Bought by the Italian Page 4

  It was a wine to be savoured and appreciated, one of his brother Aurelio’s best. But she quaffed it as if seeking oblivion. That wasn’t like her. Chiara was abstemious with alcohol, but she’d already downed two glasses of the fine wine as if it were water.

  In the glow from the fire Gennaro saw the surface of her wine ripple.

  Her hand was unsteady.

  With nerves? He scowled, guilt ploughing through him.

  He’d planned to force Chiara to face some home truths tonight and he’d revelled in the chance to crack her air of superiority. He knew it was her defence against importunate outsiders. He’d seen her don it before when people tried to get too close. But it galled him because he’d never expected her to use it on him.

  Yet now, seeing her tremble, he hesitated.

  She lifted her hand but this time she stifled a yawn. Perversely that rankled.

  ‘Am I boring you?’

  Her gaze slewed to his. ‘Don’t tell me, I’m supposed to hang on your every word. What’s wrong? Have I dented your ego by concentrating on the food instead of you?’

  Gennaro set his jaw. He’d always admired Chiara’s spirit, but not when it was turned against him. He’d never let any woman get to him the way she did. She had a genius for it.

  Or maybe it was because he still cared about her.

  ‘Waspishness doesn’t become you.’

  ‘Surprise, surprise.’ She waved her glass wide. ‘You’ve already made your disapproval clear. And you know what? I really don’t care.’

  But her eyes shifted from his and for the first time since they’d arrived he felt real hope stir. She wasn’t nearly as immune as she pretended.

  She made a production of tucking her hair behind her ear, hiding another yawn in the process. Her eyes were heavy-lidded.

  ‘You need sleep.’ How could he be annoyed and impatient but at the same time protective? This woman tied him in knots.

  She arched her brows in feigned surprise. ‘You noticed.’ She shook her head and her glossy hair slipped back around her face. ‘It’s not my choice to be sitting here in the middle of nowhere with you at this time of night.’

  Gennaro watched her stiffen her shoulders as if preparing for battle and suddenly he felt the weight of weariness too. He was tired of fighting her. ‘I didn’t do it, you know.’

  She froze. In the stillness he heard her sudden intake of breath.

  ‘What didn’t you do, Signor De Laurentis?’ She gave him her best haughty look, a sure sign of defensiveness.

  So it was Signor De Laurentis now.

  How had they ever got to this? Gennaro still couldn’t believe how suddenly, how completely, it had all gone wrong between them.

  ‘I didn’t betray your brother’s plans to Luca. I didn’t use the information you let slip about the palazzo he intended to buy.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’ She put her wine down on the hearth, the click of glass on stone loud. ‘You expect me to believe that all the time it was really me you were interested in, not the fact my brother is your brother’s biggest competitor? The fact that I was a potential goldmine of inside information on Fabrizio’s plans to expand his business?’

  Somehow she managed to look down her pert nose at him, as if, even sitting down, he wasn’t half a head taller.

  ‘Yes, I expect you to believe me. Why shouldn’t you?’

  Despite his determination to keep his cool, Gennaro felt once more the burn of indignation. He was a man of his word. A man of honour. In the early days honour was about all his family had. There’d been no surfeit of worldly riches to cushion them.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she murmured, staring back with all the hauteur of an empress surveying a slave, ‘because you never bothered to say it before. Even when I all but begged you to deny it.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Chiara had waited for him to tell her it wasn’t true. That he hadn’t turned over to his brother the one piece of commercially sensitive information she’d ever passed on. She’d felt horrified and guilty that she might have unwittingly betrayed Fabrizio.

  If Gennaro had laughed off the idea when she’d confronted him in Rome she’d have believed him. But instead he’d stared at her stonily, refusing to allay her fears.

  It was only then, watching the man she loved morph into a cold stranger, that she’d realised he’d not once given her any commitment. That for him their affair might be no more than a short term fling.

  She’d tumbled in love with Gennaro so fast, so completely, but he…

  It chilled her to discover that for all his passion, all his tenderness, she had no idea how he saw her, beyond a partner in pleasure.

  And when she’d later learned from a friend that he’d engineered their first meeting, that he’d arranged to be introduced—

  ‘My word should have been enough for you.’ Gennaro’s voice was stark.

  Chiara’s hackles rose, as they had that night weeks ago. Time had marched on since the days when women blindly accepted what a man said without question. How dare he expect her not even to ask!

  Yet, despite her fury, she couldn’t drag her eyes away. She hated the way her heart beat quicker at the sight of him, lounging there in the firelight. He was the epitome of charismatic masculinity. Energy radiated from him. She felt it spark and tickle her skin.

  His stunning eyes glinted beneath straight brows, his strong jaw set, and the firelight played on his dark brown hair, picking out the highlights of honey and caramel that had always intrigued her. With his mix of Latin and northern colouring he was the most beautiful man she’d ever known.

  Beautiful on the outside. But it was the inside that mattered, wasn’t it?

  ‘Why should I take your word?’

  He stared as if he’d never seen her before. ‘Because you knew me. Because we were lovers,’ he gritted out. ‘You’re not the sort of woman to give herself to a man she doesn’t trust.’

  He was right. That’s what hurt the most.

  Chiara arched an eyebrow. ‘Lovers have been known to betray.’

  Instantly his mouth twisted in a sneer and he sat straighter. ‘Not a De Laurentis! Or is that too hard to believe because we don’t come with the gilt-edged pedigree of the mighty Armati family?’

  There it was again, that gripe about the social divide between their families.

  ‘Oh, get over yourself, Gennaro. I’m not hung up on that stuff and you know it. If I had, would we have ever got together?’

  He put his glass down and leaned towards her, all bunched muscles and taut strength. ‘Perhaps I was a diversion. A bit of rough on the side. After all, when we met I didn’t look like a man with money, just an ordinary builder.’

  ‘A bit of rough?’

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As if there’d ever been anything ordinary about Gennaro.

  He’d got off his big, growling bike and everything, from his height to his confidence, his easy stride and the hot, sensual awareness when their eyes met, had drawn her. Then he’d spoken and within minutes of being introduced by her girlfriend she’d known he was even hotter than his macho male exterior indicated, because he’d been charming, interesting and funny. He’d listened. He’d shared.

  As for the dust of the building site on his boots – yes, it had been a change from glossy, hand-stitched loafers, but to have him accuse her of - what? Trawling for cheap sexual thrills?

  Chiara shot to her feet, almost stumbling over the long dress wrapped around her legs.

  ‘In that case, what was I?’ Her breasts rose and fell as she struggled to drag in oxygen. She couldn’t catch her breath. ‘An amusement? A diversion? You think because I came from wealth I don’t deserve basic respect? Is that why you thought it okay to rip my brother off? To use me?’ She gagged on rising bile and swung away, unable to face him anymore.

  When he looked at her did he really see no more than privilege and status, not a real woman?

  A familiar ring tone pierced the heaving sile
nce and Chiara turned, spying her satin clutch purse in the shadows beyond the fireplace. How had she not seen it before?

  Swift as thought she dived on it, wrenching it open and palming the phone.

  ‘Fabrizio.’ The call was from her brother.

  Soon this nightmare would be over. With a gulp of relief she accepted the call, her mouth already forming the words that would bring help.

  Except a big hand closed around hers, severing the connection, hauling the phone from her grasp.

  ‘Hey! Give that back.’ On tiptoe she leaned in, trying to reach it, but Gennaro swung it away out of her reach.

  ‘Not yet. Not till we’ve sorted this out.’

  He looked so superior, standing there staring down at her. So in control, while Chiara was a morass of jumbled feelings: anger, hurt and confusion.

  ‘There’s nothing to sort out. Now give me back my phone.’ She made another swipe at it and missed. ‘Or are you adding theft to your crimes?’ She curled her lip. ‘Abduction, false pretences, corporate espionage.’

  ‘For the last time,’ he snarled, ‘I did not betray your brother’s precious business plans.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t. You’re just a paragon of virtue, aren’t you, Gennaro?’ She stuck one hand on her hip and held the other out. ‘If you’ve got nothing to hide you’ll give me my phone.’

  ‘What, so you can call your dear brother? I think not.’

  With one fluid movement he opened the full length glass window and stepped out onto the dark balcony. Chiara followed, was out the door when he raised his arm in a perfect arc and something flew through the darkness.

  Chiara froze, unable to believe he had the gall to do it. Till somewhere in the distance she heard the sickening little crunch of her state-of-the-art phone smashing.

  It was too much. She’d held onto her emotions, barely, through the nightmare of the auction, through abduction, through the craziness of finding herself alone in the wilderness with the man she hated. Or was it loved?

  No, it couldn’t be that. She wouldn’t let it be.

  She was exhausted and she’d never been so furious in her life. Anger welled up, burning white, to blind her, sear her lungs and shatter her defences.

  Wildly she struck out, connecting with his chin in a glancing blow that probably hurt her more than him since he saw it coming and moved just in time.

  ‘Chiara!’

  What? Was she supposed to stand there and take whatever he dished out? Even in the gloom outdoors she could make out the surprise on his face. Presumably well-born women didn’t know how to fight.

  She stamped on his instep, wishing she was still wearing her stilettos then followed through with a vicious, jabbing knee to the groin. But he anticipated the move, jumping back and at the same time capturing her wrists. Chiara tried to wrench out of his hold but his hands were like manacles.

  ‘Stop. You’ll hurt yourself.’

  Her laugh was brief and bitter. ‘Not as much as you’ve already hurt me.’ She twisted hard, felt the burn of his hands against her wrists but still couldn’t break his hold. A sob of frustration rose in her throat but she jammed her teeth shut, refusing to let the sound escape.

  In a blur of movement Gennaro swung them around. She found herself backed against the cool, reinforced glass window, staring up into a face like a fallen angel’s.

  Her heart did that stupid little flutter and rage overflowed. At herself. At him.

  ‘Let me go!’ She aimed her knee up again but he evaded it then came in hard, pushing her up against the glass, his thighs imprisoning hers so she couldn’t get purchase enough to attack.

  ‘All my contacts were on there,’ she gasped.

  ‘You’ll survive.’ He grunted as she managed to jab an elbow to his ribs. He countered by pressing his full weight against her, splaying her against the wall of glass so she couldn’t move.

  ‘My business contacts. Or isn’t that important since I’m a mere fashion designer?’ She clawed at his hands, trying to sink her nails into flesh but apart from a smothered gasp it seemed to have no effect.

  ‘You’ve got back-up.’

  He was right, damn him. But that wasn’t the point.

  The point was she wanted to be far away from him. Somewhere safe where she couldn’t look into his hard, proud face and wish it would soften just for her. Where she wouldn’t feel the betraying pulse of heat between her legs or the imprint of his steel thighs against hers.

  ‘I hate you, Gennaro De Laurentis. I’ve never despised anyone the way I do you. I never want to see you again.’

  For endless moments he stared down at her. The firelight behind her flickered across features drawn tight and harsh. His nostrils flared, his lips thinning as if in pain.

  ‘Then I’ve got nothing to lose, have I?’

  Slowly, almost gently, he raised both her hands, till they touched the glass above her head. He shifted his grip, holding her wrists with just one hand, while the other slid down to her hair, stroking it from her cheek with a lingering caress that branded, dispelling any hint of chill from the night air.

  Chiara dragged in a difficult breath, oxygen sawing into cramped lungs.

  Indigo eyes clashed with hers. His mouth twisted. His warm breath was on her face, like coffee and spice. Behind him a thousand stars glittered in the dark sky, as if reminding her how utterly alone they were.

  He shifted and she felt the movement right through her body. Then his hand slid lower, down her throat, over the light fabric of her bodice and she sighed.

  She felt like she’d been waiting for his touch for an age.

  His fingers skimmed the side of her breast, bare beneath the halter neck of her dress, as his mouth took hers.

  Just like that the world exploded.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gennaro meant to make her pay for the words that had cut so deep.

  The thought of never seeing her again gouged a chasm in his soul. He’d spent weeks regretting that he’d let her walk out in high dudgeon. Too late he’d discovered that, with the help of her brother and his ultra-efficient bodyguards, she’d made it impossible to get near her again in Rome.

  He didn’t want to care the way he did. But he’d discovered, with Chiara, he couldn’t switch off his feelings.

  Or his body.

  The feel of her soft curves cushioning him was too much to bear. Especially when her ragged breathing pushed those luscious breasts hard against him.

  He shifted and she gasped as his erection nestled against her.

  How could she be surprised? He only had to look at her and he was hard. Night after night alone in his empty bed had been torture. He’d let pride get in the way of what had been a perfect relationship.

  Or had he let her believe the worst when he’d realised how much her distrust hurt? When he’d realised exactly how much he wanted her to believe in him.

  His brother, Luca, reckoned he’d deliberately pushed Chiara away.

  There’d be no pushing away now. The need in his belly and his groin couldn’t be sated by anything other than Chiara, tight around him, screaming his name as she convulsed in his arms and he spilled himself inside her.

  The thought was too much. He slammed his mouth on hers. No finesse, no gentleness, just hard, sure hunger.

  Her mouth opened beneath his and there she was, lush peaches and wine, pure seduction, waiting for him. She gave a little purr of satisfaction in her throat and arched, rubbing her breasts against him.

  Fire rocketed through his veins, shutting down his brain, shooting straight to his shaft, already surging hard against her soft belly.

  Gennaro slipped his hand between them, cupped her breast, pinching the nipple in his fingers, and she released a low sound of pleasure in the back of her throat. He tasted it, swallowed it, then took her mouth harder, his tongue demanding. He couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of her. Like summer fruit and sex.

  Always she’d done this to him. Right from the first.

&nb
sp; He’d broken all the rules for her. Dating a woman he knew should be out of bounds because of the rivalry between their brothers. Begging an introduction from a friend. He, who didn’t exert himself for any woman! Even rearranging his schedule to be in Rome more than he liked, just to be with her.

  Her tongue slid against his. Between his spread legs her thighs shifted, trying to open, causing a friction that had him wondering if he’d last long enough to take her.

  Gennaro shut his eyes, a groan escaping as she wriggled against him.

  Spitfire one moment, seductress the next. What hope had he?

  He tweaked her nipple and she groaned. ‘More.’ He felt the word in his mouth, rather than heard it.

  An instant later he was using both hands to scrabble her long skirt up. He almost swore when her hand got in the way, till he realised she was trying to help him. Together they hauled the flame red material higher and higher till there was silky, naked skin beneath his fingers. She was smooth and enticing and he wanted to lose himself in her.

  In one swift move he hoisted her high, pinned against the glass, so he had unfettered access. Her heat was against his crotch, her slender legs about his waist. And before him, the delicious bounty of her breasts.

  ‘Undo the dress if you don’t want it torn.’ He didn’t recognise the voice but it must be his because he felt the harsh rasp on his throat.

  Arms raised, she did something behind her neck and the fabric fell, revealing pert, beautiful breasts, their dusky nipples begging for attention.

  Then he was tasting her, laving her breast, sucking hard while his hand took the weight of the other one.

  Chiara grabbed his head, hauling him close, burying him against her, her fingers hard against his ears.

  Gennaro thought he could stay like this forever, the sound of her hungry gasps loud in his ears, her sensuous body moving against him. Except for the burning in his groin.

  She rocked against him, her hands clutching, her flesh hot against his face and suddenly he heard that familiar gasp of astonishment. Just as if she’d never come in his arms before. Every time it enchanted him, made him want to pleasure her over and over again.