The Sicilian's Christmas Bride

He saw her stiffen. She probably wanted to run, but she didn’t. Instead, she raised her chin, squared her shoulders and stepped inside the bank. He had to admire her courage, the way she was girding herself for confrontation.

She had no way of knowing that nothing she could do would be enough. The news he was going to give her was bad, and it delighted him to do it.

“Hello, Dante.”

Her voice trembled. Her face had taken on some color, though it was still pale. Three years. Three years since he’d seen her…

And she was still beautiful.

More beautiful than his memory of her, if that were possible. Was it time that had made her mouth seem even softer, her eyes wider and darker?

Still, time had not been completely kind. It had affected her in other ways.

Purple shadows lay beneath her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in an unbecoming knot and he had the indefensible urge to close the distance between them, take out the pins and let all those lustrous cinnamon strands tumble free.

He let his gaze move over her slowly, from her face all the way to her feet and back again. A frown creased his forehead. He’d never seen her in anything but elegantly tailored clothing. Designer suits and gowns, spiked heels that could give a man dangerous fantasies, her face perfectly made up, her hair impeccably cut and styled.

Things were different now. The lapels of her coat were frayed. Her boots were the no-nonsense kind meant for rough weather. Her hair was in that ridiculous knot and her face was bare of everything but lipstick—lipstick and the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes.

He spoke without thinking. “What’s happened to you?” he said sharply. “Have you been ill?”

“How nice of you to ask.”

She was still pale but her gaze was steady and her words were brittle with sarcasm. He moved quickly; before she could step back he was a breath away, his hand wrapped around her arm.

“I asked you a question. Answer it.”

A flush rose in her cheeks. “I’m not ill. I’m simply living in the real world. It’s a place where people work hard for what they have. Where you can’t just snap your fingers and expect everyone to leap to do your bidding, but then, what would you know of such things?”

What, indeed? It was none of her business, of anyone’s business, that he’d started his life scrounging for money, that he’d worked his hands raw in construction jobs when he came to the States, or that he could still remember what it was like to go to sleep hungry.

He’d never snapped his fingers and never would, but he’d be damned if he’d explain that to anyone.

“And your lover? He permits this?”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “My what?”

“Another question you don’t want to answer. That’s all right. I have plenty of time.”

Tally wrenched free of his grasp. “I’m the one with questions, Dante. What are you doing here?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a long time, cara.” A slow smile that turned her blood to ice eased across his lips. “Surely, we have other things to talk about first.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“But we do. You know that.”

She didn’t know anything. That was the problem. What did he know? Did he know about Sam? She didn’t think so. Surely, he’d have tossed that at her already, if he did.

Then, what did he want? He wasn’t here for a visit. He hadn’t bought the Shelby bank on a whim…

The loan. Her loan. Oh God, oh God…

“Ah,” he said slyly, “your face is an open book. Have you thought of some things we might wish to discuss?”

She couldn’t let him see her fear. There had to be some way she could gain the upper hand.

“What I know,” Tally said, “is that we never talked in the past. We went to dinner, to parties…” She took a steadying breath. “And we went to bed.”

His mouth twisted. Had she struck a nerve?

“I’m glad you remember that.”

“Is that why you came here, Dante? To remind me that we used to have sex together? Or to ask why I left you?” Somehow, she managed a chilly smile. “Really, I thought you’d understand. My note—”

“Your note was a bad joke.”

Tally shrugged her shoulders. “It was honest. Or did it never occur to you that a woman is no different from a man? I mean, yes, we can pretend in ways a man can’t, but sooner or later, things grow, well, old.”

Dante’s face contorted with anger. “You’re a liar!”

“Come on, admit it. We’d been together for months. It was fun for a long time but then—”

She gasped as he caught hold of her and encircled her throat with his hand.

“I remember how you were in bed,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Are you telling me it was all a performance?”

He tugged her closer, until her body brushed his and she had to tilt back her head to look into his eyes. It was deliberate, damn him, a way of emphasizing his strength, his size, his domination.

God, how she hated him! Three years, three endless years, and he was still furious because she’d walked out on him, but she’d done what she had to do to survive. To protect her secret from his unpredictable Sicilian ego.

“You were fire in my arms.” His eyes, the color of smoke, locked on hers. She tried to look away but his hand was like a collar around her throat. When he urged her chin up, she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You cried out as I came inside you. Your womb contracted around me. Would you have me believe you faked that, too?”

“Is it impossible for you to be a gentleman?” Tally said, hating herself for the way her voice shook.

His smile was slow and sexy and so dangerous it made her heartbeat quicken.

“But I was a gentleman with you. Was that a mistake? Perhaps you didn’t want a gentleman in your bed.” She gasped as he forced her head back. “Is that why you ran away in the middle of the night?”

“I left you, period. Don’t make it sound so dramatic.”

“Left me for what, exactly? The glory of an existence in the middle of nowhere? A bank account with nothing in it?” His tone turned silken. “I think not, cara. I think you left me for a new lover who isn’t a gentleman at all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He thrust his fingers into her hair. The pins that held it confined clattered sharply against the marble floor as the strands of gold-burnished cinnamon came loose and fell over her shoulders.

“Is that it? Was I too gentle with you?” He wound her hair around his fist and lowered his head until his face was an inch from hers. “Had you hoped I would do things to you, demand things of you, that people only whisper about?”

“Dante. This is—It’s crazy. I don’t—I didn’t…” She swallowed dryly. “Let me go.”

She’d meant the words to be a command. Instead, they were a whisper. He smiled with amusement, and she felt an electric jolt in her blood.

“I said, let go…Or did you come here thinking you could bully me back into your arms?”

His eyes grew dark; she saw his mouth twist. The seconds ticked away and then, when her heart seemed ready to leap from her breast, he thrust her from him, stepped back and folded his arms.

“Never that,” he said coolly. “And you’re right. Things were over between us. I knew it. In fact, that was the reason I went to see you that night. I wanted to tell you we were finished.” He gave a quick smile. “As you say, cara, things get old.”

She’d known the truth but hearing it made it worse. Still, she showed no reaction. He wanted her to squirm, and she’d be damned if she would.

“Is that what this is about? That the great Dante Russo wants to be sure I understand I made the first move only because your timing was off?”

Dante chuckled. “Bright as always, Taylor—though you surely don’t believe I bought this bank and made this trip only so I could tell you it was pure luck you ended our affair before I did.”

Tally moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She was dying inside, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know it.

“No. I’m not that naive. You bought the bank because—” Desperately, she ran through the terms of the loan in her mind. Could he do that? Could he cancel what Dennison had already approved? “Because you think you can cancel my loan.”

“Think?” he said, very softly. “You underestimate me. I can do whatever I wish, but canceling a loan that already exists would take more time and effort than it’s worth.” He smiled. “So I’m going to do the next best thing. I’m reinstating the original repayment terms.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Reinstating them?” she said stupidly. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, cara,” he said, almost gently. “As of now, you will pay the amount you are supposed to pay each month.”

Tally thought of the four-figure number the loan called for. She was paying a quarter of that amount now, and barely managing it.

“That’s—it’s out of the question. I can’t possibly—”

“Additionally, you will pay the amount that’s in arrears.” He took a slip of paper from his pocket and held it out toward her. His lips curved. “Plus interest, of course.”

Tally looked at the number on the paper and laughed. It was either that or weep.

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Ah.” Dante sighed. “I thought not. In that case, you leave me no choice but to start foreclosure proceedings against your home.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Foreclosure proceedings?”

“This was a home equity loan. You put up your house as collateral.” Another quick, icy smile. “If you don’t understand what that means, perhaps your lover can explain it to you.”

“Are you crazy?” Tally’s voice rose. “You can’t do this! You can’t take my house. You can’t!” Her hands came up like a fighter’s, fists at the ready as if she would beat him into understanding the horror of his plan. “Damn you, there are rules!”

“You’ve forgotten what you know about me,” Dante said coldly. “I make my own rules.”

He proved it by gathering her into his arms and kissing her.

CHAPTER THREE

HE WAS KISSING HER, Dante told himself, because she’d lied to him a few minutes ago.

Why else would he want her in his arms, except to make her confess to the lie?

Taylor had never faked her responses in bed, and he’d be damned if he’d let her pretend she had.

He was over her, but she knew just the right buttons to push. Well, so did he. He’d kiss her until she melted against him the way she used to and then he’d step back and say, You see, Taylor? That’s the price liars pay.

Which was why he was kissing her.

Or trying to.

The problem was that he had cornered a wildcat. She fought back, twisted her head to the side to avoid his mouth and pummeled his shoulders with her fists.

When none of that worked, she sank her teeth in his ear lobe so hard he hissed with pain.

“Damn you, woman!”

“Let go of me, you—you—”

Her fist flew by his jaw. Grimly, Dante snared both her hands in one of his and pinned them to his chest. Her knee came up but he felt it happening and yanked her hard against him to immobilize her. She was helpless now, pinned between him and the wall beside the double doors.

“Take your hands off me, Russo! If you don’t, so help me—”

“So help you, what? What will you do? How will you stop me from proving what a little liar you are?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am not a—”

He bent his head and captured her mouth with his. She nipped his lip, her teeth sharp as a cat’s. He tasted blood but if she thought that would stop him, she didn’t know him very well.

He would win this battle.

He had the right to know why she’d lied about what she’d felt when he made love to her. And to know why she’d left him.

He wanted answers and, damn it, he was going to get them.

He caught her face in his hands. Kissed her again, angling his mouth over hers, penetrating her with his tongue. He remembered how she’d loved it when he kissed her this way. Deep. Wet. Hot. He’d loved kisses like this, too…

He still did.

Dio, the feel of her in his arms. Her breasts, soft against his chest. Her hips, cradling his erection.

He wanted her, and it had nothing to do with anger.

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