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But not for anything would she let him guess at the emotions that were threatening to pull her apart. Give him the smallest hint of how she really felt about him and he’d move in for the kill! And, knowing how weak she was where he was concerned, she’d make a very willing victim!
Taking a deep breath, she called on every last scrap of her will-power and told him, more or less levelly, ‘I won’t marry you, Paolo. I’m flattered. I think. But it’s not going to happen.’
Steeling herself for another determined assault on her senses, she was left bewildered and perhaps, she thought, with more than a little self-disgust, disappointed as he slowly released her.
He was on his feet with enviable ease, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his cargo pants, his smile frighteningly assured. ‘Then, cara, I have two more days before the party to change your mind. Don’t stay out in the sun too long. Even at this time of year delicate skins can burn.’
Somehow Lily managed to avoid Paolo until dinner that evening. Cook had excelled herself, with lobster in a light sauce followed by caramelised grapes, but she was barely able to swallow more than a mouthful of each.
Forcing herself to keep up with Fiora’s lively chatter on the dreaded subject of the coming engagement party was the only way she could deflect attention from her lack of appetite. Inside she was wound up tight, fit to blow at any moment.
As for Paolo—well, she didn’t dare look at him. But she felt him watching her, and from his occasional lazy comments she knew he understood how she was struggling to avoid his gaze, and was mightily amused by it.
Because—
Because he knew as well as she did that he only had to exert a fraction of the sexual magnetism he possessed in spades to have her helpless, completely in his power, agreeing to anything he demanded of her—even a marriage she knew would end in bitter failure.
And it scared her silly!
She wanted him—wanted to be his wife more than she’d ever wanted anything before. The offer was there, but she couldn’t take it.
With the evidence of one broken engagement, one short-lived marriage and countless casual affairs behind him, she would be committing emotional suicide if she gave in to temptation. If he loved her she would be the happiest woman on the planet. But he didn’t. He’d said as much. And she wasn’t prepared to have her heart broken.
She wasn’t that recklessly stupid, was she?
Diving into a tiny gap in the on-going conversation around the table, Lily asked in a thin, tight voice she didn’t recognise as her own, ‘Fiora, could you spare Carla for a short while tomorrow morning? I need to go into Florence—without Paolo. I’d like to buy him a betrothal gift!’ She forced a smile to hide her dismay at yet another miserable lie, her heart rattling. ‘If she could drive me in, I could find my own way back.’
She held her breath, fully expecting him to offer to drive her himself. He’d know the betrothal gift was pure fabrication and smell a rat. Know she was avoiding his company at all costs because she was terrified of his stated intention to make her change her mind about accepting his proposal before the guests arrived for the wretched party.
But all he said was, ‘Mario shall drive you, cara. Just tell him what time you wish to return and he will come for you. Spend all day exploring our beautiful city, if that is what you want. But as for a betrothal gift—all I need is your sweet self, you know that. However, if it pleases you to choose something, a small gift to mark the occasion, then I, of course, will be delighted.’
Louse! What was he playing at? He would know that her sudden desire to go into town was an avoiding tactic. That she didn’t trust herself when faced with his devastating brand of ‘persuasion’. She might love him, but she would never understand him in a million years!
She did look at him then, and the perfection of his features took her breath away. The slow, sexy smile he gave her worked its usual havoc. Her breath catching, she excused herself, pleading a slight headache, and headed for the sanctuary of her room, locking the door behind her. Just in case.
Florence was an assault on Lily’s already reeling senses. So much beauty, so much style, it was difficult to take in—especially as she felt in need of an enormous ball of string in order to find herself back in the square where Mario had dropped her off and had promised to collect her at five in the afternoon.
Footsore, but slightly easier in her mind after time alone, without the fear that Paolo might find her and work that special magic that could make her resolve melt like ice on a summer’s day, Lily made it back to the meeting place with half an hour to spare. Tables outside a trattoria provided an excuse to sit in the shade, and the espresso she ordered was more than welcome.
Dismissing the occasional feeling that she was being followed as paranoia, she knew what she had to do.
Just this evening and tomorrow to make sure she didn’t give Paolo the opportunity to use all his formidable powers of persuasion, and then hopefully the arrival of his mother’s guests on the following day would severely limit their time alone together.
And so she’d be at the fake engagement so-called celebration. She couldn’t carry out her earlier stated intention to boycott it because that would upset Fiora, and she didn’t want to do that, but after that she’d be off. She would have to manufacture some urgently pressing reason for an immediate return to England. She didn’t know what, but she’d think of something.
‘Signorina—you are ready?’
Blinking, Lily glanced at the slim young man in dark trousers and immaculate white shirt. Mario. Exactly on time. Suspicion solidified into certainty.
She rose, collected her bag. ‘Have you been following me, Mario?’
‘Certamente. The signor instructed it.’ He grinned widely, lifting narrow shoulders. ‘You are precious to him. No harm must come to you.’
Fuming, Lily stalked across the piazza to where the gleaming car was waiting, Mario trailing in her wake. So much for her hours of freedom! In spite of what Mario thought, this was not about caring, anxiety for her well-being. It was all about Paolo’s control. She had become his property, she realised with a sinking feeling. Followed. Watched. And no doubt he would demand a detailed report of what she’d been doing, she thought with ire.
But it wasn’t Mario’s fault. He had only done what he’d been told to do by the all-powerful Paolo Venini. So she was able to keep up a light-hearted conversation as they journeyed back through the Tuscan countryside, her mind working on another level as she formulated exactly what she would say on the subject of people with nasty suspicious minds who put minders on the tail of other people!
More than ever convinced that her only option was to return to England as soon as she’d done her duty by Fiora and been put on show at the wretched party, she decided, with deep reluctance, that she would have to compound her sins and lie again. Say Great-Aunt Edith was ill and really needed her.
It was utterly distasteful, but it was the only thing she could think of that Fiora would understand. She would be disappointed that her visit was to be cut short, the plans for the wedding put on hold for a while, but she would understand and sympathise with the need.
And it would be up to Paolo to confess that the wedding was off at a time of his choosing!
The high she experienced at having thought herself out of the mess lasted until the car drew to a well-bred halt in front of the villa.
Then crumbled into hopelessness as she saw Paolo, looking heart-stoppingly gorgeous in slim-fitting denims and a white T-shirt, emerge from the open doorway, an all too healthy Great-Aunt Edith smiling fit to split her face at his side.
Her last escape route had been well and truly blocked by that dramatically handsome grinning devil!
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS almost as if he’d read her mind even before she’d worked out her escape strategy, Lily thought, near to hysterics as she advanced on suddenly shaky legs towards the now broadly grinning pair, asking baldly, ‘How did you get here?’
‘What a welcome, child!’
To her astonishment Lily found herself crushed against her great-aunt’s stout bosom in a rare show of open affection. ‘By private jet and helicopter! Just imagine—I felt like royalty! Paolo arranged everything!’
‘We couldn’t celebrate our engagement without her,’ came his unwelcome cool assertion.
Extricating herself from the bear-hug, Lily shot him a look of loathing. He gave her back a smile of simmering amusement, shot through with the satisfaction of a male who made things happen to get what he wanted.
No wonder he hadn’t raised any objections over her awayday—he’d just put one of his staff on her tail and set about finalising the arrangements for the transportation of her elderly relative, in doing so making sure she, Lily, was put into an even more difficult situation! Ruthless and manipulative wasn’t in it!
‘I’ve been so excited since dear Paolo phoned with the news of your engagement!’ Edith exclaimed warmly. ‘And I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since he invited me to come here and stay for the wedding!’
Oh, yes, he had her thoroughly outmanoeuvred.
‘Why don’t we go round to the terrace? Agata will provide us with cold drinks,’ Paolo slid in, velvet-smooth. ‘Mamma is resting before dinner. She might believe she is one hundred per cent fit, but she is still frail,’ he added, with a detectable note of warning aimed at her, Lily realised with helpless rage.
He had no need to remind her of Fiora’s delicate health, Lily thought darkly. She had grown genuinely fond of his mother, and if it hadn’t been for her own unwillingness to distress her unduly she would have left Italy the moment she’d acknowledged she’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love with a man who was so wrong for her—valid excuse or not!
Fiora’s continuing recovery from her life-threatening illness was his strongest bargaining tool. And now he’d brought her great-aunt in on the act, giving him another. She could kill the manipulating devil!
Her eyes boring into his broad back as they walked round to the side of the immense villa, she barely registered Edith’s, ‘I hope I didn’t tire her. We had such a long and interesting chat after I arrived. Forgive me if I kept her too long.’
Arrested by the anxious note, Paolo turned, his smile warmly sincere as he swiftly reassured her. ‘You are Lily’s family, Edith—and Mamma prizes family relationships above all. Her retirement had nothing to do with your more than welcome presence, I promise. Carla, her companion, and I always insist that she rests each afternoon. Meeting you, having you here, makes her happy. And happiness is the best medicine, yes?’
Another none too subtle warning for her, Lily fulminated as they passed beneath the long pergola, festooned and dripping with wistaria, and headed for the steps that led up to the broad terrace.
As soon as she got her great-aunt on her own she would have to confess that the engagement—as far as she was concerned—was a total sham. Explain what had led up to this sorry situation. She wasn’t looking forward to it. There was no one more upright and straightforward than her relative, and she would rightly deplore the deceit and make no bones about saying so!
But the opportunity was lost when Paolo left them to go in search of the housekeeper. Edith immediately turned to her, her eyes over-bright with emotion, and declared, ‘I can’t tell you how happy your news has made me, child! Such a weight off my mind! I must confess that I have worried about your future well-being for some time now. No—hear me out,’ she demanded, as Lily opened her mouth to protest. ‘I won’t be around for ever, and who knows what has become of your feckless father. I hated to think of you being left alone in the world.’
She gravitated to a table in the shade and ordered, with just a hint of her old asperity, ‘Sit. Don’t hover, child. I have worried about you,’ she stressed. ‘Working all hours for little reward save that of knowing you were helping people who needed it. No opportunity or time to meet a suitable young man or embark on a financially rewarding career. I blamed myself for being so bound up in Life Begins and not giving a thought to your future. Not doing nearly enough for you.’
‘Don’t talk like that!’ Lily cried emotionally. ‘You’ll be around for ages yet! And you did everything for me,’ she protested with vehemence, distressed at what she was hearing, adding with heartfelt sympathy, ‘It can’t have been easy.’ At a time when most women would have been thinking of slowing down, taking things a little easier, Edith had taken in a baby that had been as good as abandoned. ‘You gave me family, a feeling of belonging, a happy and secure childhood.’
‘It was never difficult, child. Never!’ Edith’s eyes grew moist with rare sentiment. ‘And now I need no longer worry. News of your forthcoming wedding has taken a huge weight off my shoulders, believe me! Such a strong, caring man—so much wealth …’ She waved an expressive hand at their surroundings. ‘Mind you, were he as poor as a church mouse I would still heartily approve. Whatever his financial situation he would make any woman a fine husband. As it is, his generosity means that we can safely leave the future of Life Begins in capable hands, so that’s one more anxiety laid to rest.’
Paolo didn’t rejoin them. Agata, bringing iced fresh orange juice, imparted that the signor sent his regrets. He had work to do and would see them at dinner.
Leaving her great-aunt in her room, exclaiming over the amenities and deciding which of her two dresses was more suitable for the coming dinner, Lily set out to look for him. Fit to spit tacks. What right had he to go behind her back and bring her unsuspecting great-aunt into this mess of his?
He was good at humiliating her—wasn’t he just? She’d thought she’d been so clever—avoiding him and his threatened ‘persuasion’—but all the time he’d had all the aces up his sleeve, had been laughing at her. No wonder he’d allowed her to go out of her way to avoid him!
Marching straight into the room he used as a study, she found him standing by the tall window using his cellphone. Shifting from foot to foot, she waited until he had finished the call, refusing to let herself be impressed by his dark male magnificence, her eyes still spitting sparks of rage when he turned to her and smiled.
‘How dare you?’ She launched straight in, practically bouncing up and down in her need to go over there and slap him.
‘Cara?’ One perfectly shaped dark eyebrow arched in a query Lily found totally exasperating.
‘You know what I’m talking about!’ Bright spots of anger flared on her cheeks. ‘You know what you’ve done. Now there’ll be two old ladies to disappoint instead of one! Have you any idea—? Do you know what she said to me? She said knowing my future’s secure—huh!—has taken a huge load off her mind!’
Eyes glittering, she was almost incoherent with rage that he had put her in this dreadful situation. ‘You use people like pawns to get what you want. You never consider their feelings,’ she accused wildly.
With difficulty Paolo stopped himself from grinning from ear to ear. Little Lily Frome was a bewitching delight. A small bundle of hissing fury!
It took courage to stand there and bad-mouth him, he acknowledged with renewed admiration. Used as he was to everyone—especially the bed partners who were now definitely history—treating him as if he were some kind of god, bending over backwards to please him, feeding him servile flattery, Lily in confrontational mood made him feel fully, vitally alive for the first time in years.
‘I do what needs to be done. Haven’t you heard the saying that the end justifies the means?’
As Lily watched him move towards her she felt stifled. The air locked in her lungs. Her small hands fisted. ‘The end’—he meant marriage.
To her!
Not because he loved her. As if! But because it would be convenient. Not wanting to disappoint his mother because he adored her, and after the tragedy that had taken his brother, his sister-in-law and their unborn child, he would do anything to make her remaining years contented. And, hey, bedding a virgin would be a novel experience. He could teach her everything he knew about sexual pleasure. Until he grew bored!
Thanks, but no thanks! She might love him, warts and all, and lust after him until it became a burning ache she could barely contain, but she had too much self-respect to allow herself to accept his insulting proposal.
And he was now close. Too close. Even so, she found the will to jerk her chin up at a defiant angle and meet his eyes.
Big mistake!
The smouldering mesmeric quality, the glittering golden lights, made her feel light-headed. He always had that effect on her, she mourned in silent self-contempt. And when he took one of her hands and uncurled her fingers she could do nothing to stop him.
Stroking her palm with one lean finger, he cracked down on the urgency of his desire to carry her over to the couch, strip her, reveal again the tantalising all-woman nakedness that had already been open to his avid view. To slide eager, questing hands over every delightful curve and hollow of her small but exquisitely proportioned body, discover the secret heart of her femininity and pleasure her until she was begging for release. To make her his.
But she was to be his wife. He was determined on that. And as his future wife she commanded his respect. Thrusting aside the erotic fantasies, promising himself that they would be played out in full on their wedding night, he said thickly, ‘No one needs to be disappointed, cara mia. Our marriage will make everyone happy.’
Such rampant sex appeal was dangerous. She felt hot, restless, her breasts tight, the nipples pushing against the thin camisole top she was wearing beneath an elegant linen suit, and her mind had been reduced to a fuzzy blank—apart from the tiny voice that was urging her to give in, do anything he wanted her to do, admit she loved him. Then the realisation that he was manipulating her again brought her to her senses as effectively as if he’d tossed a bucket of icy water over her.
Snatching back her hand, she took a step away, a pulse beating furiously at her temples. He was working on her soft nature. Clever enough to understand that she would hate hurting anyone she loved. He knew how fond she and Fiora were of each other. Knew she cared deeply for her great-aunt, valued all she’d done for her, the sacrifices she’d made when she’d adopted her, brought her up as if she were her own child.
Well, she’d show him she wasn’t as soft as he obviously thought she was. Her chin high, she got out, ‘You forgot me when you listed the people who would find happiness through our marriage. Or was I supposed to be included in “everyone”?’
Scorn for his methods, when all he had to do was say he loved her and mean it, which she knew would never happen, gave her the strength to walk out, telling him, ‘I won’t marry you. I’ll leave you to break the bad news in your own time and carry the results on your own conscience—if you have one!’
Lily gazed at her reflection with no enthusiasm. She was wearing the smoky blue backless designer gown—minus underwear—hoping it would make her feel more like a grown woman with a mind of her own rather than a doll in the hands of an expert puppet-master.
It wasn’t working. Her mind, what was left of it, was being jerked every which way. Her adamant decision to reject Paolo’s proposal out of hand was wavering, then veering back on track again, until something else happened to swing it right back in the other direction.
The latest being the shattering conversation she’d had with her great-aunt a couple of hours ago.
‘I want to talk to you.’ The old lady’s whisper had been loud enough to singe her ears. ‘It’s not necessary, but I’d like your agreement.’
Wondering what Edith was on about, Lily had found herself in the small salon that overlooked the gardens at the rear of the villa, the door closed firmly behind them, the old lady peering round to make sure they were alone. ‘You know Fiora and her companion plan to move back to her home in Florence immediately following the wedding? Well, what do you think of this?’ She’d pulled in a big breath, then added on a rush, ‘I’m invited to move here to Italy—make my home in Florence with them! Such a lovely city, I believe. I’ve always wanted to see it, but never could afford the time or the pennies to do it!’
Speechless at that heart-sinking announcement, Lily could only stare into her beloved great-aunt’s glowing eyes.
‘Cat got your tongue?’
‘I—’ Struggling to get her head around this latest development, Lily didn’t know where to start. ‘What about your cottage—the charity?’ But she knew what the answer would be.
It came as expected. ‘The charity’s fine—more part-time volunteers than ever, splendid fundraising activities planned, Paolo’s support. And as for the cottage—it goes to you in my will. But married to Paolo you won’t need it. So I shall sell it and pay my way in Florence with the proceeds.’
Her heart some miles beneath her feet, Lily said, ‘So you’ve made your mind up?’
‘As good as. Fiora and I get on like a house on fire. I wouldn’t consider the move if we didn’t. Apparently her apartment is enormous, fully staffed. And we’d be company for each other. Carla’s splendid, but Fiora says she often longs for someone nearer her own age to talk with. And of course I’d be near to you—not that I’d be forever visiting and being a nuisance, but I’d be near.’
And, as if Lily’s wide-eyed stare was not the enthusiastic reception she’d expected, the old lady had added confidently, ‘Paolo’s opinion has been sought. He thinks it’s a splendid idea!’
I just bet he does! Lily thought now, heartily sick of everything being ‘splendid’, and turning from the mirror. Outmanoeuvred again! If she persisted in her refusal to marry Paolo those happy plans would bite the dust.
Great-Aunt Edith had a strong, unshakable sense of duty. She would no more go ahead with her plans to move to Florence, sell the cottage to fund her life here and in the process see her, Lily, homeless or living in a bedsit, than sprout wings and fly. They would move back to England and take up the life they had left.
Could she be selfish enough to deny the old lady the luxury and ease she deserved in her declining years?
Edith had never married. A teacher for many years, she had founded the small local charity and adopted her great-niece on her retirement from full-time employment at the age of sixty, having worked hard all her life with precious few of life’s small luxuries. Didn’t she deserve something much better now?
And, to make everything so much worse, Paolo had been so warm, so attentive—respectful, even—during the last couple of days. The perfect Italian fiancé. On the one hand it had made her fall more deeply in love with him, and on the other it made her feel decidedly murderous!
Looking forward to this evening’s engagement party with as much pleasure as she would if faced with an appointment with her dentist for root canal work, she heaved a heartfelt sigh and slipped her feet into high-heeled mules.
The guests would be waiting for the happy couple to put in an appearance. Her stomach gave a violent lurch. Apparently a handful of Paolo’s closest friends had been invited and, ominously, the village priest. And the cousins, of course. Three males and a female. They’d arrived an hour ago, but she’d only had time to smile wanly, register the males with sharp suits and indolent attitudes, and a striking Latin beauty who looked bored, before they’d been shown to their respective rooms.
On reflection, she thought she could sympathise with Paolo for having little time for them, but grumbled at herself for being uncharitable enough to condemn on first sight a bunch of people who were probably perfectly nice.
Nervously twisting the heavy ring on her finger, she straightened her spine. She couldn’t hide in her room any longer. Time to face them and take part in this distasteful charade. Try to stop going over and over the uncomfortable facts that in refusing to marry Paolo she would distress her great-aunt, casting a pall of disappointment over her remaining years—not to forget Fiora, who would be one very unhappy lady.
