Christmas in Da Conti's Bed

‘And I would prefer to keep it that way,’ he said. ‘In fact, I’d like to keep you as far away from any member of the da Conti family as possible. So why don’t we get down to business?’

She blinked at him, momentarily disconcerted. ‘Business?’

‘Sure. Don’t look so startled—you’re a big girl now, Alannah. You know how these things work. You and I need to have a little talk and we might as well do it in some degree of comfort.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the cocktail cabinet which stood at the far end of the glittering hotel suite. ‘Would you like a drink? Don’t good-time girls always go for champagne? I can’t guarantee a high-heeled shoe for you to sip it from, but I can vouch for an extremely good vintage.’

Don’t rise to it, she told herself, before fixing a weary smile to her lips. ‘I hate to challenge your stereotype, but I’m not crazy about champagne and even if I was I certainly wouldn’t want to drink it with you. That might imply a cordiality we both know doesn’t exist. So why don’t you say whatever it is you’re determined to say? And then we can end this conversation as quickly as possible so that I can concentrate on fitting Michela’s wedding gown.’

He didn’t answer for a moment, but instead leaned back against one of the giant sofas and looked at her, his arms folded across his broad chest. Yet for all his supposedly casual stance, Alannah felt a chill of foreboding as his eyes met hers. There was a patina of power surrounding him which she hadn’t noticed in that long-ago nightclub. There was a hardness about him which you didn’t find in your average man. Suddenly he looked formidable—as if he was determined to remind her just who she was dealing with.

‘I think we both know a simple way to resolve this,’ he said softly. ‘All you have to do is step out of the spotlight right now. Do that and there will be no problem. Michela is about to marry a very powerful man. She is about to take on an important role as a new wife. In time, she hopes to have children and her friends will be role models to them. And…’

‘And?’ she questioned, but she knew what was coming. It was crystal clear from the look on his face.

‘You are not an appropriate role model,’ he said. ‘You’re not the kind of woman I want fraternising with my nephews and nieces.’

Her heart was beating very fast. ‘Don’t you dare judge me,’ she said, but her voice wasn’t quite steady.

‘Then why not make it easy for yourself? Tell Michela you’ve changed your mind about acting as her bridesmaid.’

‘Too late!’ Forcing herself to stay strong, she held up her palms in front of her, like a policeman stepping into the road to stop the traffic. ‘I’ve made my own dress, which is currently swathed in plastic in my room, waiting for me to put it on just before noon tomorrow. I’m wearing scarlet silk to emphasise the wedding’s winter theme,’ she added chattily.

‘But it’s not going to happen,’ he said repressively. ‘Do you really think I would let it?’

For a moment Alannah felt another shimmer of doubt flicker into the equation. The quiet resolution of his voice scared her and so did the forthright expression in his eyes. Somehow he was making her feel…vulnerable. And she wasn’t going to let that happen. Because she didn’t do vulnerable. Not any more. Vulnerable got you nowhere. It made you fall down when life landed one of its killer punches and think you’d never be able to get back up again. It made you easy prey to powerful predators like Niccolò da Conti. ‘How wicked you make me sound,’ she said.

‘Not wicked,’ he corrected silkily. ‘Just misguided, out-of-control and sexually precocious. And I don’t want any publicity generated by the presence of Stacked magazine’s most popular pin-up.’

‘But nobody—’

‘Michela has already mistakenly tried to tell me that nobody will know,’ he interrupted impatiently. ‘But they will. The magazines you stripped for have become collectors’ items and back issues now change hands for thousands of dollars. And I’ve just been informed that a film of you has made its way onto YouTube, raising your public profile even further. It doesn’t matter what you wear or what you don’t wear—you still have the kind of body which occupies a fertile part of the male imagination. Men still look at you and find themselves thinking of one thing—and only one thing.’

Alannah tried not to cringe, but unfortunately his words struck home. Clever, cruel Niccolò had— unwittingly or not—tapped into her biggest insecurity. He made her feel like an object. Like a thing. Not a woman at all, but some two-dimensional image in a magazine—put there simply for men to lust over.

The person she was now wouldn’t dream of letting her nipples peek out from behind her splayed fingers, while she pouted at the camera. These days she would rather die than hook her thumbs in her panties and thrust her pelvis in the direction of the lens. But she’d needed to do it, for all kinds of reasons. Reasons the uptight Niccolò da Conti wouldn’t understand in a million years.

‘You were notorious, Alannah,’ he continued. ‘And that kind of notoriety doesn’t just go away. It sticks like mud.’

She looked at him in despair. He was telling her that? Didn’t he realise that she’d been living with the consequences of that job ever since? No, of course he didn’t. He saw what he wanted to see and no more—he didn’t have the imagination to put himself in someone else’s shoes and think what their life might be like. He was protected by his wealth and position and his arrogance.

She wanted to go up and shake him and tell him to think outside the box. To wipe that judgemental look from his face and to start seeing her as a person, instead of someone who’d once behaved rashly. She could see exactly why Michela had been so scared of him when they’d been at school together. Was it any wonder that the Italian girl had rebelled from the moment he’d dropped her off at the exclusive Swiss finishing school where Alannah’s mother had worked as school matron?

‘The most important thing for me,’ she said slowly, ‘is that Michela wants me there. It’s her day and she’s the bride. So, short of tying me up and kidnapping me—I intend to be there tomorrow.’

‘Unless we come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ She tilted her head. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Oh, come on, Alannah.’ He smiled. ‘You’re a streetwise woman. You’ve been around. There must be something in your life that you’d…like.’

‘Something in my life that I’d like?’ she repeated. ‘You mean like a cure for the common cold, or an alarm that doesn’t make you want to smash the phone every time you hear it?’

‘Very amusing. No, nothing like that.’ He paused, and his black eyes glittered. ‘I am a very wealthy man—and I’m willing to make it worth your while to tell Michela that you’ve changed your mind.’

She stared at him in disbelief.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘You’re offering me money to stay away from your sister and not be her bridesmaid?’

‘Why not?’ He gave a cold smile. ‘In my experience, if you want something badly enough you can usually get it. The tricky thing is negotiating the right price—but that is something I should imagine you’re very good at.’

‘But that’s…bribery.’

‘Try thinking of it as common sense,’ he suggested softly.

She was shaking her head. ‘You know, Michela used to tell me how unbelievably controlling you were,’ she said. ‘And part of me thought she might have been exaggerating. But now I can see that every word was true.’

‘I am not seeking your approval of my character,’ he clipped out. ‘Just think why I’m making you this offer.’

‘Because you’re a control freak?’

‘Because Michela means everything to me,’ he said, and suddenly his voice grew harsh as he remembered how he’d fought to protect his sister from the sins of their father. And their mother. He thought of their flight from Sicily—his mother pregnant with Michela and not knowing what lay ahead. Niccolò had been only ten, but he had been the one everyone had relied on. He had been the man around the house. And it was hard to relinquish that kind of role or those kinds of expectations…

‘Michela is the only family I have left in the world and I would do anything for her,’ he ground out.

‘Except give her the freedom which a woman of her age has the right to expect?’ she retorted. ‘Well, I’m glad she’s had the courage to stand up to you. To maybe make you realise that you can’t keep snapping your fingers and expecting everyone else to just leap to attention. I’m not going anywhere until after the wedding. Better deal with it, Niccolò.’

Their gazes clashed and Niccolò felt the flicker of something unknown as he returned her stare. Oh, but she was a one-off. She took defiance to a whole new level and made it seem erotic. She made him want to take her in his arms and dominate her—to show her that he could not and would not be thwarted. He took a step towards her and a primitive surge of pleasure rippled over him as he watched her eyes darken. Because she still wanted him, he realised. Maybe not quite as much as he wanted her—but the desire he could read in her eyes was unmistakable.

And couldn’t desire be the most powerful weapon of all? Didn’t sex give a man power over a woman who wanted it?

‘Why don’t you think about what I’ve said?’ he suggested. ‘So that by the time I see you at the pre-wedding dinner later, you’ll have had the sense to change your mind about my offer.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘But…’

He raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, she didn’t look quite so defiant. Suddenly she looked almost unsure of herself. ‘But?’

‘I…’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s just that…well, Michela said you were probably going to skip the dinner and that we wouldn’t see you until tomorrow. Something to do with a business deal. Some new apartment block you’ve recently built in London.’

‘Is that what she said?’ He smiled. ‘Well, not any more. I’ve decided business can wait, because something much more important has come up.’ There was a pause as he looked at her and suddenly it was easy to forget the pressing needs of his billionaire clients and friends. ‘What is it they say? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And I want you very close for all kinds of reasons, Alannah. You’d better believe that.’

CHAPTER TWO (#uf254b902-496b-597c-8017-34bdf8b76b69)

ALANNAH PULLED UP the zip of her cocktail dress and stared at her pale-faced reflection in the mirror. She’d tried deep breathing and she’d done a quick bout of yoga, but her hands were still trembling and she knew why. Slipping on a pair of high-heeled shoes, she felt a wave of self-recrimination washing over her.

She thought about the things Niccolò had said to her earlier. The way he’d insulted her and looked down his proud, patrician nose. He’d been judging her in the most negative way possible, but that hadn’t stopped her wanting him. She shuddered. Where was the self-respect she’d worked so hard to get back? She wondered what had happened to the cool, calm Alannah who wasn’t going to let him get under her skin. How had he managed to puncture her self-possession with nothing more than a heated ebony gaze, which reminded her of things she’d rather forget?

Because memory was a funny thing, that was why—and sometimes you had no control over it. It flipped and jerked and jumped around like a flapping fish on the end of a hook. It took you to places you didn’t want to visit. It could make ten years seem like a minute, or a minute seem like an hour. It could put you back inside the skin of the person you’d once been.

And suddenly she was a teenager again. Seventeen years old and about to break the rules. Off to a party wearing the make-up which her Swiss finishing school strictly forbade, when really she should have been tucked up in bed in the dormitory. Wearing a tiny little micro-mini because she had been young and carefree—because back then she hadn’t realised that a woman’s body could become her enemy, instead of her friend…