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And now she was here. On his land. His island. Scrambling up the hill toward him like something out of a bad dream.
He felt his insides knot into a ball of fury at her temerity in violating this place. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that this wasn’t a shrine. The only thing he had the right to be angry about was that she’d followed him on this trip without being invited, but that didn’t keep him from jamming his hands even harder into his pockets and balling them into fists.
“Darling,” she squealed as she reached him. “Aren’t you surprised to see me?”
“How did you find me?” he said curtly.
“That’s not much of a hello.”
“You’re right. It’s a question. Please answer it.”
She smiled as she rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his unmoving mouth.
“It wasn’t that difficult. I’m sure you think I have a bubble for a brain, but even a child could have—”
“I’m sorry you made such a long journey for nothing, Carla.”
“Is that all you have to say to me after I’ve come so far to be with you?”
His mouth twisted. She had come for her own reasons. Being with him had nothing to do with it. He knew that, and she knew he knew it.
“—such a magnificent place, darling, and to think you didn’t intend to share it with—”
“Was that helicopter yours?”
“Yes. Yes, it was. It landed in a field just a little way from here and then a taxi—”
“Go back to it and tell the pilot to take you back to the airport.”
Carla blinked. “What?”
“I said—”
“I heard you. I just can’t believe you’d send me away.”
Tears glinted in her eyes. She was good at this, he thought grimly. Very good.
“Carla.” He spoke quietly, feeling the anger inside him approaching critical mass and determined not to let her know it. He valued self-control as much as privacy. Explosive emotion was the one thing Sicilian he didn’t admire. It had led his grandfather to ruin. “You’re not staying here.”
“You mean…” Her mouth trembled. “You mean, I’m not welcome.”
He almost laughed. Did she really think a show of injured feelings would work?
“I mean,” he said carefully, “I didn’t invite you.”
“You didn’t have to. We’ve been together a long time.”
“Four months.” His voice turned cold. He knew it, but all at once, he didn’t care.
“Four months,” she repeated, making it sound like a lifetime, “and now, just because I asked you a simple favor—”
“I gave you a simple answer. No one is putting my home on the cover of a magazine.”
“Then, it is your home?” she said with a sly little smile. “You’re not developing this property into a resort?”
Stefano cursed himself for being a fool. “Goodbye, Carla,” he said, and started past her.
She reached out and caught his sleeve.
“I don’t want it for a cover, Stefano. I want it for the entire issue.”
He laughed.
“It’ll be the most incredible magazine anyone’s ever seen!” He tugged his arm free of her hand and began walking down the slope. Carla hurried alongside him, slipping a little in her stiletto heels. “Just listen, okay?”
He didn’t answer.
“The way I’ve planned things will protect your precious privacy as much as it heightens the intimacy of the shoot.”
They reached the bottom of the hill. Stefano looked around for her taxi. The road and the driveway were empty.
“Here’s my plan, Stefano.” Carla moved in front of him, face glowing under the soft lights that had just come on in the rear of the house. “One of everything. One world-class photographer, one incredible makeup artist, one unbelievably gorgeous model—”
She cried out as he cupped her elbows and hauled her to her toes.
“No! Are you deaf? There will be no shoot. No model, no photographer, no anything.”
“You’re hurting me.”
He probably was. Carefully, he took his hands from her and stepped back.
“Where’s your cab?”
“I sent it back.” She smiled. “I sent the helicopter back, too.”
“Wait here. I’ll have someone drive you to the airport,” he said, and walked away from her for what would surely be the last time.
“Stefano.”
Her voice was soft; it held something that made the hair rise on the back of his neck, but he kept going.
“Which magazine would you rather see these photos in, Bridal Dreams…or Whispers?”
He came to an abrupt stop.
“You have a minute to reconsider that threat,” he said as he swung toward her, “and then I’m going to pick you up and throw you off my land.”
Carla’s face was white. She was frightened. But she was determined, too. He could see it in the tilt of her head.
“I’ve already made all the arrangements. The model, the makeup man, the photographer…They’ll all be here tomorrow.”
He felt his jaw drop. Dimly, in a part of his mind that was observing all this with dry curiosity, he wondered what the world would think if it knew that one sentence, spoken by one woman, could have such an effect on il lupo solo.
“Excuse me?”
“I said—”
He moved quickly, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Let go!”
“Damn you, explain yourself!”
“I’ll sue you for assault if you don’t let go!”
It wouldn’t be assault, it would be murder. He was a heartbeat away from it. Stunned by the intensity of his rage, he let her go.
“Explain yourself.”
“I did, but you wouldn’t listen.” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at him. Her voice took on timbre; excitement flashed in her eyes. “You think you know all about making money? Maybe, but you don’t know squat about magazine publishing. You debut a new magazine or relaunch an old one, what you need is to produce an issue that’ll set the country talking. Just one issue, and the magazine will be so hot it’ll sizzle. And so will I.”
“Sizzle some other way. No one is setting foot here without my permission.”
“We’ll be here three days, no more than that. I won’t insult you by offering you money for the right to do the shoot here.”
He laughed, and her cheeks reddened.
“Don’t make me force your hand, darling.”
“Force it?” he said through his teeth.
“You want to keep your life a deep, dark mystery, don’t you?” She smiled slyly. “Offhand, I can think of half a dozen tabloids that would love an exclusive interview with the great Stefano Lucchesi’s mistress—along with aerial photos of his new hideaway.”
In the ensuing silence, Stefano could hear everything. The pound of his heart. The distant boom of the surf and the sharp cry of a bird far over the rolling sea. He could feel the shadows behind him, the ghosts of the wild warriors who’d done whatever was necessary to protect this place.
“I could kill you,” he said softly. “No one would know. All I have to do is drag you to the top of the cliff and throw you off. By the time your remains washed up, the crabs would have eaten their fill.”
Carla’s smile trembled but she moved closer to him.
“You’re a heartless bastard when you want to be, Stefano Lucchesi, but killing women? Never.”
Stefano stared at his former lover for long moments. Then he spat at her feet, brushed past her and headed for the house.
So much for his dreams.
She had defiled this place.
Maybe his grandfather had been wise to have left the island behind.
CHAPTER TWO
ALL the oceans of the world looked the same from 35,000 feet…and wasn’t it sad when you’d flown so often that you could think of nothing but that when you were almost seven miles above the Atlantic?
Fallon O’Connell sat back, pressed the button that fully reclined her soft leather seat and wondered when she’d turned into such a world-weary cynic.
Across the aisle, a little boy traveling with his mother sat with his nose almost pressed to the glass, enthralled by the cloudless view of the ocean miles below and by the wonder of leaving Connecticut this evening and arriving in Italy tomorrow morning…but then, the kid hadn’t made this trip a million times.
She’d been as excited as he was, her first flight to Europe ten years ago.
Fallon closed her eyes.
She was on her way to an island in the Mediterranean for a one week shoot, a suite in a mansion waiting for her as well as the best makeup artist and cameraman in the business ready to work their magic…
Her mouth twitched.
A little enthusiasm might be a good idea right about now.
She sighed, sat up straight and peered out the window again.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want the job. What model wouldn’t? The inaugural cover of Bridal Dreams and inside it, pages and pages of glossy photographs devoted to her.
Of course, she wanted it.
So, what was the problem? That was what her brother Cullen had asked her last night, after Keir’s and Cassie’s wedding.
The newlyweds had finally made their laughing escape, but the O’Connell clan wasn’t finished celebrating. They’d moved the festivities from the lushness of the Tender Grapes restaurant up to the handsome stone house that overlooked Deer Hill Vineyard.
Sean lit a fire on the massive hearth.
Anybody want to roast an ox? he’d said, to much laughter.
Cullen opened another bottle of Deer Hill’s prize-winning Chardonnay.
Damn good thing Keir bought himself a vineyard instead of a soft drink franchise, he’d said, to more laughter.
Cullen filled all their glasses. Sean went through Keir’s collection of CDs and put on something soft and classical while their mother and stepfather settled on the sofa. Megan, Briana and Fallon kicked off their stiletto heels and groaned with pleasure.
How about taking the dollar tour? Bree said.
Yeah, Megan answered, looping her arm through Bree’s. Maybe we can finally figure out how many rooms this place really has.
She held out a hand to Fallon, but Fallon smiled and shook her head.
“You guys go ahead. I’m going to step outside for a breath of air.”
Her sisters trooped off and Cullen looked over at her. “You okay?”
