Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed

Luck had not been on her side. She’d stepped onto the main drive that cut through the woods at the exact moment the man clad head to foot in black had stepped out of the house. He couldn’t miss her.

She’d been rooted to the ground, her shock so great she’d been unable to move more than a muscle. It was as if her brain had been incapable of comprehending that there was a stranger before her and that this stranger represented danger.

Then the adrenaline had kicked in and she’d turned to run but by then it had been too late—the man had already yelled for back-up and was powering towards her. So she’d done the only thing she could. She’d opened her throat and screamed, literally, for her life.

Thank the Lord that Gabriele had heard it. She couldn’t bear to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t, or if he’d ignored it.

Her wrists were still sore from where that man had tied her to the bed. He hadn’t cared if he hurt her. Indeed, she would guess he got off on it.

It was this knowledge, that Gabriele had put himself in danger to rescue her, that tempered the fury ravaging her entire body. Even her toes were angry.

But he had saved her. He’d put himself in grave danger for her. When he’d slung her over his shoulder there had been an understandable impatience but not a roughness. Hurting her had been the last thing on his mind.

A bitter laugh flew from her mouth. She’d bet he wouldn’t have bothered coming to her rescue if he’d known that it was she who was in danger.

Or maybe he would have.

Saving her had presented him with an opportunity and he was grabbing it with both enormous hands.

It felt as if needles were being pushed into her scalp and forehead.

She couldn’t marry him. She’d never heard such a ridiculous notion in her life. Marrying a man she barely knew and who was intent on destroying her entire family?

And to have his child? To bring a child into such a hate-filled nest of poison?

Yet it was the only way to save her family. Those forged documents had the potential to destroy them all and she was the only one who could stop it happening.

No wonder her head hurt so much.

Forcing herself to gather her wits, Elena hunted around the cabin for something clean to wear as Esmerelda had whisked her filthy clothes away. All she found was a white silk robe hanging in the wardrobe. It felt beautiful on her skin but one look in the mirror made her whip it off. The material was practically transparent.

Esmerelda had brought some clothes for her to change into but judging by the size and quality of them, they belonged to Gabriele.

It was with great reluctance that she slipped a black T-shirt on. It fell to her knees and looked like a sack. Much better.

What wasn’t better was the faint trace of cologne permeating through the fabric cleaner. It had to be Gabriele’s. It smelt too much like him to belong to anyone else. She hated that it was a scent she found appealing.

As Esmerelda had whisked her underwear away with the rest of her clothes, Elena reluctantly donned the accompanying shorts. They swamped her.

Holding the shorts up to stop them falling down and trying to forget she had Gabriele’s scent clinging to her, she set out to find him.

Retracing the route through the cavernous interior, she found her way to the top deck. She stood at the rail that overlooked the pool deck below, was about to turn back when a figure in the pool made her do a double-take.

Instinct told her it was Gabriele powering his way through the water.

For some incredibly strange reason her heart accelerated, her hold on the rail tightening.

Up and down he swam, his back muscles rippling with the movement. No wonder he had such a fabulous physique...

He reached the end but instead of doing an immediate about-turn and setting off again as he had done thus far, he twisted round and looked up.

Mortified to have been caught...admiring him... Elena went to step back but stopped herself in time. Hiding would only confirm that she’d been spying.

Instead, she held her head high and walked down the wide stairs to the pool deck. By the time she’d reached the bottom Gabriele had hauled himself out of the pool and was rubbing a towel over his face.

Dear Lord...

With the water dripping off his honed bronzed skin and nothing but a pair of tight black swim shorts on with a definite bulge in them...

Feeling her cheeks turn scarlet, Elena hurried to take a seat at a table where a jug of water and a couple of glasses had been laid.

From the corner of her eye she saw him methodically dry himself before slinging the towel over his shoulder and joining her.

He flashed a quick smile and poured them both a drink.

‘Do I assume your reappearance means you have come to a decision?’ he asked, placing her glass before her.

‘Not quite.’ She took a drink of the cold water, wiped her mouth with her thumb and took a deep breath. ‘There are some things we need to discuss first.’

‘Such as?’

‘If I agree to marry you, I want a signed agreement that all the so-called evidence you have against my father will be destroyed.’

‘The contract being drafted has that specified.’

‘You’re drafting one already?’

‘Yes. It will set out in black and white exactly what this marriage will be so there is no room for doubt on either side.’

‘Isn’t that rather presumptuous? I haven’t said yes.’

‘You will,’ he said with an arrogant shrug.

She sucked in air through her teeth and willed herself not to bite.

‘Your father’s liberty depends on it,’ he added.

Growing up in an all-male household, Elena was well used to the male ego. Any man stupid enough to think she was inferior because of her gender or size soon learnt the error of his ways. It had delighted her father that his little princess was brainier than her brothers—admittedly not hard—and had never lost a physical fight against any of them either.

In the Ricci household you learnt to take care of yourself from a very young age.

Gabriele’s arrogance—different from her brothers’ and far more acute—was just another thing to add to the list of things to despise about him.

‘Will I be expected to give up my job?’

‘No, but I will expect you to make concessions on your workload as I will have to make concessions on mine. For our marriage to be believable we will have to marry our diaries as well as ourselves.’

She eyed him with a suspicious glare. ‘And that will be in the contract?’