Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender
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She turned her back on him and stood looking out of his office window, the set of her spine as rigid as a plank. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Call me a nut job. You wouldn’t be the first.’
Angelo released a long breath. ‘Natalie … Why didn’t you tell me?’
She still stood looking out of the window with her back to him. ‘Hi, my name’s Natalie Armitage and I’m terrified of flying. Yeah, that would have really got your notice that night in the bar.’
‘What got my notice in that bar was your incredible eyes,’ he said. ‘And the fact that you stood up to that creep who was trying it on with you.’
He saw the slight softening of her spine and shoulders, as if the memory of that night had touched something deep inside her, unravelling one of the tight cords of resolve she had knotted in place. ‘You didn’t have to rescue me like some big macho caveman,’ she said after a short pause. ‘I could’ve taken care of it myself.’
‘I was brought up to respect and protect women,’ Angelo said. ‘That guy was a drunken fool. I enjoyed hauling him out to the street. He was lucky I didn’t rearrange his teeth for him. God knows I was tempted.’
She turned and looked at him, her expression still intractable. ‘I don’t want to fly, Angelo,’ she said. ‘It’s easy enough to drive. It’ll only take a couple of days. I’ll make my own way there if you can’t spare the time.’
Angelo studied her dark blue gaze. He saw the usual obstinacy glittering there, but behind that was a flicker of fear—like a stagehand peeping out from behind the curtains to check on the audience. It made him wonder if he had truly known her five years ago. He had thought he had her all figured out, but this was a facet to her personality he had never even suspected. He had always prided himself on his perspicuity, on his ability to read people and situations. But he could see now that reading Natalie was like reading a complex multilayered book.
‘I’ll be with you the whole time,’ he said. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’
‘That’s hardly reassuring,’ she said with a cynical look, ‘considering this whole marriage thing you’ve set up is a plot for revenge.’
‘My intention is not for you to suffer,’ he said.
Her chin came up and her eyes flashed again. ‘Oh, really?’
Angelo drew in a breath and released it forcefully as he went back behind his desk. He gripped the back of his chair as he faced her. ‘Why must you search for nefarious motives in everything I do or say?’
She gave a little scoffing laugh. ‘Pardon me for being a little suspicious, but you’re surely not going to tell me you still care about me after all this time?’
Angelo’s fingers dug deeper into the leather of his chair until his knuckles whitened. He didn’t love her. He refused to love her. She had betrayed him. He was not going to forgive and forget that in a hurry. But he would have her. That was different. That had nothing to do with emotions.
He deliberately relaxed his grasp and sat down. ‘We have unfinished business,’ he said. ‘I knew that the minute you walked in that door yesterday.’
‘You’re imagining things,’ she said.
He put up one brow. ‘Am I?’
She held his gaze for a beat, before she lowered it to focus on the glass paperweight on his desk. ‘How long do you think this marriage will last?’ she asked.
‘It can last as long as we want it to,’ Angelo said.
Her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t you mean as long as you want it to?’ she asked.
He gave a little up and down movement of his right shoulder. ‘You ended things the last time,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it fair that I be the one to do so this time around?’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I ended things because it was time to move on,’ she said. ‘We were fighting all the time. It wasn’t a love match. It was a battlefield.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Angelo said. ‘What are you talking about, Natalie? All couples fight. It’s part and parcel of being in a relationship. There are always little power struggles. It’s what makes life interesting.’
‘That might have been the way you were brought up, but it certainly wasn’t the way I was,’ she said.
He studied her expression again, noting all the little nuances of her face: the way she chewed at the inside of her mouth but tried to hide it, the way her eyes flickered away from his but then kept tracking back, as if they were being pulled by a magnetic force, and the way her finely boned jaw tightened when she was feeling cornered.
‘How were you brought up to resolve conflict?’ he asked.
She reached for her bag and got to her feet. ‘Look, I have a train to catch,’ she said. ‘I have a hundred and one things to see to.’
‘Why didn’t you drive down from Edinburgh?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t suddenly developed a fear of driving too, have you?’
Her eyes hardened resentfully. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I like travelling by train. I can read or sketch or listen to music. I find driving requires too much concentration—especially in a city as crowded as London. Besides, it’s better for the environment. I want to reduce my carbon footprint.’
Angelo rose to his feet and joined her at the door, placing his hand on the doorknob to stop her escaping. ‘I’ll need you to sign some papers in the next day or two.’
Her chin came up. The hard glitter was back in her gaze. ‘A prenuptial agreement?’
He glanced at her mouth. He ached to feel it move under the pressure of his. He could feel the surge of his blood filling him with urgent, ferocious need.
‘Yes,’ he said, meeting her gaze again. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘No,’ she said, eyeballing him right back. ‘I’ll have one of my own drawn up. I’m not letting you take away everything I’ve worked so hard for.’
He smiled and tapped her gently on the end of her nose. ‘Touché,’ he said.
She blinked at him, looking flustered and disorientated. ‘I—I have to go,’ she said, and made a grab for the doorknob.
Angelo captured her hand within his. Her small, delicate fingers were dwarfed by the thickness and length and strength of his. He watched her eyes widen as he slowly brought her hand up to his mouth. He stopped before making contact with his lips, just a hair’s breadth from touching. He watched as her throat rose and fell. He felt the jerky little gust of her cinnamon-scented breath. He saw her glance at his mouth, saw too the quick nervous dart of her tongue as she swept it out over her lips.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, dropping her hand and opening the door for her. ‘Ciao.’
She brushed past him in the doorway and without a single word of farewell she left.
CHAPTER THREE
‘CONGRATULATIONS,’ said Linda, Natalie’s assistant, the following morning when she arrived at work.
‘Pardon?’
Linda held up a newspaper. ‘Talk about keeping your cards close to your chest,’ she said. ‘I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.’
‘I’m …’ Natalie took the paper and quickly scanned it. There was a short paragraph about Angelo and her and their upcoming nuptials. Angelo was quoted as saying he was thrilled they were back together and how much he was looking forward to being married next week.
‘Is it true or is it a prank?’ Linda asked.
Natalie put the paper down on the counter. ‘It’s true,’ she said, chewing at her bottom lip.
‘Pardon me if I’m overstepping the mark here, but you don’t look too happy about it,’ Linda said.
Natalie forced a smile to her face. ‘Sorry, it’s just been such a pain … er … keeping it quiet until now,’ she said, improvising as she went. ‘We didn’t want anyone to speculate about us getting back together until we were sure it was what we both wanted.’
‘Gosh, how romantic!’ Linda said. ‘A secret relationship.’
‘Not so secret now,’ Natalie said a little ruefully as her stomach tied itself in knots. How was she going to cope with the constant press attention? They would swarm about her like bees. Angelo was used to being chased by the paparazzi. He was used to cameras flashing in his face and articles being written that were neither true nor false but somewhere in between.
She liked her privacy. She guarded it fiercely. Now she would be thrust into the public arena not for her designs and her talent but for whom she was sleeping with.
Her stomach gave another little shuffle. Not that she would be actually sleeping with Angelo. She was determined not to give in to that particular temptation. Her body might still have some sort of programmed response to him, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to it.
She could be strong.
She would be strong.
And determined.
He wouldn’t find her so easy to seduce this time around. She had been young and relatively inexperienced five years ago. She was older and wiser now. She hadn’t fallen in love with him before and she wasn’t about to fall in love with him now. He would be glad to call an end to their marriage before a month or two. She couldn’t see him tolerating her intransigence for very long. He was used to getting his own way. He wanted a submissive, I’ll-do-anything-to-please-you wife.
There wasn’t a bone in Natalie’s body that would bend to any man’s will, and certainly not to Angelo Bellandini’s.
‘These came for you while you were at the lawyer’s,’ Linda said when Natalie came back to the studio a couple of hours later.
Natalie looked at the massive bunch of blood-red roses elegantly wrapped and ribboned, their intoxicating clove-like perfume filling the air.
‘Aren’t you going to read the card?’ Linda asked.
‘Er … yes,’ Natalie said unpinning the envelope from the cellophane and tissue wrap. She took the card out and read: See you tonight, Angelo.
‘From Angelo?’ Linda asked.
‘Yes,’ Natalie said, frowning.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re frowning.’
She quickly relaxed her features. ‘I’ve got a few things to see to in my office at home. Do you mind holding the fort here for the rest of the day?’
‘Not at all,’ Linda said. ‘I guess you’ll have to leave me in charge when you go on your honeymoon, right?’
Natalie gave her a tight on-off smile as she grabbed her bag and put the strap over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’ll be away very long,’ she said.
‘Aren’t you going to take the roses with you?’ Linda asked.
Natalie turned back and scooped them up off the counter. ‘Good idea,’ she said, and left.
Angelo looked at the three-storey house in a leafy street in the well-to-do Edinburgh suburb of Morningside. It had a gracious elegance about it that reminded him of Natalie immediately. Even the garden seemed to reflect parts of her personality. The neatly clipped hedges and the meticulous attention to detail in plants and their colour and placement bore witness to a young woman who liked order and control.
He smiled to himself as he thought how annoyed she would be at the way things were now out of her control. He had the upper hand and he was going to keep it. He would enjoy watching her squirm. He had five years of bitterness to avenge. Five years of hating her, five years of wanting her, five years of being tortured by memories of her body in his arms.
Five years of trying to replace her.
He put his finger to the highly polished brass doorbell. A chime-like sound rang out, and within a few seconds he heard the click-clack of her heels as she came to answer its summons. He could tell she was angry. He braced himself for the blast.
‘How dare you release something to the press without checking with me first?’ she said as her opening gambit.
‘Hello, cara,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’
She glowered at him as she all but slammed the door once he had stepped over its threshold. ‘You had no right to say anything to anyone,’ she said. ‘I was followed home by paparazzi. I had cameras going off in my face as soon as I left my studio. I almost got my teeth knocked out by one of their microphones.’
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I’m so used to it I hardly notice it any more. Do you want me to get you a bodyguard? I should’ve thought of it earlier.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course I don’t want a bloody bodyguard!’ she said. ‘I just want this to go away. I want all of this to go away.’
‘It’s not going to go away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to go away.’
She continued to glare at him. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m here to take you out to dinner.’
‘What if I’m not hungry?’
‘Then you can sit and watch me eat,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be fun?’
‘You are totally sick—do you know that?’ she said.
‘Did you like the roses?’
She turned away from him and began stalking down the wide corridor. ‘I hate hothouse flowers,’ she said. ‘They have no scent.’
‘I didn’t buy you hothouse flowers,’ he said. ‘I had those roses shipped in from a private gardener.’
She gave a dismissive grunt and pushed open a door leading to a large formal sitting room. Again the attention to detail was stunning. Beautifully co-ordinated colours and luxurious fabrics, plush sofas and crystal chandeliers. Timeless antiques cleverly teamed with modern pieces—old-world charm and modern chic that somehow worked together brilliantly.
‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked uncharitably.
‘What are you having?’
She threw him a speaking glance. ‘I was thinking along the lines of cyanide,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘Not quite to my taste, mia piccola,’ he said. ‘Can I have a soda and lime?’
She went to a bar fridge that was hidden behind an art deco cabinet. He heard the rattle of ice cubes and the fizz of the soda water and then the plop of a slice of lime. She fixed her own glass of white wine before she turned and passed his drink to him with a combative look on her face.
‘I hope it chokes you,’ she said.
He lifted the glass against hers in a salute and said, ‘To a long and happy marriage.’
Her gaze wrestled with his. ‘I’m not drinking to that.’
‘What will you drink to?’
She clanged her glass against his. ‘To freedom,’ she said, and took a sip.
Angelo watched her as she moved across the room, her body movements stiff and unfriendly. She took another couple of sips of her drink, grimacing distastefully as if she wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. ‘I drove past your studio on the way here,’ he said. ‘Very impressive.’
She gave him a quick off-hand glance over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’
‘I have a project for you, if you’re interested,’ he said.
She turned and looked at him fully. ‘What sort of project?’
‘A big one,’ he said. ‘It’s worth a lot of money. Good exposure for you, too. It will bring you contacts from all over Europe.’
She stood very still before him, barely moving a muscle apart from the little hammer beat of tension at the base of her throat. ‘Go on,’ she said, with that same look of wariness in her gaze.
‘I have a holiday villa in Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast,’ he said. ‘I bought another property nearby for a song a few months back. I’m turning it into a luxury hotel. I’m just about done with the structural repairs. Now it’s time for the interior makeover. I thought it would be a good project for you to take on once we are married.’
‘Why do you want me to do it?’ she asked.
‘You’re good at what you do,’ he said.
Her mouth thinned in cynicism. ‘And you want a carrot to dangle in front of me in case I happen to find a last-minute escape route?’
‘You won’t find an escape route,’ he said. ‘If you’re a good girl I might even consider using your linen exclusively in all of my hotels. But only if you behave yourself.’
The look she gave him glittered with hatred. ‘You’ve certainly got blackmail down to a science,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise you were this ruthless five years ago.’
‘I wasn’t,’ he said, taking another leisurely sip of his drink.
She tightened her mouth. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said. ‘I have a lot of work on just now.’
‘How capable is your assistant?’ Angelo asked.
‘Very capable,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of promoting her. I need someone to handle the international end of things.’
‘It must be quite limiting, not being able to do the travelling yourself,’ he said.
She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive manner. ‘I manage.’
Angelo picked up a small photo frame from an intricately carved drum table next to where he was standing. ‘Is this Lachlan as a toddler?’ he asked.
Her deep blue gaze flickered with something as she glanced at the photo. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not.’
Angelo put the frame back on the table and, pushing back his sleeve, glanced at his watch. ‘We should get going,’ he said. ‘I’ve booked the restaurant for eight.’
‘I told you I’m not having dinner with you,’ she said.
‘And I told you to behave yourself,’ he tossed back. ‘You will join me for dinner and you will look happy about it. I don’t care how you act in private, but in public you will at all times act like a young woman who is deeply in love. If you put even one toe of one foot out of line your brother will pay the price.’
She glared at him, her whole body bristling with anger. ‘I’ve never been in love before, so how am I going to pull that act off with any authenticity?’ she asked.
Angelo gave her a steely look. ‘Make it up as you go along,’ he said, and put his glass down with a dull thud next to the photo frame. ‘I’ll be waiting outside in the car.’
Natalie waited until he had left the room before she picked up his glass. She mopped up the circle of condensation left on the leather top of the table with the heel of her hand and then wiped her hand against her churning stomach.
Her eyes went to the photo of Liam. He was standing on the beach with a bucket and spade in his dimpled hands, his cherubic face smiling for the camera. It had been taken just hours before he died. She remembered how excited he had been about the shells he had found. She remembered the sandcastle they had built together. She remembered how they had come back to the pool with their parents to rinse off. She remembered how her mother had gone inside for a rest and her father had left her with Liam while he made an important phone call …
She gently straightened the photo frame with fingers that were not quite steady. And then, with a sigh that burned like a serrated knife inside her chest, she went to get ready for dinner.
The restaurant Angelo had booked was a popular one that attracted the rich and the famous. Natalie had been a couple of times before, but no one had taken much notice of her. This time everyone looked and pointed as she came into the restaurant under Angelo’s escort. A couple of people even took photos with their phones.
She tried to ignore the feel of his hand at her back. It was barely touching her but it felt like a brand. She could feel the tensile strength of him in that feather-light touch. It was a heady reminder of the sensual power he had over her.
Still had over her.
The maître d’ led them to a table and then bustled off to fetch drinks after he had handed them both menus.
She buried her head in the menu even though she had no appetite. The words were just a blur in front of her. She blinked and tried to focus. A week ago she wouldn’t have dreamed it possible for her to be sitting with Angelo in a restaurant. Ever since their break-up she had kept her distance both physically and mentally. But now she was back in his world and she wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of it. How long would their marriage last, given the irreconcilable differences between them? He had loved her once, but he certainly wasn’t motivated by love now. Revenge was his goal.
It had taken five years for the planets to align in his favour, but Lachlan had provided the perfect set-up for him to make her pay for leaving him. A man as proud and powerful as he was would not be satisfied until he had settled the score. How long would he insist on her staying with him? He surely wouldn’t tie himself indefinitely to a loveless marriage. He was an only child. He was thirty-three years old—almost thirty-four. He would want children in the not too distant future. He would hardly want her to be the mother of his heirs. He would want someone biddable and obedient. Someone who would grace his many homes with poise and grace. Someone who wouldn’t argue with him or question his opinions. Someone who would love him without reservation.
‘Are you still a strict vegetarian?’ Angelo asked.
Natalie looked at him over the top of the menu. ‘I occasionally eat chicken and fish,’ she confessed a little sheepishly.
His dark brows lifted. ‘You were so passionate back then.’
She lowered her gaze to the menu again. ‘Yes, well, I was young and full of ideals back then. I’ve realised since that life is not so black and white.’
‘What else have you changed your mind about?’ he asked.
She put the menu to one side. ‘I haven’t changed that much,’ she said.
‘Meaning you still don’t want children?’
Natalie felt the all too familiar pain seize her. She thought of Isabel’s little newborn daughter Imogen, of how it had felt to hold her in her arms just a couple of weeks ago—the soft sweet smell, the tiny little starfish hands that had gripped hers so firmly. It had brought guilt down on her like a guillotine.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t changed my mind about that.’
‘So you’re still the high-powered career girl?’ he said.
She picked up her glass and raised it in a salute. ‘That’s me.’
His dark brown eyes kept holding hers. ‘What about when you’re older?’ he asked. ‘You’re young now, but what about when your biological clock starts to ramp up its ticking?’
‘Not every woman is cut out to be a mother,’ she said. ‘I’m not good with kids. I think I must have missed out on the maternal gene.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘I accept that there are some women who genuinely don’t want to have children, but you’re a born nurturer. Look at the way you’re prepared to put your neck on the line for your brother.’
She gave a careless shrug. ‘I hate the thought of ruining my figure,’ she said. ‘I don’t want stretch marks or sagging boobs.’
He made a sound at the back of his throat. ‘For God’s sake, Natalie, surely you’re not that shallow?’
She met his gaze levelly. ‘No, but I’m convinced some of your recent lovers have been.’
He gave her a glinting smile. ‘So you’ve been keeping track of me over the years, have you, cara?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ she said, looking away again. ‘It is of no interest to me whatsoever who you sleep with. I have no hold over you. We dated. We broke up. That’s it as far as I’m concerned.’
‘We didn’t just date,’ he said. ‘We lived together for five and a half months.’
Natalie picked up her drink, just for something to do with her hands. ‘I only moved in with you because my flatmate’s boyfriend moved in with us and made me feel I was in the way,’ she said. ‘Anyway, five months is not a long time compared to some relationships.’
‘It was a long time for me.’
‘Only because you’ve been playing musical beds since you were a teenager,’ she said.
‘Now who’s talking?’ he asked, with a diamond-hard glitter in his gaze as it clashed with hers.
Natalie wasn’t ashamed of her past, but she wasn’t proud of it either. While not exactly a constant bed-hopper, like some of her peers, she had occasionally used sex as a way to bolster her self-esteem. But the physical sensations had meant nothing to her until she had met Angelo. Not that she had ever told him. While she had been totally open with him physically, emotionally she had always held him slightly distant. She wondered if that was why he had found her so attractive. He was used to women falling head over heels in love with him and telling him so right from the start.