The Ultimate Risk

The familiar feeling of guilt made Lanzo’s gut clench, and he stared out across the harbour to where the darkening sky met the sea, lost in black memories. He should not have gone on that business trip to Sweden. Cristina had begged him not to, saying that they needed to talk. But he had been shocked by her revelation that she was pregnant—so unprepared for the prospect of having a child when they had both decided that they would wait at least five years before they started a family.

He had been so young—only twenty—and determined to make his father proud of him as he took on more responsibilities at Di Cosimo Holdings. But that was no excuse, he thought grimly. He’d known Cristina had been hurt by his lack of enthusiasm for the baby. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and instead had insisted on going on the business trip when he had known full well that he could have sent one of his staff in his place. But he had wanted time alone, to get his head around the idea of being a father, and so he had ignored Cristina’s tears and flown to Sweden.

Within twenty-four hours he had realised that he had behaved like an idiot. He loved Cristina, and of course he would love their child. He had been impatient to get home and convince her that he was delighted about the baby, but his meeting had overrun, meaning that he had missed his flight, and he’d had to spend another night away. The following morning he had arrived in Italy and been met by Alfredo, who had broken the devastating news that his parents and Cristina had all died in the fire that had destroyed the di Cosimo villa.

Lanzo’s jaw tightened as he remembered the agony of that moment—the feeling that his heart had been ripped from his chest. He had not told Alfredo that Cristina had been a few weeks pregnant. The older man had been utterly distraught at the loss of his only daughter and there had seemed little point in making his grief worse. But the bitter truth was that he could not bear anyone to know how he had failed his fiancée and his unborn child, Lanzo acknowledged. He should never have gone away. Cristina had died believing that he did not want their child, and he had never been able to forgive himself for not being with her when she had needed him most.

Alfredo had never got over losing his daughter, but the older man had become an invaluable father figure and advisor, for with his own father gone Lanzo had become the head of Di Cosimo Holdings at the age of twenty. Five years later Alfredo’s death had hit him hard, but he had dealt with it as he had dealt with the loss of Cristina and his parents—by burying his grief deep in his heart.

The opening of a new restaurant in England had given him an excuse to spend some time away from Italy and his memories. He had thrown himself into work, and into offshore powerboat racing, which was a popular sport along the south coast. It had satisfied a need in him to push himself to his limits and beyond. He’d loved the speed, the danger and the adrenalin rush, the idea that death was one flip of the boat away—for deep down he had not really cared what happened to him. Subconsciously he had hoped that one day he would push himself too far and death would take him, as it had Cristina. But for fifteen years he had cheated death and been left alone to bear his grief. Sometimes he wondered if it was his punishment for those first doubts he’d had about being a father.

‘I noticed you,’ he told Gina abruptly. She had been a calming influence on his crazy mood that summer—a nondescript girl with a gentle smile that had soothed his troubled soul.

For the first two years after Cristina’s death he had not looked at another woman, and when he had finally started dating again his relationships had been meaningless sexual encounters. He had closed the door on his emotions and deliberately chosen mistresses who accepted his terms. But Gina had been different. Something about her youthful enthusiasm had reminded him of the carefree days of his own youth—a time that seemed bathed in perpetual sunshine before the black cloak of grief had settled on his shoulders. When he’d been with Gina his mood had lightened, and he had enjoyed spending time with her. It had only been when he had found himself thinking about asking her to return to Italy with him that he had realised there was a danger she was starting to mean something to him—and he had immediately ended their affair. For he associated love with pain, and he never wanted to experience either emotion ever again.

‘You were sweet and shy, and you used to stare at me when you thought I didn’t notice,’ he said gruffly. She had seemed painfully innocent, although she had assured him that she’d had several boyfriends, Lanzo recalled.

Sweet was such an unflattering description. It conjured an image of a silly lovesick teenager—which of course was exactly what she had been ten years ago, Gina thought ruefully. She remembered how her heart had thudded with excitement whenever Lanzo had been around—rather like it was doing now, a little voice in her head taunted. But the difference now was that she was a confident career woman—albeit one without a career at the moment—and she was perfectly in control of her emotions.

‘I admit I had an outsize crush on you,’ she said lightly. ‘But it was hardly surprising when I’d attended an all-girls school and had little contact with the male species—especially the exotic Italian variety.’

‘Why didn’t you remind me tonight that we knew each other?’ Lanzo asked her curiously.

She shrugged. ‘Because it was a long time ago, and I barely remembered you.’

His mocking smile told her he knew she was lying, and she was thankful that it was probably too dark now for him to notice her blush. They had reached the attractive block of six flats on the quayside where she lived, and as she slowed her steps he halted in front of her.

‘But you did not forget me completely during the past ten years,’ he stated arrogantly, his deep, velvety voice sending a little quiver down Gina’s spine. ‘Are you cold?’ he asked, noticing the tremor that ran through her.

‘Yes,’ she lied again, ‘but I live here. Well,’ she said briskly, desperate to get away from him before she made a complete idiot of herself, ‘it’s been nice to meet you again.’

She stepped back from him, but instead of bidding her goodnight he smiled and moved closer, so that they were enclosed in the shadowed porch area in front of the flats.

‘You can’t have lived here long. These flats were still under construction when I was here last year,’ he commented.

‘I moved here from London four months ago.’

‘That must have been a big change,’ Lanzo murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the fishing boats moored in the harbour.

Gina nodded. ‘I worked in the City and I’d forgotten how quiet it is here.’

‘What job do you do? I assume you have moved on from waiting tables?’ he said, his eyes glinting as he allowed them to roam over her navy silk dress and matching stiletto-heeled sandals. It was impossible to equate this elegant woman with the curly-haired young waitress from ten year ago.

‘Until recently I was PA to the chairman of the Meyers chain of department stores.’

He looked impressed. ‘That’s certainly a long way from waitressing. Meyers have outlets in virtually every major city around the world. But surely you don’t commute to the City from here every day?’

‘No, I decided to leave the company when my boss retired. There were a number of reasons why I wanted to move out of London.’ Not least the late-night abusive phone calls from her ex-husband, Gina thought grimly. ‘My father suffered a heart attack at Christmas. He’s recovered well, thankfully, but I decided to move closer to my family. Dad’s illness brought it home to me that you never know what the future holds.’

‘Very true,’ Lanzo said in a curiously flat tone. Gina gave him a curious glance, but his expression was unfathomable. ‘Too often we take the people we care about for granted.’

She nodded. ‘I came back to Poole to work as the PA for the head of a construction company. Unfortunately the market for new houses has been hit by the recession, and Hartman Homes went into liquidation last month. I’ve been looking for a new job, but there’s not a lot around. The way things are going I might need to take up waitressing again,’ she quipped, trying to quell the familiar flare of panic that thoughts of her precarious finances induced.

‘Come and see me at the restaurant in the morning. I may be able to help you,’ Lanzo murmured.

She gave him a startled glance. ‘I was joking about being a waitress,’ she told him, privately thinking that she would consider almost any job in order to keep up with her mortgage repayments.

‘I’m serious. I urgently need a personal assistant to fill in for my usual PA while she is on maternity leave. Luisa had planned to work up until her baby was born, but she has high blood pressure and has been advised to give up work early. Her absence is causing me all sorts of problems,’

Lanzo added, sounding distinctly unsympathetic for his secretary.

‘High blood pressure can be dangerous for an expectant mother and her unborn child,’ Gina told him. ‘I’m not surprised your PA has been told to take things easy. She couldn’t have travelled with you in the later stages of her pregnancy anyway. Pregnant women shouldn’t fly after about thirty-six weeks.’

‘Shouldn’t they?’ Lanzo shrugged. ‘I admit I know little about pregnancy—it is not something that interests me.’ He had never come to terms with his belief that he had failed his unborn baby, and he had vowed never to have another child. ‘But you seem very knowledgeable on the subject.’ He frowned as a thought struck him. ‘Do you have a child?’

‘No,’ she said shortly. Since she had moved back to Poole she had met several of her old schoolfriends, pushing prams around the town, and invariably the question of whether she had children had cropped up. The answer always hurt, Gina acknowledged, however much she laughed and made the excuse that she had been too busy with her career, and there was plenty of time for babies.

‘Some of my friends and both my stepsisters have children, so obviously I’ve picked up a few facts about pregnancy. I hope your PA keeps well in the final weeks before her baby is born,’ she murmured, feeling a sharp pang of sadness that every woman but her, it seemed, had no problem conceiving a child.

That wasn’t true, she reminded herself. Endometriosis was a well-known cause of female infertility, although for years she hadn’t realised that her heavy and painful periods were an indication of a medical condition that could affect her chances of having a baby.

Her gynaecologist had explained that there were various treatments available that might help her conceive, but he had emphasised that to maximise her chances she should try to fall pregnant before she reached her thirties. As a recently divorced twenty-eight-year-old, she had been forced to face the heartbreaking fact that she might never be a mother, Gina acknowledged bleakly.

‘Where have you gone?’

Lanzo’s voice tugged her from her thoughts and she stared at him helplessly. Seeing him tonight had taken her back in time. Life had been so optimistic and so full of exciting possibilities when she had been eighteen, but the last few years especially had been chequered with disappointments, she thought sadly.

That summer she had spent with Lanzo was a golden memory she had treasured, and even the misery she had felt after he had returned to Italy had served a purpose. Desperate to put him out of her mind, she had decided to move away from Poole, where it had seemed that every street and quaint country pub held memories of the few weeks they had spent together, and instead of accepting a place at nearby Bournemouth University she had taken a secretarial course, moved to London, and forged a highly successful career.

But Lanzo had been right when he had guessed that she had never forgotten him. Oh, she’d got over him—after a while. She had grown up and moved on, and he had faded to the background of her new, busy life. But occasionally she had found herself thinking about him, and curiously it had been Lanzo, not Simon, she had dreamed about on the night before her wedding. Now, unbelievably, he was here, watching her with an intense expression in his mesmeric green eyes that made her heart-rate quicken.

‘I … I really must go in,’ she said faintly.

His slow smile stole her breath. ‘Why?’

‘Well …’ She searched her blank mind for a good reason. ‘It’s getting late. I should get to bed …’ She cringed. Why had she used that word? She had been fighting her memories of his toned, tanned, naked body—of his hands gently pushing her thighs apart so that he could sink between them. She felt the hot throb of desire low in her pelvis and closed her eyes, as if blotting him from her vision would free her from his sorcery.

‘Stay and talk to me for a while,’ he said softly. ‘It’s good to see you again, Gina.’

His words were beguiling. Her eyes flew open. It was good to see him too, she acknowledged silently. During the last grim months of her marriage and her subsequent divorce she had felt as though she were trapped in a long dark tunnel. But the unexpectedness of seeing Lanzo again made her feel as though the sun had emerged from behind a storm cloud and was warming her with its golden rays.

Her blue eyes clashed with his glinting gaze. She did not want to talk, she admitted shakily. She was so aware of him that her skin prickled, and her nipples felt as hard as pebbles, straining against the constriction of her bra. Perhaps he really was a magician and could read her mind. Because his eyes had narrowed, and to her shock and undeniable excitement he slowly lowered his head.

‘Lanzo …?’ Her heart was thudding so hard she was sure he must hear it.

‘Cara,’ he murmured silkily. He had wanted to kiss her all evening. Even though she had carefully avoided him for the rest of the party after she had gone to report the broken glass to the restaurant manager, his eyes had followed her around the room and he had found himself recalling with vivid clarity how soft her mouth had felt beneath his ten years ago. Now the sexual tension between them was so intense that the air seemed to quiver. Desire flared, white-hot, inside him, and his instincts told him that she felt the same burning awareness. Anticipation made his hand a little unsteady as he lifted it to smooth her hair back from her face.

Gina stiffened at Lanzo’s touch and instinctively jerked her head back. She had concealed her scar with make-up, but she was mortified to think that he might feel the distinct ridge that ran down her cheek and neck.