Bound To The Billionaire: Captive in His Castle / In Petrakis's Power / The Count's Prize
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‘He’s in hospital, fighting for his life.’
Jess froze. Her anger and incomprehension that Angelo had not been honest with her faded and she felt as if an ice cube had slithered down her spine. She was shocked to hear that he had a family and dumbstruck by the revelation that he was connected to the famous Cassa di Cassari luxury Italian homeware brand. The whole thing was unbelievable, and if it wasn’t for the photo of him on Drago Cassari’s phone she would have assumed it was a case of mistaken identity. But the news that Angelo was in hospital was more shocking than anything.
‘Why…? I mean, is he ill?’ She felt guilty that she had not reported Angelo missing. He was a nice guy, and she should have realised that he would not have moved out of her flat without saying goodbye.
‘He was in a car accident. He suffered a serious head injury and has been unconscious for three days.’
Drago Cassari spoke in a controlled voice, but when Jess looked closely at him she saw lines of strain around his eyes.
She felt sick as she pictured Angelo the last time she had seen him, the evening before he had disappeared. She had cooked dinner—only omelettes, which was all her limited culinary skills could manage—and he had been flatteringly appreciative and afterwards helped with the washing up. She had been surprised to find he was gone the following morning, but she had assumed he was used to being alone, just as she was, and hadn’t thought to inform her he was going away. As the days had passed she had started to worry, though—independent as he was, he was still young.
Drago Cassari’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘I’ve come to ask if you will visit him in hospital. The longer he remains unconscious the more chance there is that he will have permanent brain damage.’
‘He’s that seriously hurt?’ Jess swallowed as she imagined Angelo injured and unconscious. A memory flashed into her mind of seeing Daniel in Intensive Care after he had been knocked off his push-bike by a speeding car. He had looked so peaceful, as if he was asleep, but the nurse had said he was only being kept alive by the machine that was breathing for him and that he was showing no signs of brain activity. Jess had understood that Daniel was seriously injured but she hadn’t expected him to die. He had only been sixteen. Even eight years later, thinking about it brought a lump to her throat.
Could Angelo die? The thought was too awful to contemplate, but from his cousin’s grave expression it was clearly a possibility.
‘Of course I’ll visit him,’ she said huskily. She had no idea why Angelo had told her he was alone and destitute, but the mystery of why he had lied wasn’t important when his life was at risk.
She stared at the man who said he was Angelo’s cousin and saw a faint resemblance between the two men. Both had olive skin and dark, almost black hair. But, unlike Angelo’s untidy curls, Drago Cassari’s hair was straight and sleek, cut short to reveal the chiselled bone structure of his features. And whilst Angelo could be described as boyishly attractive, with his soulful eyes and gentle smile, his older cousin was the most striking, lethally sexy man Jess had ever met.
His face was cruelly beautiful—hard and angular, with slashing cheekbones and eyes the colour of ebony beneath heavy brows. His jaw was square and his mouth unsmiling, yet the curve of his lips was innately sensual. Jess could not stop staring at his mouth—could not prevent herself from wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him. She knew without understanding how she knew that his lips would be firm and he would demand total capitulation to his mastery.
Her wayward thoughts were so unexpected that she almost gasped out loud. Her gaze was drawn upwards to his eyes and she saw something flicker in their inky-dark depths that evoked a curious dragging ache deep in her pelvis. Shaken, she looked away from him and snatched a breath.
‘Of course I’ll come to the hospital,’ she repeated. ‘I’ll just get some clothes on.’
As the words left her mouth she became acutely conscious that she was naked beneath her bathrobe. She stiffened as Drago Cassari subjected her to an intent scrutiny. She had the feeling that he was mentally stripping her, and she clutched the edges of the robe together, hoping he could not guess how fast her heart was beating.
The glitter in his dark eyes warned her that he was fully aware of his effect on her. She felt herself blush and wondered why she was behaving so strangely. She worked in an all-male environment and was regarded as ‘one of the lads’ by her team of workmen. Only once in her life had she been sexually attracted to a man, and the experience had left her with emotional scars that would never completely heal. Since then she had been too busy with her job to have time for relationships—and maybe too scared, she acknowledged honestly. She did not respond to men on a sexual level, and she was shocked by her reaction to a stranger—even if he was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on.
Drago Cassari wasn’t a stranger; he was Angelo’s cousin, she reminded herself. She felt ashamed for indulging in inappropriate thoughts about him when Angelo was in a critical condition. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the unsettling thought that she did not want to be alone with a man who exuded such raw sexual magnetism and pulled the door open fully to allow him to enter her flat.
‘Do you want to come in and wait? It’ll only take me a minute to change.’
‘Thank you.’ He stepped through the doorway and instantly seemed to dominate the narrow hall. He must be several inches over six feet tall, Jess estimated. The fact that he was dressed entirely in black—jeans, shirt and leather jacket—accentuated his height and powerful physique. Standing so close to him, she caught the sensual musk of his aftershave, and she felt a tingling sensation in her nipples as they hardened and rubbed against the towelling robe.
Horrified that she seemed powerless to control her reaction to him, she led the way down the hall and ushered him into the sitting room. ‘If you would like to wait in here, I won’t be long.’
‘While you are getting ready I’ll call the hospital for an update on Angelo’s condition.’ He glanced up from his phone. ‘I hope your passport is valid.’
Halfway out of the room, Jess paused and gave him a bemused look. ‘Why do I need my passport to visit a hospital? Where is Angelo, anyway? The Royal Free Hospital is the closest to here.’ She hesitated. ‘But I don’t know where the accident happened. Was it locally?’
Drago had walked across the spacious sitting room to stand by the window. The view of the leafy suburb of Hampstead was charming. Glancing around the room, he was impressed with the excellent quality of the décor and furnishings, which reinforced his opinion that Jess Harper must have a lucrative career to be able to afford this stylish apartment.
He turned his head and it seemed to Jess his black eyes bored into her very soul. ‘It happened in Italy,’ he said flatly. ‘On the highway between the airport and Venice. I assume Angelo was coming home, but he never made it. He’s being cared for at a hospital in Mestre, which is on the mainland of Venice.’
His phone buzzed and he looked down at the screen. ‘I’ve had a message to say that my plane has been refuelled. Can you be ready to leave for the airport in five minutes?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘AIRPORT!’ AS THE meaning of Drago Cassari’s words slowly sank in Jess shook her head. ‘I can’t go to Venice!’
In a minute she would wake up and find she’d been having a crazy dream, she thought dazedly. Maybe the six double-shot espressos she’d drunk during the day instead of eating a proper lunch were causing her to have strange hallucinations—because this could not be happening.
‘Don’t you care about Angelo? I thought you had a close relationship with him.’
Drago’s harsh voice broke the silence, forcing Jess to accept that he was not a figment of her imagination.
‘Of course I care that he’s hurt,’ she said quickly. ‘But I wouldn’t say that we have a close relationship, exactly. I’ve only known him since he started working for me about two months ago.’
‘He worked for you?’ It was Drago’s turn to look puzzled. ‘What kind of work? I was informed that you are a painter.’ Into his mind flashed a startling image of his cousin posing for her. ‘Did Angelo model for you?’
‘Hardly,’ Jess said drily. Crossing the room, she took a business card from the desk and handed it to him. ‘I paint houses, Mr Cassari, not masterpieces.’
The card read ‘T&J Decorators’ and gave a phone number and a website address. Drago glanced at it and then looked back Jess, struck once again by her petite stature and fragile build. The notion that she was a manual labourer was ridiculous.
‘Do you mean you are an interior designer for this decorating company? Or do you deal with office administration? I find it hard to believe that you actually paint walls for a living.’
Jess was irritated by the note of disdain she was sure she heard in his voice. ‘I do some general decorating, but as a matter of fact I’m a trained chippie—a carpenter,’ she explained when he frowned. ‘I also act as site foreman and make sure that my workmen finish their contracts on time and follow safety procedures.’
His black brows lifted. ‘It seems an unusual career choice for a woman.’
She was tempted to tell him that very few careers were available to someone who had flunked school and failed to gain any academic qualifications. She would have loved to train to be an interior designer, but most people working in the industry had an art degree, and she had more chance of flying to the moon than going to university.
‘And you’re saying that you employed Angelo as a decorator?’ Now Drago’s tone was sceptical. ‘Why would he choose to work as a labourer when he belongs to one of the wealthiest families in Italy?’
‘You tell me.’ The situation was growing more bizarre by the minute, Jess thought. ‘I took him on because I was short of staff. To be honest he was pretty hopeless at decorating, but he said he had no money and nowhere to live and I felt sorry for him. I told him he could stay with me until he could afford to rent his own place.’
Drago’s expression became blatantly cynical. ‘Why would you do that for someone you barely knew?’
‘Because I know what it’s like to reach rock-bottom.’ Unbeknown to Jess her eyes darkened to deep jade as she recalled the despair she had once felt. There had been a time when she had felt she had nothing to live for—until her wonderful foster-parents had given her a home and a future.
She had sensed despair in Angelo and had wanted to help him as she had been helped by Margaret and Ted Robbins. But now she felt a fool. Why had he made up all that stuff about being poor and homeless when, according to Drago Cassari, Angelo came from a wealthy family?
She stared at Angelo’s cousin, her mind reeling. ‘How do you know about me?’ she demanded, unsettled by his statement that he had been given information about her. It almost sounded as though he had asked someone to investigate her. The situation was so unreal that anything seemed possible.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘Angelo spoke about you to his mother, and obviously he gave her the address of where he was living in London.
‘Oh…yes, I suppose he would have done.’
Drago studied Jess Harper speculatively for a few moments. He had no intention of revealing that he knew Angelo had given her money. He did not understand what was going on, and until he had more facts he did not want to give away too much. He checked his watch. ‘We need to be going.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you.’ Jess bit her lip. She felt terrible about Angelo, but disappearing off to Italy simply wasn’t an option. ‘I have a business to run—we’re behind schedule on our current contract and I can’t—’
‘He spoke your name.’ Drago cut her off in a driven voice. His accent was suddenly very pronounced, as if he was struggling to control his emotions. ‘This morning Angelo roused very briefly and he asked for you.’
He walked towards her, his midnight-dark eyes never leaving her face. ‘You might be his best hope of recovery. Hearing your voice might be the key that will release him from his prison and bring him back to his family.’
Jess swallowed. ‘Mr Cassari…’
‘Drago,’ he said huskily. ‘You are Angelo’s friend, so I think we should dispense with formalities.’
He halted in front of her and Jess had to tilt her head to look up at his face. She felt overwhelmed by his height and sheer physical presence. Her heart slammed against her ribs when he laid a finger lightly across her lips to prevent her from speaking.
‘Please, Jess. Angelo needs you. I need you to come with me. I think of him as my brother, even my son—for since his father died I have tried to be a father to him.’
Dear heaven, how could she refuse such a heartfelt entreaty? The raw emotion in Drago’s voice made Jess’s heart ache. Only a few days ago she had listened to Angelo playing his guitar, but now he was fighting for his life. She thought of Daniel, who had never regained consciousness. Surely if there was a chance she could help Angelo she must try?
Her common sense argued that she would be crazy to agree to go away with a man she had never met before, but she was haunted by the image of Daniel the last time she had seen him. He had died a few hours after her visit. She hadn’t been allowed to attend his funeral—the head of the care home had decided it would be too upsetting—and so she had never had a chance to say goodbye.
‘All right,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll come. But I need to make some phone calls and arrange for someone to cover for me at work.’
Mike could take over as foreman while she was away. She trusted him, and knew he would push her team of decorators to get the contract finished. Thoughts raced through Jess’s head. She was fiercely proud of T&J Decorators and hated the thought of leaving it even for a few days. Like most businesses in the construction industry, the company had suffered because of the economic recession, but thankfully the windfall of money she had recently received meant that T&J was now financially stable—as long as she kept working hard and securing new contracts.
‘I can only be away for a couple of days,’ she warned.
She glanced at Drago and felt a tiny flicker of unease when she found him watching her intently. He was so big and imposing, and there was a faintly predatory expression in his eyes that made her think of a lethal jungle cat preparing to make a kill—and she was the prey. But when she blinked and refocused on him she cursed herself for being over-imaginative. His smile was dangerously attractive but the only thing she had to worry about was her unexpected reaction to him.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured in the husky accent that sent a shiver across her skin. ‘I hope that Angelo will respond when he hears your voice. When it is time for you to leave Italy I will arrange for you be flown home on my plane.’
Once the matter of Angelo’s missing inheritance fund had been resolved, Drago thought to himself. As Jess stepped away from him his eyes were drawn to the deep vee of her robe, which revealed the curve of her breasts, and he felt a sharp stab of desire in his gut as he imagined untying the belt around her slender waist and sliding his hand inside the towelling folds. The glimpse of her body evoked a picture in his mind of her lying beneath him, her milky-pale thighs entwined with his darker olive-toned limbs. Light and dark, soft and hard, fiery Latin male and cool English rose.
He met her startled gaze and was intrigued to see soft colour stain her cheeks. The mysterious alchemy of sexual attraction was impossible to explain, he mused. He recognised that she felt it as fiercely as he did, and under different circumstances he would have wasted no time in bedding her. But the circumstances could not be more wrong. His cousin was critically injured and, for all her apparent concern for Angelo, Jess Harper had a lot of explaining to do. For now, Drago was prepared to keep an open mind, but he could not risk his judgement being undermined by indulging in fantasies of her naked in his arms.
The sound of her voice dragged him from his uncomfortable thoughts. ‘I’ll get dressed, and if you don’t mind quickly have my dinner,’ she said as she hurried over to the door. ‘I haven’t eaten all day. It was ready when you arrived and it will only take a couple of seconds to reheat.’
‘Santa Madonna! You mean that terrible smell is your evening meal?’ Drago was genuinely horrified. ‘I thought you had problems with the drains.’
Jess felt a spurt of annoyance at his arrogant tone. There had been plenty of times in the past when she hadn’t been able to afford to buy even the cheapest supermarket budget food, and even though she now had money she was careful with it. She doubted Drago Cassari had ever known what it felt like to be so hungry that you felt sick, or so cold that your bones ached, as she had often been as a child.
‘I take it you don’t often dine on microwave meals?’ she said drily.
His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic tone. ‘Nor do I ever intend to. There’s no time for you to eat now. We’ll have dinner on the plane. Please hurry,’ he added impatiently. ‘While you are wasting time Angelo’s condition may be worsening.’
By the time they landed at Marco Polo airport Jess was under no illusion about what kind of man Drago Cassari was. Powerful, compelling and utterly self-assured, he took control of every situation with quiet authority, and she’d noticed that everyone around him, from the airport staff to the crew on his private jet, treated him with a deference few men could command.
Maybe it was his wealth that set him apart from ordinary people and gave him an air of suave sophistication. She guessed he must be well-off. Let’s face it, how many people had she ever met who owned their own plane? she thought wryly. When they had boarded his jet a uniformed steward had ushered her over to one of the opulent leather sofas in the cabin and offered her a glass of champagne. During the flight the dinner they had been served had been exquisite—the sort of food she imagined you would expect at a five-star restaurant. She felt as though she had entered a different world where she had no place, but in which Drago was completely at home.
Now, as they walked through the airport foyer, she was conscious that her jeans were scruffy and her tee shirt, which had shrunk in the wash, revealed a strip of bare midriff when she moved. In contrast, Drago looked as if he had stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine, with his designer clothes and stunning good looks. The shadow of dark stubble on his jaw added to his potent sex appeal, and as he strode slightly ahead of her Jess noticed the interested glances he attracted from virtually every female he passed.
He was talking into his phone, which had been clamped to his ear for most of the flight from England, and although he spoke in Italian she guessed from his lowered brows that he was not happy. A cold hand of fear gripped her heart as she wondered if Angelo’s condition was worse. Please, God, don’t let him die, she offered up in silent prayer. Twenty-two was too young for anyone to leave this world—especially someone as sweet and gentle as Angelo. They had become good friends while they had been flatmates. But she was still reeling from the discovery that he came from a wealthy family and was related to this formidable man who had now halted in front of the airport doors and was waiting for her to catch up with him.
‘Were you talking to someone at the hospital? Has something happened with Angelo?’ she asked anxiously.
‘There’s no change,’ Drago replied curtly.
He wondered if the concern in Jess’s voice was genuine or whether she was simply adept at fooling people. During the flight he had tried to think about her objectively, bearing in mind that all he knew about her so far was that she had a criminal record and had either begged, borrowed or stolen a fortune from his cousin. But to his intense irritation he had been distracted by his physical reaction to her, and had found himself admiring her hair—which, now that it had dried, reminded him of the colour of autumn leaves: a glorious mixture of red, copper and gold, which rippled down her back and shimmered like raw silk.
He noted how her fashionable skinny jeans emphasised her slender figure and her long-sleeved tee shirt clung to her small breasts. With a rucksack over one shoulder and a guitar hanging from the other she looked as if she was going to a pop festival rather than to visit a hospital. Her clothes were totally inappropriate, he thought irritably, and he was certain she wasn’t wearing a bra—although her breasts were pert enough that she did not need to.
Trying to ignore the flare of heat in his groin, he said, ‘I’ve just heard from the head of my security team that the press have got wind of the accident. Probably one of the hospital staff tipped them off,’ he growled angrily. ‘The paparazzi are hanging around the hospital, and they must have heard that my plane just landed because there’s a mob of reporters waiting outside the airport. Stick close to me. I’ll make sure no one hassles you,’ he reassured her when he saw her startled expression. ‘My car is on its way to pick us up, and Fico, my bodyguard, will clear a path for us.’
‘You have a bodyguard?’ she said faintly.
He shrugged, drawing Jess’s attention to his broad shoulders and a muscular physique that indicated he followed a punishing workout regime.
‘I can take care of myself, but it’s sensible to take precautions. I am well-known in Italy, and there have been a couple of kidnap attempts in the past. Many criminal gangs would love to get hold of me and demand a billion-pound ransom,’ he told her.
He did not seem unduly worried, and looked amused when she could not disguise her shock at his revelation that he was a billionaire.
‘It’s amazing what some people will do for money,’ he murmured sardonically.
It was dark outside, but through the glass doors Jess could see a large crowd of shadowy figures moving around. ‘Let me take your bag,’ Drago ordered, lifting her rucksack from her shoulders. He looked surprised when he felt how light it was. ‘There can’t be much in here. I told you to bring clothes for a few days, in case Angelo doesn’t immediately respond to your voice.’
It was only natural that he was concerned for his cousin, but jeez, he was bossy! Jess lifted her chin. ‘I’ve brought everything I own that isn’t covered in paint. I don’t have many clothes.’
‘Or any that fit properly, seemingly,’ he drawled as he raked his eyes over her too-small tee shirt and lingered on her breasts.
To her horror Jess felt her nipples harden, and knew they must be clearly visible beneath her clingy top. She wished she had made a better search for one of the few bras she possessed, which had inconveniently disappeared from her underwear drawer. She rarely wore a bra because she felt more comfortable working without one, but she had not bargained on her body’s embarrassing reaction to Drago. Against her will her gaze was drawn to his, and her heart jolted against her ribs when she saw the unmistakable glint of sexual awareness in his black eyes.
This could not be happening, she thought dazedly. A few hours ago it had just been an ordinary day—until a darkly handsome stranger had turned up at her flat. Now she had been whisked to Italy on a private jet to visit Angelo, who was not the penniless migrant he had led her to believe but a member of the hugely wealthy Cassari family. Even more disturbing was the way she reacted to Angelo’s cousin. She hated how her body responded to Drago’s virile masculinity. Not since she had dated Sebastian Loxley had she felt so unsettled by a man. The memory of her one brief love affair—although it could hardly be called that, because Seb had never loved her—served as a stark reminder of why she needed to ignore her dangerous attraction to Drago.