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‘We definitely didn’t. I happen to prefer my women conscious.’
Felicity chose to ignore that particular little gem and, blinking a couple of times, felt what was suspiciously like relief start to flood her veins.
Things were still salvageable!
Okay, staying out all night wasn’t going to go down particularly well with Matthew, and undoubtedly she’d have to omit to mention exactly whose bed she’d awoken in—after all, Luca was effectively Matthew’s business partner—but the fact she hadn’t slept with Luca offered at least a temporary reprieve. She would get her things and get the hell out, with hopefully no damage done.
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her hair away from her eyes and flicked it back, forcing a tiny smile as she caught Luca still staring at her, even attempting to inject a flash of humour into this rather unusual situation.
‘Whoops!’
He didn’t smile back, just rolled over sideways, propping himself on his elbow, and resumed his blatant stare. ‘Whoops?’ he said in a very low, very sardonic drawl.
‘I’m sorry,’ Felicity ventured again, the watery voice now replaced by her more confident tones. ‘You see, I don’t normally drink—well, not spirits. The occasional glass of wine I enjoy…but as for spirits, well I don’t even like the taste. I just had a couple for courage, you know.’
He shook his head and Felicity gave a small shrug. ‘I’m sure someone like you doesn’t need any help in the courage department.’
‘I wasn’t aware you had been drinking.’ His words confused her, and she frowned as he continued, wondering if somewhere along the line she had misinterpreted him, if his English was really less fluent than it first appeared. ‘Just how much did you have last night?’
‘Two vodka and oranges.’ Felicity pulled a face. ‘And if this is what it does to me I’m glad that I don’t normally drink. How could people do this for pleasure?’ She was starting to ramble, the words spilling out from her mouth like a runaway train. She wished Luca would smile, look away, shrug, even—anything rather than stare at her with that slightly quizzical superior look.
‘You really think that two vodka and oranges could have that effect?’ he asked finally, but when Felicity opened her mouth to speak Luca got there first, his eyes never leaving her face, watching every flicker of reaction as his words reached her. ‘Do you still not realise that your drinks were being spiked?’
‘You spiked my drinks?’ Startled, she went to stand, but Luca let out a hiss of indignation, flicking one hand in a derisive Latin gesture and muttering something in Italian that Felicity assumed wasn’t particularly complimentary, as realisation with the help of a few extremely hazy recollections, finally dawned. ‘Matthew spiked them.’
The surge of anger that welled inside her didn’t bode very well for the pounding drums in her head, and Felicity screwed her eyes closed as she grappled with this latest vile flaw in Matthew’s personality.
Confirmation, if ever she needed it, of just how low Matthew would stoop to get what he wanted. The clanging gates of the prison door banged ever more loudly as she further realised the murky depths of his personality. Proof that the extreme lengths she was taking to curtail him were necessary.
Very necessary.
‘My staff alerted me to what was going on,’ Luca went on, but Felicity was only half listening—too busy concentrating on her awful predicament to concern herself with small details. ‘You will remember I was actually sitting at the next table to you?’
‘Mmm.’ She gave a small shrug, a vague shake of her head, but as her blush came back for an encore Felicity knew she wasn’t fooling him. The earlier part of the evening was still fairly fresh in her mind, and six-foot-four of Latin good looks at the next table certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed—even with a rather over-attentive Matthew at her side. The white-hot look that had passed between them when their eyes had met last night was scorched with aching clarity onto her mind, but she certainly wasn’t about to inflate Luca’s ego by admitting it.
‘You ordered the non-alcoholic summer berry beverage that was on the menu; in fact you ordered three of them.’
‘Yes, but like I said I had those wretched vodkas, and then there was wine with dinner…’
‘Well, what you actually got was a questionable version of a strawberry daiquiri—and, more pointedly, three of them. Your partner made his way to the bar each time you ordered and told the bar staff you’d changed your mind. He also made very sure that he got a different member of staff each time, and it wasn’t until he tried to change your order for the fourth time that one of the other staff overheard him.’
Felicity ran a hand through her hair, furious with Matthew, but more importantly furious with herself for not realising what was going on, for being so naive as to think that the illicit two drinks she’d partaken of earlier could have had such a huge effect. But her fury was starting to take a new direction now. It was all very well for Luca to take the high moral ground, all very well for him to dictate how his guests behaved, to dash in uninvited and play the proverbial knight in shining armour, but he didn’t know the circumstances—Luca didn’t realise just how significant last night had been for her and, more importantly, her father. She wished Luca had damned well stayed out of it and just let the night run its awful, inevitable course.
At least it would have been over and done with.
‘I will be having a few stern words with Matthew this morning. If this is the type of behaviour he indulges in then perhaps he should look for other employment!’
A small groan escaped her lips. ‘Please don’t,’ Felicity begged. It was essential Luca stayed out of it, imperative she persuaded him to leave well alone. ‘He really didn’t mean it. You know what Matthew can be like.’
‘I have no idea what Matthew is like. How can I when I have met him two, maybe three times?’ Luca shrugged dismissively but his features sharpened as he saw the question in Felicity’s eyes. ‘Has Matthew been saying any different?’
Oh, Matthew had been telling another story, all right. According to Matthew, he had a hotline to Luca—a hotline he was more than prepared to use if Felicity didn’t toe the line. But that wasn’t the issue here, Felicity realised. The issue here was damage control. She simply couldn’t risk upsetting Matthew, couldn’t risk her parents’ stab at, if not eternal happiness, at least some semblance of peace.
Luca just had to believe her.
‘Matthew and I—’ Felicity started, her blush deepening with each awkward word. ‘Well, we were going to…’ Her eyes shot up, pleading for Luca to put a halt to this, to raise his hand and say that he didn’t need details, that he’d got the message.
But Luca didn’t. Instead he stood there haughtily, his lips firmly closed, looking right at her, her obvious discomfort at the subject not bothering him in the least. Sinking her eyes to the ground, she settled for the less daunting sight of his feet as she mumbled what she hoped would be the conclusion to this embarrassing subject.
‘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 (#u2889eb90-ce71-5fe0-a0f3-a88b5c9f1144)
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 fa?ade 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?’
