her away on Saturday. Luc expected it.

Good old Luc, Lizzy thought bitterly.

And as for the Morenos, they had a field-day talking to the press and telling them how their poor daughter’s best friend had stolen Luc away.

‘I’m a marriage-wrecker,’ she informed the root of her character assassination via the telephone while she paced angrily up and down in front of his desk. She was speaking to Luc via the phone because after he’d walked out of here three days ago he had left the villa altogether and had not bothered to come back. ‘Matthew is the saving knight on the white charger. Bianca is the betrayed damsel he saved. And you,’ she told him, ‘are the absolute epitome of man’s idea of a man. Big enough to acknowledge your mistake in your choice of bride and arrogant enough to grab the one you decided you wanted instead!’

He laughed. Lizzy wanted to fly at him in a rage but he wasn’t here and—what difference would it make if he were? She would still be all the bad things people were saying about her and…

‘When you said I would be the one to carry the can, you really meant it,’ she whispered.

‘Once the fuss has died down you will become the envy of every woman out there, trust me,’ he drawled.

‘Because I’ve been fortunate enough to catch you?’ That was just so typically arrogant of him! ‘Well, I don’t feel fortunate. I feel unforgivably used. So if you’re expecting me to sign this prenuptial contract your lawyers have just delivered here, then you go to hell, Luc, because I’m not signing anything!’

With that she slammed down the phone.

He arrived at the villa a short hour later. Lizzy was in her room. It was a beautiful suite with views over the lake and a balcony she dared not step onto because of the million cameras trained on the windows from the ton of boats moored out there on the lake.

Curled up on a sofa reading a book that had no words printed on the pages as far as Lizzy could tell, she said ‘Go away,’ without looking at him.

He slammed the contract down on her lap. ‘Sign,’ he commanded.

Lizzy ignored him. She was wearing a short blue cotton skirt and a little lemon top, the sunlight coming in through the long window behind her setting the twisting mass of untidy curls on fire around her shoulders and face. She wore no make-up and she wore no shoes. And if any man was used to seeing his women primped to an eyelash it was Luciano Genovese Marcelo De Santis.

A really impressive proper fountain pen arrived on the top of the prenuptial contract. ‘Sign,’ he repeated.

Toying idly with a spiralling curl, Lizzy shifted her lips into a stubborn purse.

On a heavy sigh he turned and strode away from her. She heard the rustle of clothes. Reluctantly allowing herself a glance in his direction, she saw the jacket to an iron-grey suit land on the back of a bedside chair. By the time he turned back to face her, his tie had been loosened from around the collar of his blue striped shirt and her stomach muscles curled and stung.