The Italian Seduction

In the present case, he had nothing to go on. No idea of what made this woman ‘tick’. Nor, indeed, what on earth had persuaded her to take up such an extraordinarily bizarre occupation.

As the limousine began gathering speed, and they continued their progress through Hyde Park, Lorenzo leaned back in his seat, giving him a better view of the tall, slim figure of the blonde sitting beside him.

She was definitely not his type, he told himself firmly. He had never been attracted to this sort of arrogant, domineering female, who clearly considered herself the equal of any man.

In fact, almost without exception, his girlfriends had always been dark, slender and petite, with an enchanting air of delicate fragility. And, while it was true that some had been tiresome—either totally self-absorbed, or given to amazing displays of temperament—they had never, under any circumstances, made the mistake of trying to push him around. Nor would they have dreamed of trying to tell him what he could and could not do!

On the other hand…if he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, he might be prepared to admit that Antonia Simpson was a highly attractive, good-looking woman. He’d certainly thought so when she’d first marched into his suite, earlier this evening.

Allowing his gaze to sweep over the firm breasts, clearly outlined as she raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and the short skirt of her dress, displaying long, slim legs encased in sheer black silk stockings, merely confirmed his first impression.

However, by the time their vehicle was finally approaching the Albert Hall, Lorenzo had abruptly changed his mind again.

Neither the use of as much charm as he could summon up under the circumstances nor—as a desperate last resort—his frank offer of bribery and corruption had in any way managed to dent the cool self-possession of this extraordinary young woman.

‘Relax, Signor Foscari!’ she’d told him with a wide, unusually enchanting smile, which suddenly had the effect of making her appear almost beautiful. ‘Believe me, I really appreciate that Italian charm of yours! But unfortunately trying to sweet-talk me into abandoning the job I’ve been hired to do is a pure waste of your time.

‘And I’m afraid that offering me a great deal of money to get out of your life won’t work either,’ she’d added, with another broad, ironic grin. ‘Unfortunately, I have a contract with your insurance company. And, until they dismiss me, I’m afraid that you and I will just have to put up with one another. Capisce?’

He probably deserved that last, verbal slap in the face, Lorenzo told himself grimly. And, while he might actively dislike the girl sitting next to him, he had to admit that she was proving to be a quite impressive adversary.

However, the situation in which he found himself was still utterly intolerable. And he certainly had no intention of putting up with her appointment—or of allowing himself to be swayed by that enchanting smile—one moment longer than he had to.

But even as he rallied his forces—pointing out that he could not gain admittance to the concert hall without a ticket, which he’d unfortunately left behind in his hotel room—the damned woman merely gave a brief shrug of her slim shoulders.

‘There’s no problem. I picked it up from the hall table before we left your suite,’ she said, clearly enjoying his discomfiture as she removed the ticket from her handbag.

‘And what about you?’ he demanded, through gritted teeth, as their vehicle drew to a halt outside the concert hall. ‘Exactly how are you planning to spend the evening? Standing outside my friends’ box for three hours, until the end of the performance, doesn’t sound much fun.’

‘I’m not being paid a great deal of money just to have fun,’ she retorted dismissively, before opening the car door, and he found himself being swiftly escorted inside the large dome of the Albert Hall.

‘Hi, there! We were just beginning to wonder if you’d make it here tonight,’ Giles Harding called out, hurrying through the crowd towards him.

‘O, ye of little faith.’ Lorenzo grinned at his old friend, before turning to greet Giles’s wife, Susie Harding.

Busy chatting to Susie, and catching up with their family’s news, he just about managed to temporarily forget Antonia. However, if he’d hoped to have seen the last of her—for a few hours, at least—he was doomed to disappointment.

‘Aha! You lucky dog! I might have known that you’d turn up with a gorgeous girlfriend in tow,’ Giles murmured with a grin, giving him a sharp dig in the ribs as he spotted the tall girl standing behind the tall Italian.

‘I’m so glad you could join us,’ Giles said, taking her arm with a beaming smile, before Lorenzo had a chance to explain that Miss Simpson was most definitely not his girlfriend.

‘There’s no problem with seats, since two of our guests had to cancel at the last minute,’ Giles added, handing her a drink, before quickly introducing her to his wife.

Chatting idly with his friends’ guests—a rather boring banker and his wife—amidst the noise of loud voices and laughter in the large bar, Lorenzo realised that there was virtually nothing he could do about the situation.

It placed him in an awkward position, of course. On the other hand, he certainly didn’t want to have to go into long, tedious explanations of why he apparently needed protection. Especially as he was almost certain that his old friends would find the highly embarrassing, humiliating fact that he was being forced to put up with a female bodyguard absolutely hilarious.

Initially surprised to find herself being greeted as his girlfriend, Antonia had glanced enquiringly at Lorenzo, indicating her willingness to go along with the scenario.

In her job, she’d frequently been called upon to act the part of a devoted wife or loving fiancée—especially when engaged in undercover work, such as trailing a suspect. So assuming the role of Lorenzo’s girlfriend wasn’t likely to be too difficult.

And maybe…maybe, if he’d made even the slightest effort to act his part, she might not have lost her temper with the foul man. But, after clearly deciding to let Giles Harding believe that she was his latest popsy, Lorenzo had proceeded to totally ignore her, turning his back and chatting to his friends and their guests as if he’d never even heard of her existence.

Goodness knows, she’d already had to put up with quite enough of his nonsense this evening. Besides, she wasn’t stupid. She could easily understand why he hadn’t corrected his friend’s mistake. But there was no excuse for him to behave in such a boorish fashion.

In fact, it was the way he was trying to have his cake—and eat it too—which finally tipped her over the edge.

As the bell rang, signalling that the performance was about to start, and the crowd began moving out of the bar towards the auditorium, she adroitly moved up behind Lorenzo’s tall figure, before casually slipping her arm through his.

‘Sweetie! You weren’t thinking of leaving me behind, were you?’ she exclaimed with a light ripple of laughter, before raising her head to give him a wide, beaming smile.

Rewarded by the sudden tensing of his tall body, and the brief look of horror flickering over his handsome, tanned face, Antonia turned to smile at the Hardings and their guests.

‘I’m so pleased that darling Lorenzo brought me here tonight. I’ve been longing to see this opera for ages. Such a treat!’ she told them, with another warm, happy smile, maintaining a firm grip on his arm as they entered the box.

Swiftly glancing around the red plush interior, which hadn’t changed since the days of Queen Victoria, Antonia quickly identified the perfect position for her client. Letting go of Lorenzo’s arm, she casually edged a nearby chair into a position which would shield him from any possible assassin in the audience—while still allowing him a good sight of the large stage below.

‘Why don’t you sit here, darling?’ she murmured with a soft, winsome smile.

‘No, thank you,’ he retorted through gritted teeth, clearly furious at having to maintain a fixed, pleasant expression on his face, solely for the benefit of his hosts and their guests. ‘I’m sure one of the other ladies would prefer to…’

‘Don’t be silly, darling—I insist that you sit there,’ she told him firmly, accompanying her words with another simpering, entirely false smile. A smile which had those present gazing indulgently at what they, quite mistakenly, assumed to be a loving couple.

As Lorenzo stood glaring down at her, his body taut and rigid with anger at finding himself totally outmanoeuvred, she thought for one, wild moment that he might throw caution to the winds and indulge in a spectacular loss of temper. However, after what appeared to be a massive inner struggle, he finally managed to bring himself under control.

‘Why don’t you go to hell!’ he ground out savagely under his breath as, very reluctantly, he lowered himself into the chair.

‘Only if you lead the way, sweetie!’ she retorted with a grin, before seating herself just behind his tall figure.

As the house lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing the overture, Lorenzo leaned back in his comfortable red plush seat, a bland expression on his face—and murder in his heart!

He’d never, in the whole of his life, been tempted to even think of using violence of any kind against a woman. Which made it all the more shocking to now find himself actively contemplating—with considerable pleasure!—the untimely demise of Miss Antonia Simpson.

Right from the moment that bossy, thoroughly irritating young woman had marched so confidently into his hotel suite, earlier this evening, he’d suspected that she was likely to be up to no good. And how right he’d been. Because the brazen hussy had turned out to be nothing but trouble, with a capital T!

What had he ever done to deserve such a fate? Lorenzo asked himself grimly as, on the stage below the box, the chorus and orchestra wound themselves up for the grand entrance of Otello—returning home to Venice in triumph, after soundly beating the Turkish Navy.

Living most of the year in Milan, he’d regularly visited La Scala—in his opinion, the greatest opera house in the world. And he had, of course, seen many productions of Verdi’s tragic opera, based on the play Othello, by William Shakespeare.

But only now did it occur to him that the story of a man driven out of his mind by external forces and culminating in his murder of his wife, Desdemona, seemed strangely appropriate to his own current predicament.

Don’t be ridiculous! It’s time you got a grip on the situation! Lorenzo lectured himself sternly.

The fact that Antonia Simpson had managed to have everything her own way, so far, was no reason to allow her to push him around for the foreseeable future. Which meant that the sooner he got his act together the better.

Oh, yes! It was about time he taught that domineering, high-handed, so-called ‘bodyguard’ of his a lesson which she wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

For her part, and greatly to her surprise, Antonia found herself enjoying the opera. In fact, she would have found it totally absorbing if she hadn’t been required to be fully alert on behalf of Lorenzo Foscari.

This was definitely the last job she’d ever take on for that ratfink James Riley. Goodness knows, she’d looked after some tiresome people in the past. But this oh, so macho Italian—who clearly should have been strangled at birth—just about took the biscuit!

All the same, maybe it hadn’t been too clever of her to try and score a few points off the swine just now, she told herself. Recalling her impression, earlier in the evening, that he was as tricky and unpredictable as dynamite, she realised it might possibly have been a mistake to have momentarily lost her own temper—simply because she’d considered him guilty of bad manners.

Because, however tempting it might have been to cut the man down to size, it definitely wasn’t the response expected from an experienced and highly capable bodyguard.

She was a professional, Antonia reminded herself firmly. Which was why, despite all provocation, she must strive to maintain an air of cool, calm efficiency and detachment remaining totally aloof and objective at all times. It also meant, she told herself grimly, that she was going to have to find some way of coping with this extraordinarily difficult man.

Unfortunately, it was becoming clear that Lorenzo Foscari wasn’t just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill client.

He was, of course, extremely arrogant and overbearing. Not to mention his quite extraordinary, old-fashioned, chauvinistic attitude to women. The way he’d gone completely ballistic, at the appointment of a female bodyguard was totally ridiculous in this day and age.

On the other hand…well…there was no denying the fact that he did possess a disturbing aura of rampant sex appeal. And, when he wasn’t busy losing his temper, he appeared to have been born with an equally large quota of overwhelming, almost mesmerising charm. Charm which he was quite prepared to use as a weapon, she reminded herself sharply, recalling his unscrupulous attempts to undermine her contract with his insurance company.

So, the fact that the man was a high-octane, lethal mixture of barely leashed force and aggression, coupled with an almost irresistible warmth and attraction, meant that he wasn’t just a difficult man, but also a highly complex one. There was no doubt that she was going to have to keep her wits about her, at all times, Antonia told herself with a heavy sigh. There was no way she’d be able to relax her guard on this job! A conclusion that was reinforced as she turned to view the man sitting on her left, just slightly in front of her own chair.

Despite the dim light within the box, and with only his sharply etched profile in view, one didn’t need a very high IQ to read Lorenzo Foscari’s body language. And the message it conveyed was not a happy one.

The muscle beating furiously in his tightly clenched jaw, and the rigidly tense, broad shoulders beneath his expensive black dinner jacket provided plenty of evidence that the guy was still very angry. Maybe the wonderful music would help him to calm down?

Rarely attending concerts in the Albert Hall, Antonia had forgotten that the larger boxes surrounding the auditorium also contained a small, individual area at the back—designed for the service of food and drink during the interval.

Since Giles and Susie Harding had been kind enough to include her in their party, she felt the least she could do when the curtain came down for the interval, to give Susie a hand with the light supper—which the older woman had brought with her in a large picnic hamper.

‘I’ve kept it very simple,’ Susie told her, removing various plates from the wicker basket. ‘Just champagne, smoked salmon sandwiches and, to finish the meal, some strawberries and cream.’

‘It sounds absolutely delicious—and not at all simple!’ Antonia said with a slight laugh as the older woman delved into the hamper to extract some icy cold bottles of champagne.

‘Well…I really meant that it took the minimum of effort. Because all I had to do was to make the sandwiches,’ Susie explained with a grin, before handing the champagne to her husband, with a brisk instruction to make sure that everyone had enough to drink.

‘So, tell me,’ Susie enquired as she tipped the strawberries into a large bowl, ‘have you known Lorenzo for long?’

‘No. We…er…we only met fairly recently,’ Antonia murmured, glancing quickly across the room to where Lorenzo appeared to be deep in conversation with the stuffy banker.

‘He and Giles were at school together, so dear Lorenzo is one of our oldest friends,’ Susie explained. ‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? So attractive, so charming…and so rich. An absolutely lethal combination!’ she added with a grin.

Wondering whether she was being warned off, Antonia was just about to reassure her hostess that she and Lorenzo were definitely not interested in one another, when Susie quickly shook her head.

‘Oh, no—don’t get me wrong. Giles and I are absolutely delighted that Lorenzo has brought you along here tonight,’ she said, placing the sandwiches on some small plates for distribution amongst the guests. ‘We reckon that it’s about time he stopped living life in the fast lane, and settled down with a wife—and lots of bambini too, of course!’ Susie added with a grin. ‘So, if he has finally managed to dump that awful woman, Gina Lombardi, I couldn’t be more happy! In fact,’ she confided with a wink, ‘Giles and I reckon that you and Lorenzo are just made for each other!’

This is getting to be a very heavy scene! Antonia told herself, giving the other woman a brief, noncommittal smile.

Deliberately trying to score a few points off the foul man was one thing. But Giles and Susie were obviously a very nice couple. So she really didn’t like the idea of trying to deliberately deceive or fool them into believing that she was romantically involved with Lorenzo.

‘To tell you the truth, Susie, as far as Lorenzo and I are concerned…’ She paused, carefully choosing her words as she continued, ‘Well, the fact is…’

‘The fact is…we’re simply mad with each other!’ Lorenzo’s deep voice completed the sentence, from just behind her left shoulder.

Startled by his sudden appearance, Antonia found herself taken utterly by surprise as he quickly slipped an arm about her waist, before firmly clasping her to the side of his strong body.

‘No—you idiot!’ Susie laughingly told him. ‘The correct expression is not mad with but mad about each other.’

‘Ah, yes—I must improve my use of the English language,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘However, darling Antonia knows exactly how I feel about her. Isn’t that right, sweetie?’

Damn right I do! she told herself grimly, wondering how he’d managed to creep up on her so quickly and silently? She must be slipping, because it wasn’t like her to be taken by surprise like this.

Unfortunately, unless she was prepared to cause a scene, there was nothing she could do to free herself from the hard, muscular strength of the arm which was keeping her so tightly pinned against his tall figure.

‘I’m so lucky to have Antonia looking after me. We have such a close relationship,’ Lorenzo was telling his hostess. ‘Mmm…strawberries! How delicious. They’re my favourite fruit,’ he added, reaching forward to pick a very large, succulent berry from the bowl as Antonia turned her head to glare up at him.

‘You’re fond of them too, aren’t you, darling?’ he murmured, smiling so warmly and tenderly down at the girl clasped to his side that Susie found herself giving a small sigh of pure envy.

‘Yes, they’re very nice,’ Antonia muttered, still feeling slightly confused and thrown off balance by the way Lorenzo was suddenly playing the part of her red-hot lover. Especially as she was only too well aware of the chilly, icy cold gleam in the eyes staring down into her own.

‘However, I was just telling Susie that…Whaa-aa…!’ she gasped as Lorenzo adroitly popped the large strawberry into her mouth, rendering her temporarily speechless.

‘Mmm…yes, they clearly are delicious!’ he murmured, his lips twitching with sardonic laughter as he viewed Antonia’s cheeks bulging while she struggled to cope with a huge mouthful of juicy red fruit.

‘Would you like some more, darling?’ he added, maintaining the firm grip of his arm about her body as he reached forward to choose another large fruit from the bowl. ‘Nuh!’ Antonia mumbled helplessly, giving a quick shake of her head, and glaring up at him with utter loathing.

‘Isn’t she amusing?’ Lorenzo exclaimed as Antonia gulped, finally managing to swallow the huge strawberry. And then, with Susie looking on and beaming at what she clearly regarded as a happy couple, he lowered his dark head as if about to kiss his new girlfriend’s cheek.

But, even as she instinctively flinched, quickly turning her head away from him, she realised that he’d never had any intention of kissing her. Far from it.

Pressing his lips to her ear, he whispered savagely, ‘Let that be a lesson, sweetie! Never make the mistake of trying to mess around with me, again—or you’ll be very sorry! OK?’

He waited until she gave a slight nod before loosening his grip on her waist and strolling off to have a word with Giles Harding.

‘You’re so lucky!’ Susie sighed deeply, before turning away to hand small plates of sandwiches to the banker and his wife.

Oh, yeah? Antonia’s eyes narrowed with baffled rage and fury as she stared at Lorenzo, who’d clearly regained his good humour as she saw him laughing at something his host was saying. If she ever got the chance for revenge, she promised herself grimly, that arrogant swine was definitely going to regret, what he’d just done!

Following the performance, the short journey back to the hotel was conducted in silence. Which was mainly due to the fact that Antonia, after battling to control her anger during the last act of the opera, was still trying to simmer down and pull herself together.

She knew that she’d been originally in the wrong, and so might have been prepared to call it quits, and do her best to forget the incident, if Lorenzo Foscari hadn’t been so cheerful. Although, what he had to be so happy about was absolutely beyond her. However, it looked as if putting her down had done his own temper a power of good, she told herself sourly.

Glancing through her eyelashes at the hawk-like profile of the man sitting beside her, she noted that he was still quietly humming a tune from the opera, while taking an interest in the brilliantly lit shop windows of Knightsbridge.

After directing the car to the rear of the hotel, and arranging which guards could be released and which should stay on duty, Antonia accompanied Lorenzo up the back stairs towards his suite.

She had to calm down, she told herself firmly. If Lorenzo Foscari wanted to play stupid games—that was entirely up to him. She, for her part, must remain totally calm and professional at all times.

‘Well…that was a very interesting evening,’ he drawled as they entered the suite. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’ he added, walking across the carpet to a bar, in a far corner of the large sitting room.

‘No, thank you. I never drink when on duty.’

‘Ah, yes…I’ve been thinking about your duties as my personal bodyguard,’ he murmured, pouring himself a stiff whisky, before turning around to give her a broad smile. ‘And I came to one or two interesting conclusions.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Antonia eyed him warily. She was beginning to realise that when Lorenzo Foscari turned on the charm he generally had some devious objective in mind.

He shrugged. ‘We both know that I was less than pleased to find myself landed with a bodyguard. Nor was I too happy to discover that she was female. Not that I have anything against women, of course…’

‘You could have fooled me!’

‘It’s just that I foresaw certain…er…difficulties in such an appointment,’ he continued, clearly choosing to ignore her interjection. ‘However, after giving the situation much thought, I suddenly realised that those “difficulties” were, in fact, a positive bonus!’

She frowned. ‘Sorry—I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about the fact that, as my bodyguard, you are concerned with the close and personal protection of my body,’ he drawled smoothly, walking slowly over to where she was standing by the doorway.

‘So?’

‘You have, I understand, been hired to guard my body for twenty-four hours a day?’

‘Yes, technically speaking, I suppose I have. But…’

‘Well, there you are!’ He grinned wolfishly down at her. ‘I suddenly realised that it would be churlish, to say the least, to turn down the opportunity of having you, my dear Antonia, closely guarding my body through the night.’

She stared at him in amazement for a moment, before being struck by the utterly ridiculous aspect of the situation.

‘You must be joking!’ she laughed.