Bound to the
Billionaire
Captive in His Castle
Chantelle Shaw
In Petrakis’s Power
Maggie Cox
The Count’s Prize
Christina Hollis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Captive in his Castle

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

In Petrakis’s Power

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Count’s Prize

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

Captive in His Castle

CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, five minutes from the sea, and does much of her thinking about the characters in her books while walking on the beach. She’s been an avid reader from an early age—her school-friends used to hide their books when she visited, but Chantelle would retreat into her own world and still writes stories in her head all the time. Chantelle has been blissfully married to her own tall, dark and very patient hero for over twenty years and has six children. She began to read Mills & Boon as a teenager, and throughout the years of being a stay-at-home mum to her brood found romantic fiction helped her to stay sane! She enjoys reading and writing about strong-willed, feisty women and even stronger-willed sexy heroes. Chantelle is at her happiest when writing. She is particularly inspired while cooking dinner, which unfortunately results in a lot of culinary disasters! She also loves gardening, walking and eating chocolate (followed by more walking!).

Catch up with Chantelle’s latest news on her website: www.chantelleshaw.com.

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHO THE HELL is Jess?’

Drago Cassari raked his fingers through the swathe of dark hair that had fallen forward onto his brow, concern and frustration etched onto his hard features as he stared at the motionless figure of his cousin lying in the bed in the intensive care unit. Angelo’s face was grey against the white sheets. Only the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still clinging to life, aided by the various tubes attached to his body, while the machine next to the bed recorded his vital signs.

At least he was now breathing unaided, and three days after he had been pulled from the wreckage of his car and rushed to the Venice-Mestre hospital there were indications that he was beginning to regain consciousness. He had even muttered something. Just one word. A name.

‘Do you know who Angelo is referring to?’ Drago turned his gaze on the two women who were standing at the end of the bed, clinging to each other and weeping. ‘Is Jess a friend of Angelo’s?’

His aunt Dorotea gave a sob. ‘I don’t know what his involvement with her is. You know how strangely he has been behaving lately. He hardly ever answered his phone when I called him. But I did manage to speak to him a few days before…’ her voice shook ‘…before the accident, and he told me that he had given up his college course and was living with a woman called Jess Harper.’

‘Then perhaps she is his mistress.’ Drago was not overly surprised to hear that his cousin had dropped out of the business course he had been studying at a private London college. Angelo had been overindulged by his mother since his father’s death when he had been a young boy, and he shied away from anything that approached hard work. Rather more surprising was the news that he had been living with a woman in England. Angelo was painfully lacking in self-confidence with the opposite sex, but it sounded as though he had overcome his shyness.

‘Did he give you the address of where he was staying? I need to contact this woman and arrange for her to visit him.’ Drago glanced across the bed to the expert neurologist who was in charge of his cousin’s care. ‘Do you think there is a chance that the sound of her voice might rouse Angelo?’

‘It is possible,’ the doctor replied cautiously. ‘If your cousin has a close relationship with this woman then he might respond if she talks to him.’

Aunt Dorotea gave another sob. ‘I’m not sure it would be a good idea to bring her here. I am afraid she is a bad influence on Angelo.’

Drago frowned. ‘What do you mean? Surely if this Jess Harper can help to rouse him then it is imperative that she comes to Italy as soon as possible? Why do you think she is a bad influence?’

He controlled his impatience as his aunt collapsed onto a chair and wept so hard that her shoulders shook. His jaw clenched. He understood her agony. When he had first seen Angelo after he had undergone surgery to stem the bleed in his brain Drago had felt the acid burn of tears at the back of his throat. His cousin was just twenty-two, in many ways still a boy—although when he had been that age he had already become chairman of Cassa di Cassari, with a great weight of responsibility and expectation on his shoulders, he remembered. The deaths of his father and uncle, who had been killed in an avalanche while they were skiing, had thrust Drago into the cut-throat world of big business. He had also had to take care of his devastated mother and aunt, and he had assumed the role of a father figure to his then seven-year-old cousin.

Seeing Angelo like this tore at his insides. The waiting, the wondering if the young man would be left with permanent brain damage, was torture. Drago was a man of action, a man used to being in control of every situation, but for the past three days he had felt helpless. His aunt and his mother were distraught, and he wished he could comfort them and assure them that Angelo would recover. For the past fifteen years he had done his best to look after his family, and he hated the feeling that in this situation he was powerless. He had no magic wand to bring Angelo back to consciousness, but he had the name of a woman who might be able to help.

His mother was gently patting her sister-in-law’s shoulder. ‘Dorotea, you must tell Drago what Angelo has done, and why you are so worried about his involvement with the Englishwoman.’

Drago stared at his aunt. ‘What has he done?’

For a few moments she did not answer, but at last she choked back her sobs. ‘He has given this woman money…a lot of money. In fact all of the inheritance that his father left him,’ Aunt Dorotea said in wavering voice. ‘And that’s not all. Jess Harper has a criminal record.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘A week ago Maurio Rochas, who used to be in charge of Angelo’s trust fund and still acts as his financial adviser, phoned me. He was troubled because what he had to tell me was confidential information, but he felt I should know that Angelo had withdrawn his entire inheritance fund from the bank. When I spoke to Angelo I asked him what he had done with the money. He was very abrupt with me,’ Aunt Dorotea explained in a hurt voice. ‘It was most unlike him. But he finally admitted that he had lent his inheritance fund to this woman—Jess Harper—but he did not say why she needed the money, or when it would be repaid.’

Drago knew that the bulk of his cousin’s inheritance was tied up in shares and other investments, but Angelo still had a huge fortune available to him—which he had apparently handed over to a woman who had a criminal record. It was not surprising Aunt Dorotea was concerned.

‘Angelo was very cagey,’ she continued. ‘I felt he was hiding something from me. I was so worried that I phoned Maurio back to discuss the matter. Maurio admitted that out of concern for Angelo he had tried to find out more about this Englishwoman and had discovered that she was convicted of fraud some years ago.’

Drago swore softly and received a reproachful glance from his mother. Dio! He could not help feeling frustrated. Sometimes he wondered if his relatives would ever take charge of their own lives instead of relying on him to deal with their problems. He had encouraged his cousin to go to England to study, believing that it would do him good to be more independent. But it sounded as though Angelo had walked straight into trouble.

‘What has the damned idiot done?’ he muttered beneath his breath.

Unfortunately his aunt had excellent hearing.

‘How can you blame Angelo? Especially when his life hangs in the balance?’ she said tearfully. ‘Perhaps this Jess Harper told Angelo some sob story that he fell for. You know what a soft heart he has. He is young, and I admit a little naïve. But I’m sure you remember how you were conned by that Russian woman years ago, Drago. Although of course that situation was a lot worse, because your actions almost forced Cassa di Cassari into bankruptcy.’

Drago gritted his teeth at his aunt’s reminder of the most humiliating episode of his life. When he had been Angelo’s age his judgement had been compromised by a woman’s beautiful face and sexy body. He had fallen hard for the sensual promise in Natalia Yenka’s dark eyes, and he had persuaded the board members of Cassa di Cassari—the luxury homeware company that had been founded by his great-grandfather—to make a huge investment in the Russian woman’s business venture. But the venture had been a scam, and the catastrophic financial loss incurred by Cassa di Cassari had resulted in Drago only narrowly escaping a vote of no confidence from the board.

Since then he had worked hard to win back their support, and he was proud that under his leadership Cassa di Cassari had grown to be one of Italy’s highest-grossing businesses, with a global export market. At the recent AGM he had announced that the company would be floated on the stockmarket for a record opening share price that would raise several billion pounds. It had been Drago’s crowning moment—one that he had striven for with ruthless determination—but neither the board members nor his family knew of the personal sacrifices he had made in the pursuit of success, or of the emptiness inside him.

He shook his head as if to dismiss his thoughts, although dark memories of his past lingered in the shadows of his mind. Focusing his attention once more on his cousin, he felt a sharp pain, as if a knife blade had been thrust between his ribs. He did not think his aunt would cope if she lost her only son. This desperate waiting and hoping was intolerable, and if there was even the slightest chance that hearing the Englishwoman’s voice would bring Angelo back from the abyss then Drago was convinced that he must persuade her to come to the hospital.

‘Where are you going?’ his aunt asked tremulously as he swung away from the bed and strode across the room.

‘To find Jess Harper. And when I do you can be sure I will demand some answers,’ he replied grimly.

Struggling to carry her heavy toolbox and a bulging bag of groceries, Jess let herself into her flat and stooped to pick up the post from the doormat. There were two bills, and a letter which she recognised was from the bank. For a moment her heart lurched, before she remembered that her business account was no longer in the red and she did not have to worry about paying back a hefty overdraft. Old habits died hard, she thought ruefully. She wondered if the novelty of being financially solvent would ever wear off.

On her way down the hall she glanced into Angelo’s room. It was still unusually tidy—which meant that he hadn’t come back. Jess frowned. It was three days since he had disappeared, and since then he hadn’t answered any of her calls. Should she be worried about him? He had probably moved on to another job, like so many of the casual labourers she employed did, she told herself.

But Angelo had been different from the other labourers who asked for work. Despite his assurances that he had experience as a decorator it had quickly become apparent that he did not know one end of a paintbrush from the other. Yet he was clearly intelligent and spoke perfect English, albeit with a strong foreign accent. He had explained that he was a homeless migrant. His gentle nature reminded Jess of her best friend Daniel, whom she had known at the children’s home, and perhaps that was why she had impulsively offered him the spare room in her flat until he got on his feet. Angelo had been touchingly grateful and it just wasn’t like him to leave without saying goodbye—especially as he had left his stuff, including his beloved guitar, behind.

Reporting him missing seemed like an overreaction, and although it was a long time since her troubled teenage years she still had an inherent mistrust of the police. But what if he’d had an accident and was lying in hospital with no one to visit him? Jess knew too well what it was like to feel utterly alone in the world, to know that no one cared.

If she hadn’t heard from him by tomorrow she would notify the police, she decided as she dumped the bag of groceries on the kitchen worktop and dug out the frozen ready meal she’d bought for dinner. She’d missed lunch. Owing to a mix-up with paint colours, the job she was working on was behind schedule—which was why Angelo’s disappearance was so inconvenient. He might not be the best painter in the world—in fact he was the worst she’d ever known—but to get the contract finished on time she needed all the help she could get.

The instructions on the box of pasta Bolognese said it cooked in six minutes. Jess’s stomach rumbled. Six minutes sounded like an eternity when she was starving. Taking a screwdriver from her pocket, she pierced the film lid and shoved the meal into the microwave. At least it gave her enough time for a much-needed shower. A glance in the mirror revealed that she had white emulsion in her hair from where she had been painting a ceiling.

Pulling off her boots, she headed for the bathroom, stripped off her dungarees and shirt and stepped into the shower cubicle. One day, when she could afford to buy her own flat, the first thing she would do would be to install a power shower, she thought as the ferocious jet of water washed away the dust and grime of a hard day’s work. For her birthday the previous week she had treated herself to a gorgeous luxury shower crème. The richly perfumed lather left her skin feeling satin-soft, and using a liberal amount of shampoo she managed to rinse the paint out of her hair.

Her team of workmen would tease her unmercifully if they found out that she had a girly side, she thought ruefully. Working in an all-male environment was tough, but so was Jess—her childhood had seen to that.

The sound of the doorbell was followed almost instantly by the ping of the microwave telling her that her food was ready. Pulling on her robe as the doorbell went again, she padded barefoot back to the kitchen. Why didn’t whoever was ringing the doorbell give up and go away? she wondered irritably. The microwave meal smelled unpleasantly of molten plastic, but she was too hungry to care. She peeled back the film covering and cursed as the escaping steam burnt her fingers. The doorbell rang for a third time—a long, strident peal that Jess could not ignore—and it suddenly occurred to her that maybe Angelo had come back.

Drago snatched his finger from the doorbell and uttered a curse. Clearly no one was at home. He had broken the speed limit driving from the airport to Hampstead, which was where, he had learned from his aunt’s lawyer, Jess Harper lived. According to Maurio Rochas the Englishwoman was a painter. Presumably she had a successful career to be able to afford to live in this attractive and affluent part of north-west London, Drago mused. He guessed that the Art Deco building had once been a magnificent house. It had been converted into six flats that must be highly sought after.

Maurio had not known any more information about the woman Angelo had been living with, and as yet the private investigator Drago had hired to run a check on her had not got back to him. But for now the question of why his cousin had given her money was unimportant. All that mattered was that he should persuade Jess Harper to visit Angelo. Hopefully the sound of her voice would rouse him from his unconscious state.

Where the hell was she? He wondered if she worked from a studio—maybe he could get the address from a neighbour. He did not have time to waste searching for her when Angelo’s condition remained critical. Frustration surged through him and he pressed the doorbell again, even though he knew it was pointless. He was exhausted after spending the past three days and nights at the hospital, snatching the odd half-hour’s sleep in the chair beside Angelo’s bed.

His eyes felt gritty and he rubbed his hand across them as images of his cousin flashed into his mind. Angelo had been a sensitive, serious little boy after his father’s death, and he had hero-worshipped Drago. It was only during the nightmare of the last few days, while Angelo hovered between life and death, that Drago had acknowledged how deeply he cared for the young man he had helped to bring up.

There was no point waiting around when it was clear that Jess Harper wasn’t here, he told himself. He was about to head back down the stairs when the door of the second-floor flat suddenly opened.

‘Oh!’ said a voice. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

Drago spun round, and as he stared at the figure standing in the doorway his breath seemed to rush from his body. He felt a strange sensation, as if his ribcage had been crushed in a vice. There had only been one other occasion in his life when he had been so blown away by a woman, and then he had been an impressionable twenty-two-year-old. Now he was thirty-seven, highly sexually experienced—and, if he was honest, somewhat jaded from a relentless diet of meaningless affairs. But for a few crazy seconds he felt like a hormone-fuelled youth again.

His nostrils flared and he gave his head a slight shake, utterly nonplussed by his reaction. He had met hundreds of beautiful women in his life, and bedded more of them than he cared to think about, but this woman quite literally took his breath away. His eyes were drawn to the front of her white towelling robe, which was gaping slightly to reveal the pale upper slopes of her breasts. The realisation that she was probably naked beneath the robe heated his blood, and every nerve-ending in his body prickled with fierce sexual awareness.

Swallowing hard, Drago studied the woman’s face. It was a perfect oval, and her delicate features looked as though they had been sculpted from fine porcelain. The high cheekbones gave her an elfin quality that was further accentuated by her slanting green eyes. Her long, damp, dark red hair contrasted starkly with her pale skin.

Something unfurled deep in his gut—a primitive hunger and an inexplicable sense of possessiveness that made him want to seize her in his arms and lay claim to her.

‘Can I help you?’

Her voice was soft, with a slight huskiness that made his heart jolt. He found himself hoping that his aunt’s lawyer had made a mistake with the address and this woman was not his cousin’s mistress. The idea of Angelo making love to her incited a feeling of violent jealousy in him.

He gave himself a mental shake, irritated by his body’s unwarranted response to her, and demanded abruptly, ‘Are you Jess Harper?’

Her green eyes narrowed. ‘Who wants to know?’

‘My name is Drago Cassari. I understand that my cousin Angelo has been living here with you.’

‘Cousin!’ She sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Angelo told me that he was alone and had no family.’

So he had the right address, and the right woman. Drago’s jaw tightened as he struggled to dismiss the image that had come into his mind of tracing the perfect cupid’s-bow shape of her lips with his tongue. As he walked towards her she retreated behind the half-open door and eyed him distrustfully.

‘I was unaware that Angelo had any relatives. Do you have proof that you are his cousin?’

Irritated by her suspicious tone, he withdrew his mobile phone from his jacket and accessed a photograph stored in the phone’s memory.

‘This is a picture of me with Angelo and his mother, taken six months ago when we attended the opening of the new Cassa di Cassari store in Milan,’ he explained, handing the phone to her.

She stared at the screen for several moments. ‘It’s definitely Angelo, although I’ve never seen him wearing a tuxedo before,’ she said slowly. ‘But…it doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand why he never mentioned his family.’

Drago did not think it strange that his cousin had kept details of his private life secret. The Cassaris were one of the wealthiest families in Italy and attracted huge media attention. Drago had been hounded by the paparazzi since he was a teenager. He had learned to choose his friends carefully, and had taught his cousin to do the same. Although if the information about Jess Harper having a criminal record was true, then perhaps Angelo had not been careful enough, he mused.

The confused expression on Jess Harper’s face was surprisingly convincing.

‘There’s a Cassa di Cassari department store in Oxford Street that sells the most beautiful but incredibly expensive bedlinen and other household furnishings.’ If she ever won the lottery, Jess had promised herself that she would shop exclusively at Cassa di Cassari. ‘It had never occurred to me until now that Angelo has the same name—Cassari. I suppose it’s just coincidence.’ She looked at the photo of the shop-opening again and her frown deepened. ‘I mean—Angelo can’t have any connection to a world-famous brand-name—can he?’

Could she really not know? Drago found it difficult to believe that she was unaware of Angelo’s identity.

‘Our great-grandfather founded Cassa di Cassari shortly after the First World War. After our fathers were killed in an accident I inherited a seventy per cent stake of the company. Angelo owns a thirty per cent share.’

Drago’s eyes narrowed when Jess Harper made a startled sound. Either she really had not known the true extent of his cousin’s wealth or she was a good actress. Perhaps she was wishing she had ‘borrowed’ more money from Angelo, he thought cynically. But for now the question of how she had got her hands on Angelo’s inheritance fund wasn’t important. He simply wanted to get her to Italy as quickly as possible. There would be time for questions once his cousin had regained consciousness.

She thrust his phone at him. ‘I don’t understand what’s going on, or why Angelo lied to me, but he isn’t here. He left a couple of days ago without saying where he was going and I have no idea where he is. I’m afraid I can’t help you.’

She began to close the door, but with lightning reaction Drago jammed his foot in the doorway.

‘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.

He was watching her from beneath hooded eyelids that hid his expression, so that she had no idea what he was thinking. Just then the door behind him opened, and as he turned his attention to the thickset man who appeared Jess released her breath on a shaky sigh.

The man spoke to Drago in rapid Italian. He replied in the same language and then glanced back at Jess. ‘The car is outside. Let’s get this over with,’ he growled.

To Jess’s shock he gripped her arm and pulled her close to his side. She was intensely conscious of his hard body pressed against hers, and the sensual musk of his aftershave swamped her senses. But then he opened the door and she was blinded by an explosion of bright flashing lights.

Despite the efforts of the bodyguard the reporters closed in on them like a pack of wolves, and a cacophony of voices shouting words she did not understand bombarded her ears. It seemed like a lifetime until they reached the black limousine waiting with its engine already running.

Drago pulled open the car door. ‘Get in and we’ll soon be away from this madness.’ He swore when he saw her struggling to climb inside with the guitar still strapped to her back. ‘Madonna! Was it necessary to bring this with you?’ he muttered as he tugged the strap over her shoulder. He pushed her into the seat and thrust the guitar onto her lap before sliding into the car after her. ‘Are you expecting Angelo to wake at the sound of your strumming? I think you must have watched too many romantic films.’

‘Hearing music might rouse him,’ Jess snapped, infuriated by his sarcasm. ‘The guitar isn’t mine; it’s Angelo’s. I thought he would like to have it with him when he regains consciousness. You must know how much his guitar means to him?’

‘I didn’t know he could play an instrument,’ Drago said bluntly.

‘But he plays all the time, and he’s a brilliant guitarist. He told me his dream is to play professionally.’ She stared at him. ‘How come you know so little about your cousin? You say you think of him as a brother, but you don’t seem to know the first thing about him.’

Drago was annoyed by the implied criticism in her voice. ‘Just because I was unaware of his hobby does not mean I’m not close to him.’

Jess shook her head. ‘It’s not just a hobby. Music is Angelo’s passion.’

The limousine was now streaking along the highway, but the sound of the engine was barely discernible inside the car. The privacy glass separated them from the driver and bodyguard who were sitting in the front, and enclosed them in the rear in a dark, silent space that was shattered by Jess’s fervent outburst. She tensed when Drago turned his head and subjected her to a slow appraisal.

‘Passion?’ he murmured, in the deep, accented voice that caressed her senses like rough velvet.

The word seemed to hover in the air between them. Jess’s mouth felt dry and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue as a shocking image flashed into her mind of Drago pushing her back against the leather seat and covering her mouth with his. It was utterly crazy, but she longed for him to kiss her with the heated passion she sensed burned within him. She pictured him running his hands over her body and sliding them beneath her tee shirt to caress her breasts and stroke her nipples that were as hard as pebbles from her erotic thoughts.

She shuddered, acutely conscious of the flood of heat between her legs. Dear heaven, what was happening to her? Even worse, he knew the effect he was having on her. The unnerving predatory expression that she had told herself she had imagined back at her flat had returned to his eyes, and she could almost taste the sexual tension simmering in the air between them.

Drago shrugged. ‘I admit I did not know of Angelo’s interest in music. What about you—are you a musician too?’

‘No. Angelo taught me to play a couple of tunes on the guitar, but I’m not very good.’

He trapped her gaze and his voice took on a husky quality that caused the tiny hairs on Jess’s body to stand on end.

‘So—what is your passion, Jess?’

She swallowed, and searched her mind desperately for something to say—some way to break the spell he seemed to have cast on her. ‘I…I make things from wood…sculptures and ornate carvings. I suppose you could say that is my passion. I love the feel of wood—its smoothness and the fact that it feels alive when I shape it. It’s very tactile, and I love creating sculptures that invite people to touch them, stroke their polished surfaces—’

She broke off abruptly, embarrassed by her enthusiasm. Drago could not possibly understand how she poured all the painful emotions that were locked up inside her into her sculptures. Of all the wonderful things that Ted, her foster-father, had done for her, teaching her how to work with wood meant the most to her, because he had given her a way to express herself and unlocked an artistic talent that had given her a sense of self-worth.

She was relieved when Drago’s phone rang. While he took the call she stared out of the window and watched the street lamps flash past in a blur as the car sped along the highway. A few minutes later the imposing modern building of the Venice-Mestre Hospital came into view. As they approached Jess saw dozens more reporters crowded around the entrance, and when the limousine halted outside the front doors camera flashbulbs lit up the interior of the car, throwing Drago’s stern features into sharp relief.

‘Do the press always hound you like this?’ she asked him. She felt nervous about leaving the car, even with the reassuring presence of his huge bodyguard.

‘The paparazzi often follow me—they have a relentless fascination with my love-life,’ he said drily. ‘But I will not allow them to upset my aunt and mother. I’ll issue a statement about Angelo’s accident in the morning and ask for my family to be given privacy while his condition remains critical. Hopefully that will make a few of them back off.’

When the driver opened the door Drago climbed out of the car first and turned to offer Jess his hand. The sound of loud, unintelligible voices hit her ears, and she instinctively ducked her head to avoid the flashlights. The crowd of reporters pushed forward and she stumbled—would have fallen but for the arm that Drago snaked around her waist. Half carrying her, he hurried her through the main doors of the hospital while the reporters were prevented from entering by several security guards.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, glancing at her tense face.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ No way was Jess going to admit that being in close proximity to his hard body had made her heart race. As she followed Drago along a corridor her heart began to pound for a different reason. She hated hospitals—hated the frightening clinical atmosphere and the smell of disinfectant that were such a painful reminder not only of Daniel, but of her own brief stay on a hospital ward when she was seventeen.

A nurse met them at the door of the intensive care ward, and while Drago spoke to her Jess struggled against a rising sense of panic. All her life she had learned to block out unhappy experiences—and there had been plenty of those during her childhood, both before and after she had gone into care—but being in the hospital brought back agonising memories that she had never been able to bury. She did not want to think about Daniel. And she did not dare think about Katie. Opening that particular Pandora’s box was simply too painful.

Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run from the ward. But it was too late. Drago had halted and was opening a door which she saw led into a small private room. She glimpsed a figure lying on a bed surrounded by machinery which beeped and flashed sporadically.

‘Maybe we shouldn’t disturb Angelo now,’ she said shakily. ‘It’s nearly midnight. Do the staff mind us being here outside of visiting hours?’

‘Of course not.’ Drago’s dark brows rose in surprise. ‘We can come whenever we want. Until this morning when I flew to London I hadn’t left the ward since Angelo was admitted. As for disturbing him—that is the point of bringing you here,’ he said sardonically. He glanced at her and frowned when he saw that her face was so white that the golden freckles on her nose and cheeks stood out. ‘Did the reporters upset you? Why are you so pale?’

Jess fought the nauseous sensation that swept over her. ‘I don’t like hospitals,’ she muttered.

‘Does anyone?’ Impatience crept into Drago’s voice. His jaw tightened.

The past days he had spent at the hospital had evoked painful memories that would always haunt him. It had been a long time ago, he reminded himself. Life had moved on. He was thankful that Vittoria had found happiness with the man she had eventually married, and now she had a child. God knew she deserved to be happy after everything that had happened, the way he had let her down…

With an effort he forced his mind from the past and concentrated on the woman at his side. ‘I can assure you that my aunt would rather not be here, keeping a vigil at her son’s bedside.’ He hesitated and deliberately lowered his voice so that only Jess could hear him. ‘Angelo’s mother is understandably distraught. You must forgive her if she is a little…abrupt.’

Jess did not understand what Drago meant, but there was no time to query his curious statement as he ushered her into the room. As she nervously approached the bed a horrible sense of dread and déjà-vu filled her. Angelo looked very different without his wild curls half-hiding his face. His skull was covered in bandages and his skin and lips were deathly pale. He reminded her of a waxwork figure: perfect in detail but lifeless, just as Daniel had been.

Hot tears suddenly burned her eyes. She rarely cried; experience had taught her that it was a pointless exercise. But for once she could not control her emotions. It seemed so cruel that a young man in the prime of his life might never open his eyes again or smile at the people he loved.

A movement from the other side of the room made Jess turn her head, and she saw a woman whom she guessed from her strained face and red-rimmed eyes to be Angelo’s mother.

Overwhelmed by an instinctive need to express her sympathy, Jess murmured, ‘I’m so sorry about Angelo.’

The woman stared at her, and then spoke to Drago in a torrent of Italian. Jess could not understand a word, but she sensed that her presence was not welcome. Remembering Drago’s warning that his aunt was distraught, she wondered if she should leave and come back to visit Angelo later, but as she turned towards the door Drago placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her forward.

‘Aunt Dorotea, Jess has come to talk to Angelo in the hope that he will respond to her voice.’ He looked steadily at his aunt. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that she has rushed from England to visit him.’

His aunt continued to stare at Jess, with no hint of welcome on her rather haughty face. But then she said sharply, ‘You are my son’s girlfriend?’

‘I am his friend,’ Jess corrected her.

‘So you are not his mistress?’

‘No.’ Jess frowned, puzzled by Angelo’s mother’s distinctly unfriendly attitude. She glanced questioningly at Drago. ‘I could come back another time, if you think it would be better.’

He shook his head. ‘I brought you here to talk to Angelo. Your name is the only word he has uttered, so perhaps he will respond to you.’ He looked at his aunt. ‘I want you to go home for a few hours. Fico is waiting to take you. You need to get some rest and have something to eat. You will not be any help to Angelo if you collapse,’ he added, countering his aunt’s attempt to argue.

Despite her obvious reluctance to leave her son, his Aunt Dorotea nodded as if she was used to her nephew taking charge. ‘You will call me if there is any change?’

Drago’s voice softened. ‘Of course.’

He escorted his aunt from the room, leaving Jess alone with Angelo. She sat by the bed, watching him, just as she had done with Daniel when one of the care workers from the home had taken her to visit him. Angelo looked so young and defenceless. It was agonising to think that he might not survive. Her throat ached, but she swallowed her tears and leaned closer to take hold of his hand. It felt warm, and that filled her with hope.

‘Hi, Angelo…’ she said huskily. ‘What have you done to yourself?’ It was difficult to know what to say, but after a moment’s hesitation she continued, ‘The guys missed you when you didn’t show up for work. Gaz said you make the best tea. We’ve nearly finished the Connaught Road job. I’ve just got to fit new skirting boards.’

She felt comfortable talking about work and kept up a flow of chatter, although her heart sank when Angelo did not make any kind of response.

A slight sound from behind her alerted her to the fact that Drago had come back to the room and was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Immediately Jess felt self-conscious. ‘My coming here hasn’t done any good,’ she told him flatly. ‘He hasn’t shown the slightest flicker of reaction.’

‘We can’t expect a miracle. All we can do is keep trying.’ Drago walked over to the bed and stared at his cousin’s motionless form. He knew it was stupid to feel disappointed that Angelo had shown no sign he had heard Jess. He had put too much faith in her. But, Dio, he was desperate—and he had hoped for a miracle, he acknowledged heavily.

‘I overheard some of what you were saying to him,’ he said abruptly. ‘I admit I still find it hard to imagine that are you a decorator. You don’t look the type to do manual work.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

Studying her slender figure, Drago was tempted to disagree. She seemed more upset by seeing Angelo than he had expected. Her delicate features looked almost pinched, and earlier he had watched her blinking back tears. Her eyes looked huge in her pale face and there was a vulnerability about her that was unexpected.

If it wasn’t for the phone call he had received a few minutes ago from the private investigator he might have been taken in by her. But the confirmation that she was a petty crook who had been found guilty of fraud a few years ago increased his suspicion that she had used some underhand and possibly illegal means to get her grubby hands on his cousin’s inheritance fund. If necessary he was prepared to use equally underhanded methods to get the money back, Drago thought grimly.

CHAPTER THREE

JESS DRAGGED HER eyes from Drago, wishing she did not find him so unnerving. He had removed his leather jacket and she could not help noticing how his black silk shirt moulded his broad chest and clung to the ridges of his abdominal muscles. The contrast between his strong, powerful body and his cousin’s unconscious form emphasised the seriousness of Angelo’s condition.

She leaned closer to the bed and touched Angelo’s hand, which lay limply on top of the sheet. ‘I’ll carry on talking and perhaps I’ll get through to him.’

‘I think it’s unlikely anything will happen tonight,’ Drago said roughly.

He could not explain the fierce objection he felt to the sight of Jess holding his cousin’s hand. She had denied that they were lovers, but who knew what methods she had used to persuade Angelo to give her his inheritance fund? He had brought her to the hospital in the hope that Angelo would respond to her voice, but after hearing the information the private investigator had dug up about her he was impatient to demand some answers.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was past midnight. He could not remember the last time he had slept and his brain ached.

‘I’ve arranged for a nurse to sit with Angelo for the rest of the night. You will come home with me, so that you can sleep, and we’ll return in the morning and try talking to him again.’

Jess stiffened. She disliked being in a hospital, with all the memories it evoked, but it was preferable to accompanying Drago to his home. The prospect of being alone with him made her heart lurch—although he might have a family, her mind pointed out.

‘Are you married?’ she asked abruptly. The speculative look he gave her made her feel uncomfortable, and she flushed.

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘I just thought it wouldn’t be fair to disturb your wife—and children if you have any.’

‘Well, I don’t.’ His voice was suddenly terse.

‘Even so, I don’t mind staying here. I’ll sleep in the chair if I need to. Or I could find a hotel. There must be a hotel near to the hospital.’ Hopefully a budget one that wasn’t too expensive, Jess thought to herself.

Drago shook his head. ‘I have already asked my housekeeper to prepare a room for you.’ Seeing that she wanted to continue the argument, he said in a softer tone, ‘You are not going to reject my hospitality, are you, Jess? Having rushed you to Italy, the least I can do is offer you somewhere comfortable to stay.’

This was a man used to having his own way, Jess realised. Behind his persuasive smile and his sexy voice that brought her skin out in goosebumps she sensed an iron will. But in truth she was so tired that she could barely think straight. She had got up at six that morning—yesterday morning—she amended when she glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that she had been up for nearly nineteen hours. The idea of walking around a strange town looking for a hotel did not appeal.

‘All right,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll stay at your house for the rest of the night. Thank you.’

‘Good.’ Drago felt a spurt of satisfaction. Until he knew the truth about Jess Harper he wanted to know her whereabouts every second of the day and night, and while she was staying at his home she would be in his control.

They left the hospital by a back door to avoid the reporters still congregated at the main entrance. Jess leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes as the car sped away. Reaction to the events of the past few hours was setting in, and part of her still wondered if she was going to wake up and find her life was back to normal.

She must have dozed and woke with a start at the sound of Drago’s voice.

‘Wake up. We’ve crossed the bridge and we’re about to swap the car for a boat.’

She was startled. Her lashes flew upwards and she saw that they had arrived at a marina.

‘There are no roads on the islands that make up the historical city of Venice,’ Drago explained as he led the way along a jetty and jumped aboard a motorboat.

Jess viewed the gap between the jetty and the boat nervously, having no wish to miss her footing and fall into the water. But as she hesitated Drago clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her down onto the deck. The brief contact with his body sent a tremor through her, but she assured herself that she was simply reacting to the cool night air after the stifling warmth of the car.

He must have noticed her shiver, because he pulled off his jacket and handed it to her, saying roughly, ‘Here—put this round you.’

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, she draped the jacket over her shoulders. The leather was as soft as butter, and the silk lining still retained the heat from his body and the scent of his aftershave. Oh, hell, Jess thought ruefully, feeling her heart rate accelerate in response to his potent masculinity. He started the boat’s engine and as they moved away from the jetty her sense of apprehension grew. It had been a mistake to come to Italy with Drago, and an even greater mistake to have allowed him to talk her into agreeing to stay at his home, but bar diving over the side and swimming back to shore she had no choice but to go with him.

Her thoughts were distracted by the breathtaking sight of Venice in the moonlight. The Grand Canal wound through the city like a long black ribbon dappled with silver moonbeams, while the water at its edges reflected the golden lights streaming from the windows of the houses that lined the two banks.

‘What a beautiful building,’ Jess murmured as the boat drew steadily towards a vast, elegant house which had four tiers of arched windows and several balconies. ‘It looks like a medieval palace.’

‘That’s exactly what it is. It was built in the early fifteenth century by one of my ancestors and has belonged to the Cassari family since then.’

‘You’re kidding—right?’ Her smile faded when she realised Drago was serious.

‘The name Palazzo d’Inverno means Winter Palace—so named because traditionally the family lived here during the winter and spring, but spent the hot summer months at a house in the Italian Alps.’ Drago steered the boat alongside a wooden jetty and looped a rope around a bollard before jumping out. ‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered.

It was a fair leap onto the jetty so Jess reluctantly obeyed, feeling a tingling sensation like an electrical shock shoot up her arm when his fingers closed around hers.

‘Does Angelo live here?’ she asked, staring up at the magnificent house rather than meet Drago’s far too knowing gaze.

‘He has an apartment in one of the wings, and my mother and aunt have accommodation in another wing.’

Jess fell silent as she followed Drago along the stone walkway that ran beside this part of the canal. He led her up a flight of steps and through a huge, ornately carved front door. ‘I told the staff not to wait up,’ he explained as he ushered her into the quiet house. ‘They are all fond of Angelo and the past few days have been a strain for everyone.’

The entrance hall was vast, and their footsteps rang on the marble floor and on the sweeping staircase that wound up through the centre of the house.

‘This is your room,’ Drago announced at last, stopping at the far end of a long corridor. He opened the door and Jess could not restrain a startled gasp as she walked past him. The proportions of the room were breathtaking, and as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling high above she was amazed to see that it had been decorated with a series of frescoes depicting plump cherubs and figures that she guessed were characters from Roman mythology.

‘Thank heavens I don’t work as a decorator in Venice,’ she murmured. ‘How on earth did anyone get up there to paint such exquisite artwork?’

The bed was covered in a cobalt blue satin bedspread, and the floor-length curtains were made of the same rich material. Walking across the plush cream velvet carpet to the window, she stared down at the canal below and watched a gondola decorated with lanterns glide past.

‘I don’t understand why Angelo let me think he had no money or family,’ she said flatly. ‘Was it some kind of joke to him?’ She felt angry and hurt that Angelo had played her for a fool, but she was more furious that she had allowed herself to be duped. God, if she had learned anything from Seb surely it was never to trust anyone.

‘It doesn’t make sense to me, either.’

Alerted by a curious nuance in Drago’s tone, Jess spun round and found that he had come up silently behind her. Once again she was struck by his height and muscular physique, and as she lifted her eyes to his face she felt a flicker of unease at his grim expression.

‘I can think of no possible reason why he would have made up a story that he was destitute,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘My cousin is inherently honest. But I suspect that you are a liar, Jess Harper.’

‘Excuse me?’ She wondered if she had heard him correctly. At the hospital, when he had persuaded her to stay at his house, he had exerted an easy charm, but there was no hint of friendliness now in eyes that were as hard as shards of obsidian. ‘I’m not a liar,’ she said angrily.

‘In that case I assume you will tell me the truth about why you persuaded my cousin to give you a million pounds?’

Jess’s jaw dropped. ‘Angelo never gave me anything,’ she stammered. ‘In London he didn’t have a penny, and if I hadn’t paid for his food he would have starved.’ She pushed her hair back from her face with a trembling hand, feeling that she was sinking ever deeper into a nightmare. ‘This is crazy. I don’t understand anything. Why do you think Angelo gave me money—let alone such an incredible amount?’

‘Because he told his mother he had done so,’ Drago said coolly. ‘My aunt was concerned when she learned from Angelo’s financial adviser that he had withdrawn his entire inheritance fund from the bank. She asked him what he had done with the money and he said he had given it to you.’

Jess drew a sharp breath. ‘But he didn’t, I swear. I know nothing about any money.’

Drago’s eyes narrowed. He had expected her to deny it, but he was surprised by how convincing she sounded. Did he want to believe her because he was intrigued by her fey beauty? taunted a voice inside his head.

Dismissing the unwelcome thought, he said harshly, ‘I think you do. I also think you were fully aware of Angelo’s identity. I admit the situation is not clear to me yet, but I’m convinced that you somehow conned him into giving you a fortune. I don’t know how you did it, but I intend to find out—and I warn you that I will use every means available to me to make sure you repay the money.’

‘This is outrageous,’ Jess snapped, anger rapidly replacing her disbelief at Drago’s shocking accusation. ‘I don’t have to listen to this…this fantasy story you’ve concocted.’ She swung away from him and hurried over to the door, but his next words halted her in her tracks.

‘It’s not a fantasy that you were convicted of fraud a few years ago, is it?’

Shock ricocheted through Jess and the blood drained from her face. She did not hear Drago’s footsteps on the thick carpet, and she flinched when he caught hold of her arm and jerked her round to face him.

‘The private investigator I hired to look into your background found evidence of your criminal record, so don’t waste your time denying it.’

She shivered at the coldness in his black eyes. ‘It wasn’t what it seems,’ she muttered.

He ignored her and continued ruthlessly, ‘You were found guilty. It was only because you were seventeen at the time you committed the offence that you were ordered to carry out community service rather than receive a custodial sentence.’

Shame swept through Jess, even though she had nothing to feel ashamed of. The fraud charge had been a mistake, but no one had believed her. The evidence had been stacked against her—Seb had made sure of it, she thought bitterly. She had been found guilty of a crime she had unwittingly committed, set up by the man she had loved and who had told her he loved her.

The arrogant expression on Drago’s face made her wish she could crawl away and hide. She cringed when she recalled how she’d thought she had sensed a sexual chemistry between them. Now she knew that he had been watching her so closely because he believed she was a common criminal, not because he was attracted to her.

‘I know nothing about Angelo’s missing money,’ she insisted. ‘It isn’t fair to accuse me just because of something that happened years ago.’

To her surprise, Drago nodded. ‘You’re right—it’s not up to me to find out the truth. That’s the job of the police. And I am sure that when I hand you over to them tomorrow they will quickly establish whether you are innocent or guilty.’ His brows rose at the sound of her swiftly indrawn breath. ‘Now, why does the mention of the police cause you to look so worried, I wonder?’ he drawled.

‘It doesn’t,’ Jess lied.

She had nothing to hide, but the memory of when she had been arrested and the claustrophobic terror she had felt when she had been locked in a police cell made her tremble. On the rough estate where she had spent her early childhood the police had been mistrusted by many people, including her father, and she had grown up with an intrinsic wariness of authority.

Drago strolled over to the door. ‘Well, you’ve got a few hours to come up with an explanation about Angelo’s missing inheritance fund. Buonanotte, Jess. I’d try to get some sleep if I were you. You’re going to need your wits about you tomorrow.’

Jess stared at the door as he closed it behind him, feeling another jolt of shock when she heard a key turn in the lock. ‘Hey!’ Disbelief turned to anger as she tried the handle and found that it wouldn’t move. She hammered on the solid oak. ‘Let me out of here. You have no right to imprison me.’

‘My cousin’s missing a million pounds gives me every right’ came the curt reply. ‘By the way, you can make as much noise as you like—no one will hear you. My room is at the other end of the hall, and the staff quarters are on the other side of the house.’

If this was a crazy dream it would be helpful if she could wake up now, before she attempted her daring escape plan, Jess thought some twenty minutes later. But as she stood on the balcony outside her room the whisper of the cool night breeze on her face and the faint lapping sound of the water in the canal were very real. It was fortunate that her room was on the second storey of the house rather than the top floor, but the canal path below still looked a long way down and she almost lost her nerve.

But the prospect of being questioned by the police and having to try to convince them that she knew nothing about Angelo’s missing money filled her with dread. Drago clearly thought she had conned his cousin out of his inheritance fund, and because of her criminal record the police were likely to share his suspicions. The only person who could clear her name was Angelo, but until he regained consciousness she once again stood accused of something she had not done.

The image of Drago’s haughty expression flashed into her mind. How dared he imprison her in his house? Her spurt of temper steadied her nerves, and after checking that the sheets she had stripped from the bed and knotted together were tied securely to the balcony she climbed over the balustrade and began to inch down the makeshift rope. Thankfully it took her weight.

It was lucky she was so agile and had a head for heights. In her job she was used to climbing up and down scaffolding, but when she looked down and saw how far away the ground was she felt sick with terror. Deciding not to glance down again, she continued her cautious journey, buoyed by the thought that Drago Cassari was in for one hell of a surprise in the morning.

‘Leaving us so soon, Miss Harper?’ a familiar voice enquired smoothly.

Giving a startled cry, Jess lost her grip and fell. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel the impact of her body hitting the stone path, but instead two hands roughly grabbed hold of her and her fall was cushioned by Drago’s broad chest.

‘Santa Madonna! You crazy fool,’ he growled as he set her on her feet, fury blazing in his eyes as she swayed unsteadily.

Jess was so shocked she could not speak, but Drago had no problem voicing his feelings.

‘You could have been killed.’ He glanced up at the balcony above them and shuddered. ‘I can only assume you do know more than you’ve admitted about Angelo’s missing money as you were prepared to risk your life trying to get away from me.’

‘I refuse to be held against my will by an amateur sleuth who has made a totally unfounded accusation against me,’ Jess snapped.

Now that she was safely on the ground she could see how dangerous her escape attempt had been, and she felt sick when she imagined how badly injured she might have been if she had fallen. But it was Drago’s fault that she had been forced to take such a risk. Her temper sizzled.

‘I came to Italy because I wanted to try to help Angelo, but if you think I’m going to stick around and take your accusations and insults you’d better think again,’ she said hotly. ‘Instead of hounding me you should be asking yourself why your cousin seemed so worried and unhappy while he was in London. I could tell that something was troubling him, but he didn’t confide in me—or in you, apparently. So much for your assertion that you think of him as your brother—it seems to me that you didn’t think about him enough, because if you had you would have known that something was wrong.’

Drago’s face darkened. ‘You know nothing about my relationship with my cousin,’ he growled.

He was infuriated by her criticism, but part of his anger was fuelled by guilt that there was some truth in what Jess said. He had been so busy running Cassa di Cassari, and he had assumed that Angelo was doing well at college in London. It had been a relief to relinquish some of the responsibility he felt for his family, and although his aunt had been upset that Angelo hardly ever phoned home Drago had felt glad that his cousin was becoming independent. He’d had no idea that the young man had been unhappy—but he only had Jess’s word on his cousin’s state of mind, he thought grimly. And he didn’t have any faith in the word of a woman who had been convicted of fraud.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded when she jerked away from him and swung her rucksack onto her back.

‘Home.’ Shaking back her glorious Titian hair, she flashed him a glittering glance from her green eyes. ‘I’ve decided to forgo the pleasure of your hospitality,’ she said with heavy irony. ‘Just point me in the direction of the nearest airport and I’ll be on my way.’

‘The hell you will. You said you would stay until Angelo regained consciousness,’ Drago reminded her.

‘That was before I realised what an arrogant bully you are.’

Jess’s voice rose, drawing the attention of a group of people who were walking across a nearby bridge over the canal. They were Americans, Drago realised when he overheard one of them speak in a distinctive accent. Many of the thousands of tourists who visited Venice each year preferred to come in the spring, to avoid the heat and the crowds who packed St Mark’s Square in the summer months.

He saw Jess glance at the people, and caught the flash of relief on her face as she realised they spoke English. It was easy to read her mind. She had proved when she had climbed down from the balcony that she was surprisingly resourceful and determined. There was only one way Drago could think of to stop her from creating a scene, and before she had time to comprehend his intention he pulled her into his arms and lowered his head, muffling her startled cry with his lips.

As he had expected she instantly stiffened, and he winced when her clenched fist made sharp contact with his ribs. He should have known from her vibrant hair and flashing green eyes that she was a hellcat, he thought ruefully. But the feel of her lithe body squirming against his as she struggled to escape from his grasp heated his blood and fired up his pride. He wasn’t used to women resisting him. Most women he met were a little too keen for him to take them to bed—which perhaps explained his recent restlessness as he searched for an elusive something that he did not even understand. It was a long time since he had felt the thrill of the chase or had to persuade a woman to kiss him back, but Jess had clamped her lips together in a tight line and the challenge of drawing a response from her was too strong to resist.

She had accused Drago of being a bully, but she had not expected him to prove it by kissing her against her will, Jess thought bitterly. She was furious that he had chosen to use his superior size and strength to control her. He was holding her so tightly that she could not move and was unable to jab her fist into him again. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the feel of his warm body through his silk shirt, together with the slight friction created as she struggled to pull herself free, was making her nipples feel hot and hard.

Dear heaven, what was happening to her? When had her determination to get away from him changed to desire? One minute she had been resisting him with all her strength, but now a curious lassitude was stealing through her and her body was sinking into him, her soft curves melting against the hardness of his thighs.

Her mouth felt bruised from his savage assault, but the nature of the kiss was changing. His lips were no longer demanding her submission but gently coaxing a response from her that she found impossible to deny. His warm breath filled her mouth as she parted her lips, and she tasted him when he dipped his tongue into her moist interior. His gentleness was unexpected and utterly beguiling. Sexual desire was something she had been sure she would never experience again, but as Drago cupped her bottom and pulled her so close that her pelvis was in direct contact with the hard ridge of his arousal straining beneath his jeans liquid heat coursed through her veins. With a soft moan Jess slid her hands to his shoulders and kissed him with the fiery passion that had lain dormant inside her for so long.

‘You see, honey, I told you they were just having a lovers’ tiff.’

The voice of one of the American tourists broke the silence. His companions’ laughter faded with the sound of their footsteps as they continued on their way. But the comment hurtled Jess back to reality and with a low cry she tore her mouth from Drago’s. To her relief he let her go, and she had a feeling that he was as shocked as she was by the chemistry that had exploded between them. He raked a hand through his dark hair, sweeping it back from his brow, and the moonlight slanting across his face struck the sharp lines of his cheekbones and revealed his tense expression.

‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ he said harshly.

Inexplicably, Jess felt hurt by his words. Of course the kiss had been a mistake, a moment of madness, but by pointing it out he made her feel cheap, and the self-disgust she had heard in his voice was a shameful reminder of his low opinion of her.

She wished she could think of something sarcastic to say, but she had never been clever with words. Drago was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe he had kissed her, and the disdainful curl of his lip was the final humiliation. She had to leave—now, before she felt any worse. She was furious with herself for responding to his kiss with such shameful enthusiasm.

The path running beside the canal did not continue past the end of the palazzo, and the American tourists had now had to retrace their steps back across the bridge. That meant the bridge was her only route of escape. But as she headed towards it Drago stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

‘Come back to the house,’ he ordered.

‘You must be kidding.’ Frantic to get away from him, she ran out along the jetty to where his boat was moored, realising as she did so how stupid the action was. She didn’t know how to start the boat. As she glanced over her shoulder and saw him following she knew she was trapped. ‘Leave me alone.’ She held out a hand to ward him off.

‘Dio, I’m not going to hurt you.’ Drago’s voice grew sharp. ‘Jess—be careful!’

But his words were too late. In the dark, she hadn’t realised how close she was to the end of the jetty, and with a cry she slipped and plunged into the inky depths of the canal.

CHAPTER FOUR

JESS WAS SUFFOCATING. Water filled her mouth and nose as she sank deeper. The water was so cold that her limbs, her brain, felt numb. An instinct for survival kicked in and she began to scrabble desperately against the blackness engulfing her. Her backpack was weighing her down. In panic she tore her arms free from the straps.

And then miraculously something jerked her back to the surface and she was able to drag oxygen into her lungs.

‘I can’t swim!’ she gasped, terrified that she would sink back down again.

‘It’s all right. I’ve got you. Santa Madre! Stop flapping like a stranded fish and let me pull you out.’

Strong hands hauled her up and dumped her onto the jetty. Choking up the foul-tasting water she had swallowed, Jess collapsed in a heap, shudders running through her as her terror gradually receded. Pushing her tangled wet hair out of her eyes she glared at Drago. ‘Of course I was damned well flapping—I thought I was going to drown.’

‘You can thank me for saving you later,’ he said drily. He frowned when her teeth began to chatter. The water in the canal was cold, but he assessed that the shivers racking her body were more likely due to shock. Without another word he bent and lifted her into his arms, taking no notice of her protests.

‘What about my rucksack? It’s still in the canal.’

‘And there it will stay—unless you want to dive back in and retrieve it.’

‘I told you. I can’t swim.’ Jess stared at Drago’s implacable face with a rising sense of frustration. ‘My passport is in that bag.’

‘Then it’s lucky you won’t need it for a while,’ he drawled. ‘Not until Angelo has regained consciousness and the matter of his missing money has been resolved.’

A new feeling of panic swept through Jess at the prospect of being Drago’s prisoner. ‘You can’t force me to stay,’ she muttered, struggling to speak when she was shivering so hard she felt as though her bones would snap.

‘I don’t see how you can leave without your passport,’ was his laconic reply—which ignited Jess’s temper so that she renewed her efforts to force him to put her down. Drago simply tightened his hold on her and growled, ‘Keep still. You’ve already got me wet enough. Dio, you’re as slippery as an eel.’

Charming. That was twice in the space of a few minutes that he’d likened her to a fish! Jess knew she should continue to struggle, but she felt so tired and cold, and being carried in Drago’s strong arms was dangerously seductive. Besides, where could she go now that her rucksack, containing her clothes, money and passport, was at the bottom of the canal? In a game of chess Drago would have her at checkmate, she acknowledged wearily.

He strode into the house and carried her up two flights of stairs as if she weighed nothing. Shouldering a door, he walked into a room that Jess guessed was the master suite. The elegant sitting room was decorated in shades of cream and gold and furnished with burgundy velvet sofas, and exquisite patterned rugs on the floor. But Jess only had a glimpse of the room as Drago continued on through a set of double doors into the bedroom.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to an enormous four-poster bed with gold damask drapes. The room, in particular the bed, was designed for seduction, she thought, as she took in the exotic décor of burgundy silk wallpaper. The satin bedspread was in the same rich shade.

With a renewed sense of panic she tried again to struggle out of his arms. ‘Why have you brought me here? I’d like to go back to my room.’

‘Not a hope. I’m not going to hang around under your balcony waiting to catch you when you take another leap out of the window.’

‘I didn’t leap out. It was a carefully planned escape, which I wouldn’t have needed to attempt if you hadn’t locked me in,’ Jess snapped, stung by his scathing tone. ‘And I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t startled me. What are you doing?’ she demanded when he carried her into the en suite bathroom and set her down in the shower cubicle. She gasped when he activated the shower and she was hit by a deluge of warm water. Her jeans and tee shirt were already wet from where she had fallen into the canal, but within seconds of standing beneath the spray her clothes were plastered to her body.

‘Do you need any help getting undressed?’

‘No!’ She glared at Drago, incensed by his mocking smile. Following his gaze, she glanced down and was horrified to see that her thin shirt had become almost transparent and the hard points of her nipples were plainly visible through the sodden material. ‘Go to hell,’ she muttered, hating him—but hating her body more, for its traitorous response to his virile sex appeal.

Unexpectedly, the stricken look in Jess’s eyes caused Drago a pang of remorse. Beneath her defiance she looked young and scared, and the realisation that she might be frightened of him made him uncomfortable. Dio, the idea of frightening a woman was abhorrent to him. He had behaved like a brute tonight, he acknowledged heavily. His concern for his cousin and the fact that he’d had barely any sleep in seventy-two hours had clouded his judgement. Although he suspected that Jess knew more about Angelo’s missing inheritance fund than she was letting on, nothing had been proved—and he could not forget how convincing she had sounded when she had protested her innocence.

‘Remain under the shower until you’ve warmed up,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ll find something for you to wear to sleep in.’

Ten minutes later, when Jess cautiously peered around the shower screen, she was relieved to find she was alone. A pile of towels had been left for her, and a man’s white shirt that she guessed belonged to Drago. He had been right about the shower warming her up—she had a feeling he was right about most things, she thought ruefully. But at least she had stopped shivering and her hair no longer smelled of canal water.

The shirt was so big on her that it reached halfway down her thighs. After blasting her hair with the dryer hanging on the wall, she acknowledged that she could not remain in the bathroom for ever.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was that Drago had changed out of his damp clothes into a navy blue silk robe that revealed an expanse of broad, tanned chest overlaid with whorls of dark hair.

‘Feeling better?’ he queried when Jess edged into the bedroom.

She nodded, her heart jolting against her ribs as he walked over to her and handed her a glass.

‘Drink this—a shot of brandy will warm your insides.’

‘No, thanks. I never touch spirits.’ She jerked back from him, blanching as she smelled the alcohol.

‘I’m not trying to poison you,’ he said drily.

‘I’m sorry.’ She flushed as she realised how rude she must seem. ‘I loathe alcohol. Even the smell of it reminds me…’

‘Reminds you of what?’ Drago prompted, puzzled by her strange reaction.

‘Nothing.’ Jess bit her lip when she realised Drago was waiting for her to answer. ‘My dad used to drink…a lot,’ she muttered. ‘He was an alcoholic. He drank rum, mainly, although he wasn’t fussy. He’d drink anything. Our house used to stink of alcohol.’

Drago hesitated, struggling for the first time in his life to know what to say. Jess’s voice had been expressionless, but he sensed that she kept a tight hold on her emotions. ‘You said your father used to drink?’ he said after a moment. ‘Does that mean he is no longer an alcoholic?’

‘He’s dead. He died when I was eleven.’

‘That must have been hard for you—to lose your father when you were so young.’

She shrugged. ‘To be honest he wasn’t a great dad. I don’t remember him ever being sober, and he used to spend all his money on drink so there was never much to eat at home.’ Once again her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes had darkened to a deep jade colour and held a faintly haunted expression.

‘What about your mother? She didn’t drink too, did she?’

‘I don’t think so. She died when I was a baby and I have no memory of her.’

Drago frowned. Why was he interested? he asked himself. He shouldn’t give a damn about Jess’s background. But he could not dismiss the image of her as an undernourished, uncared-for child. ‘Who brought you up after your father died?’

‘I went into a children’s home, which wasn’t so bad. At least I had dinner every day.’ Her wry smile turned into a yawn. ‘Sorry, but I’m shattered. It’s been an eventful day,’ she said pointedly.

‘Then get into bed.’ He pulled back the covers and gave her a querying look when she did not move.

Jess stared at the gold silk sheets and her heart began to pound. Surely Drago was not expecting her to sleep with him? The idea was outrageous, and yet…An image flashed into her mind of lying in that bed and feeling the sensual silk against her naked flesh. Like a film playing inside her head, she pictured Drago lying next to her, his tanned torso so dark in contrast to her paleness, his wiry chest hairs feeling faintly abrasive against her breasts as he lowered himself onto her.

Dear heaven. She drew an audible breath. Where had her shocking thoughts come from? She darted a glance at him and her heart missed a beat when she saw the predatory hunger in his eyes. The realisation that she had not imagined the sexual chemistry between them was frankly terrifying.

‘No way am I going to sleep with you,’ she said jerkily. ‘Was that why you wanted me to drink brandy—to make me more amenable?’

‘Amenable!’ Drago gave a harsh laugh. ‘I swear you don’t know the meaning of the word.’

He did not know what angered him most—her accusation that he had planned to seduce her or the fear he glimpsed in her eyes. Dio, she made him feel like a monster, when in fact he’d had the patience of a saint tonight.

‘For your information, I have never had to get a woman drunk to persuade her to sleep with me.’

His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. She looked a whole lot better than she had when he had pulled her from the canal: no longer a drowned rat but a red-haired sexpot with her soft lips slightly parted and the swift rise and fall of her breasts betraying her agitation. But it was not fear that made the pulse at the base of her neck beat erratically—he knew women too well, and he recognised the subtle signals her body was sending him.

‘I would not need to ply you with alcohol to get you into bed, would I, cara?’ he taunted softly. ‘From your response when I kissed you earlier I got the impression that I could take you any time I liked.’ Ignoring her fierce denial, he continued ruthlessly, ‘But someone with a conviction for fraud is not my ideal mistress. I have no intention of sharing a bed with you. The only reason I suggested you should sleep here is because you stripped the sheets from your bed to use in your juvenile escape attempt, and I’m not going to disturb the housemaid and ask her to prepare another bed for you. I’ll sleep in my dressing room for what’s left of tonight.’

As he strode past Jess on his way to his dressing room her dumbstruck expression awarded Drago some satisfaction. She was the craziest, most irritating woman he had ever met, he assured himself. But when he stretched out on the sofa bed sleep eluded him despite his tiredness, and his body ached with sexual frustration as he remembered how soft her lips had felt beneath his.

The sound of someone calling her name dragged Jess from a deep sleep, and she was vaguely aware of something lightly brushing her face. She blinked blearily as Drago’s hard-boned face filled her vision, and she was instantly awake and acutely aware of him.

God, he was gorgeous, she thought ruefully. His casual clothes of yesterday had been replaced with a dark suit and crisp white shirt that contrasted starkly with his olive-toned skin. He had evidently shaved, for his jaw was smooth and she inhaled the subtle scent of sandalwood cologne.

His sensual mouth was unsmiling, and as her memory of all the previous day’s events returned a sense of dread gripped her. ‘Is there any news about Angelo?’

‘His condition is unchanged,’ he informed her in a clipped tone. ‘When you’ve got up and had something to eat we’ll go to the hospital. I still believe you are the best hope of rousing him.’

With an effort Drago moved away from the bed before he gave in to temptation and joined Jess between the sheets. She reminded him of a sleepy kitten, curled up beneath the covers, her tawny hair spread across the pillows and her cat-like green eyes watching him from beneath long silky lashes.

He had woken earlier, feeling better for a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep, and more in control of himself. He’d hardly been able to believe that he had allowed a skinny redhead with an attitude problem to provoke him into losing his cool. But when he had leaned across the bed, intending to wake Jess, he had been riveted by her beautiful face. Unable to resist, he had run his finger lightly down her sleep-flushed cheek and discovered that her skin was as velvet-soft as a peach. Her lips had been slightly parted, and he’d felt a fierce longing to cover them with his own.

Cursing silently, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to allow the bright April sunshine to flood the room. ‘From now on you will sleep in the bedroom adjacent to mine. It does not have a balcony, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to try another escape trick,’ he said sardonically. ‘I have also arranged for some clothes to be delivered for you as yours are at the bottom of the canal.’

Jess decided not to point out that she considered it entirely his fault she had lost all her belongings. He had not mentioned his threat of the previous night to hand her over to the police and she deemed it better not to antagonise him. Once Angelo had regained consciousness and explained that he had not given her his inheritance money Drago would owe her a grovelling apology, but for now, bearing in mind that she did not have a passport, she realised she had no choice but to remain in Venice with him.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘If you give me the bill for the clothes I will, of course, pay you what I owe.’

She sounded genuine, and she looked so goddamned innocent. Drago’s eyes narrowed. Were his suspicions about her wrong? How could they be when the evidence was stacked against her? Angelo had told Aunt Dorotea he had given Jess his inheritance fund, and the private investigator had confirmed that she had a criminal record for fraud. She might look as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but he was not fooled by her, he assured himself.

‘It isn’t necessary for you to pay for them. The clothes belong to me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, either I’m going to look pretty silly, wearing clothes designed for a six-foot man, or you’re a cross-dresser.’

For a few seconds Drago could think of nothing to say in response to her startling statement, but then his lips twitched and he threw back his head and laughed. ‘I promise you I don’t have a penchant for dressing up in women’s clothes and stiletto heels.’

He watched Jess’s mouth curve into a smile and realised she had been teasing him. It was a novelty. He was not used to women with a sense of humour; most of the women he knew took themselves far too seriously. It felt strange to laugh, he mused. Even before Angelo’s accident there had rarely seemed anything to laugh about recently. The responsibility of running a business empire and taking care of his family weighed heavily on him. Although he made time to play squash and work out in his private gym, and he enjoyed an active sex life with numerous mistresses, his life was dictated by work and duty and he could not remember the last time anyone had made him smile.

‘The clothes are from the Cassa di Cassari collection,’ he explained. ‘Clothing is a new venture that the company is expanding into, and we have employed the top Italian fashion designer Torre Umberto. The new line won’t be available in the shops until next month, but Torre has sent some samples over for you to wear.’

His phone rang, breaking the curious connection he had briefly felt with Jess. He headed a global business empire which demanded his constant attention. He was distracted enough, worrying about his cousin, and he definitely did not have time to be distracted by a sassy redhead whose sweet smile made his guts ache, Drago reminded himself.

‘When you’re ready, the maid will show you the way to the dining room,’ he told her abruptly before he headed out of the door.

They had been at the hospital for hours, but still Angelo showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Jess stood up from her chair next to the bed, needing to stretch her legs. The small room felt claustrophobic, and although the blind at the window was pulled down the bright sunshine beating against the glass increased the stifling atmosphere.

As she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a plastic cup she was aware of two pairs of eyes following her. Angelo’s mother was no friendlier today than she had been last night and had not spoken a word to her. The poor woman was devastated, Jess reminded herself. But she also knew that the vibes of distrust from Drago’s aunt were due to her belief that Jess had conned her son out of his inheritance fund. When Angelo woke up he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, she thought heavily.

Dorotea turned her attention back to her son, but Jess was conscious that Drago’s gaze was still focused on her, and she self-consciously ran a hand over the cream jersey-silk skirt that she had discovered, along with a selection of other outfits, in the wardrobe of her room at the Palazzo d’Inverno.

The last time she had worn a skirt had been years ago, on one of the rare occasions when she had attended school, she thought wryly. She lived in jeans or work overalls, and she felt overdressed in the skirt and the delicate white blouse she had teamed with it. The tan leather belt around her waist matched the three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes. The elegant outfit had called for her to try to tame her thick hair, and she had swept it up into a loose knot on top of her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror before she had left her bedroom, she had been stunned by the transformation. She had always thought of her body as shapeless and too thin, but the beautifully designed skirt suited her slim figure, and the blouse was cleverly cut so that her small bust looked fuller. For the first time in years—since she was seventeen, in fact, and had worn a new dress to go out to dinner with her boss, Sebastian Loxley—she felt like an attractive woman. The glitter of sexual awareness in Drago’s eyes when she had walked into the dining room at the palazzo had sent a thrill of feminine pride through her. He had not commented on her appearance, but she had been aware of him glancing at her several times as they had eaten breakfast—just as she was aware of him watching her now.

‘I need some air,’ he announced abruptly. The metal feet of his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up. His eyes met Jess’s, but his expression was unreadable. ‘We’ll go and get a coffee. You need a break,’ he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You have talked to Angelo and sung to him—’ he glanced briefly at the guitar standing by the bed ‘—almost constantly for four hours.’

‘I came to try to help,’ she replied huskily, feeling herself blush. She had sung a couple of pop ballads that Angelo had taught her to play on the guitar while Drago had gone to make a phone call, and she felt embarrassed that he must have been just outside the door and had heard her.

‘Hopefully he will regain consciousness soon, and if he does it will be no small thanks to you,’ Drago said roughly.

He could not help but be impressed by Jess’s efforts to rouse his cousin. She had barely moved from his bedside since they had arrived at the hospital that morning, and she had talked to him until her throat sounded dry. The question of whether they were lovers returned to taunt him. She had denied it, had said that they were simply friends, but she was so goddamned beautiful and it was easy to believe she had seduced shy, inexperienced Angelo with her sex-kitten sensuality and persuaded him to give her a fortune.

Drago’s jaw clenched. She had taken his breath away when she had joined him for breakfast at the palazzo that morning, dressed in clothes that had drawn his gaze to her slender but shapely figure. The scruffy tomboy had turned into an elegant woman, but beneath her new sophistication he recognised her inherently sensual nature, and his appetite for food had deserted him as he’d fantasised about having hot, hard sex with her on the dining table.

Frowning at the inappropriateness of his thoughts when his cousin was in a critical condition, Drago was unaware of how forbidding he looked as he escorted Jess to the hospital cafeteria. He ordered two coffees and carried them over to the empty table she had found.

She seemed distracted as she added three spoons of sugar to her coffee, prompting him to ask, ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I wish my phone wasn’t at the bottom of the canal,’ she said ruefully. ‘I’d like to call Mike, my foreman, to make sure the job we’ve been working on will be finished on time. Clients hate delays, and it’s important that the company maintains a good reputation.’ Jess pushed a stray tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Do the doctors have any idea of when Angelo might regain consciousness? I want to stay if it is deemed that hearing my voice might help rouse him, but I have a responsibility to my team of decorators in London. If I don’t finalise our next contract they won’t have any work.’

Drago sipped his unsweetened black coffee, relishing the hit of caffeine, and gave her a speculative look. ‘I understand that your decorating business was facing bankruptcy until a few months ago?’

‘How do you know that?’ Her startled expression turned to anger. ‘I suppose the investigator you hired to spy on me told you?’

He did not deny it. ‘I know you paid twenty thousand pounds into the company account to clear its debts and overdraft. I can’t help thinking how remarkably convenient it was that you suddenly acquired a large sum of money just in time to save the business from financial meltdown.’

As his meaning became clear, Jess felt sick. ‘If you think I got the money from Angelo, you’re wrong.’

‘So where did it come from? And perhaps you can also explain how you live in a luxury apartment with a rental value far higher than you could afford on a decorator’s wage.’

Jess was stunned at how much he knew about her personal life, and felt violated by the intrusion.

‘I don’t have to explain anything to you,’ she said angrily. ‘But as a matter of fact the money I used to bail out T&J Decorators was left to me.’

Drago looked disbelieving. ‘You’re saying you received an inheritance? Who from? You told me your alcoholic father spent all his money on drink.’

‘Yeah, he certainly never gave me anything—not even affection,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be the only child in the class not to be dressed in clean clothes? Or the only one not to go on a school trip because your dad was too drunk to sign the permission form?’ She clamped her lips together, startled by her outburst. Her childhood was something she never spoke about. ‘Of course you don’t know. You were born into a wealthy, loving family.’

She swallowed. ‘I didn’t know what it felt like to be part of a family until I was seventeen, when I went to stay with a wonderful couple who had experience of helping troubled teenagers. Ted and Margaret changed my life in so many ways. Sadly they are both dead now, and six months ago I learned that I was a beneficiary in Margaret’s will.’

The raw emotion in Jess’s voice tugged on Drago’s insides. He was shocked by her revelations about her childhood and felt uncomfortable that his questioning of her had forced her to talk about a subject she clearly found painful. She could be making up a sob story to gain his sympathy, his mind pointed out. But the haunted expression in her eyes was too real to be an act.

‘As for how I afford to live in an expensive property,’ she continued, ‘I have an arrangement with a property developer who allows me to live in properties he owns rent-free. In return I carry out renovation work and decorate them to a high standard. As soon as the work is finished on the flat I’m currently living in I’ll move out, and the developer will lease it to paying tenants.’

Jess glared at Drago. ‘You are wrong about me,’ she said fiercely. ‘And when Angelo wakes up and tells you where his money is I’ll expect an apology from you.’

His coldly arrogant expression did not soften. ‘I’m not wrong about your criminal record. It is an undeniable fact that you were convicted of fraud, and in light of that I think my suspicion that you know what has happened to my cousin’s inheritance is understandable.’

‘I was seventeen, for God’s sake, and very naïve.’ Jess bit her lip. ‘I was set up and I didn’t understand that I was committing a crime.’

‘Set up by whom?’

The rank disbelief in Drago’s tone made Jess’s heart sink. She had no chance of convincing him of her innocence when she had been found guilty by a jury, she acknowledged bleakly. The injustice of what had happened still burned inside her. But at the same time as the court case seven years ago, she had had to make a monumental decision that had left her feeling numb and strangely distanced from other events in her life.

‘Explain what you mean about being set up,’ Drago demanded.

‘What’s the point?’ She tore her eyes from his hard-boned face, hating the way her body responded to him. ‘You have already judged me. The only person who can exonerate me is Angelo.’

The strident ring of his phone made them both jump. Drago frowned when he saw the hospital consultant’s number flash on the caller display, and he quickly answered. After a terse conversation in Italian he ended the call and stared across the table at Jess.

‘Angelo has just regained consciousness—and he has asked for you.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY WERE MET at the door of the intensive care unit by a smartly dressed woman whom Drago hurriedly introduced as his mother. Luisa Cassari subjected Jess to a sharp stare, which became speculative as she turned her gaze on her son.

‘I thought the new Cassari clothing range wasn’t going to be launched in stores until May, but I see Miss Harper is already wearing pieces from the collection.’

Drago met his mother’s enquiry coolly. ‘It was necessary to provide Jess with something to wear after she lost all her belongings.’

Her brows rose as she glanced back at Jess. ‘How did you lose your things?’

‘Um…I fell into the canal.’ Jess felt her face burning. ‘It’s a long story,’ she mumbled.

‘And an intriguing one, I’m sure.’

There followed a rapid conversation in Italian between mother and son, and Jess was surprised to see that Drago looked faintly uncomfortable.

‘We should be concentrating on Angelo,’ he told his mother, reverting back to English and speaking in a firm tone that caused Luisa to compress her lips. But she made no further comment as Drago placed his hand on Jess’s shoulder and pushed her towards the bed.

Aunt Dorotea was gripping Angelo’s hand while tears streamed down her face.

Drago spoke to the doctor who was standing nearby. ‘What’s happened?’

‘He came round a few minutes ago and asked for his mother. He was lucid, and the signs are good that he is emerging from the coma.’ The doctor looked at Jess. ‘He also murmured your name. I think it would help if he heard your voice.’

Supremely conscious that everyone in the room was watching her, Jess leaned over the bed and said softly, ‘Hi, Angelo. It’s great to have you back.’

His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. ‘Jess?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ Tears clogged her throat so that her voiced emerged as a croaky whisper. She felt weak with relief that Angelo was back from the brink.

His eyes had closed, but now they opened again. ‘What happened to me?’

After darting a questioning glance at the doctor, Jess said gently, ‘You had a car accident. Do you remember?’

Angelo’s brow furrowed. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I needed to tell Drago something…but I don’t remember what it was.’ He focused unsteadily on Jess and managed a faint smile. ‘I know that we are friends.’ His smile faded. ‘But I don’t remember how I know you. I don’t remember anything…except that I had to see Drago urgently.’

‘I’m here,’ Drago said gruffly, struggling to control his emotions. ‘Take it easy, Angelo. I’m sure your memory will come back soon.’

Angelo turned his head on the pillow and smiled at his mother. ‘Ciao, Mamma.’

Aunt Dorotea promptly burst into tears again, and as she leaned across the bed to kiss her son Drago indicated that Jess should step back.

‘Aren’t you going to ask him about his inheritance money?’ she demanded in a fierce whisper, while the doctor and nursing staff crowded around the bed.

‘He’s hardly in a fit state. You heard what he said. He doesn’t remember anything at the moment. I need to have a word with the doctor about Angelo’s memory loss.’

Drago followed the consultant out of the room, and when he returned a few minutes later his expression was grim. Angelo had fallen into a peaceful sleep, and Drago spoke in a low voice.

‘The consultant says that amnesia after a head injury is fairly common, but he can’t predict how long it will last. There are some other issues that he is more concerned about—particularly the serious break to Angelo’s left leg, which will require surgery.’ His aunt gasped, and he put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Try not to worry,’ he told her gently. ‘The doctor says he will be fine, and he is sure that in time his memory will return. A brain scan will tell us more. But for now we must be patient, and not excite or upset Angelo in any way that could hinder his recovery.’

He looked at Jess as he made this last statement, the hard expression in his black eyes warning her not to say anything until they had moved away from Angelo’s bedside. Holding open the door, he waited for her to precede him out into the corridor.

‘The consultant believes you could be the key to Angelo regaining his memory,’ he told her. ‘The fact that he remembers you, but not the accident, means that the amnesia is patchy, and if you keep talking to him you may jog his memory into returning fully.’

But until his memory did return she was still under suspicion from Drago and the other members of Angelo’s family, who believed she had persuaded him to give her a fortune, Jess realised heavily. ‘It could take days, or even weeks before he regains his memory.’ A note of panic crept into her voice. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to stay in Venice indefinitely.’

‘That’s exactly what I expect,’ Drago said coolly. ‘Angelo’s mind is trapped at a point in time when he believes you are his friend. When his memory eventually returns he may be able to explain why he told his mother that he gave you his inheritance fund and the truth of the matter will be revealed. But until then you will stay at the Palazzo d’Inverno as my guest.’

‘As your prisoner, you mean,’ she said angrily. ‘Guests aren’t usually locked in their room. Much as I want to help, I can’t abandon my business.’ She felt bad about leaving Angelo, but her team of workmen relied on her. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go back to London.’

Drago’s dark brows lifted in the arrogant expression Jess was becoming familiar with. ‘How do you intend to do that without a passport or money?’

‘I suppose I’ll have to go to the British Embassy and report that I’ve lost my passport.’ In truth she did not have a clue how she was going to get home, but she did not want him to guess she was worried.

‘You don’t even have money to pay for a taxi to the airport, much less an air ticket to London,’ he pointed out. ‘You should be grateful that I have offered you somewhere to stay.’

The mockery in his voice ignited Jess’s temper. ‘Grateful? I’d rather take my chances in a pit of rattlesnakes than stay with you.’ Her voice rose as she forgot that they were standing outside Angelo’s room, within earshot of Drago’s mother and aunt, not to mention half a dozen medical staff. Fury flashed in her green eyes. ‘You are a dictatorial, egotistical—’ She broke off and gave a startled gasp when his arm shot around her waist and he dragged her hard up against him. Too late she realised that she had pushed him beyond the limits of his patience.

‘And you have viper’s tongue,’ Drago growled, before he silenced her by bringing his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss designed to prove his dominance.

Determined not to respond, Jess clamped her lips together, but her senses were swamped by the tantalising scent of his aftershave and the feel of his smooth cheek brushing against hers. His warm breath filled her mouth as he teased her lips apart with his tongue, probing insistently until with a low moan she sank against him, a prisoner to his masterful passion. But he was as much a slave to the explosive sexual chemistry that burned like a white-hot flame between them as she was, she realised, when he cupped her bottom and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs, so that she was intensely aware of his powerful erection.

His breathing was ragged when he finally tore his mouth from hers, and the savage glitter in his eyes echoed the harshness of his voice. ‘Madonna, I think you must be a witch. You are driving me crazy.’ His lip curled with self-disgust. ‘My cousin has serious injuries, the extent of which are not fully known, yet all I can think about is how goddamned beautiful you are and how badly I want you.’

Jess was shaken to hear him admit he was attracted to her. But rather than feeling triumphant that a man as gorgeous and sexy as Drago desired her she was afraid of where their mutual awareness might lead, and terrified that she would be unable to resist him if he kissed her again.

‘Let me go,’ she pleaded huskily. ‘If you help me get to England I’ll repay you the cost of my flight, and I promise I’ll come back to visit Angelo.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight until I find out what happened to my cousin’s inheritance.’

The door to Angelo’s room suddenly opened, making them spring apart. But not quickly enough to escape Drago’s mother’s keen scrutiny. Jess’s mouth felt swollen and her breasts ached with a sweet heaviness. A glance downwards revealed that her nipples were plainly visible, jutting beneath the fine material of her blouse. She hastily crossed her arms in front of her, blushing furiously when Luisa stared at her and then at her son.

‘Angelo would like to see you,’ she said to Jess. ‘If you are not busy?’ she added, in a tone as dry as a desert.

‘I’ll come and sit with him,’ she mumbled. She felt humiliated by the look of disdain in Luisa Cassari’s eyes, but Drago seemed indifferent to his mother’s disapproval. He was reading a message he had received on his phone and then glanced briefly at Jess.

‘I need to go to the office for a couple of hours. When you have spent some time with Angelo my bodyguard will take you back to the palazzo.’

As he spoke the stocky man who had met them at the airport the previous day walked down the corridor towards them. Fico planted himself outside Angelo’s room and crossed his arms over his massive chest.

‘He doesn’t speak a word of English,’ Drago murmured. ‘And he is under strict orders to escort you from the hospital straight to my house.’

Anger surged through her. ‘In other words he’s my jailer?’

He gave a laconic shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Jess muttered sarcastically. As she turned away from him and marched into Angelo’s room she was unaware of a flare of amusement and grudging admiration in Drago’s eyes.

Much later that night, Drago strode through the Palazzo d’Inverno, his solitary footsteps echoing hollowly on the marble staircase. It was not the first time he had instructed the household staff not to wait up for him, nor the first time he had missed dinner because he’d had to deal with a crisis at work.

No doubt Jess would have been glad of his absence this evening, he mused. She had already left the hospital with Fico by the time he had arrived to visit his cousin and meet with Angelo’s medical team. The young man’s injuries were serious, and he faced a long road back to recovery, but thank God he had not suffered brain damage. The brain scan had revealed severe bruising, and there was the worry of his memory loss, but there was every reason to hope that the amnesia would be short-lived. Once Angelo’s memory had returned hopefully he would shed some light on the matter of his missing inheritance fund and confirm if he had given the money to Jess—something she strenuously denied.

Madonna! How had she crept into his mind again? Drago asked himself angrily. He had accused her of being a witch. Perhaps she really was a sorceress and had cast a spell on him? Even during the emergency board meeting he’d chaired to discuss a problem that had arisen with a new project in China he had struggled to keep his thoughts from wandering to the sassy, sexy redhead who was currently a guest or a prisoner at his home, depending on your viewpoint.

Jess had made her feelings very clear, he thought wryly. She had antagonised him until he had kissed her, but when she had kissed him back his anger had turned to scorching desire. For the rest of the day he had been able to taste her on his lips, and the lingering scent of her perfume still tormented him. Guilt assailed him that Jess dominated his thoughts, but he was relieved to know for certain that she and his cousin were not lovers. Angelo had given him a curious look when Drago had asked him about his relationship with Jess, but had explained that they were simply friends.

The chef had left a platter of cold meats and salad in the fridge for him. Drago carried his supper up to his room, his footsteps slowing as he walked past Jess’s bedroom and saw light filtering beneath the door. Ignoring the temptation to check if she was awake, he carried on into his suite of rooms, flicked on the TV and forced himself to eat even though he had no appetite—at least not for food, he acknowledged, aware of a tightening sensation in his groin as an image of Jess lying naked on his bed flooded his mind.

Muttering a curse, he put down the plate and headed into the en suite bathroom, hoping that a shower would help to relieve his tension.

Jess felt too wound up to sleep. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling which, like in the first room she had occupied, before her ill-fated attempt to climb down from the balcony, was decorated with elaborate artwork. But even though the fresco depicting the goddess Aphrodite was beautiful she was bored with studying it—just as she was bored with watching television when all the programmes were in Italian.

Her mind returned to wondering why Drago had not returned to the palazzo for dinner. Not that she had wanted to spend time with him, and she certainly hadn’t changed into a gorgeous green silk dress from the Cassa di Cassari collection because she had hoped to impress him, but she had felt strangely lonely sitting on her own at the huge polished dining table. And that really did not make sense, because after growing up in the children’s home constantly surrounded by other kids she liked her own company.

Drago had probably gone to visit a girlfriend. It was inconceivable that a man as devastatingly handsome and sexy as he was did not have a lover—or maybe more than one. Good luck to them, she thought as she sat up and thumped her pillows. Any woman who took him on would have to cope with his arrogant and bossy nature.

A sudden crash, followed by a shout, shattered the silence. The sounds had been loud, even through the walls that separated her room from Drago’s, and the deathly quiet that followed seemed ominous to Jess’s overactive imagination. Curiosity got the better of her and she slid out of bed.

The door to Drago’s suite was shut. She knocked, but received no answer, and after a moment’s hesitation she turned the handle and found that the door was unlocked. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet as she crossed the sitting room. The door leading to his bedroom was ajar, and as she cautiously peeped round it she inhaled an overwhelmingly strong scent of aftershave.

Just then he emerged from the en suite bathroom, and the sight of his blood-soaked chest caused her to give a sharp cry.

‘Santa Madre!’ He stopped dead, clearly shocked to see her. ‘What are you doing, flitting around the house as noiselessly as a wraith?’

‘I heard a crash…’ Jess could not tear her eyes from what she now realised was a blood-stained towel wrapped around the hand that he was holding against his chest. ‘What have you done?’

He glanced down at his front and said wryly, ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I cut my hand on some glass and it’s made a bloody mess—literally. I knocked a bottle of cologne into the sink and then compounded my clumsiness by trying to pick up the shards of glass. The damned cut won’t stop bleeding. Can you look in the bathroom cabinet for a bandage?’ He gave her an intent look when she hesitated. ‘Does the sight of blood bother you?’

No way was Jess going to admit that it was not the blood that bothered her but the sight of Drago’s naked, olive-skinned chest as he shrugged off his stained shirt. Her gaze was drawn to the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles, and followed the path of wiry black hair that arrowed down his torso and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

She swallowed, and replied in a faintly strained voice, ‘No. When I was a kid I regularly used to patch my dad up after he’d had some accident or other while he was drunk. Once he fell through a neighbour’s greenhouse and was cut to ribbons.’

Drago frowned. ‘How old were you when that happened?’

She shrugged. ‘Eight or so. Sit down while I dress the wound,’ she bade him, when she had followed him into the bathroom and found a medical box in the cupboard.

He sat on the edge of the bath and unwound the towel to reveal a deep cut across his palm. ‘I’ve kept pressure on it and elevated my hand. The bleeding seems to be easing.’

‘I don’t think it needs stitching,’ Jess said after she had inspected the wound. ‘You’re lucky.’

‘Sì.’ He could not disguise the weariness in his voice. ‘I don’t fancy another trip to the hospital tonight.’

She threw him a quick look. ‘Is that where you’ve been? I wondered why you weren’t at dinner.’

‘Why, cara, you almost sound as though you missed me,’ he drawled.

‘Of course I didn’t. Why would I miss my jailer?’ Aware that she was blushing, she concentrated on her task. ‘At least the cut will have been sterilised by the cologne,’ she murmured as she began to bandage his hand. ‘It smells like a sultan’s harem in here.’

‘Are you speaking from personal experience?’

Drago subjected her to a leisurely inspection that for some reason made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.

‘I’m sure you would be a sultan’s favourite concubine, with your creamy skin and fiery hair,’ he said softly.

Startled by the sudden change in his voice, from teasing to husky and achingly sensual, Jess caught her breath. Her eyes flew to his, and saw the undisguised hunger in his glittering stare. ‘Of course I’ve never been in a harem,’ she choked. ‘I would never be a man’s plaything. I believe in equality between men and women.’

Nothing on earth would make her confess her secret fantasy of being swept into the arms of a handsome, powerful man and being seduced on silken sheets. In the fantasy she fought against his dominance at first, but she could not resist the skilful touch of his hands and mouth as he aroused her and tormented her until she begged for him to possess her.

Her dream lover had never had a face—until now. She darted a glance at Drago’s chiselled features and felt her stomach dip. He was all her fantasies rolled into one, she acknowledged ruefully. His hard-boned masculine beauty was made even sexier by the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw. She stared at his mouth, remembering how it had felt on hers when he had kissed her, and unconsciously she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, as if she could recapture the taste of him.

The atmosphere in the bathroom altered subtly and the sexual tension was almost palpable. Drago was conscious of the slow thud of his heart, and even more aware of the throbbing ache in his groin, the urgent drumbeat of desire flooding through his veins. It had started with the brush of Jess’s fingers on his skin as she’d wrapped the bandage around his hand. The contrast of her pale fingers against his darkly tanned flesh had made him imagine her naked in his arms, her smooth white limbs entwined with his hair-roughened thighs.

But in all honesty it had started before that—when she had appeared in his room looking utterly delectable, wearing a nightgown from the Cassa di Cassari collection that was little more than a wisp of white silk and lace. She was an intriguing mixture of virginal innocence and sensual siren, with her crushed-berry lips and those startling green cat’s eyes.

As she leaned over him to tend to his hand he breathed in the delicate rose-scented fragrance of her skin, and the brush of her silky hair against his bare shoulder inflamed his senses. From the first moment he had seen her in London he had felt a primitive hunger to possess her and claim her as his woman. He was no Neanderthal; he was a twenty-first century guy who believed in equality between the sexes as much as she did. But his desire for her was a pagan force he had no control over.

He had never wanted any woman the way he wanted Jess, Drago acknowledged. The gentle concern in her eyes as she tied the bandage on his hand called to something deep inside him. Since the death of his father he had been the carer and protector of his family, always strong and in control. Tonight that control was slipping away from him. He was not thinking about his suspicion that she was involved with his cousin’s missing inheritance fund, or that she had once been convicted of fraud. All he could think of was that her glorious red-gold hair felt like silk when he brushed it back from her face, and her rose-flushed cheek was velvet-soft beneath his fingertips.

Driven purely by instinct, he threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her head towards him. He was still sitting on the edge of the bath, and her petite stature meant that her face was level with his and her lips were tantalisingly close. She did not resist or pull away, but he could hear the catch of her breath and see the pulse at the base of her throat beating frantically. For a few seconds they remained poised while anticipation built to an intolerable level. Their eyes locked and held, until with a harsh groan Drago slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with slow deliberation that quickly flared into a firestorm of passion.

Drago’s tongue probed expertly between Jess’s lips to coax them apart—although in truth he did not need to do much coaxing, she acknowledged ruefully. From the moment he had captured her mouth she had been lost, and with no thought in her head to deny him she parted her lips and heard him give a low groan as he explored her inner sweetness.

He was the man of her fantasies. The only man she had ever allowed to breach her defences since Seb. The memory of that disastrous relationship made her stiffen and question what she was doing. Drago had openly stated that he mistrusted her. Why, then, was she allowing him to kiss her? And why was she responding to him?

Because she could not help herself, whispered a little voice inside her head. Because the very first time she had seen him she had felt that she belonged in some deep and fundamental way to him. Her sensible self knew it was ridiculous; she did not need to belong to anyone, and she knew how dangerous it was to want to be cared for. She had fallen for Seb because she had been lonely and desperate to be loved. But he had abused her trust and she had vowed never to risk her heart again.

Drago finally broke the kiss and Jess knew she should pull out of his arms and end the madness. She knew it, but she could not do it. He trailed his lips over her cheek, her throat, and she shivered with pleasure when he found the sensitive place behind her ear.

‘Cara, you are so beautiful,’ he said raggedly, and his deeply sensual voice made her shiver again with a fierce, sharp need that started low in her belly and radiated through her so that every nerve-ending on her body felt acutely sensitive.

He captured the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat and then brushed his mouth along her collarbone. Her heart stopped when he slid the strap of her nightgown over her shoulder. Her breasts ached with a sweet heaviness, and when he brushed his fingers over the swollen peaks of her nipples, straining beneath the silk, she jerked as if an electrical current had shot through her.

He gave a husky laugh, but there was no amusement in eyes that were as black as jet and glittering with predatory intent. ‘I know. It’s the same for me too. The wanting. The hunger clawing in my gut.’

His jaw tightened and Jess sensed he was fighting an internal battle with himself, as if he resented his desire for her.

‘When you opened the door of your flat in London I took one look at you and knew I had to have you,’ he admitted in a driven tone.

‘Drago…’ Jess gave a keening cry when he tugged her nightgown lower and bared one of her breasts.

He stared at her, tension in every sculpted line of his face, his skin stretched tight over his sharp cheekbones. ‘No games,’ he said harshly. ‘If you don’t want this then go—now.’

He did not try to persuade her to stay with words and promises that they both knew would be false, and Jess was glad of that. She had been fooled by promises once before and her heart had been broken as a consequence. She was not a vulnerable seventeen-year-old any more, she reminded herself. She had grown up and discarded her silly dreams. Sexual desire was a perfectly natural feeling, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to give in to its demands. As long as she remembered to keep her head screwed on her heart would be in no danger.

CHAPTER SIX

‘WE BARELY KNOW each other.’ An instinct for self-protection made Jess cling to the last shreds of her sanity and offer a valid reason why she should walk away from Drago. ‘And what you think you know about me isn’t the truth,’ she added, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

‘Maybe it isn’t.’ As he uttered the words, Drago accepted that he did not know what to think about her.

He had evidence that she had been convicted of fraud, but it had happened a long time ago, when she had been a teenager. A mistake in her past did not mean she was inherently untrustworthy, his mind argued. Madonna, was he making excuses for her because he needed to justify his desire for her? He still did not understand what her true involvement with his cousin was, but she had fiercely denied knowing anything about Angelo’s missing inheritance fund.

He did not know what to believe, and right now—shocking though it was to admit it—he did not care about his cousin, or the money, or anything that had happened in Jess’s past. All he cared about was that she was half-naked and so exquisitely lovely that simply looking at her made him harder than he had ever been in his life. His hand actually shook as he reached out and slid the other strap of her nightgown down her arm, until her small, firm breasts with their dusky pink nipples were revealed to his hungry gaze.

‘It’s true we don’t know many details about each other, but from the moment we met we were both aware of the chemistry that exists between us. No other woman has ever made me feel this out of control,’ Drago admitted roughly. ‘Say something, damn it,’ he growled, feeling his blood pound through his veins when she simply stared at him with her stunning green eyes. Witch’s eyes, trapping him in her spell.

He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the feel of her silken skin as he clasped her shoulders and pulled her to him. Nothing mattered but the honeyed taste of her as he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a potent kiss that demanded a response she gave so willingly that he could not restrain a husky groan when he felt her lips part obediently, allowing him to thrust his tongue between them.

Jess’s heart thudded hard against her ribs when Drago suddenly stood up from the edge of the bath and scooped her into his arms as if she was a rag doll. She felt as boneless as one, she thought ruefully. One kiss was all it had taken to turn the sharp-tongued firebrand Jess Harper she prided herself on being into a trembling mass of nervous excitement. Drago was going to make love to her, and she was not going to stop him.

He carried her through to his bedroom. As her gaze fell on the four-poster bed, with its opulent gold silk drapes and sheets, the dull ache in the pit of her stomach became an insistent throb and she was conscious of molten warmth between her thighs. He placed her on the bed and stared down at her with a brooding intensity in his black eyes that was just as arousing as if he had touched her.

‘I want to make love to you slowly—indulge in leisurely foreplay and prolong the pleasure until one of us begs for release,’ he bit out. ‘But I am so turned on that there isn’t a chance in hell of that happening, mia bella.’

His taut voice revealed that he was hanging onto his self-control with supreme effort. Amazed that she could have such an effect on him, Jess touched the nerve jumping in his cheek. Her heart leapt when he turned his head so that his mouth grazed her fingers.

‘I want you too,’ she whispered.

It was what Drago wanted to hear, and his body reacted predictably. But the faint hesitancy he heard in her voice made him hold back from ripping off her nightgown and pushing her legs apart so that he could take her hard and fast, as the blood pounding in his veins urged him to do. She was not behaving as he had expected her to. His previous sexual encounters had always been with experienced women, who knew how to please him and were not shy about stating what pleased them. But Jess was clearly waiting for him to take the lead.

She looked incredibly sexy, stretched out on the bed with her fiery hair spread over the pillows, her small, pale breasts with their tightly puckered pink nipples practically begging for the ministrations of his tongue. And yet at the same time he sensed an innocence about her that made him think that she had not had many lovers.

Why the idea should make him want to grin he did not know, but as he smiled at her and watched her lips curve in a tentative response he felt a curious tug on his insides, and he forced himself to relax and slow the pace a little.

‘Show me how much you want me,’ he murmured as he bent his head and slanted his mouth over hers. Her immediate response stoked his desire, and he groaned and deepened the kiss until he felt tremors run through her body and realised that he was shaking too.

He heard the faint catch of her breath when he stroked her breasts, and the soft moan she gave as he flicked his thumb-pads across her nipples made him want to drag her beneath him and seek the release he craved. She was so sweetly responsive, and yet he sensed she was surprised by his caresses, as if the sensations she felt when he kissed her and touched her body were new to her.

From then on Drago forgot his own needs and concentrated on arousing Jess. He breathed in the delicate fragrance of her skin as he kissed her throat, the creamy slopes of her breasts, and finally closed his lips around one taut, dusky peak and then its twin. Her nightgown was bunched up around her waist, and he pushed it over her hips and placed his hand over the slight mound of her womanhood, hidden from his gaze beneath the fragile barrier of white lace knickers. She gave an involuntary movement and tried to clamp her legs together, but released her breath on a shivery sigh when he gently eased her thighs apart and slid his fingers beneath her panties. With delicate precision he dipped a finger into her moist opening and felt her buck her hips as he probed deeper into her honeyed sweetness.

Jess trembled as Drago continued his intimate exploration. She had never experienced such intense pleasure as he was eliciting, with his wickedly inventive fingers and with his mouth as he bent his head to her breasts and lashed her swollen nipples with his tongue. Sex with Seb had been very different, she thought ruefully. The few times she had slept with him he had seemed far more intent on his own pleasure than hers, but she had been so besotted with him that she’d felt grateful for any small sign of affection from him.

She was jolted from her thoughts of the past when Drago stood up from the bed and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Black silk boxers followed his trousers to the floor, and the sight of his naked, hugely aroused body stole her breath.

Feeling a little nervous now, she circled her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unknowingly provocative gesture and blurted out, ‘Oh, heavens.’

Drago gave a ragged laugh. ‘Cara, if you continue to look at me like you are doing I think I’ll explode.’ His voice thickened. ‘It has to be now, mia bella. I can’t wait any longer.’

As he knelt above her, his dark eyes glittering with the intensity of his desire, Jess’s heart rate quickened and the slight fear she’d felt that he was too big and powerful for her to cope with faded. She had never been so aroused, so desperate to ease the aching need that throbbed in every pore of her body.

His skin felt warm beneath her palms as she slid her hands over his chest and felt the faint abrasion of his chest hair. She loved the feeling of closeness to another human being. It was something she had rarely experienced. She did not remember her father ever hugging her as a child, and at the children’s home the staff had been kind but never affectionate.

All Drago was offering was sex, she reminded herself. And that was all she wanted too—the satiation of this feverish yearning that blotted out all other thoughts and left her mindless with desire. Her heart thudded when he pulled her knickers down her legs and pushed her thighs apart. The deliberation of his actions increased her excitement and she whimpered when he touched her intimately again, the sensations he aroused as he found the most sensitive part of her making her arch her hips in urgent invitation.

The solid ridge of his erection jabbed her belly, but when she curled her fingers around his swollen manhood he made a harsh sound.

‘Not this time, cara,’ he growled as he pressed forward and entered her with a deep thrust that drove the breath from her lungs. Feeling her sudden tension, he stilled and stared into her eyes, a look of puzzlement in his. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice was rough with concern. ‘I did not expect you to be so tight.’

She flushed. ‘It’s been a while,’ she admitted, suddenly fearful that he would be disappointed by her.

‘If it is uncomfortable for you we’ll stop.’

‘No!’ Feeling him begin to withdraw, she clutched hold of him and wrapped her legs around his hips. ‘I don’t want to stop.’

Drago closed his eyes, struggling for control as his body reacted to the mind-blowing delight of feeling her vaginal muscles grip him in a velvet embrace. As Jess slowly relaxed he could not resist sinking deeper into her, and his buttocks clenched as he fought against the hot tide of pleasure that was threatening to overwhelm him.

‘I’m not going to stop,’ he assured her as he withdrew a little and she made a husky protest. If he was honest he did not think he could stop when his body was so tight and hot and hard, he acknowledged ruefully. ‘See?’ He thrust into her again—once, twice—each stroke harder and faster than the last as he set a rhythm that drove them both higher.

‘Oh…’ Jess gasped as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and tilted her so that the tip of his steel-hard arousal hit an especially sensitive spot deep within her. Waves of pleasure ripped through her as he plunged between her trembling thighs with an urgency that told her his control was close to breaking. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she gripped the silk sheet beneath her, her fingers clawing at it as her excitement built to an intolerable level.

Nothing had prepared her for the ecstasy of her first ever orgasm. It overwhelmed her. Shock waves of incredible sensation pounded her and she shuddered with convulsive pleasure. Almost simultaneously she felt a tremor run through Drago’s big body and he gave a harsh groan. The sound of it was somehow more shocking than anything that had gone before. The fact that this powerful man had come apart in her arms filled Jess with fierce tenderness, so that she curled her arms around his neck and stroked his hair as he laid his head on her breasts.

In the lull after the storm only the sound of their breathing gradually slowing broke the intense quiet, and in those moments when they were still joined it seemed to Jess that they were the only two people in a private, magical world.

Early next morning—so early that the light filtering through the crack in the curtains was a pale, iridescent glimmer—Jess lay still, pretending to be asleep, although in fact she was studying Drago from beneath her lashes.

He was lying on his back, staring up at the drapes of the four-poster bed. His hard-as-granite profile was not encouraging and her heart sank. Of course she had not expected to wake in his arms, or for him to kiss her tenderly as the new day dawned. She was stupid—falling into his bed last night had proved that—but she harboured no illusions that the passion they’d shared had been anything more than mind-blowing sex.

So why were tears blurring her vision? Why was she wishing with all her heart that he would pull her close and stroke her hair? She had been starved of affection all her life, so why did his indifference hurt so much?

Perhaps he sensed that she was awake, because he turned his head on the pillows. She blinked hard to dispel her tears. Pride was her faithful ally. No way was she going to act like a whipped puppy.

‘Before you say anything, I’d like to agree. Last night was a mistake that should not have happened,’ she said quickly. ‘And it would definitely be best to forget about it.’

He frowned. ‘How can you agree with me when I haven’t made a comment? Can you read my mind?’

‘I don’t need to. You look…’ Her heart lurched as she stared at his face. He looked gorgeous and incredibly sexy, with his silky hair falling onto his brow and dark stubble shading his jaw. She could not prevent the slight catch in her voice as she muttered, ‘You look angry.’

Drago gave her a quizzical look. ‘Well, it’s true that I am angry—with myself. And I admit I did make a mistake last night. But I don’t regret what happened between us and I definitely won’t forget making love to you any time soon.’

The sultry gleam in his eyes sent a quiver of response through Jess. ‘Then what mistake did you make?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘I forgot to use a condom.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I have no excuse other than that you have such an effect on me that I temporarily lost my sanity. I wanted you so badly I simply didn’t think about protection. It was crass and irresponsible of me, and I apologise. I also want to assure you that I am healthy. I don’t make a habit of having unprotected sex,’ he said roughly.

Drago’s self-respect had taken a hard knock when he had realised how stupid he had been. He had broken one of his golden rules. Dio, after what had happened with Vittoria he had always been so careful to avoid an unplanned pregnancy. He hoped that Jess took care of herself and used some method of contraception, but the knowledge that he had failed to act responsibly was a matter of bitter regret.

His frown deepened when he noticed how pale she looked this morning. In contrast to her white cheeks her lips were reddened and slightly swollen, and the faint bruises on her shoulders were shameful evidence that in his impatience to make love to her the previous night his touch had been too rough.

Guilt roughened his voice. ‘I trust you will inform me if there are any consequences?’

‘There won’t be any,’ Jess said in a quick, sharp voice.

She was painfully aware that her reply was based on wishful thinking rather than certainty. Her heart hammered against her ribs as the enormity of what she had done sank in, and she jerked upright, belatedly realising that she was naked. It was a bit late to feel self-conscious after she had spent a night of wild passion with Drago, she thought ruefully. But she could feel his gaze lingering on her breasts and she hastily pulled the sheet around her, wincing as the silk grazed nipples that felt ultra-sensitive from where he had kissed and sucked them.

She closed her eyes as memories of having sex with him flooded her mind. Not only had she behaved shamelessly, but she had been criminally stupid to forget about contraception. Dear heaven, how could she have taken such a risk again, when she had bitter experience of the consequences of having unprotected sex? Surely history would not repeat itself? Some women tried for years to fall pregnant. The odds of it happening to her again as a result of this one night must be a million to one, she tried to reassure herself.

Drago relaxed a little when he realised that Jess must be protected. She had sounded absolutely sure there was no risk she could have conceived. It did not change the fact that he was a damned fool, though. He could not believe he had allowed his desire for her to override his common sense. Even more disturbing was the fact that he was still not thinking logically. His mind was enjoying an erotic image of pushing her back against the pillows and tugging the sheet away from her body. Impossibly, he was even more turned on than he had been last night.

But she was sitting stiffly, hugging her knees, and her tension was palpable. He wondered if she regretted sleeping with him. She had been eager enough at the time, and afterwards she had curled up against him and fallen asleep almost instantly. God knew what she had dreamed about that had caused her to cry out in her sleep, he thought, frowning as he recalled the harrowing sobs that had racked her slender frame.

‘Who is Daniel?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You called out the name during the night and you seemed to be upset,’ he explained when she stared at him.

She bit her lip. ‘He was a friend…my best friend. We grew up together in the children’s home.’ Her voice grew husky. ‘He died when he was sixteen. He was hit by a car and suffered a serious head injury. He was on life support…but he never regained consciousness.’

Instinctively Drago reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly.

‘I suppose seeing Angelo in the hospital brought back memories of the last time I saw Daniel. He looked like he was asleep and I kept thinking he would wake up.’ Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. ‘But the nurse said there was no hope. I’m so relieved that Angelo has regained consciousness.’

The raw emotion in her voice tugged on Drago’s insides. Jess had known more than her fair share of pain in her young life, he thought heavily. He understood now why she had looked so pale when she had walked into the intensive care unit and seen Angelo in a coma. He felt guilty that he had not been more understanding, but he had not known about her past. He knew very little about her, he acknowledged, merely the small pieces presented to him by his private investigator.

Infuriated that he could not think straight when she was so close to him, and his senses were inflamed by the scent of her, he threw back the sheet and got out of bed. Making love to her last night had been an aberration he was determined not to repeat. Pulling on his robe, he headed for the bathroom, but paused in the doorway and glanced back at her.

‘I have to go to the office this morning. Fico will take you to visit Angelo and I’ll meet you at the hospital later.’ He hesitated, still troubled by the memory of her distress during the night. ‘You called out another name in your sleep. Was Katie also a friend from the children’s home?’

A haunted expression flared in her eyes. ‘Katie? I…I don’t know anyone with that name. I’ve no idea what I was dreaming about.’

Drago stared at her for a few moments, noting how she avoided meeting his gaze. Why was she lying? he wondered as he closed the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. He felt frustrated that he knew so little about her. Jess’s strange reaction was another puzzle to add to the intrigue surrounding her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘SIX WEEKS WITH my leg in traction,’ Angelo groaned. ‘I think I’ll go mad. If only my memory would come back. I feel as though my brain is surrounded by a grey mist.’ He stared frustratedly at Jess, who was sitting beside his bed, helping herself to grapes from the fruit bowl. ‘I don’t understand why I was living in London and not Venice.’

‘Drago said you had enrolled at a college to study business. Do you remember being at college?’

‘No. And although you’ve told me I worked for your decorating company I have no recollection of it.’ He frowned. ‘To be honest, painting walls is not something I can imagine myself doing. Was I good at it?’

‘Not very,’ Jess admitted with a grimace.

‘In that case why did you employ me?’

‘You told me you were destitute and I wanted to help you.’

Angelo shook his head, as if the action would clear the fog from his mind. ‘I lived with you, didn’t I? In a big house surrounded by lots of trees? You cooked omelettes for dinner.’

Jess felt a flicker of excitement. ‘You stayed at my flat for a few weeks. I made dinner for us the night before you disappeared. Can you remember where you were going, or why?’

‘I’m sure it had something to do with Drago, but I just don’t know what.’

‘It’s all right. Your memory will come back soon.’ Jess squeezed Angelo’s hand reassuringly. She hesitated for a moment. ‘I suppose you don’t remember why you withdrew a huge sum of money from your bank account, or who you gave it to?’

His brow furrowed. ‘Money?’

‘Yes, your inheritance fund—’ Jess broke off when a noise from behind her alerted her to the fact that someone had entered the private hospital room.

‘I’m sure Angelo will remember everything in good time,’ Drago said smoothly as he walked towards the bed.

He smiled at his cousin, but Jess sensed his anger, and when he glanced at her his black eyes were as hard as jet.

‘I think you should get some rest now.’ He spoke gently to Angelo. ‘The nurse tells me you have been playing your guitar?’

‘It’s strange that I can remember some things.’ Angelo sighed. ‘Why do I get the feeling that there is some mystery surrounding me? Something that I was going to tell you just before the accident?’

‘Try to relax. Jess has been here with you all day and I’m afraid she has overtired you.’

Bristling, Jess followed Drago out of the room. ‘Thanks a lot,’ she snapped as soon as he had closed the door. ‘I didn’t overtire him. He slept on and off during the day. I stayed because you said that talking to him might trigger his memory.’

‘Perhaps you have another motive?’ he said darkly. ‘I don’t want you to mention Angelo’s missing inheritance fund in case you put ideas into his head.’

Nonplussed, she stared at him—and then wished she hadn’t when she felt a coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Dressed in a pale grey suit teamed with a navy blue shirt, he looked incredibly sexy, and she could not help remembering him last night, naked and aroused as he had positioned himself over her.

‘What sort of ideas?’ she mumbled, thankful that he did not know what ideas were in her mind.

‘Ideas such as he didn’t give you a fortune. He’s in a vulnerable state at the moment, and likely to believe anything you tell him.’

Drago’s arrogant expression ignited Jess’s temper like a flame set to tinder.

‘For the last blasted time—I know nothing about Angelo’s missing money,’ she hissed.

She felt unbelievably hurt that although he had slept with her he clearly did not trust her. What had she expected? she asked herself miserably. He regarded her as good enough to have sex with but he did not respect her, and by falling into his bed so wantonly she had lost respect for herself.

‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

‘Anywhere so long as it’s a long way away from you.’ She marched along the corridor without having a clue where she was heading.

‘The exit is in the other direction.’ Drago caught hold of her arm and swung her round to face him, feeling a stab of guilt when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘I’ve had a difficult day,’ he owned gruffly. ‘I appreciate that you’ve given up a whole day to spend it with Angelo. Shall we go back to the palazzo…?’

‘You mean you’re giving me a choice of whether or not to return to my prison?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Madonna!’ He raked a hand through his hair and glared at her in exasperation. ‘You would test the patience of a saint. If you hate my home so much we’ll go to a restaurant and get something to eat. Who knows? Perhaps a good meal will improve your temper.’

The restaurant was not scarily sophisticated, as Jess had feared, but a charming little place tucked away down a side street with tables set out on the terrace overlooking a narrow canal. The waiters were quietly attentive and seemed to know Drago.

‘Trattoria Marisa is the place I come to when I want to chill out,’ he admitted. He did not reveal that he never brought the women he dated here. In truth he did not know why he had brought Jess to the restaurant which he regarded as a sanctuary away from the stresses of his hectic life.

‘What did the waiter say to you?’ she asked curiously. ‘And why did he keep looking at me?’

‘He said that you are very beautiful and I am very lucky,’ he said drily. He met her startled gaze and his mouth curved into a sudden smile. ‘I agreed with him. You look stunning in that dress.’

Flustered, Jess glanced down at the white silk dress covered with a pattern of pink roses. Like all the clothes from the Cassa di Cassari collection it was pretty and elegant and made her feel very feminine. She studied the menu, which was in Italian and could have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense it made.

‘You had better order for me,’ she murmured, and was even more disconcerted when Drago moved his chair closer to hers and patiently translated the choice of dishes. She found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying when she was achingly aware of the sensual musk of his aftershave. Her eyes seemed to have a magnetic attraction to his mouth. If he turned his head their lips would almost touch.

Her breath caught in her throat as he trapped her gaze, and she felt his warm breath feather across her lips. Kiss me, she willed him. She wanted him to so badly that she trembled, and her disappointment when he drew his head back from her felt like a knife through her heart.

His eyes darkened, and he gave a ragged laugh as he moved his chair back around the table. ‘Sexual frustration is hell, isn’t it, mia bella? You are driving me insane.’

Thankfully the waiter returned with the wine list and Jess did not have to reply.

The food served at Trattoria Marisa had been excellent as always, Drago mused later as he sipped his coffee. He had declined dessert but Jess had opted for an exotic concoction of chocolate ice-cream and whipped cream, which she had eaten with undisguised enjoyment. Had she any idea how much he was turned on by seeing the tip of her pink tongue lick the last morsel of cream from her spoon? he wondered with wry self-derision.

‘Explain how you were set up to be accused of fraud,’ he said abruptly.

Jess stiffened and gave him a rueful glance. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll believe me.’

‘Try me.’

She sighed. ‘In a way I suppose it started with Daniel dying. He was the closest thing I had to a brother and I missed him terribly. I had to leave the children’s home when I was sixteen. My social worker helped me find a bedsit and I got a job as a waitress in a café.’

She watched a gondola glide along the canal, her expression unknowingly wistful.

‘I was lonely and grieving for Daniel. The highlight of my day was when a handsome businessman would come in to the café for his regular coffee. He would chat to me and ask me how I was, and he sounded as though he really cared. His name was Sebastian Loxley. He told me he had just set up an internet company selling tickets for pop concerts and festivals, and he needed someone to work in the office. I couldn’t believe it when he offered me the job. I was such a naïve fool,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘Seb must have found it so amusing to seduce me. I fell desperately in love with him, and when he invited me out to dinner on my seventeenth birthday and then took me back to his flat—well, let’s just say he didn’t have to try very hard to get me into his bed.’

‘Santa Madre! You were a child,’ Drago said harshly.

She shrugged. ‘Not in legal terms. Unfortunately the law does little to protect vulnerable young adults. At my new job I faithfully followed the instructions I was given by Seb. Every time I took a credit card payment I made a separate record of the card details, including the security code, and passed the information on to Seb’s accountant because apparently it was needed for tax purposes. I didn’t question what I was doing.’

She blushed with embarrassment.

‘I was bullied at school, so I didn’t go very often, and I left without any qualifications. I didn’t understand about credit cards, and I had no idea that Marcus, the so-called accountant, ran an illegal business cloning cards, or that he paid Seb for the information I was passing to him. Eventually the police discovered the cloning scam, but Marcus must have had a tip-off and he disappeared abroad before they could arrest him. The trail led back to Seb’s company and to me.’

Drago swore beneath his breath. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged when Jess hesitated.

‘I was stunned when Seb told the police he was unaware of what I had been doing. I thought he would explain that he had instructed me to pass on the card details, but instead he put all the blame on me. The police believed him and decided that I had been working with Marcus. I was arrested. At the trial, Seb gave evidence against me.’ Her voice shook. ‘I thought he loved me. He’d even said we’d get married one day. But it was all lies. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t even want…’

‘He didn’t want what?’ Drago prompted. He felt a curious pain in his gut when he saw the misery in her eyes. The feisty Jess he had come to know looked crushed. The idea that she had been preyed on by an unscrupulous crook when she had been so young filled him with rage, and a longing to smash his fist into Sebastian Loxley’s face.

Jess shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said dully. Seb’s scathing response when she had told him she was pregnant with his baby was too painful to talk about. She glanced at Drago, searching for some sign that he believed her story, but his hard features were unreadable.

‘What happened after the court case?’

‘I felt I had hit rock-bottom,’ she said huskily. ‘I had no job, nowhere to live, and no self-respect. I met my social worker from the children’s home, and she arranged for me to stay with a couple who’d had experience fostering troubled teenagers.’ A soft smile lit her face. ‘Ted and Margaret were wonderful people. It’s no exaggeration to say that they changed my life. For the first time ever I felt part of a family. Ted ran a decorating business and he took me on as an apprentice. I discovered a natural talent for woodwork, and I went to college and trained in carpentry before Ted took me on as a business partner. The T and J in the company name stands for Ted and Jess.’

Jess broke off as a waiter came up to the table to offer them more coffee. The interruption gave Drago the opportunity to mull over everything she had told him. He did not even question whether he believed her story. The emotion in her voice when she had spoken of how she had been so cruelly betrayed by the man she had loved had been too raw to be an act. But the question of whether or not he trusted her still remained. Until his cousin’s memory returned there was no possibility of discovering if Jess knew what had happened to Angelo’s missing inheritance fund, Drago acknowledged frustratedly.

As they were about to leave the restaurant a gondola drew up alongside the terrace. Like most Venetians, Drago was unimpressed by a mode of transport used almost exclusively by tourists, but after catching the hopeful look in Jess’s eyes he called to the gondolier to assist her into the boat.

Dusk was falling, and the sun was a fiery orb sinking below the horizon, streaking the sky with gold and pink and casting golden shadows on the elegant buildings which lined the canal.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Jess breathed.

It was also incredibly romantic, sitting beside Drago in the gondola, but it was doubtful he thought so, she acknowledged ruefully. He had given no indication that he believed she had unwittingly been involved in the fraud scam when she had worked for Seb. She wondered why she cared about his opinion of her. She wasn’t dishonest, and when Angelo regained his memory he would explain what he had done with his inheritance fund and Drago would realise he had misjudged her. But what if Angelo never recovered from his amnesia? she thought anxiously. The truth about his missing money might never be uncovered and Drago would always think the worst of her.

He could not force her to stay in Venice for ever, she reminded herself. But in order to return to England she would first have to organise a new passport, and to do that she needed her bank card, which was also in her rucksack at the bottom of the canal. Everything seemed complicated, and sleeping with Drago last night had confused the situation even more. She must have been mad. It was no excuse that her common sense had been obliterated by the firestorm of passion that had ignited between her and Drago. No excuse at all…

She darted him a glance, and her heart missed a beat when her eyes met his brooding gaze. The evening air was cool, and he frowned when he saw her shiver.

‘Here—take this,’ he said as he slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

‘Thank you.’ Was that breathy, seductive whisper really her voice?

The silk lining of the jacket retained the warmth of his body and felt sensuous against her bare arms. She wished it was his arms around her rather than the jacket, and recalled with shocking clarity how wonderful his naked body had felt when he had pulled her beneath him and made love to her. Desperate to banish her traitorous thoughts, she closed her eyes. But images remained of Drago’s bronzed chest, overlaid with the whorls of dark hair that had scraped the sensitive tips of her breasts when he had lowered himself onto her.

‘I still want you, too,’ his deep, gravelly voice whispered in her ear, and his breath feathered her cheek. Her lashes flew open and, startled, she caught her breath when she saw the hunger in his eyes that glittered like polished jet.

‘I don’t…’

‘Yes, cara, you do.’ He captured her denial with his lips and banished it with a kiss that was fiercely passionate yet held an underlying gentleness that was unexpected and utterly beguiling.

Jess lost her battle with herself. The pleasure of having Drago’s mouth move over hers was impossible to resist, and when he traced his tongue over the tight line of her clamped lips she gave a little moan and parted them so that the kiss became intensely erotic.

Lost in the magic he was creating, Jess stared at him helplessly when at last he lifted his head. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t know what the hell is going on either,’ he told her roughly. ‘This was not meant to happen.’

Drago’s taut voice revealed his frustration. He disliked public displays of affection and could not believe that he had kissed Jess on a gondola in the middle of Venice’s main waterway. At least the gondolier had discreetly averted his gaze, and when they drew up by the Palazzo d’Inverno he handed the man a large tip.

Jess walked ahead of Drago into the palazzo, her stiletto heels tapping on the marble floor, echoing the staccato beat of her heart.

He caught up with her as she reached the stairs. ‘What would you like to do for the rest of the evening? I have a selection of English DVDs if you want to watch a film.’

She tore her eyes from the sensual curve of his mouth that only a few moments ago had decimated her ability to think, and knew that she dared not spend another minute alone with him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight to bed.’

His sudden grin stole her breath. Without his usual arrogant expression he looked almost boyish and heart-stoppingly sexy.

‘Excellent idea,’ he murmured.

She flushed with mortification when she realised he had taken her words as an invitation, but her frantic, ‘I meant alone,’ was muffled against his shoulder as he scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs. ‘Drago—we can’t,’ she whispered when he reached his suite of rooms and carried her through to the bedroom. ‘Last night was a mistake.’

He tumbled her onto the bed and came down on top of her so that she felt the hard proof of his arousal nudge her thigh. Threading his fingers through her hair, he stared into her eyes, the amusement fading from his.

‘Last night was inevitable from the moment we met,’ he said harshly.

It was the truth. She had taken one look at him and fallen in lust—not love, Jess quickly assured herself. No way would she risk her heart with him. But no other man had ever made her feel this way. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids—light, delicate kisses that melted the last vestiges of her resistance. His fingers tugged open the buttons running down the front of her dress and he gave a low murmur of approval when he pushed the material aside and discovered that she was not wearing a bra.

‘Bellisima,’ he said thickly as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and anointed one dusky peak and then the other with his lips.

She caught fire, arching her slender body to meet his mouth and eagerly helping him to remove her dress and knickers. This was not the time for words; their need was too urgent. Drago stripped with a clumsy haste that was strangely touching, and after taking a condom from the bedside drawer and sliding it over the proud jut of his arousal he moved over her.

Jess caught her breath as he entered her. He filled her, completed her, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on tightly to his shoulders as he possessed her with deep, measured strokes, driving her higher. As her body trembled with the exquisite ripples of orgasm her heart soared, and when Drago groaned with the power of his own release she felt a fierce tenderness and the strangest sense that their souls had joined.

The crowds of tourists in St Mark’s Square had thinned in the early evening and the restaurants became busier. Sitting beneath the striped awning of a café on the edge of the square, her elbow propped on the table and her hand cupping her chin, Jess had a clear view of the ornate and incredibly beautiful Basilica.

‘I think I’m in love,’ she murmured. Beside her she felt Drago stiffen, and when she glanced at him and saw his startled frown she laughed. ‘Not with you. With Venice.’

‘Ah.’ His relief was evident in his smile.

For some reason Jess felt a little pang of regret that he wanted nothing more from her than sex. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself sternly. She knew their affair was based purely on their physical attraction to one another. Their sex-life was amazing, but inevitably the fiery passion they shared would burn out.

‘At the weekend we can climb to the top of the Campanile again, if you like,’ he offered. ‘I know how much you enjoyed the views over the city. Or I’ll take you to see the Doge’s Palace. The interior is impressive, and filled with stunning artworks. And of course you can’t visit Venice without walking over the Bridge of Sighs.’

‘It’s such a romantic name. I wonder why it’s called that?’

‘The popular explanation is rather less romantic than the name suggests. The bridge used to lead to the state prison, and crossing it would often be a prisoner’s last view of Venice.’

Jess sighed. ‘I feel guilty sightseeing when Angelo is stuck in hospital.’

‘You have visited him every day for the past few weeks, and I know how much he appreciates your company. Angelo would not begrudge you some free time,’ Drago insisted.

‘But I shouldn’t have free time. I should be at home, running my business.’ Jess chewed her bottom lip with her teeth—something she unconsciously did when she was anxious. ‘I know that when I phoned Mike he said everything is fine, and that he had secured a new contract for T&J Decorators to refurbish a commercial property, but I need to go back and take charge. My company means everything to me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever succeeded at,’ she admitted ruefully.

‘Once Angelo’s memory has returned you will be free to leave.’

Drago’s smile was full of easy charm but his tone was uncompromising, and Jess’s spirits plummeted with the realisation that he still suspected she had some involvement with his cousin’s missing inheritance fund. And in truth she was still his prisoner, for she never went anywhere without either him or his bodyguard Fico to accompany her. On a couple of occasions during the first week of her stay she had attempted to slip away from the bodyguard. It had crossed her mind that if she explained her situation to one of the nurses at the hospital they might help her. But none that she had met spoke English, Fico had followed her doggedly, and she still had the problem of no passport or money.

Jess pushed away the uncomfortable thought that she had not tried harder to leave Venice because she was captivated by her affair with Drago. His hunger for her showed no sign of abating. But aside from their mutual desire for one another a sense of companionship, even friendship, had unexpectedly developed between them. He had given her several guided tours of Venice, and Jess loved wandering around the city with him, exploring the narrow streets and the many charming piazzas. She visited Angelo every day while Drago was at work. Usually he met her at the hospital in the evening, and after spending some time with his cousin they would return to the palazzo or go for dinner at a restaurant—the Trattoria Marisa being their favourite place to eat.

‘How was Angelo today?’

‘He still has a bad headache.’ She frowned as her thoughts returned to Angelo. ‘It has lasted for three days now, and your aunt is very concerned.’

Dorotea had admitted as much. After spending endless days cooped up with her in the small hospital room Angelo’s mother had thawed slightly towards Jess, and had even thanked her for her efforts to help her son. Drago’s mother was also friendlier, but once or twice Jess had been aware of Luisa’s speculative glance, and she had a feeling that Luisa knew she was sleeping with her son.

‘I’ll speak to the consultant about him—’ Drago broke off and smiled at a small child who had toddled over from where his parents were sitting at a nearby table.

The little boy was about two years old, Jess estimated, and utterly adorable, with a halo of blond curls and big blue eyes. He seemed to be intrigued by Drago, and grinned as he waved the sticky ice-cream cone he was holding.

‘No, Josh!’ The child’s mother hurried over just as the toddler smeared ice-cream over Drago’s superbly tailored trousers. ‘I’m so sorry…’ she said in English.

Drago interrupted her frantic apology with a laugh. ‘Don’t worry. He’s an angelic-looking child,’ he said, in a soft tone that captured Jess’s attention.

‘He can be a little terror,’ the woman said ruefully. She glanced at Jess. ‘You know what they’re like at two—into everything.’

She nodded at the woman and smiled back, trying to ignore the knife-blade that sliced through her heart. What had Katie been like at two years old? she wondered. Had she been ‘into everything’? She would never know, and the reminder of all she had lost was an ache inside her that never went away.

The woman picked up the little boy and carried him back to her table. ‘Cute kid,’ Drago commented as he attempted to clean his trousers with a napkin.

‘I’ve noticed that Italians really seem to love children,’ Jess said musingly. ‘Have you never wanted to marry and have children?’

‘I’m happy with my life the way it is.’

Puzzled by the sudden curtness in his voice, Jess studied him curiously. ‘You were so gentle with that little boy. I think you would make a great father.’

‘Madonna! Can we drop the subject?’ he snapped. ‘My personal life is not up for discussion.’

Jess felt a flare of irritation at his arrogant tone. ‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve told you things about me and what happened with Seb. Why don’t you want to talk about yourself?’

He made no response, and the hard gleam in his eyes warned her to back off, but Jess refused to be dismissed. She knew she meant nothing to Drago, but the reminder that he only wanted a sexual relationship with her hurt more than it should.

‘Maybe you’re hiding some terrible secret?’ she taunted.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

His mouth tightened, and to Jess’s surprise he seemed uncomfortable. She sensed there was something in his past that he wanted to keep hidden. Was it a woman? He had a reputation as a playboy, but perhaps he’d once had a relationship that had been important to him. The idea evoked a sharp stab of jealousy inside her.

‘Have you ever been in love?’ she blurted out.

His eyes narrowed and his impatience was tangible, but after a few moments he shrugged and admitted tautly, ‘Once. A long time ago.’

Jess caught her breath. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing happened. The relationship ended and I grew up. It was an educational experience,’ he said, with heavy irony that made Jess even more intrigued. It sounded as though he had been hurt, and she guessed he had not wanted his relationship with the woman he had loved to end. She longed to ask him more questions, but he did not give her the opportunity as he glanced at his watch and stood up.

‘I’m going to the hospital to talk to the doctor about Angelo’s headaches,’ he said abruptly. ‘Fico will take you back to the palazzo. The party is due to start at eight o’clock tonight.’ He made an effort to lighten his tone. ‘I’m sure you will want to spend some time getting ready. I appreciate that you have agreed to act as my hostess. This dinner party is an annual event attended by senior management staff from Cassa di Cassari’s worldwide operation. My mother and aunt usually attend, but this year they naturally wish to devote their time to Angelo.’

‘No problem,’ Jess said in a fiercely bright voice.

She was determined not to let him see how hurt she felt by his refusal to talk about himself, and equally determined to hide the fact that she was feeling nervous about her role as hostess at the party. Drago had assured her that most of the guests would be able to speak English, but what on earth did a decorator have in common with high-flying businessmen and company executives from the world famous Cassa di Cassari? she thought anxiously.

As she stood up she was overcome by an unpleasant sensation that the pavement beneath her feet was tilting, and she gripped the edge of the table.

‘What’s the matter?’ Drago asked, frowning as he watched the rosy pink flush on her cheeks fade so that she looked ashen.

‘I just feel a bit dizzy. It’ll pass in a minute.’

He looked unconvinced. ‘I hope you’re not coming down with something. You felt dizzy when you got up this morning.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Jess dismissed his concern, not revealing that she had waited until he had left for work before she had rushed to the bathroom to be sick the last two mornings. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much sun. It’s much hotter here in Venice than in London, and I’m not used to the heat.’ That had to be the explanation, she assured herself.

‘With your delicate colouring you need to wear a hat.’ Drago smoothed a tendril of her fiery gold hair back from her face and could not resist dropping a light kiss on her soft mouth. ‘I adore your freckles, cara. Especially the ones that look like gold-dust scattered over your breasts,’ he murmured, his voice dropping to a sexy whisper that sent a little shiver of response down Jess’s spine.

One look from his glittering black gaze was all it took to make her melt, she acknowledged wryly. As she picked up her bag the magazine she had bought at the hospital slid out and fell on the floor. Drago bent to pick it up, but instead of handing it to her he stared at the front cover and his expression darkened.

‘Why do you read such trash? Gossip magazines print utter rubbish,’ he said tersely, flicking through the pages with a look of arrogant disdain on his face that irked Jess.

‘I suppose you think I should only read highbrow novels by classical authors such as…’ She frantically searched her mind for an author she had heard of whom he would deem suitable. ‘Dickens.’ It was the only name she could come up with. ‘Actually, I bought that magazine because it mainly has photos of celebrities’ houses, and I’m interested in interior design. I can’t read it because I don’t understand Italian. But don’t think that I read literary stuff at home, because I don’t. Unlike you, I wasn’t born into a wealthy family and I don’t have the advantage of a good education.’

Jess could not hide the tremor in her voice. Drago was highly intelligent and had an extensive knowledge of many subjects. She felt embarrassed by her lack of education, and he clearly thought she was a brainless bimbo. ‘At least I’m not a snob, who criticises other people for their tastes,’ she finished hotly.

Drago raked a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t trying to insult you. Dio, you are such a firebrand.’

His exasperation faded and he felt an unexpected tug of tenderness when he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He was unwilling to explain that the photograph of a beautiful socialite on the front cover of the magazine was an unwelcome reminder of his past. Nor could he explain to Jess that watching the little boy in the café had evoked an ache in his gut. Some things were best left buried. He had never before felt inclined to talk about his past to any of his lovers, and there was no reason why he should do so with Jess, he told himself.

He gave a frustrated sigh when he saw Fico’s burly figure heading towards them across the square. What he wanted to do was take Jess back to the palazzo and make love to her but, as always, duty to his family prevailed. He was concerned about his cousin, and had promised his aunt that he would speak to the consultant and find out whether Angelo’s headaches were an indication of something more serious.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHERE WAS DRAGO? Jess glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, and her tension escalated when she saw that it was ten to eight. Any minute now the party guests would begin to arrive, expecting to be greeted by their host. Instead they would be met by a hostess whose social skills were sadly inadequate, she thought, feeling another stab of nervousness at the prospect of the evening ahead. Fortunately Drago’s butler Francesco was his usual unflappable self, and had informed her that the household staff had completed all the preparations for the party.

Leaving her bedroom, which she had never actually slept in during her stay at the palazzo but used as a dressing room, she walked back to the master suite and felt weak with relief when Drago strolled into the sitting room from his bedroom.

‘There you are!’ Her relief gave way to anger as she watched him calmly adjust his cufflinks as if he had all the time in the world. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why, cara, I didn’t know you cared,’ he drawled.

‘I meant I was worried you wouldn’t get back in time.’ She fell silent, puzzled by his attitude, and by the strange feeling that he was avoiding her gaze. ‘Were you delayed at the hospital? How is Angelo?’

‘He’s fine.’ Perhaps realising that he had sounded curt, Drago finally looked at her. ‘We’ll talk about him later,’ he said obliquely.

He smiled suddenly, and Jess felt a familiar knee-jerk reaction as he roamed his eyes over her.

His voice softened. ‘You look amazing, mia bella. The dress is perfect for you.’

She flushed, feeling stupidly shy. ‘It’s a beautiful dress. I’ve never worn anything like it before.’

The full-length royal blue satin gown that Jess had discovered in her room when she had gone to change for the party was exquisite; the deceptively simple design flattered her slender figure and the crystal studded shoulder straps and narrow belt gave the dress extra glamour. One of the maids had helped her with her hair, and had swept it up into a sleek chignon. Three-inch sliver stiletto sandals gave her additional height, and when Jess had studied her reflection in the mirror she had been shocked to see herself looking so elegant.

‘Is the dress from the Cassa di Cassari range of clothes?’

‘No. I asked the designer Torre Umberto to make it especially for you. This will be a perfect accessory for the dress.’

As he walked towards her Drago took something from his pocket. Jess gasped when he held it up and she saw that it was a strand of glittering diamonds interspersed with square-cut sapphires.

‘I don’t think I should wear it. Supposing I lose it?’ she said nervously. A little shiver ran through her when she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck as he fastened the necklace around her throat.

‘Of course you won’t lose it.’ He turned her towards the mirror and she caught her breath at the sight of the diamonds sparkling with fiery brilliance against her skin.

‘I feel like I’ve stepped into the pages of a fairy tale,’ she whispered, staring at the reflection of the beautiful woman whom she hardly recognised as herself, and the dark, dangerously attractive man standing behind her. She gave another shiver when Drago bent his head and trailed his lips down the length of her slender white neck. In the mirror she watched his eyes glitter with a look she knew so well, and his hunger for her made her insides melt.

He turned her to face him, but instead of kissing her, as she longed for him to do, he stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

‘Jess…we need to talk.’

Puzzled that he seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease, she said quietly, ‘What about?’

He cursed at the sound of a knock on the door, and strode across the room to open it. After a brief conversation with the butler he glanced back at her, his frustration that they had been interrupted revealed in his taut voice. ‘Francesco says that some of the guests have arrived. We had better go down and greet them.’

Her foster-mother had had a habit of quoting proverbs, and one in particular—You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—had never seemed more appropriate, Jess brooded later in the evening. Thanks to the haute couture dress she was wearing she did not look out of place among the glamorous women party guests. But it had quickly become apparent that she did not fit into Drago’s rarefied world of the sophisticated super-rich.

Dinner had been a nightmare; she hadn’t known which cutlery to use for each course, and she’d managed to knock over a glass of wine belonging to the guest sitting next to her. One of the waiters had calmly mopped up the mess, but she’d felt everyone’s eyes on her and wanted to die of embarrassment.

The fact that she did not speak Italian had not proved a problem, as most of the guests spoke English, but while they’d discussed a range of subjects including politics, current affairs and the arts, Jess had struggled to find something to say. She knew nothing about opera, she had never skied in Aspen—or anywhere else for that matter—and enquiries about her chosen career were met with surprise followed by an awkward silence when she revealed that she ran a decorating company.

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