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‘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.’
‘It is the truth,’ he said simply, his mind temporarily leaving the devastating news she had just imparted and focusing instead on the attractive woman in front of him. ‘You make it sound like a curse to be beautiful.’
‘I never said I was beautiful,’ Felicity corrected matter-of-factly. ‘But, yes, looking like a fragile teenager can have its disadvantages, both on the professional and private front.’ She stared at him boldly, her back rigid, her eyes defiant. ‘Would you take me seriously in the boardroom, Mr Santanno?’
Her question clearly confused him, but he answered her promptly. ‘I am not sexist. If your point was valid of course I would listen.’
He almost sounded as if he meant it, but Felicity tried and failed to bite back a scornful laugh.
‘You contradict yourself, Felice.’ Luca responded. ‘You demand to be taken seriously, despite your stunning looks, while on the other hand you are prepared to get engaged to a man who wants you only for a trophy. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I thought I could do it.’ The scorn was gone from her voice. The directness of his observation was as loud as her own conscience. ‘I really thought I could treat this arrangement as a business deal.’
‘But in the end you couldn’t go through with it.’ It was a statement, not a question, but still she gave a tired nod.
‘I’m not a romantic, Luca. I don’t believe in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I don’t think there’s a soul mate out there, waiting in the wings for me. Marrying Matthew wasn’t saying goodbye to some long-held cherished dream; it was a means to an end, a solution to a problem.’
‘For someone so young you have a very jaded view of marriage.’ He shook his head in bemusement. ‘What if he had wanted children? What if he—?’
‘No!’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I would never have given him a baby.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Luca demanded. ‘How do you know he wouldn’t have upped the stakes, demanded a child?’
‘He could have demanded it till he was blue in the face, but that is the one thing I wouldn’t have given him—whatever the cost to my father.’
‘At least you thought that much through.’ His eyes raked her face, searching for a clue in the chameleon pools of her eyes, for insight into this fickle personality.
‘That’s one thing that wasn’t open to negotiation.’ For an age her words hung in the air. Escaping his hungry eyes, she stared down, taking in the dark strong hands entwined around her slender wrists. She could almost hear the question in his unspoken words, the expectation in each rapid short breath as he waited for her to elaborate. ‘I could never have had his child.’ She turned to go, but still he held her.
‘Tell me just one thing?’ he asked, and as she reluctantly turned to face him he stared into those amber eyes, so wary and fierce. She reminded him of a stray kitten his mother had brought home, hissing and spitting, yet utterly adorable. ‘How did you get to be so bitter, Felice?’
For a second she wavered, his harsh judgement searing through her. She wanted to scream at his injustice, to tell him he was wrong, but what possible purpose would that serve?
It was better that he thought her a hard-nosed madam, better just to walk away now.
‘Years of practice. Now…’ she gave a very thin, very strained smile ‘…if you’ll let me have my wrist back, please, I’d like to have that shower.’
Oh, the bliss of the water as it slid over her body, washing away the caked on make up, the sticky lacquered hair. She allowed the tears she had held back so fiercely to slip unnoticed down her cheeks as she stood trembling under the jets, trying to fathom what she had done, the huge ramifications of the Pandora’s box she had opened.
Wrapping herself in a soft white robe, she dragged a comb through her damp blonde hair. She was almost listless now, the unleashed emotions leaving her curiously drained. Staring in the mirror, she gazed at her reflection. The clear amber eyes stared back, for once unsure. The usually stiff upper lip was trembling as she attempted a mental plan of attack, a resolution to her problems.
She had really thought she could do it.
Really thought she could push emotion aside, ignore the awful implications of an empty engagement, do whatever it might take to buy her father some peace. But in the end she had failed him.
She pushed aside the internal ream of excuses that sprang to mind as forcibly as she pushed open the bathroom door.
There was no excuse.
Luca Santanno was right; it all came down to one simple truth: in the end she simply couldn’t have gone through with it.
‘I’m sorry.’
His words made her start, the sight of him pacing as she walked unannounced out of the bathroom unexpected.
‘I am so very sorry for what has happened to you, to your family. I take full responsibility.’
He wasn’t looking at her; the pacing had stopped now and he stood like a thundercloud, dark and brooding by the window.
‘It’s not your fault.’ The admission surprised even Felicity. For a year now even the name Luca Santanno had caused her internal abhorrence, a fierce surge of hatred just on hearing it; yet now, standing before him, hearing his words, feeling his guilt, the tide suddenly turned and she knew her hatred had been misdirected.
‘But it is my fault.’ Dragging a deep breath in, he clenched his fists in a strange salute by his sides. ‘You were right. It is my name on the notepaper; I am the one who writes the cheques.’ His fists tightened more, if that were possible. ‘And it is my name this Matthew has sullied. If the coffee is too cold, if the beds are not turned back, the pool too cool, it is my responsibility. Sure, I cannot be everywhere; I have to trust my senior staff. But when one of them…’ He turned then, his eyes fixing on her; sincerity laced with anger, pride laced with shame ‘For him to have treated you like this—’ He thumped his chest, balled his fist against his heart. ‘He is gone.’ The clenched fist opened and he flicked the air dismissively. ‘Gone. Dismiss him from your mind.’
‘It’s not quite that easy. Even if he’s exaggerated, Matthew still has—’
‘He is gone,’ Luca said, with such precision, such a sense of finality Felicity almost believed him.
Almost.
Somewhere along the way she’d given up believing in people. Right here, right now, Luca was probably telling the truth, and Felicity didn’t question it, didn’t doubt that his apology was genuine, his outrage sincere, that he had every intention of following through. But in a few hours he would be back in Rome, back in his world, a world far removed from hers, and his intentions, however well meant at the time, would fade into insignificance.
She’d seen it all before—too many times.
Promises meant nothing.
‘He’s got a contract,’ Felicity pointed out, her tone businesslike, addressing Luca as she would a client. ‘There are unfair dismissal laws in place.’
‘Would they have protected your father?’ Luca responded quickly, quelling her argument with a stroke of his tongue. ‘These are just minor details. My legal staff will take care of them.’ He flicked his hand again. ‘I promise you this, Felice…you will never have to see him again, never have to worry about that man forcing himself upon you, blackmailing you…’
‘It’s my father who is the concern here,’ Felicity pointed out. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘No, Felice, clearly you cannot.’ He walked over to her, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Last night anything could have happened to you.’
‘You’re overreacting.’ Her voice remained assured, but she felt rather than heard her conviction waver. Luca was right. Last night she had played a dangerous game, a stupid game, and her only saving grace had been the man who stood before her, the man who had rescued her. Her shift in feelings startled her, unnerved her, triggering a surge of adrenaline as she struggled with the impossibility of her emotions, praying for a voice of reason to descend.
She simply couldn’t be attracted to Luca Santanno.
Surely it was a primitive response he had triggered? She was mistaking gratitude for lust. It took a supreme effort to keep her breathing even, to slow down her rapidly accelerating heart-rate as she urged sanity to prevail. It was gratitude she was feeling, nothing else, and it would serve her well to remember the fact. Clearing her throat, she forced conviction into her words. ‘I knew what I was getting into.’
‘Perhaps.’ A muscle flickered in his cheek, but his voice remained soft—weary, even. ‘What if it hadn’t been my room you ended up in? What if another man…?’ The muscle was flickering rapidly now, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘What then?’
He searched her face, one hand moving up to her hair, stroking the soft blonde sheen, taking in the wide hazel eyes, so much softer without the sharp black kohl, the full rosebud mouth. The soft woman before him was such a contrast to the sophisticated beauty he had first laid eyes on, and it terrified him, truly terrified him what might have happened. The worst-case scenarios played over and over in his mind, kindling a surge of protectiveness, an immeasurable guilt for the pain he had caused.
‘But nothing did happen.’ Her voice was strangely high. She was trapped by his eyes, caught in the line of fire and, most surprisingly of all, with no desire to move. ‘I ended up here with you.’ A ghost of a smile trembled across her lips, but still she held his gaze. ‘And you said yourself it wasn’t difficult not to take advantage.’
‘I lied.’
The simple admission hung in the air between them. He was moving closer now, his hand still on her hair, and the other one was working its way around her slender waist. She had every opportunity to move, every chance to step backwards, to brush away his hand, but instead she stood there, trapped by her own inquisitiveness, overawed and overwhelmed by the feelings he ignited. She could almost taste the thrill of sexual excitement in the air, the tingling awareness of her skin. Every tiny hair, every pore, every cell was saturated by his presence, thrilled and terrified at the same time as his deep voice washed over her.
‘It took every ounce of restraint I could muster.’
It had. Closing his eyes for an instant, he remembered holding her, the bliss of her in his arms. He remembered comforting this delicious stranger, the protective feeling she had kindled, and later—when the crying had stopped, when she had curled herself up like a tiny kitten—feeling her hot breath on his hand, the swell of her breasts jutting against him, the tiny grumble as he had tried to move away, one infinitely smooth leg coiling over him, the scent of her, the feel of her. It had taken a super human effort just to lie there, not to respond to the subtle caress of her body. But now, seeing her without make-up, so young, so innocent, he felt the protective feelings that had smouldered, ignite now in a puff. The inevitable sexual awareness of a man and woman sharing a bed magnified. The groomed, sophisticated woman he had first encountered was gone, and in her place was a softer, gentler and infinitely more desirable version.
She could feel the heat of his palm radiating through her robe, pressing into the small of her back, and hazy, half-forgotten memories of the haven she had found last night emerged. The subliminal messages her body had unwittingly sent were more direct now. Her pink tongue bobbed out in a tiny flick to moisten her lips as her pupils dilated, partially eclipsing the golden rays of her amber stare, totality occurring seconds later as the force of his lips against hers obscured everything other than what was here and now.
He made her feel safe.
For the first time in so very long here was a man she could lean on, a man who maybe, just maybe, could make things better. Even if it was only transitory she welcomed the safe haven of his arms, the bliss of oblivion his touch generated. The chance to escape from the world for a while and concentrate on the responses he so easily triggered.
Responses Felicity hadn’t known she was capable of.
As his cool tongue slipped between her softly parted lips, as their breath mingled, there was no question in her mind of holding back, no hope of restraint. She felt as if she were falling, freefalling, her body at the elements’ mercy. But there was no fear, just a delicious feeling of abandonment, of freedom, of escape from the chains that had bound her for so long now. She kissed him back, her tongue moving with his, tasting him, and pressed her body against his as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her effortlessly across the room. She revelled in the strength of the arms that held her, the eyes that adored her.
At the bedside he paused momentarily, those sapphire eyes questioning, his voice thick with lust but laced with concern.
‘You are sure?’
Reason almost stepped in then, sanity almost prevailing. She had never been intimate with a man, but her virginity wasn’t borne of fear, nor some hidden desire to wait for the man of her dreams to come along. Relationships had taken a back seat to exams, to her brother’s ill health, but now here she was, on the brink of discovery, and reason could go to hell. The need to feel him, to be adored by him, to be made love to by him, was overwhelming her. All she wanted was for Luca to lie her down on the bed they had shared, to make her feel every bit the woman she was, to instigate her into the pleasures of her body.
Oh, she was sure.
More sure than she had ever been in her life!
‘Make love to me, Luca.’
The desire in her voice was all the confirmation Luca needed, and he laid her down, his breath coming in heavy gasps as her robe fell open, exposing her body. Her breasts spilled out from the soft white fabric and with a low murmur of approval he knelt over her, capturing one glorious swollen nipple in his lips, tracing the pink of the areola with his tongue as she tore at the buttons on his shirt, wrestled with the zipper of his trousers. She needed his skin against hers, to feel him, see him, all of him, and he registered her need, reluctantly leaving the soft sweetness of her breasts to free himself from the last remnants of his clothes. Turning his attention to her robe, he freed her from this final constraint so there were no barriers between them.
She held him in her hands, marvelling at the strength, and a tiny pocket of fear welled in her throat as he laid her back, slowly parting her legs. The weight of his body above hers was a precursor to the power of his erection. It would hurt, she knew it would hurt, yet she welcomed the pain, welcomed the sting of the first sharp thrust inside her, crying out as he moved deeper, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, wanting more, more of him, for him to take her higher, deeper.
She could feel herself contract around him, a tight, intimate vice that held him, and the first ripples of her orgasm caught her unaware. The distant pulsing gained in momentum, a flush of heat surged up her breasts, stinging her cheeks, her neck, her ears, then rushed like a mass exodus to her groin. The flickering pulse was more insistent now, each throb a contraction that spasmed her body, feet arching, buttocks lifting. He slipped his hands underneath her, bucking into her, and she dragged him in, each contraction pulling him higher, further inside her, and as he let out a low, guttural groan her body instinctively knew how to respond, moving of its own accord now, drinking from him, sucking him dry, drawing every last precious drop from him, tightening around him as they rode the delicious waves together.
And after, as she lay in his arms, her hair spilling out across his chest, the tempest that had raged was calm. Her body was still tingling from its delicious awakening, and a sigh of contentment whispered from her lips as she revelled in a rare moment of peace and contentment.
Revelled in the solace she had found in his arms.
CHAPTER THREE (#u2889eb90-ce71-5fe0-a0f3-a88b5c9f1144)
‘WHAT are you smiling at?’
Closing her eyes for a decadent moment, she basked in the mastery of his touch, scarcely able to believe that one lazy hand gently brushing along the curve of her waist could render her so helpless. Lying beside him, it was easy to smile, easy to know that what had happened was good and right and perfect.
Such a relief to have no regrets.
‘How do you know that I’m smiling?’ she asked, her smile broadening as her words whispered along the soft ebony mat of his chest.
‘I can feel it.’
