Blackmailed Bride, Inexperienced Wife Read online

  ‘Don’t let us hold you up.’ She gestured in the direction of his villa. ‘You’ve probably got early-morning meetings. I’ll see the girls home.’

  He stood motionless so long she thought he’d ignore her dismissal. Finally he hunkered down beside the girls and said something in the local dialect that made them burst into giggles.

  ‘Enjoy your breakfast, Alissa.’ His husky, deep voice swirled around her, making her skin prickle with unwanted awareness. Then he turned and walked away along the beach, his stride easy and assured, owner of all he surveyed. Despite her best intentions she followed every step, avidly drinking in the superb picture he made.

  Grimly she warned herself to be sensible.

  So he liked children.

  So he was gorgeous.

  So his smile made her heart flip over.

  He’d never smile like that at her. Dario and she were destined to be enemies.

  Pity they were also man and wife.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DARIO wrenched the tie from his throat and tossed it onto a chair. His cufflinks followed, then his shirt as he strode onto his private balcony. The sultry air was so still he could taste the impending storm on his tongue.

  But it wasn’t the weather that got under his skin. He’d been unable to concentrate all day and had come home early. All because of Alissa. He’d taken in barely one word in ten at his meetings. His mind had been fixed on the woman who kept him awake night after night. His wife.

  He couldn’t shake the images of her on the beach today. Skin lustrous as pearls. Hair seductive fire, spilling round her. Body all feminine curves, lusciously rounded at hips and breasts yet such a tiny waist.

  More, he grappled with the shock of seeing her happy and carefree with Anna and Maria. He’d pegged her as a woman who’d have no time for children. Yet she’d been careful of them, joining their fun while keeping a watchful eye on them. Her pleasure had been genuine and the sight of her had stopped him in his tracks as he emerged from his swim.

  His body had responded predictably to the picture she made: a sexy, gorgeous, half-naked woman in the role of nurturer. Grimly he’d realised nothing could appeal more to a man’s most basic instinct: to mate.

  Meanwhile he struggled to adjust his assessment of her. This woman was more complex than he’d first thought. Dangerously complex. Something about her made him yearn for things he couldn’t quite grasp. Yearn for things other than the carefully orchestrated future he’d set as his goal a lifetime ago to fill the yawning void in his life.

  He tunnelled a hand through his hair, noting the encroaching storm clouds. A flash of white out to sea snagged his attention. Someone was out on a sea kayak. Someone in a white shirt with dark red hair. Too far out, with this storm coming in so fast. The bay grew dangerous when the wind was up, a lethal trap for the unwary.

  Seconds later Dario was racing to the beach.

  Alissa clung to the kayak, straining to drag herself up. But the strength had seeped from her arms. They were like jelly. She’d ventured too far out, only realising it was time to turn around when the rumble of thunder alerted her to changing weather. She’d raced back as fast as she could, but she’d grown exhausted as she struggled against unfamiliar currents and the suddenly massive sea.

  A freak wave had toppled her over. Now all she could do was hang on. Fear swamped her but she refused to give in to it, despite the lashing spray that bit her skin and the surge that tossed her like flotsam. So long as she held on she had a chance. But her numb fingers were loosening.

  A movement made her yelp as something slid against her. Were there sharks? Panic swelled and she swallowed water, half submerged beneath the waves.

  Something hard encircled her arm, biting into her frozen flesh. It pulled and she came up for air, spluttering and gasping. Her heart was ready to burst and her lungs worked like bellows to draw in oxygen.

  Swearing. She heard swearing. In Italian. Her befuddled brain barely took that in before she was grabbed beneath the arms and hauled from the sea.

  ‘Hang on tight,’ a barely audible voice instructed over the roar of the sea.

  Dario. She recognised that husky-edged growl, even through the sound of the storm. She felt warmth beneath her and realised she was lying across his legs. He’d climbed onto the kayak and dragged her up too.

  Relief swelled as she clutched his solid body. She’d be safe now. She couldn’t imagine anything defeating him. If any man could battle the elements and win it was Dario. His determination, his sheer strength, would see them through. Besides, imagine his temper if she drowned before they inherited his precious castello!

  It was the cessation of noise that roused her. The storm’s full-throated roar died to a muffled rumble. The needles of rain on her skin stopped abruptly. Alissa’s eyes fluttered open to an awareness of being held against something hot and solid. She nuzzled her head against her makeshift pillow and heard the steady thud of a heartbeat.

  Dario! For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of sinking against him. Any longer would be dangerous.

  ‘You can put me down.’ Her voice cracked.

  ‘Why, so you can run off and do something equally stupid?’ he growled. His grip tightened. She looked up to see his chin jutting above her like the prow of a warship.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how fast the storm was coming in.’ Remembered fear choked her throat and she bit her unsteady lip as he lowered her onto a fabric-covered surface. She blinked and looked around the gloomy interior. They were in the boat shed, jet skis and other craft stored around them. Alissa looked down to discover he’d sat her on a canvas day bed.

  ‘Here.’ Thick towelling draped her shoulders and strong hands rubbed her back, her hair, her arms. Slowly she felt the blood circulate, tingling through her body.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled again. ‘I didn’t mean to put you in danger.’

  ‘Me!’ The towel was stripped away to reveal him full square before her, feet planted wide, like a warrior ready for battle. This warrior wore nothing but saturated boxer shorts and a gold watch. His chest heaved—with emotion, she suspected, rather than exertion. His glare could cut solid rock. Right now it sliced into her.

  Alissa tugged the massive towel round her shoulders, her movements weak and uncoordinated after her desperate exertions. She tried not to feel intimidated by the blast of anger and undiluted testosterone he projected.

  ‘You’re worried about me?’ His voice rose incredulously. ‘Didn’t I say the bay had dangerous currents? Didn’t you see the storm approaching?’

  She shook her head, feeling every kind of fool for putting herself in a situation where she needed rescuing. She’d been so distracted by thoughts of Dario, trying to make sense of the complex man and his motivations, she’d forgotten basic safety precautions like checking her distance from the shore.

  ‘I apologise.’

  ‘You apologise!’ His voice was like thunder, welling around them. ‘You could have been killed.’ His hands were bulging fists, the muscles bunching ominously in his arms. ‘Do you have any notion how close you came to drowning?’

  Alissa didn’t feel safe any more. The fury in his tone sparked recognition. A lifetime’s lessons in violence stiffened her sinews. She scented the anger on his skin and instinctively she slid along the day bed, out of his reach. She swung her legs to the floor and forced herself to stand. She swayed but held herself upright with one hand clutching the metal bed frame.

  ‘What are you doing, woman?’ His forehead pleated, dark brows jamming together. ‘Sit down before you fall!’

  Dumbly she shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. She didn’t have the strength to run. All she could do was try to anticipate his first move.

  He strode forward and fear clawed up through her chest. But instead of raising his hand he grabbed her and dragged her hard against his chest. His heart slammed a rough tattoo against hers as he lifted her off her feet.

  ‘You have to be the most
obstinate, difficult woman—’

  The accusation ended as he bent his head and took her mouth in a plundering, voracious kiss that drew her into a storm of unrepentant desire. He swallowed her instinctive protest, clasping her close to his slippery body.

  Shock held her immobile. In that instant before she could gather her wits he vanquished her incipient protest as his mouth softened. Now his lips and tongue caressed, invited, tempted. One hand slid down to cup her bottom and draw her close to the hard urgency of his body.

  Excitement shivered through her. Sweet desire. Need. Her exhaustion was forgotten as she drank in his kisses, returning them with an untutored fervour that would have astonished her if she’d been capable of thought.

  Nothing was real but this. His body straining urgently against hers. His mouth an instrument of pleasure. She cupped his jaw in her hands and felt a thrill of delight as this powerful man shuddered against her.

  What was he doing? From somewhere a shard of reason pierced his non-functioning brain.

  Alissa suffered from shock and exposure. She’d almost lost her life in the sea. The damnable treacherous sea that had been his enemy for so long. It had stolen everything that mattered to him. Everyone.

  His arms tightened instinctively around her.

  Was it any wonder he shunned love in favour of the future he planned, with a carefully considered marriage to an appropriate woman? No more emotional relationships for him. No love. Not when soul-destroying loss was the cost. Not when happiness was so easily wrenched away by greedy waves.

  The sight of Alissa battling to stay afloat had brought back too many tragic memories. His heart squeezed as he realised he’d almost lost her too.

  Finally he found the strength to lift his head, dragging raw breaths into his labouring lungs.

  Dazed azure eyes stared up at him. Her lips were ruby-red and plump from his kisses. Hectic colour streaked her cheekbones, testament to the sudden passion between them.

  What sort of man was he, letting emotions drive him to such lengths? His fury resulted from their near-death experience. Was that the cause of this almost unstoppable desire too? And the fear that made his heart clatter against his ribs?

  He felt…he felt…too much.

  Shame washed through him. She was traumatised. He had no right to treat her like this.

  More, now that he knew her a little better he began to doubt his first assessment of her. What he’d discovered he admired. His instinct was to protect her.

  He swung her up in his arms, noticing with grim pleasure the way her hands automatically rose to link at the back of his neck.

  ‘Come on, Alissa. It’s time a doctor checked you out.’

  Five days later Alissa stood beside her husband at a reception in a magnificent old palazzo and tried to understand the change between them. There’d been no mention of that passionate kiss, no reference to the rescue, yet since that day Dario’s attitude had altered. He didn’t avoid her as much. Nor had there been more barbed remarks. They lived a wary truce.

  Sometimes she looked into his eyes and glimpsed a flash of the incandescent fire that had almost consumed her that day in the boathouse. The fire that, to her shame, she couldn’t help but miss.

  Whatever Dario felt, he kept it to himself.

  So much about the man she’d married was inexplicable, from his obsession with regaining the old estate to his fiery passion and his sudden withdrawal. She longed to ask about his family, hoping he’d exaggerated about having none. But she hadn’t found the nerve to query him. Then there was the esteem in which he was held locally, his comfortable relationship with Anna and Maria—more like a kind uncle than a world-weary tycoon.

  He’d flummoxed her the day of her rescue. She’d seen his simmering fury and smelt his anger with the preternatural awareness of an animal hunted by a predator. She knew the signs of untrammelled anger since she’d lived most of her life with its violent consequences. But, despite his wrath, he hadn’t taken out his temper on her. Instead he’d given her the sweetest, most desperate kiss she’d ever known. One that left her wanting more.

  Now tonight, the goalposts had shifted again.

  Dario went out of his way to touch her, keeping her close as they circulated through the throng of dignitaries. His arm at her waist was possessive. The feather-light weight of his breath on her hair and cheek was a stealthy caress. His husky voice was intimate, binding her to him with invisible ties.

  The intimacy was for public show. Yet that didn’t prevent the warmth spreading and sizzling under her skin.

  Her face ached from plastering on a smile. Her body was stiff from trying to maintain a distance between them. It was a losing battle. That casual drape of his arm tightened whenever she prised herself away a fraction.

  She’d known he had a way with women and the looks that followed him round the room proved it. Yet it wasn’t the young and lovely who received the full blast of his attentive smiles. The smiling, elegant pair they’d just left were in their seventies at least.

  Dario was no longer the man she knew and distrusted. That unnerved her.

  ‘You said we had to be seen together,’ she whispered, ‘not that we’d be like conjoined twins the whole evening.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Alissa. No one will mistake us for siblings.’ His long fingers stroked the dark velvet at her waist and she sucked in a shocked breath. Such a tiny movement yet waves of pleasure radiated from his touch.

  ‘Now we’ve been seen and congratulated, perhaps we can leave?’ She stood rigid, locking her knees against the melting sensation that made her legs wobble as his hand idly circled.

  His arm dropped. Instantly she felt bereft.

  ‘No. I still have people to see.’ His expression was suddenly grim. Had she annoyed him? ‘If you would prefer not to accompany me…’

  ‘Yes.’ She sounded far too eager. ‘I’d prefer.’

  With a nod and a narrowing glance he turned and headed through the crowd. Alissa released her breath on a sigh. When she was with Dario she felt so unsettled. Even now she couldn’t tear her eyes from him. Yet it wasn’t distrust that kept her attention locked on him.

  It was something more primal. More personal.

  Her pulse revved as he turned and smiled at someone. His spare, sculpted good looks, his dark colouring might have been the inspiration for whoever invented the tuxedo. Surely no man had ever looked more elegant, more handsome, more dangerously powerful in such formal attire.

  ‘Your husband is very handsome, Signora Parisi.’

  Alissa blinked and looked up into the face of a gorgeous, elegant woman. Golden hair, stunning face. Eyes that were sharply assessing.

  ‘Thank you, Signorina…?’

  ‘Cipriani. Bianca Cipriani.’ She paused. ‘Your husband has a reputation for being ruthless. Many women would think twice before marrying such a man.’

  Alissa caught her breath. This woman was trouble, that was obvious. But how to escape her without making a scene?

  ‘All successful entrepreneurs are single-minded.’

  ‘But Dario is in a class alone when it comes to getting his own way, no matter the cost.’

  ‘What is it you want?’ Better to get this over quickly. She didn’t want a scene with a jealous ex-lover.

  ‘Just to give a friendly warning.’ The blonde’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you’re wise you won’t trust him with anything you value, like your heart or your life. He cares for nothing but his precious Parisi estate.’

  ‘Is that what happened to you?’ Despite her better judgement Alissa couldn’t quash the need to know.

  ‘Me?’ Bianca laughed. ‘Hardly. That’s the sort of woman your husband has always preferred.’ With a leaden sensation in her stomach Alissa followed her gesture.

  There was Dario, in intimate conversation with a gorgeous brunette. The woman looked like a model: tall, slim, with an air of fashionable languor and the serene face of a madonna. In her gown of silver gauze she was the perfect foil for Dari
o’s dark suit and lean good looks. He stood close, his body language proclaiming his interest.

  Bile rose in Alissa’s throat. She pressed a palm to her roiling stomach. The sight of Dario, fascinated by the dark-haired beauty, made her nauseous. Her breath shallowed, her hands grew clammy.

  These last weeks he’d sneaked under her defences, shattered her preconceived notions and made her doubt what she knew of him. More, he’d given her a taste of passion and foolishly she craved more. She was jealous of the brunette who so obviously intrigued him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Bianca’s words dragged her from her horrified stupor. ‘You’re very pale.’

  ‘I’m OK.’ Alissa turned her back on the perfect couple. She crushed stupid regret that she’d never be tall and glamorous, the sort of woman Dario found attractive.

  She should thank her lucky stars! An intimate relationship with him would be disastrous.

  ‘Why do you hate him?’

  The other woman straightened. ‘He killed my father.’

  ‘He what?’ She searched Bianca’s face but she looked utterly genuine. A chill slid through Alissa.

  ‘My father owned a company that once belonged to the Parisis. Dario was obsessed with acquiring it and everything else in the old Parisi estate.’ Her gaze flickered to Alissa. ‘When my father refused his offers Dario used other means to acquire it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The hairs stood up on the back of Alissa’s neck.

  Bianca shrugged. ‘Your husband is powerful. Suddenly there were problems on site, loan extensions cancelled. Pressure mounted from all sides. What was once a thriving business was reassessed at a fraction of its value. My father had to sell but he got a pittance for it. He felt he’d failed us. That’s when he took his life.’

  Dario’s skin prickled, senses alert as he felt her eyes on him. After weeks of repressed desire he recognised this heightened awareness instantly.