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Until the ball landed in its slot and all hell broke loose.
Black, seventeen!
CHAPTER FOUR
‘TABLE FOUR; move in closer!’
Luca’s order was swiftly obeyed, the security camera zooming in on the minor commotion in the general public gaming room, the winning figure being relayed to Dario, his Chief of Security, through an earpiece and passed on to Luca, who didn’t bat an eyelid. It was small pickings compared to the figures he dealt with on a daily and nightly basis and, more to the point, in a few hours the winnings would most probably be fed back into the casino. No, it wasn’t the money that intrigued Luca, it was the reaction of the women that held his attention now. One was jumping up and down, accepting champagne and kisses in all directions, and for a moment Luca thought the information he’d been given must be wrong—that surely she must be the winner—because the other woman stood apart, her stance almost disappointed at her sudden fortune.
‘Closer!’ Luca snapped his fingers impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he recognised one of them. The bold kitchen-hand that had approached him earlier this evening and asked to be considered for work out on the casino floor. He’d declined her instantly and if her behaviour now was anything to go by then he’d been right to do so. But who was the other woman?
Could it be her?
Shamelessly he ordered the camera to focus in on her, and his staff complied, more than used to Luca taking his rich pickings: zooming in on the prettiest girl in the room and observing her for a few moments before making his move. As if he were a lion stalking his prey, this was his domain and everyone present knew it.
It was her! Luca’s eyes narrowed as he focussed on her image. He’d been right with his first assessment—she didn’t belong in the kitchen scrubbing dishes—but neither did she belong down there being fawned and harassed, and now that she had won some money she was even more of a target. He knew how this place worked, knew that the euphoria after a win was a dangerous time, that those men would take full advantage … and it made him feel sick to the stomach.
‘Who are those guys with them?’ Luca asked his staff.
‘Some businessmen they picked up earlier. We’ve been watching them for the last hour or so—they’ve been buying the girls drinks and now they’re giving them money to play the tables—the usual.’
Which it was—this type of thing happened every hour of every day in the casino; Luca knew that more than anyone. So why, then, did he feel so disappointed? Why, then, did he feel as if he’d just been punched in the stomach?
‘She paid for her own bet, though,’ Dario added, listening to some information being relayed through a head piece, and, if it was seemingly a useless piece of information, it was relevant on two counts for Luca. On a professional level it made things easier for the security staff to deal with—her escort had no claim on her, there could be no pointless argument about whose money had aided the bet—but for far more personal reasons, for reasons he could barely fathom, somehow, to Luca it mattered. It mattered a lot.
‘The croupier just let us know—things are starting to get out of hand.’ Dario ground out the cigar he had been smoking and focussed more cameras on the area. ‘She’s trying to leave, but the men insist that she stay and celebrate with them—the croupier wants the floor security to come over.’
He could sense Meg’s nervousness. Those gorgeous eyes were darting, glancing around the room as if hoping to be rescued, flicking to the surveillance camera for a single second, holding his gaze without knowing it, seemingly asking him for help.
‘Do it.’ Luca snapped his fingers impatiently, watching on another screen as almost instantaneously the security guards made their way through the busy gaming room, the well-oiled machines of the casino moving into swift action—any potential situation swiftly dealt with before it escalated. Luca knew his hand-picked staff were more than capable of dealing with this, knew that in a matter of moments things would easily be brought discreetly under control and the small crowd dispersed, so why then was he pulling on his jacket, filled with something, a need almost to get out there and help her himself?
He snapped his fingers again—ordering his cheque-book and writing out a figure in his impressive violet scrawl, then stalking out of the room as his bodyguards followed without a word. They were more than used to Luca Fierezza’s routine when a pretty girl won: most of her winnings would be delivered personally by cheque, so that she couldn’t spend it, which got him straight to second base because it showed her he was looking out for her best interests—first base had already been passed courtesy of his stunning good looks—and for the final run, with the percentage of cash he handed her, he’d invite her to join him in the high-rollers club. Home run.
‘Congratulations!’
His voice was instantly recognisable—and Meg started in recognition as she heard it, her startled eyes swinging round to his, actually grateful for his presence. Since her number had come up the table had been a frenzy of activity, everyone around her eager to celebrate, pressing her to join in, to carry on and party into the night, when all she wanted to do was disappear, for the glare of the spotlight to dim from her—and now it had.
Luca was the only one who held the spotlight, the only man in the place who could instantly regain control by his mere presence, and regain control he did. Meg’s unwelcome companion actually melted away without even a murmur of protest as Luca ushered Meg over to a quiet table, pouring her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully, before handing her her winnings.
‘Most of it is in a cheque—you can come tomorrow morning and cash it.’ He smiled at her frown. ‘People often blow their winnings, by tomorrow morning you will be more restrained.’
‘I’m more than in control now.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘In fact all I want to do is get the hell out of here. Is it always so.?’ She fumbled for a word for a moment and failed to come up with one, but Luca, even with his rather more limited disposal of the English language, found the one she was looking for, or at least one that came close.
‘Frenzied?’ he offered as Meg gave a nod. ‘Always. Especially when a …’ His voice trailed off as he realised somehow that she’d had an earful of shallow compliments tonight, that telling her she was beautiful was probably the last thing she wanted to hear right now. ‘Join me upstairs.’ He watched her eyes widen, and smiled. ‘I mean, there is a quieter gaming room upstairs—a little more civilized, perhaps.’ She knew where he meant—the high-rollers club. She’d seen it when she’d arrived, the elevator neatly roped off with security ensuring that only the richest and most beautiful went there, but it held little appeal for Meg.
‘I’m actually really tired, but thank you for the offer,’ Meg politely declined. ‘I think I’ll just go to bed.’
‘Meg!’ She hadn’t realised Jasmine was standing behind her, but her indignant wail alerted Meg, followed by a very harsh whisper in her ear. ‘You simply cannot turn down an invitation like that. Come on, please say yes—I don’t know how to get rid of these guys!’
The same guys she’s been accepting drinks and gambling chips from all night, Meg thought, but she felt herself relenting; as much as Jasmine had provoked things by accepting so much hospitality, she couldn’t just turn her back on her. Maybe a quiet escape to somewhere more civilised would give her a chance to talk to Jasmine and tell her how precarious her situation was with those guys, and surely one drink with Luca couldn’t hurt….
Who was she kidding?
The memory stick of her camera was full of photos of her travels, packed with exotic locations she’d wanted to capture for ever, but nothing came close to the man sitting opposite her at the table—whether she went for a drink or not, already his image was branded in her mind. As arrogant, as presumptuous as he’d been earlier, still she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling he evoked.
‘Can my friend Jasmine come?’ Meg watched as his eyebrows furrowed slightly, wondered at the thought process behind the tiny gesture.
Luca didn’t want her friend to come, didn’t want the brash woman to join them—strange, he’d actually thought till now they might be sisters. They were both blond, both fairly tall, only this Jasmine was like a crude caricature of Meg. She had none of her delicacy, none of her subtle beauty and her conduct certainly wasn’t befitting of the high-rollers club—yet Luca knew it was the only way he could get Meg to join him, that if he didn’t act quickly, at any moment she was going to terminate the evening, so, forcing a smile, he gave a small nod. ‘Of course!’
But, for once, Luca had misread a woman, because it wasn’t Jasmine forcing Meg to take Luca up on his invitation, it wasn’t some misguided sense of duty that had her standing up and heading towards the velvet rope that was pulled back as Luca approached.
It was something else propelling her tonight—something Meg usually chose to ignore. Whether it be hunger or emotion, it was something she usually stifled—only not tonight.
Feeling his hand on the small of her back as Luca guided her into the exclusive VIP lift, Meg acknowledged what she was feeling….
Want.
And this was a want she somehow couldn’t deny.
Some friend, Luca thought scornfully as within seconds of arriving Jasmine disappeared into the thick fog of smoke, her inbuilt radar homing in on the richest, loudest table, and, frankly, Luca was happy to see the back of her, more than happy to turn his attention to the rather aloof woman who sat before him.
‘Normally people smile when they win.’
‘I was actually hoping to lose.’ Meg gave a small laugh at his bemused frown. ‘I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself!’
‘You don’t like my casino?’
‘No,’ Meg admitted, but softened her rather brittle response with a smile. ‘Though don’t take it personally—I’m not really a big fan of clubs and bars, people shouting over each other just to be heard.’ Conversation here was surprisingly easy. After the noise from below, the exclusive upstairs area was quieter with no gaming machines. Luca had selected a secluded area for them at a low couch well away from the tables, but it wasn’t just the ambience that made talking easier—without his entourage, seated beside her, those brooding eyes and haughty features softened by the dim lighting, he was far less intimidating. In fact, after the pandemonium of before and the unwelcome company she’d been keeping, Luca Fierezza’s controlled demeanour was a refreshing change—only it wasn’t relaxing for Meg. Far from it!
The seedy attempts at chat-ups Meg had encountered downstairs had made her uncomfortable, ill at ease, but she didn’t feel like that with Luca. Unsettled was how he made her feel. Though he hadn’t lifted so much as a finger in her direction and his conversation had been supremely polite, there was definitely an awareness, a tension between them, and she knew he was biding his time, felt as if he was slowly, mentally circling her, waiting to make a move. She knew that it wasn’t by accident she’d ended up at this casino magnate’s table.
For the second time that night a bottle of champagne appeared without order, only this time Meg found it easier to decline. ‘I’d actually prefer some water.’
‘Of course—would you like something to eat? We can—’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Meg interrupted quickly, but as he sent the waiter away with a flick of his wrist and proceeded to pour them both water she rather regretted her haste. Not just because she was, in fact, hungry, but because part of her wanted to stay, to linger a while longer in his presence … to simply relax and enjoy the company of this astonishingly beautiful man. Even his hands were sexy, neatly manicured fingers, olive skin contrasting with the heavy white cotton cuffs of his shirt, but Meg’s forehead knitted in concentration as she glimpsed his gold cufflinks, trying to place where she’d seen the image before. Engraved on the heavy gold was the image of an orange tree surrounded by vines … She tried in vain to place them, giving in when Luca distracted her with a question.
‘Are you on holiday?’ Luca checked and Meg nodded.
‘I’m backpacking around Europe. I’ve been away from home for three months.’
‘And are you enjoying yourself?’
Meg hesitated a fraction too long before nodding, and Luca must have noticed the tiny pensive pause because he dismissed her enthusiastic response with an observation.
‘You don’t look like a backpacker.’
‘What do backpackers look like?’
‘Carefree,’ Luca mused, ‘out for fun—they certainly don’t normally decline the offer of a free drink.’
‘And you must know so many,’ Meg responded with a heavy dash of sarcasm. Luca Fierezza’s world was light years away from the one she’d inhabited these last months and she was annoyed at his assumptions—that she was some starving wretch who would jump at the chance of a free meal and an expensive drink.
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘We have many backpackers that come to Niroli—some to holiday and enjoy the magnificent beaches, others for casual work.’
‘It is a beautiful island,’ Meg admitted. ‘Well, from the little I’ve seen of it. I was looking forward to exploring it and …’ She didn’t continue, just snapped her mouth closed, realising she’d given him an opening, and Meg felt a stab of disappointment when instead of pouncing on it he instead asked a question. ‘So how long do you intend to stay in Niroli?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Meg admitted. ‘I actually came to Niroli to meet up with my brother, but there was a miscommunication. I was thinking of leaving to see if I can find work.’
‘You already have a job,’ Luca pointed out, for the first time acknowledging their encounter in the kitchen. ‘And tomorrow you will have a better one.’
‘Tomorrow I might decide to dye my hair.’ Meg didn’t bat an eyelid, stared coolly at him as she spoke. ‘Then I won’t be blond enough for you.’
‘I was trying to help….’ Luca attempted, but Meg shook her head at his attempt at an excuse.
‘Well, you didn’t,’ she bristled. ‘Tell me something—how come you didn’t ask me to join you for dinner back in the kitchen?’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ Meg said shrewdly. ‘Anyway, it’s irrelevant. Tomorrow, I’m going to head to Mont Avellana and look for some seasonal work.’
‘Mont Avellana?’ Luca sneered. ‘Why would you possibly want to go there?’
‘I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’
‘It is nothing compared to Niroli,’ Luca derided in distaste. ‘Full of gypsy Viallis—there is nothing for you there!’
‘I’m sure they speak highly of you!’ Meg made a flip comment and instantly regretted it, watching as his face darkened.
Oh, she’d read about the battle between the islands—knew that Mont Avellana was now a republic and that there was still simmering resentment between the two islands—but the way Luca was talking told Meg that this was more than just patriotism. This was hatred born from the cradle and taken to the grave. ‘I’m sorry,’ Meg offered, unable to comprehend that it was so, so … personal to Luca, but realising she had hit a raw nerve. ‘I’ve clearly no idea what I’m talking about.’
It took a moment for him to translate her vague humour, but he accepted it with a gracious smile, swiftly changing the subject as only he could!
‘Anyway—you can’t go to Mont Avellana tomorrow—you are meeting with me.’
‘I said no, remember.’ Meg smiled, but it died on her lips as she caught his eyes. They weren’t touching, a generous few inches separated them on the sofa, but she could sense his body, feel the heat of him next to her. It wouldn’t have mattered where they were, whether in a busy kitchen or the luxurious surrounds of the high roller club, because again it was just the two of them—the subtle, almost indefinable process of man and woman gauging each other, that delicious heightened awareness when every move, every gesture, revealed itself in slow motion. As her tongue bobbed out to moisten her dry lips Meg knew, knew, he was imagining the taste of her, knew that in this volatile climate even that tiny gesture could be construed as provocative … because it had been. He provoked her, in the most unsettling of ways. He made her dizzy. It was as if she were riding on a carousel, snatching images as she whirred ever faster; images not just of the man sitting before her now, but dangerous glimpses of where this night could lead—that full, sensual mouth pressed onto hers, the feel of his hard, toned body pressed against hers. Never had a man moved her so—never had she felt such a compelling attraction to someone, never had she been more tempted to throw caution to the wind, to let some romance into her ordered life….
To loosen up and live a little.
Till he spoke!
‘I’m sure whatever job you want, it can be accommodated.’
Never had she been more grateful for the dimmed lighting as a dark, burning blush swept up her neck and over her cheeks, her mouth dry all of a sudden, her heart hammering in her chest, unsure if she’d misinterpreted and appalled if she hadn’t—was he offering her a job in his casino or in his bedroom?
‘I speak no Italian.’ Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Meg chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t really see what sort of work.’
‘It doesn’t have to be in the casino; perhaps you would like to spend your time in Niroli with me?’
‘With you!’ She let out a shocked gasp at his directness. ‘You’re offering me a job as your escort!’
‘Meg—’ immediately he shook his head ‘—I think you misunderstand. I am requesting your company for a period of time. I would like us to have a chance to get to know each other better. As you will understand, I’m sure, I am not permitted the luxury of casual dates—I am not able to suggest we meet tomorrow afternoon for coffee or a chat, or a wander on the beach—’
‘Because you’re too busy?’ Meg interrupted scornfully. ‘Too busy to deal with something as trivial as getting to know another person—oh, but if they look okay, if they can string a sentence or two together and are impressed enough by your status, then you’ll simply bypass the superfluous and cut straight to the chase.’
Her angry words didn’t faze him—anything but. A smile on his lips revealed very white, very even teeth. ‘I think you’re overreacting.’
‘Do you!’ Meg gave him a wide-eyed look—she really couldn’t believe the audacity of him. Yes, he was stunning to look at, and, yes, she conceded, they were attracted to each other, but to have the nerve to sit there and offer to buy her company for a few weeks made her blood boil—that he was so pompous, so full of his self-importance to think he was above the social niceties, infuriated her.
‘As I said, you misunderstand….’
‘I don’t think so.’ For the first time in a long time, instead of holding it in, Meg let it out—disappointment, embarrassment all aiding her in a very few choice words. ‘I’m surprised you offered dinner. Why don’t we just go straight upstairs to your luxury suite?’
‘Excuse me?’ For the first time she startled him—a flicker of confusion in his eyes as she confronted him.
‘Your luxury suite. I’m sure you’ve got one waiting—and given that you’re clearly too busy and important for something as trivial as romance or dating, and given that I’m too tired for a late night, why don’t we just go straight up there and get it over and done with?’
As his face darkened for a second Meg thought she’d gone too far—questioned the wisdom of speaking in such a manner to a man she barely knew, her feisty, sarcastic tones maybe open to misinterpretation, but as her words hit home his anger faded. The smile that had been on his lips before returned with vengeance now as he threw back his head and laughed out loud, until Meg actually managed a reluctant smile of her own.
‘You are always this angry?’
‘Only when I’m mistaken for a prostitute!’
‘Never!’ His thumb and finger found her chin, lifting her face so her eyes were level with his—touching her for the first time, the shock of contact with him tumbling her into confusion because despite her angry words before, despite the sarcasm that had laced them, she wanted him—wanted what she had moments before scorned.
Wanted him to make love to her.
‘Eat with me,’ Luca offered again and it was sheer self-preservation that made her shake her head, determined to politely end the conversation and just get the hell out before she did something stupid—something she would surely regret. She was here to sort her life, not complicate it further, and being a paid mistress to this man was surely a recipe for disaster!
‘No.’ Meg dragged the word out, jerked her chin away to break the contact as, reaching down, she picked up her bag and stood up. ‘As I said, I’m very tired. Thank you for your hospitality.’
‘You haven’t allowed me to show you any hospitality.’ He stood up as she did, clearly taken aback by her abrupt change of mood. ‘But that is your choice.’ He gave a brief shrug. ‘I will walk you back.’
‘I don’t need to be walked back,’ Meg declined, but Luca begged to differ.
‘Your friend appears to be busy and those men are no doubt still downstairs. It would be better if I walk you back to your room.’
If it had been anyone else offering it would have made sense. Meg had no desire to run into that group again, but neither did she want to walk with Luca. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—not for a minute did she imagine him forcing himself on her as that creepy businessman had before—but he had made his intentions exceptionally clear and so now must she.
‘Thank you for the offer, Mr Fierezza, I mean, Signor Fierezza, but I’d prefer—’
‘Luca,’ he interrupted.
‘I’d rather keep things formal,’ Meg said crisply back, but she couldn’t look at him, instead staring down at the ground, ready to turn on her heel and walk off.
‘Well, in that case, my correct title is: His Royal Highness Prince Luca of Niroli.’
As her startled eyes shot up to his, despite the twist of a smile on Luca’s lips at her reaction, she knew in an instant he was speaking the truth. Antoinette hadn’t got her words mixed up, those cufflinks he was wearing, Meg realised in a flash, were actually the Niroli coat of arms she’d seen in her guide book, but it wasn’t just that that convinced her, it was his sheer arrogance, the absolute confident way he carried himself—which told her he would never stoop to lying to impress a woman.
