The Italian's Marriage Bargain

‘We were going to get engaged…’ Her voice was barely audible now, trailing off into a low whisper as she hopefully began to conclude this most difficult conversation. Casting a nervous glance up she saw the confusion in his eyes, listened as he took in a breath, opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind midway and closed it again. ‘That’s why I needed a drink. I was nervous,’ Felicity explained patiently.

But Luca, it would appear, was having trouble with his own jigsaw. Shaking his head, he opened his mouth again. Only this time the words that came out had none of his usual assured tones; instead he sounded utterly perplexed. ‘Why would you be nervous? Why would you be so daunted by something so nice?’

‘I just was.’ Felicity shrugged. She certainly wasn’t about to tell Luca the more personal details, tell him that Matthew had made his intentions very clear. There would be no more reluctant kisses on her doorstep, no more hiding behind her never ending excuses. Matthew was going to claim what he assumed was rightly his.

And there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

Deciding she’d already said way too much, she stood up and attempted a haughty flick of her hair. ‘Let’s just leave it there, shall we? Could you please ring Housekeeping and have my dress sent up? I’d really like to get dressed.’ She stood for what felt like a full minute, and when Luca made no attempt to reach for the telephone gave a shrug. ‘Fine, it that’s the way you want to play it then I’ll do it myself.’ Picking up the receiver, she ran a finger down the numbers before her, ignoring the holes being burnt into her bare shoulder as Luca blatantly stared. She didn’t have to justify herself to him. If he wanted to go around playing the hero, he’d better just look for another damsel in distress.

‘Okay, I can understand you might have been a little uptight,’ Lucas conceded, resuming their discussion as if the most recent part of their conversation hadn’t even taken place. Felicity hesitated momentarily, her hand poised over the number nine digit on the telephone. ‘But why would Matthew want to get you drunk? What sort of a man would want to propose to a woman when she wouldn’t even be able to remember it the next morning?’

She let out a low, hollow laugh, and Luca watched as her cream shoulders stiffened momentarily, her slender hand shaking slightly as it hovered over the telephone. He had to strain to catch the resigned and weary words, imaging those full lips pulled into a taut strained line. ‘A determined one.’

The defeat in her voice, the utter exhaustion, stirred something within him. Suddenly his feelings towards Matthew, the so-called man who had annoyed him last night, shifted from distaste to disgust, from scorn to a black churning fury. But not a trace of it was betrayed in his voice. He realised that one misplaced word would have her back on the defensive, would have her marching out of his room and out of his life.

He didn’t want her to go.

The realisation astounded him. Last night he had been concerned, as worried as he would have been at seeing any guest, any woman, being taken advantage of, being beguiled in such a way. But it was over now. He had done his moral duty, averted the problem. She was sober now, able to make her own calls. If she wanted her dress, wanted to go back to that snake’s room, then why shouldn’t she? What could it possibly matter to him what this woman did with her life?

But it did.

‘You’re not seriously considering going back to Matthew after what he did to you last night?’

‘Look,’ Felicity snapped, forcing a very standoffish smile as she turned briefly to face him. ‘Thank you for your concern. As misguided as it was, I’m sure you meant well, but the truth is I knew what I was doing last night and I certainly didn’t need your so-called help.’

‘I beg to differ.’

Felicity’s eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise as his delicious Italian accent was replaced by a rather upper crust English accent.

‘That is my London manager’s favourite saying,’ Luca responded, noting her surprise, but the momentary lapse in proceedings didn’t last long. The onslaught continued in thick heavily accented tones that had Felicity scorching with shame right down to her toenails which she stared at in preference to the overbearing ogre that stood over her. ‘The only sensible thing you did last night was to beg me for help. Me!’ he shouted, cupping her chin with his fingers and forcing her eyes up to him. ‘Perhaps you would like me to refresh your memory?’

‘Perhaps not.’ Felicity cringed, but her humour was entirely wasted on him.

‘A colleague diverted Matthew’s attention while I took you to one side and told you that your drinks were being spiked. You, Miss Conlon, promptly burst into tears and begged me to get rid of him, begged me for help, left me with no choice but to bring you up here.’

‘You didn’t have to do it, though!’ Felicity interjected, brushing his hand away from her and facing him unaided now, but Luca hadn’t finished yet.

‘Believe me, I wish I hadn’t bothered! Had there been a spare room in the hotel it would have been yours. Do you not think I had better things to do last night than play babysitter to you? Not only did I have a ballroom of guests to take care of, I had the press about to run a story—Damn!’

Without pausing for breath, without further explanation, he marched across the room, flinging open the door, and with her face paling Felicity realised she had pushed him too far, that he was going to throw her out—and what was more, Felicity acknowledged, she completely deserved it. Luca Santanno had behaved like a complete gentleman last night and she in turn had been an utter bitch. If she’d had a tail it would have been between her legs as she attempted to walk wrapped in the counterpane.

‘Where are you going?’ He didn’t exactly haul her back in by the scruff of her neck, but it came pretty close. ‘Where the hell do you think you are going?’

‘Back to my room,’ Felicity yelped. ‘I thought you were asking me to leave.’

‘I was getting the paper; I was attempting to show you why last night I had better things to do than play nursemaid.’ Flicking through the paper, his face hardened, an expletive Felicity could only assume wasn’t particularly nice flying from his lips as he hurled the offending paper across the room before redirecting his fury back to her. ‘Is this the sort of man you deal with? Men who would throw you out into the corridor dressed in nothing but your underwear and a sheet? Is this how little you think of yourself?’ Taking a couple of deep ragged breaths, he relaxed his clenched fists, the taut lines of his features softening, his words coming more softly now. ‘Felice, this is surely no way to live?’

His fury she could almost handle—contempt too, come to that. After all, it was nothing she didn’t feel about herself. But when his voice softened, the word Felice, almost an endearment, it brought her dangerously close to tears, dangerously close to breaking down. Her teeth were nearly breaking through her bottom lip in an attempt to hold it all in.

‘I have to go,’ she choked, utterly unable to meet his eyes. ‘I’m going to ring Housekeeping to get my dress, borrow your bathroom for two minutes and then I’ll be right out of here.’

Pushing the digit, she listened for the ring tone, ready to pounce when her call was answered and get her dress back so she could get the hell out of here, away from Luca and his endless questions. Her life was messy enough right now without this forced introspection.

But Luca hadn’t finished yet. Hovering over her like some avenging angel, he held out his hand. ‘Shouldn’t an engagement be something special?’ he asked as something that felt suspiciously like a tear slid down her cheek. ‘Shouldn’t the night a man proposes be a memory to treasure long into the future? Not some sordid affair, sullied with alcohol and regret?’

‘You don’t understand,’ Felicity said through gritted teeth, wishing he would just stop, just leave her alone!

‘I understand this much: if I had been about to propose to you then I would have been ensuring you were having a good time, treating you as a woman deserves to be treated, not sedating you with alcohol. Whatever the reason for last night, it cannot be a good one.’

His hand was on her shoulder now, but she didn’t look at him. Reception had picked up, a voice somewhere in the distance was asking how she could help, but the only words she could really hear were Luca’s. His words had reached her, and for a second so small it was barely there Felicity imagined herself in Luca’s life, imagined being the lucky woman in his arms, imagined the bliss of being made love to by a man like that—those arms around her, that beautiful, expressive mouth exploring hers, his hands caressing her, that husky voice embalming her. The image of perfection only made last night seem even more sullied. The image of such wonder exacerbated the vileness of last night’s potential union, and the truth she had chosen to ignore came to the fore as Luca spoke more eloquently than her own conscience.

‘I understand you might not be…’ He faltered for a second, trying to summon the right word, and Felicity sat rigid, her mind racing with indecision.

She knew she should get back, had to finish what she’d started, but there was something about Luca, something about the surprising gentleness in his voice, his insight, his abhorrence of Matthew’s motives that held her there.

‘…comfortable.’ Now he had found the right word he spoke rapidly, determined to finish, to give her another option—anything rather than see her scuttling back to the excuse of a man downstairs. ‘I can see that my presence is making you feel awkward, but that will soon be taken care off. I am due to catch a flight to Rome soon. I will ring Reception, tell them to collect your property and bring it here. They can tell this Matthew you have gone home—ill, perhaps, like you said before. This will give you some space, some time. Please Felice, I know I don’t understand what has gone on, but surely you should think carefully before you go back to this man? Last night you were not just upset, you were distraught, and though I do not approve of Matthew’s methods maybe he did you a favour.’

‘How on earth did you work that one out?’ She gave a low, cynical laugh, but it died on her lips as he carried on talking, as Luca once again summed up her innermost feelings in his own direct way.

‘Last night you spoke the truth. Matthew’s bed is not the place you want to be.’

And when he held out his hand again it only took a moment’s hesitation before Felicity handed him the receiver, which he replaced in the cradle.

No matter the hell that followed, no matter the consequences, Luca was right.

Going back to Matthew simply wasn’t an option.

CHAPTER TWO

A LOUD knocking at the door heralded breakfast, but, clearly used to staff, Luca carried on talking unfazed, while Felicity, in turn, sat huddled on the edge of the bed, scuffing the floor with her bare foot and burning with shame, appalled at what the waiter must surely be thinking and silently, fruitlessly wishing that Luca would put him right, tell him she wasn’t yet another of his conquests, that his latest guest absolutely did not deserve to be the talk of the staffroom this morning, because, quite simply, nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened!

Of course Luca did no such thing. Instead he chattered away to Felicity as the table was laid, oblivious to her discomfort. ‘Have something to eat,’ he offered, but Felicity shook her head, determined not to accept anything from him. ‘A coffee, at least? Or perhaps you would like a shower first?’

If he offered a shower again, if he really insisted, Felicity decided she’d accept; but when Luca merely cocked his head and awaited her reply she finally gave a small reluctant nod. Though it galled her to accept any crumbs from Luca Santanno, the chance of a shower was just too good to pass up.

He dismissed the waiter with a flick of his wrist.

True to form, Felicity thought bitterly; he was as dismissive as Matthew to his workers, but as the waiter left she blinked in surprise when Luca called out thanks in his thick accent, then turned the smile back to her.

‘How about I make that call?’ He gestured to the bathroom. ‘There are robes and toiletries in there. Just help yourself and let me know if there is anything else you need.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

More than fine, Felicity thought, wandering into the bathroom, glimpsing the rows and rows of glass bottles that heralded a luxury suite—a rather far cry from her own toiletry bag, sitting forlornly in Matthew’s room.

With a jolt she looked down at her watch, a mental alarm bell ringing to say that it was time to take her Pill. But with a flood of utter relief she knew at that moment her decision had been made; she didn’t need to take the wretched thing, didn’t need to worry about it any more.

Now she had finally acknowledged that she couldn’t, wouldn’t sleep with Matthew, the sense of relief was a revelation in itself—an affirmation of the strain she had been under, the turmoil behind the cool façade she’d so determinedly portrayed, the secret agony behind each and every smile.

Eyeing her reflection in the mirror—the wayward hair, the black panda eyes and swollen lids that just about summed up her life—she barely registered a soft knocking at the bathroom door.

‘Felice, I’m sorry to disturb you.’ Luca stood back as she pulled the door open an inch. ‘I just need your surname. Reception want it for the computer.’

‘Conlon.’ She watched his eyebrows furrow slightly, his eyes narrowing as her surname registered.

‘Conlon?’ he repeated. ‘Why do I know that name? It is familiar, yes?’

‘Well, it is to me.’ The thin smile didn’t reach her eyes, and for the first time since their strange meeting Luca Santanno didn’t look quite the confident man she was rapidly becoming used to.

Snapping his fingers as he raked his mind, it finally registered. ‘Richard Conlon?’ Another snap of the fingers, another snippet of information. ‘He owned the Peninsula Golf Resort.’

‘Before you bought it for a pittance.’ The acrimony in her voice made his frown deepen. ‘I’m Richard Conlon’s daughter,’ Felicity explained, angry, rebuking eyes finally meeting his. ‘I’m the one attempting to pick up the pieces after you destroyed him.’

Luca didn’t need to snap his fingers now, details were coming in unaided. The underpriced resort he’d bought a year or so ago, the niggling guilt he’d chosen to ignore at kicking a man when he was down. Okay, Richard Conlon had brought it on himself, though he couldn’t remember all the details his new manager Matthew had given him. Gambling, or drinking, or a combination of both? But whatever had caused his hellish debts, whatever had forced his ruin, it had never sat quite right with Luca, and now, as he looked into the face of his predecessor’s daughter, the niggling guilt suddenly multiplied.

‘It was a business deal,’ Luca said, but his voice wasn’t quite so assured.

‘Sure,’ Felicity snapped.

‘I’m sorry for what happened, but it’s hardly my fault. Your father was a poor businessman. He got himself—’

‘My father,’ Felicity flared, unbridled anger making her voice tremble as she met her enemy. ‘My father was a wonderful businessman. He still is, come to that. The only reason the dump that the resort now is still survives is thanks to the hours my father puts in.’

‘He still works there?’ Luca answered his own question. ‘That’s right; I kept him on as a manager.’

‘Assistant manager,’ Felicity sneered. ‘Second in charge to the wonderful Matthew. A man who runs the resort by fear. A man who pumps the profits into his own pockets instead of maintaining the place. A man living off the good will my father nurtured when he was the owner.’

‘So why were you about to get engaged to him if he is so awful?’ Luca demanded. ‘Why did you walk in on his arm last night, half dressed and half drunk?’

His scorching words would under any other circumstances have hurt, would have lacerated her with shame, but in Felicity’s present mood they barely touched the surface. Months of unvented fury finally came to the fore, her words so laced with venom she could barely get them out. ‘Because your partner made it very clear that unless I slept with him, unless I came up with the goods, my father would be out of a job!’

‘He is blackmailing you?’

‘Yes.’ Her word was sharp, definite—such a contrast to the question in his voice. ‘Your partner is blackmailing me.’

‘Partner? Matthew is not my partner.’ An incredulous laugh was followed by a bewildered shake of his head, but it didn’t last for long. Luca Santanno was obviously far more on the ball than Felicity had realized. His expression darkened, those blue eyes narrowing as he let out a long hiss. ‘Is that what he has been saying?’ When Felicity didn’t answer immediately his voice became more demanding. ‘Is that how this Matthew operates? How he exerts his authority? By letting the staff think he is the owner?’

‘Co-owner,’ Felicity corrected.

‘Co-owner?’ he blasted the word out of his mouth, like two pistol shots, and Felicity flinched with each one. ‘He is not a co-owner. I am the owner! All the managers of my minor resorts have a five per cent holding; it is good for morale,’ Luca explained his voice still angry. ‘It ensures profit.’

‘Ah, yes, profit.’ Felicity found her voice, her hazel eyes flashing with distaste, meeting Luca’s full on. ‘There it is again! We’re all very familiar with your love for that particular word.’

‘Scusi?’ For the first time Luca’s English slipped, but he quickly corrected himself. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Profit,’ Felicity sneered. There was no point holding back now, she was already in it up to her neck, but at least she could let this jumped-up, haughty, control freak know exactly what she thought of him and his methods—pay him back for the agony he had inflicted on her family. At least the final word in this whole sorry saga would be hers. ‘That’s the bottom line for you—and the top one, and the bit in the middle. Profit’s why you pay your staff a pittance, why they have to stay behind night after night for no extra pay, why a beautiful resort is barely a shadow of what it used to be.’

‘Barely a shadow?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t understand!’ Felicity retorted. ‘The resort is on its last legs—finished, kaput, finito. Now do you get it? Oh, I’m sure it’s still returning a healthy profit. I’m sure on paper everything looks just fine. But the staff are leaving in droves and it’s only a matter of time before the clients follow.’

The silence that followed was awful. Felicity reeled, scarcely able to believe she had admitted the truth, least of all to Luca, and Luca in turn paled, the muscles in his face contorting in fury, his knuckles white as he dug his nails into his palms.

‘But what has all this to do with you? Why would you be…?’

‘Prepared to get engaged to him?’ Felicity finished as Luca’s voice trailed off. ‘You dare to ask why I would prostitute myself with a man like Matthew?’ She watched him flinch at her words and she enjoyed it—enjoyed watching the might that was Luca Santanno squirm. ‘Because I’m my father’s daughter. I see what needs to be done and I do it.’ When he didn’t respond she carried on, her small chin jutting defiantly, a stricken dignity in her strained voice. ‘My father isn’t the poor businessman you make out; he isn’t a gambler or a drinker who frittered his money away. My brother was dying…’ A tiny pause, a flicker of shadow darkening the gold of her eyes, the only indicator of the depth of her pain. ‘The money my father made from selling the resort bought Joseph some time.’

‘How much time?’

‘Six months. There was a treatment in America—it was never going to be a cure, but selling the resort turned a few agonising weeks into six precious months. It took him to Paris and Rome, gave us time to say all the things that needed to be said, to cram a lifetime of love into six wondrous months, and if he had his time over my father would do it all again.’

‘I still don’t understand.’

‘Death puts things into perspective, but it doesn’t stop the bills coming in.’ She was almost shouting again. ‘Your mortgage doesn’t disappear just because in the scheme of things it doesn’t really matter. My father has had to start again, now has to work for a pittance for the Santanno chain, has to watch his beloved resort dissolve into nothing. But he doesn’t complain. All my father wants is three more years of work. Three years to pay off his mortgage and get together some funds for his retirement—an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. But then what would the great Santanno empire know about that? All you care about is profit.’

‘You are wrong.’ Luca waved in abrupt dismissal. ‘Yes, I care about profit, I am a businessman after all, but I also care about my staff, and in turn they reward me with absolute devotion. I do not need to check up on them, breathe down their necks while they work, for I know they are giving one hundred per cent.’

‘They’re giving one hundred percent,’ Felicity snarled, ‘because they’re terrified of losing their jobs.’

‘Rubbish.’ If she’d seen him angry before then Luca was livid now, a muscle pounding in his cheek, his blue eyes blazing. ‘My staff know I look after them. I ensure their birthdays are remembered, their loyalty is rewarded. Take Rico, the man I was speaking with this morning, it is his fortieth wedding anniversary next weekend. He will be staying in this very room with his wife, receiving the same service I demand for myself…’

‘With a ten per cent staff discount,’ Felicity bit back. ‘Matthew reluctantly does the same.’

‘There will be no discount,’ Luca sneered. ‘There will be no bill at all. Rico deserves it.’

For a moment she didn’t respond, absorbing his words, his vehement denial confusing her. He certainly didn’t sound like a man who mistreated his staff, didn’t sound like the ogre she had envisaged. Her initial abhorrence was shifting. The layers of the onion peeled back were revealing a man far removed from the malicious man she had built up in her mind. But suspicion still abounded. The simple facts spoke for themselves—she had seen first-hand the devastation his leadership caused.

‘This is Matthew’s fault.’ His voice was calmer now, but she could hear the hatred behind it, hear the venom behind each word. But his anger at Matthew brought only cold comfort; twelve months of pain were not eradicated that easily. ‘I would never treat my staff like that.’

‘But you have!’ Livid eyes glared at him. ‘Don’t you understand, Luca, that you’ve done just that? Matthew may just be your partner—or manager, or co-owner, or whatever it is he calls himself—but it’s your name on the headed paper, your signature on the cheques. You’re the one destroying my father!’

‘Sei pazza!’ His expletive needed no translation. The hands that had been clenched grabbed at her wrists, pulling her towards him, but the fury she had unleashed didn’t scare her, if anything it empowered her. She let her words sink in, gathered her shaking thoughts and took a deep cleansing breath before she continued, her voice calmer now, but still filled with unbridled hatred.

‘Matthew has been blackmailing me.’ She felt the hands around her wrists tighten, saw the fury burning in his eyes as she continued in low, steady tones, lacing each word with the contempt it deserved. ‘He won’t just sack my father; he’ll destroy him in the process. He’s made it very clear to me that he’ll accuse my father of embezzlement if things don’t go according to his sordid plans. He’s already ruined my father’s career, and now it would seem he’s happy to trash my father’s reputation if it will further his cause.’

‘Which is?’

The hands weren’t just tight around her wrists now, they were like two steel vices, and Felicity wriggled them free.

‘Matthew considers it his divine right to have a pretty blonde wife on his arm.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘And if that sounds conceited I make no apology.’