Her Exquisite

Surrender

Surrendering All But Her Heart

Melanie Milburne

Innocent in the Ivory Tower

Lucy Ellis

Full Surrender

Joanne Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Surrendering All But Her Heart

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

Innocent in the Ivory Tower

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

CHAPTER TWELVE

Full Surrender

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

Epilogue

Copyright

Surrendering All But Her Heart

Melanie Milburne

From as soon as MELANIE MILBURNE could pick up a pen she knew she wanted to write. It was when she picked up her first Mills & Boon at seventeen that she realised she wanted to write romance. After being distracted for a few years by meeting and marrying her own handsome hero, surgeon husband Steve, and having two boys, plus completing a Masters of Education and becoming a nationally ranked athlete (masters swimming), she decided to write. Five submissions later she sold her first book, and is now a multi-published bestselling, award-winning USA TODAY author. In 2008 she won the Australian Readers Association’s most popular category/series romance, and in 2011 she won the prestigious Romance Writers of Australia R*BY award.

Melanie loves to hear from her readers via her website—www.melaniemilburne.com.au—or on Facebook: facebook.com/pages/Melanie-Milburne/351594482609.

CHAPTER ONE

Y‘OU’LL have to see him.’

Natalie could still hear the desperation and pleading in her mother’s tone even as she pressed the call button for the lift leading up to Angelo Bellandini’s swish London office. The words had taken up residence in her head. They had kept her awake for the last forty-eight hours. They had accompanied her like oversized baggage on the train all the way from her home in Edinburgh. They had clickety-clacked over the tracks until they had been like a mind-numbing mantra in her head.

‘You’ll have to see him. You’ll have to see him. You’ll have to see him.’

Not that she hadn’t seen him in the last five years. Just about every newspaper and online blog had a photo or information about the playboy heir to the Bellandini fortune. Angelo Bellandini’s fast-living lifestyle was the topic of many an online forum. His massive wealth—of which, to his credit, only half was inherited; the other half had been acquired through his own hard work—made him a force to be reckoned with.

And now she had to reckon with him, on behalf of her wayward younger brother and his foolish actions.

A prickle of apprehension fluttered like a faceless, fast-footed creature down the length of her spine as she stepped into the glass and chrome capsule of the lift. Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the correct floor button.

Would Angelo even agree to see her, given the way she had walked out of his life five years ago? Would he hate her as much as he had once loved her? Would the passion and desire that had once burned in his dark brown gaze now be a blaze of hatred instead?

Her insides shifted uneasily as she stepped out of the lift and approached the reception area. Having grown up with comfortable wealth, she should not be feeling so intimidated by the plush and elegant surroundings. But when they had first met Angelo had never revealed to her the extent of his family fortune. To her he had been just a hard-working, handsome Italian guy, studying for a Master’s degree in business. He had gone to considerable lengths to conceal his privileged background—but then, who was she to talk?

She had revealed even less about hers.

‘I’m afraid Signor Bellandini is unavailable at present,’ his receptionist said in a crisp, businesslike tone in response to Natalie’s request. ‘Would you like to make an appointment for some other time?’

Natalie looked at the model-gorgeous young woman, with her perfectly smooth blonde hair and clear china-blue eyes, and felt her already flagging self-esteem plummet like an anchor to the basement. Even though in the lift she had reapplied lip-gloss and run her fingers through her nondescript flyaway brown hair, it was hardly the same as being professionally groomed. She was aware her clothes looked as if they had been slept in, even though she hadn’t slept a wink for the last twenty-four hours, and that her normally peaches and cream complexion was grey with worry. There were damson-coloured shadows under her eyes and her cheeks had a hollow look to them. But then that happened every year at this time, and had done so since she was seven years old.

She straightened her shoulders with iron-strong resolve. She was not going to leave without seeing Angelo, even if she had to wait all day. ‘Tell Signor Bellandini I’m only in London for the next twenty-four hours.’ She handed her personal business card over the counter, as well as the card of the hotel she had booked for the night. ‘I can be contacted on that mobile number or at my hotel.’

The receptionist glanced at the cards and then raised her eyes to Natalie’s. ‘You’re Natalie Armitage?’ she asked. ‘The Natalie Armitage of Natalie Armitage Interiors?’

‘Er … yes.’

The receptionist’s eyes sparkled with delight. ‘I have some of your sheets and towels,’ she said. ‘I just adored your last spring collection. Because of me, all of my friends now have your stuff. It’s so feminine and fresh. So original.’

Natalie smiled politely. ‘Thank you.’

The receptionist leaned towards the intercom. ‘Signor Bellandini?’ she said. ‘A Miss Natalie Armitage is here to see you. Would you like me to squeeze her in before your next client or make another appointment for later this afternoon?’

Natalie’s heart stalled in that infinitesimal moment before she heard his voice. Would he sound surprised to find she was here in person? Annoyed? Angry?

‘No,’ he said evenly, his deep baritone and sexy accent like a silky caress on her skin. ‘I will see her now.’

The receptionist led the way down an expansive corridor and smiled as she came to a door bearing a brass plaque with Angelo’s name on it. ‘You’re very lucky,’ she said in a conspiratorial undertone. ‘He doesn’t normally see clients without an appointment. Most people have to wait weeks to see him.’ Her eyes sparkled again. ‘Maybe he wants to slip between your sheets, so to speak?’

Natalie gave a weak smile and stepped through the door the receptionist had opened. Her eyes went straight to where Angelo was seated, behind a mahogany desk that seemed to have a football field of carpet between it and the door that had just clicked shut, like the door of a prison cell, behind her.

Her throat tightened. She tried to unlock it by swallowing, but it still felt as if a puffer fish was lodged halfway down.

He looked as staggeringly gorgeous as ever—maybe even more so. The landscape of his face had barely changed, apart from two deep grooves that bracketed his unsmiling mouth. His raven-black hair was shorter than it had been five years ago, but it still curled lushly against the collar of his light blue business shirt. His face was cleanly shaven, but the dark pinpricks of persistent masculine stubble were clearly visible along his lean cheeks and stubbornly set jaw. His thickly lashed eyes were the same deep, espresso coffee brown, so dark she could not make out his pupils or his mood.

He rose to his feet, but whether it was out of politeness or a desire to intimidate Natalie wasn’t quite sure. At six foot four he was impressively, imposingly tall. Even in heels she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact.

She sent the tip of her tongue out to moisten her concrete-dry lips. She had to keep her cool. She had spent most of her life keeping her emotions under the strictest control. Now was not the time to show how worried she was about the situation with her brother. Angelo would feed off that and work it to his advantage. All she had to do was pay for the damage Lachlan had caused, then get out of here and never look back.

‘Thank you for seeing me at short notice,’ she said. ‘I understand how busy you are. I won’t take up too much of your time.’

Those incredibly dark, inscrutable eyes nailed hers relentlessly as he reached across to press the intercom. ‘Fiona, postpone my engagements for the next hour,’ he said. ‘And hold all my calls. On no account am I to be interrupted.’

‘Will do.’

Natalie blinked at him as he straightened. ‘Look, there’s really no need to interrupt your busy schedule—’

‘There is every need,’ he said, still holding her gaze with the force of his. ‘What your brother did to one of my hotel rooms in Rome is a criminal offence.’

‘Yes,’ she said, swallowing again. ‘I know. But he’s been going through a difficult stage just now, and I—’

One of his jet-black brows lifted satirically. ‘What “difficult stage” would that be?’ he asked. ‘Has Daddy taken away his Porsche or cut back his allowance?’

She pressed her lips together, summoning control over emotions that were threatening to spill over. How dared Angelo mock what her brother had to deal with? Lachlan was a ticking time bomb. It was up to her to stop him from self-destructing. She hadn’t been able to save her baby brother all those years ago, but she would move heaven and earth to get it right this time with Lachlan.

‘He’s just a kid,’ she began. ‘He’s only just left school and—’

‘He’s eighteen,’ Angelo said through tight, angry lips. ‘He’s old enough to vote and in my opinion old enough to face up to the consequences of his actions. He and his drunken friends have caused over a hundred thousand pounds’ worth of damage to one of my most prestigious hotels.’

Natalie’s stomach nosedived. Was he exaggerating? The way her mother had described it had made her think it hadn’t been much more than the cost of a carpet-clean and the replacement of a few furnishings—perhaps a repaint on one of the walls.

What had Lachlan been thinking? What on earth had made him go on such a crazy rampage?

‘I’m prepared to reimburse you for the damage, but before I hand over any money I’d like to see the damage for myself,’ she said, with a jut of her chin.

His dark eyes challenged hers. ‘So you’re prepared to foot the bill personally, are you?’

She eyeballed him back, even though her stomach was churning at the menacing look in his eyes. ‘Within reason.’

His top lip curled. ‘You have no clue about what you’re letting yourself in for,’ he said. ‘Do you have any idea what your brother gets up to when he’s out night-clubbing with his friends?’

Natalie was all too aware, and for the last few months it had been keeping her awake at night. She knew why Lachlan was behaving the way he was, but there was little she could do to stop him. Lachlan had been the replacement child after Liam had died—the lost son reincarnated. Since birth he had been forced to live not his own life but Liam’s. All the hopes and dreams their parents had envisaged for Liam had been transferred to Lachlan, and lately he had started to buckle under the pressure. She was terrified that one day soon he would go, or be pushed too far.

She already had one death on her hands. She could not bear to have another.

‘How do you know Lachlan is responsible for the damage?’ she asked. ‘How do you know it wasn’t one of his friends?’

Angelo looked at her with dagger-sharp eyes. ‘The room was booked in his name,’ he said. ‘It was his credit card that was presented at check-in. He is legally responsible, even if he didn’t so much as knock a cushion out of place.’

Natalie suspected her brother had done a whole lot more than rearrange a few sofa cushions. She had more than once witnessed him in the aftermath of one of his drinking binges. Lachlan wasn’t a sleepy drunk or a happy, loquacious one. A few too many drinks unleashed a rage inside him that was as terrifying as it was sudden. And yet a few hours later he would have no memory of the things he had said and done.

So far he had managed to escape prosecution, but only because their rich and influential father had pulled in some favours with the authorities.

But that was here in Britain.

Right now Lachlan was at the mercy of the Italian authorities—which was why she had come to London to appeal to Angelo on his behalf. Of all the hotels in Rome, why had he stayed at one of Angelo Bellandini’s?

Natalie opened her bag and took out her chequebook with a sigh of resignation. ‘All right,’ she said, hunting for a pen. ‘I’ll take your word for it and pay for the damage.’

Angelo barked out a sardonic laugh. ‘You think after you scrawl your signature across that cheque I’ll simply overlook this?’ he asked.

She quickly disguised another swallow. ‘You want more than one hundred thousand pounds?’ she asked, in a voice that sounded too high—squeaky, almost.

He looked at her, his eyes meshing with hers in a lockdown that made the silence throb with palpable tension. She felt it moving up her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. She felt it on her skin, in the ghosting of goose bumps fluttering along her flesh. She felt it—shockingly—between her thighs, as if he had reached down and stroked her there with one of his long, clever fingers.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. She could read the subtext of that dark, mocking gaze. He didn’t give a toss about the money. It wasn’t money he wanted. He had more than enough of his own.

Natalie knew exactly what he wanted. She had known it the minute she had stepped into his office and locked gazes with him.

He wanted her.

‘Take it or leave it,’ she said, and slammed the cheque on the desk between them.

He picked up the cheque and slowly and deliberately tore it into pieces, then let them fall like confetti on the desk, all the while holding her gaze with the implacable and glittering force of his. ‘As soon as you walk out of here I’ll notify the authorities in Rome to press charges,’ he said. ‘Your brother will go to prison. I’ll make sure of it.’

Natalie’s heart banged against the wall of her chest like a pendulum slammed by a prize-fighter’s punch. How long would her brother last in a foreign prison? He would be housed amongst murderers and thieves and rapists. It could be years before a magistrate heard his case. He was just a kid. Yes, he had done wrong, but it wasn’t his fault—not really. He needed help, not imprisonment.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.

His mouth lifted in a half-smile, his eyes taunting hers with merciless intent. ‘You can’t guess, mia piccola?’

She drew in a painfully tight breath. ‘Isn’t this taking revenge a little too far? What happened between us is between us. It has nothing to do with my brother. It has nothing to do with anyone but us.’ With me, she added silently. It’s always been to do with me.

His eyes glinted dangerously and his smile completely vanished until his lips were just a thin line of contempt. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked. ‘Why did you leave me for a man you picked up in a bar like a trashy little two-bit hooker?’

Natalie couldn’t hold his gaze. It wasn’t a lie she was particularly proud of. But back then it had been the only way she could see of getting him to let her go. He had fallen in love with her. He had mentioned marriage and babies. He had already bought an engagement ring. She had come across it while putting his socks away. It had glinted at her with its diamond eye, taunting her, reminding her of all she wanted but could never have.

She had panicked.

‘I wasn’t in love with you.’ That was at least the truth … sort of. She had taught herself not to love. Not to feel. Not to be at the mercy of emotions that could not be controlled.

If you loved you lost.

If you cared you got hurt.

If you opened your heart someone would rip it out of your chest when you least expected it.

The physical side of things … well, that had been different. She had let herself lose control. Not that she’d really had a choice. Angelo had seen to that. Her body had been under the mastery of his from the first time he had kissed her. She might have locked down her emotions, but her physical response to him still echoed in her body like the haunting melody of a tune she couldn’t forget no matter how hard she tried.

‘So it was just sex?’ he said.

Natalie forced herself to meet his gaze, and then wished she hadn’t when she saw the black hatred glittering there. ‘I was only twenty-one,’ she said, looking away again. ‘I didn’t know what I wanted back then.’

‘Do you know now?’

She caught the inside of her mouth with her teeth. ‘I know what I don’t want,’ she said.

‘Which is?’

She met his gaze again. ‘Can we get to the point?’ she asked. ‘I’ve come here to pay for the damage my brother allegedly caused. If you won’t accept my money, then what will you accept?’

It was a dangerous question to be asking. She knew it as soon as she voiced it. It hung in the ensuing silence, mocking her, taunting her for her supposed immunity.

She had never been immune.

It had all been an act—a clever ploy to keep him from guessing how much she’d wanted to be free to love him. But the clanging chains of her past had kept her anchored in silence. She couldn’t love him or anyone.

Angelo’s diamond-hard gaze tethered hers. ‘Why don’t you sit down and we can discuss it?’ he said, gesturing to a chair near to where she was standing.

Natalie sank into the chair with relief. Her legs were so shaky the ligaments in her legs felt as if they had been severed like the strings of a puppet. Her heart was pounding and her skin was hot and clammy in spite of the air conditioning. She watched as he went back to the other side of his desk and sat down. For someone so tall he moved with an elegant, loose-limbed grace. His figure was rangy and lean, rather than excessively gym-pumped, although there was nothing wrong with the shape of his biceps. She could see the firm outline of them beneath his crisp ice-blue shirt. The colour was a perfect foil for his olive-toned skin. In the past she had only ever seen him in casual clothes, or wearing nothing at all.

In designer business clothes he looked every inch the successful hotel and property tycoon—untouchable, remote, in control. Her hands and mouth had traced every slope and plane and contour of his body. She could still remember how salty his skin tasted against her tongue. She still remembered the scent of him, the musk and citrus blend that had clung to her skin for hours after their making love. She remembered the thrusting possession of his body, how his masterful touch had unlocked her tightly controlled responses like a maestro with a difficult instrument that no one else could play.

She gave herself a mental slap and sat up straighter in the chair. Crossing her legs and arms, she fixed her gaze on Angelo’s with a steely composure she was nowhere near feeling.

He leaned back in his own chair, with his fingers steepled against his chin, his dark gaze trained with unnervingly sharp focus on hers. ‘I’ve heard anybody who is anybody is sleeping between your sheets,’ he said.

She returned his look with chilly hauteur. ‘I don’t suppose you are doing so.’

His lips gave a tiny twitch of amusement, his dark eyes smouldering as they continued to hold hers. ‘Not yet,’ he said.

Natalie’s insides flickered with the memory of long-ago desire. She’d fought valiantly to suppress it, but from the moment she had stepped into his office she had been aware of her body and its unruly response to him. He had always had that power over her. Just a look, an idle touch, a simple word and she would melt.

She couldn’t afford to give in to past longings. She had to be strong in order to get through this. Lachlan’s future depended on her. If this latest misdemeanour of his got out in the tabloids his life would be ruined. He was hoping to go to Harvard after this gap year. A criminal record would ruin everything for him.

Their father would crucify him.

He would crucify them both.

Natalie blamed herself. Why hadn’t she realised how disenfranchised Lachlan was? Had she somehow given him some clue to her past history with Angelo? Had her lack of an active love-life made him suspect Angelo was the cause? How had he put two and two together? It wasn’t as if she had ever been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. She had been busy building up her business. She had not missed dating. She’d had one or two encounters that had left her cold. She had more or less decided she wasn’t cut out for an intimate relationship. The passion she had experienced with Angelo had come at a huge price, and it wasn’t one she was keen to pay again.

She was better off alone.

‘I understand how incredibly annoyed you are at what my brother has supposedly done,’ she said. ‘But I must beg you not to proceed with criminal charges.’

His dark brow lifted again. ‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’re begging me?’

Natalie momentarily compressed her lips in an attempt to control her spiralling emotions. How like him to taunt her. He would milk this situation for all it was worth and she would have to go along with it. He knew it. She knew it. He wanted her pride. It would be his ultimate trophy.

‘I’m asking for leniency.’

‘You’re grovelling.’

She straightened her shoulders again. ‘I’m asking you to drop all charges,’ she said. ‘I’ll cover the damages—even double, if you insist. You won’t be out of pocket.’

His gaze still measured hers unwaveringly. ‘You want this to go away before it gets out in the press, don’t you?’ he said.

Natalie hoped her expression wasn’t giving away any sign of her inner panic. She had always prided herself on disguising her feelings. Years of dealing with her father’s erratic mood swings had made her a master at concealing her fear in case it was exploited. From childhood her ice-cold exterior had belied the inner turmoil of her emotions. It was her shield, her armour—her carapace of protection.

But Angelo had a keen, intelligent gaze. Even before she had left him she had felt he was starting to sum up her character in a way she found incredibly unsettling.

‘Of course I want to keep this out of the press,’ she said. ‘But then, don’t you? What will people think of your hotel security if a guest can do the sort of damage you say my brother did? Your hotels aim for the top end of the market. What does that say about the type of clientele your hotel attracts?’

A muscle flickered like a pulse at the side of his mouth. ‘I have reason to believe your brother specifically targeted my hotel,’ he said.

She felt her stomach lurch. ‘What makes you think that?’

He opened a drawer to the left of him and took out a sheet of paper and handed it to her across the desk. She took it with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. It was a faxed copy of a note addressed to Angelo, written in her brother’s writing. It said: This is for my sister.

Natalie gulped and handed back the paper. ‘I don’t know what to say … I have never said anything to Lachlan about … about us. He was only thirteen when we were together. He was at boarding school when we shared that flat in Notting Hill. He never even met you.’

Nor had any of her family. She hadn’t wanted Angelo to be exposed to her father’s outrageous bigotry and her mother’s sickening subservience.

‘You must have said something to him,’ Angelo said. ‘Why else would he write that?’

Natalie chewed at her lip. She had said nothing to anyone other than that her short, intense and passionate affair with Angelo was over because she wanted to concentrate on her career. Not even her closest girlfriend, Isabel Astonberry, knew how much her break-up with Angelo had affected her. She had told everyone she was suffering from anxiety. Even her doctor had believed her. It had explained the rapid weight loss and agitation and sleepless nights. She had almost convinced herself it was true. She had even taken the pills the doctor had prescribed, but they hadn’t done much more than throw a thick blanket over her senses, numbing her until she felt like a zombie.

Eventually she had climbed out of the abyss of misery and got on with her life. Hard work had been her remedy. It still was. Her interior design business had taken off soon after she had qualified. Her online sales were expanding exponentially, and she had plans to set up some outlets in Europe. She employed staff who managed the business end of things while she got on with what she loved best—the designing of her linen and soft furnishings range.

And she had done it all by herself. She hadn’t used her father’s wealth and status to recruit clients. Just like Angelo, she had been adamant that she would not rely on family wealth and privilege, but do it all on her own talent and hard work.

‘Natalie?’ Angelo’s deep voice jolted her out of her reverie. ‘Why do you think your brother addressed that note to me?’

She averted her gaze as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I don’t know.’

‘He must have known it would cause immense trouble for you,’ he said.

Natalie looked up at him again, her heart leaping to her throat. ‘A hundred thousand pounds is a lot of money, but it’s not a lot to pay for someone’s freedom,’ she said.

He gave an enigmatic half-smile. ‘Ah, yes, but whose freedom are we talking about?’

A ripple of panic moved through her as she held his unreadable gaze. ‘Can we quit it with the game-playing?’ she said. ‘Why don’t you come straight out and say what you’ve planned in terms of retribution?’

His dark eyes hardened like black ice. ‘I think you know what I want,’ he said. ‘It’s the same thing I wanted five years ago.’

She drew in a sharp little breath. ‘You can’t possibly want an affair with someone you hate. That’s so … so cold-blooded.’

He gave a disaffected smile. ‘Who said anything about an affair?’

She felt a fine layer of sweat break out above her top lip. She felt clammy and light-headed. Her legs trembled even though she had clamped them together to hide it. She unclenched her hands and put one to her throat, where her heart seemed to have lodged itself like a pigeon trapped in a narrow pipe.

‘You’re joking, of course,’ she said, in a voice that was hoarse to the point of barely being audible.

Those dark, inscrutable eyes held hers captive, making every nerve in her body acutely aware of his sensual power over her. Erotic memories of their past relationship simmered in the silence. Every passionate encounter, from their first kiss to their blistering bloodletting last, hovered in the tense atmosphere. She felt the incendiary heat and fire of his touch just by looking at him. It was all she could do to stay still and rigidly composed in her chair.

‘I want a wife,’ he said, as if stating his desire for something as prosaic as a cup of tea or coffee.

Natalie hoisted her chin. ‘Then I suggest you go about the usual way of acquiring one,’ she said.

‘I tried that and it didn’t work,’ he returned. ‘I thought I’d try this way instead.’

She threw him a scathing look. ‘Blackmail, you mean?’

He gave an indifferent shrug of one of his broad shoulders. ‘Your brother will likely spend up to four years waiting for a hearing,’ he said. ‘The legal system in Italy is expensive and time consuming. I don’t need to tell you he is unlikely to escape conviction. I have enough proof to put him away for a decade.’

Natalie shot to her feet, her control slipping like a stiletto on a slick of oil. ‘You bastard!’ she said. ‘You’re only doing this to get at me. Why don’t you admit it? You only want revenge because I am the first woman who has ever left you. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Your damned pride got bruised, so now you’re after revenge.’

His jaw locked down like a clamp, his lips barely moving as he commanded, ‘Sit down.’

She glared at him with undiluted hatred. ‘Go to hell.’

He placed his hands on the desk and slowly got to his feet. Somehow it was far more threatening than if he had shoved his chair back with aggressive force. His expression was thunderous, but when he spoke it was with icy calm.

‘We will marry as soon as I can get a licence. If you do not agree, then your brother will face the consequences of his actions. Do you have anything to say?’

She said it in unladylike coarseness. The crude words rang in the air, but rather than make her feel powerful they made her feel ashamed. He had made her lose control and she hated him for it.

Angelo’s top lip slanted in a mocking smile. ‘I am not averse to the odd moment of self-pleasuring, as you so charmingly suggest, but I would much rather share the experience with a partner. And, to be quite frank, no one does it better than you.’

She snatched up her bag and clutched it against her body so tightly she felt the gold pen inside jab her in the stomach. ‘I hope you die and rot in hell,’ she said. ‘I hope you get some horrible, excruciatingly painful pestilent disease and suffer tortuous agony for the rest of your days.’

He continued to stare her down with irritatingly cool calm. ‘I love you too, Tatty,’ he said.

Natalie felt completely and utterly ambushed by the use of his pet name for her. It was like a body-blow to hear it after all these years. Her chest gave an aching spasm. Her anger dissolved like an aspirin in a glass of water. Her fighting spirit collapsed like a warrior stung by a poison dart. Tears sprang at the back of her eyes. She could feel them burning and knew if she didn’t get out of there right now he would see them.

She spun around and groped blindly for the door, somehow getting it open and stumbling through it, leaving it open behind her like a mouth in the middle of an unfinished sentence.

She didn’t bother with the lift.

She didn’t even glance at the receptionist on her way to the fire escape.

She bolted down the stairs as if the devil and all his maniacal minions were on her heels.

CHAPTER TWO

NATALIE got back to her hotel and leant against the closed door of her suite with her chest still heaving like a pair of bellows. The ringing of her phone made her jump, and she almost dropped it when she tried to press the answer button with fingers that felt like cotton wool.

‘H-hello?’

‘Natalie, it’s me … Lachlan.’

She pushed herself away from the door and scraped a hand through her sticky hair as she paced the floor in agitation. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last twenty-four hours!’ she said. ‘Where are you? What’s going on? Why did you do it? For God’s sake, Lachlan, are you out of your mind?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m only allowed one call. I’ll have to make it quick.’

Natalie scrunched her eyes closed, not wanting to picture the ghastly cell he would be locked in, with vicious-looking prison guards watching his every move. ‘Tell me what to do,’ she said, opening her eyes again to look at the view of the River Thames and the London Eye. ‘Tell me what you need. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

‘Just do what Angelo tells you to do,’ Lachlan said. ‘He’s got it all under control. He can make this go away.’

She swung away from the window. ‘Are you nuts?’ she said.

He released a sigh. ‘He’ll do the right thing by you, Nat,’ he said. ‘Just do whatever he says.’

She started pacing again—faster this time. ‘He wants to marry me,’ she said. ‘Did he happen to mention that little detail to you?’

‘You could do a whole lot worse.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Lachlan, you’re surely not serious? He hates me.’

‘He’s my only chance,’ he said. ‘I know I’ve stuffed up. I don’t want to go to prison. Angelo’s given me a choice. I have to take it.’

She gave a disgusted snort. ‘He’s given me a choice, not you,’ she said. ‘My freedom in exchange for yours.’

‘It doesn’t have to be for ever,’ he said. ‘You can divorce him after a few months. He can’t force you to stay with him indefinitely.’

Natalie seriously wondered about that. Rich, powerful men were particularly adept at getting and keeping what they wanted. Look at their father, for instance. He had kept their mother chained to his side in spite of years of his infidelities and emotional cruelty. She could not bear to end up in the same situation as her mother. A trophy wife, a pretty adornment, a plaything that could be picked up and put down at will. With no power of her own other than a beauty that would one day fade, leaving her with nothing but diamonds, designer clothes and drink to compensate for her loneliness.

‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. ‘Why his hotel?’

‘Remember the last time we caught up?’ Lachlan said.

Natalie remembered all too well. It had been a weekend in Paris a couple of months ago, when she had been attending a fabric show. Lachlan had been at a friend’s eighteenth birthday party just outside of the city. He had been ignominiously tossed out of his friend’s parents’ château after disgracing himself after a heavy night of drinking.

‘Yes,’ she said in stern reproach. ‘It took me weeks to get the smell of alcohol and vomit out of my coat.’

‘Yeah, well, I saw that gossip magazine open on the passenger seat,’ he said. ‘There was an article about Angelo and his latest lover. That twenty-one-year-old heiress from Texas?’

She tried to ignore the dagger of jealousy that spiked her when she recalled the article, and the stunningly gorgeous young woman who had been draped on Angelo’s arm at some highbrow function.

‘So,’ she said. ‘What of it? It wasn’t the first time he’d squired some brainless little big-boobed bimbo to an event.’

‘No,’ Lachlan said. ‘But it was the first time I’d seen you visibly upset by it.’

‘I wasn’t upset,’ she countered quickly. ‘I was disgusted.’

‘Same difference.’

Natalie blew out a breath and started pacing again. ‘So you took it upon yourself to get back at him by trashing one of the most luxurious hotel rooms in the whole of Europe just because you thought I was a little peeved?’

‘I know, I know, I know,’ Lachlan said. ‘It sounds so stupid now. I’m not sure why I did it. I guess I was just angry that he seemed to have it all together and you didn’t.’

Natalie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘I’m running a successful business all by myself. I’m paying for my own home. I’m happy with my life.’

‘Are you, Nat?’ he asked. ‘Are you really?’

The silence was condemning.

‘You work ridiculous hours,’ Lachlan went on. ‘You never take holidays.’

‘I hate flying, that’s why.’

‘You could do a desensitising programme for that,’ he said.

‘I don’t have time.’

‘It’s because of what happened to Liam, isn’t it?’ Lachlan said. ‘You haven’t been on a plane since he drowned in Spain all those years ago.’

Natalie felt the claws of guilt clutch her by the throat. She still remembered the tiny white coffin with her baby brother’s body in it being loaded on the tarmac. She had seen it from her window seat. She had sat there staring at it, with an empty, aching, hollow feeling in her chest.

It had been her fault he had been found floating face-down in that pool.

‘I have to go,’ Lachlan said. ‘I’m being transferred.’

Her attention snapped back to Lachlan’s dire situation. ‘Transferred where?’ she asked.

‘Just do what Angelo says, please?’ he said. ‘Nat, I need you to do what he wants. He’s promised to keep this out of the press. I have to accept his help. My life is over if I don’t. Please?’

Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose until her eyes smarted with bitter angry tears. The cage of her conscience came down with a snap.

She was trapped.

* * *

Angelo was finalising some details on a project in Malaysia when his receptionist announced he had a visitor. ‘It’s Natalie Armitage,’ Fiona said.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled a victor’s smile. He had waited a long time for this opportunity. He wanted her to beg, to plead and to grovel. It was payback time for the misery she had put him through by walking out on him so heartlessly.

‘Tell her to wait,’ he said. ‘I have half an hour of paperwork to get through that can’t be put off.’

There was a quick muffled exchange of words and Fiona came back on the intercom. ‘Miss Armitage said she’s not going to wait. She said if you don’t see her now she is going to get back on the train to Edinburgh and you’ll never see her again.’

Angelo slowly drummed his fingers on the desk. He was used to Natalie’s obstinacy. She was a stubborn, headstrong little thing. Her independence had been one of the first things he had admired about her, and yet in the end it had been the thing that had frustrated him the most. She’d absolutely refused to bend to his will. She’d stood up to him as no one else had ever dared.

He was used to people doing as he said. From a very young age he had given orders and people had obeyed them. It was part of the territory. Coming from enormous wealth, you had power. You had privilege and people respected that.

But not his little Tatty.

He leaned forward and pressed the button. ‘Tell her I’ll see her in fifteen minutes.’

He had not even sat back in his chair when the door slammed open and Natalie came storming in. Her brown hair with its natural highlights was in disarray about her flushed-with-fury face. Her hands were clenched into combative fists by her sides, and her slate-blue eyes were flashing like the heart of a gas flame. He could see the outline of her beautiful breasts as they rose and fell beneath her top.

His groin tightened and jammed with lust.

‘You … you bastard!’ she said.

Angelo rocked back in his chair. ‘Cara,’ he said. ‘I’m absolutely delighted to see you, too. How long has it been? Four hours?’

She glowered at him. ‘Where have you taken him?’

He elevated one brow. ‘Where have I taken whom?’

Her eyes narrowed to needle-thin slits. ‘My brother,’ she said. ‘I can’t contact him. He’s not answering his phone any more. How do I know you’re doing the right thing by him?’

‘Your brother is in good hands,’ he said. ‘That is as long as you do what is required.’

Her eyes blazed with venomous hatred. ‘How can I trust you to uphold your side of the bargain?’ she asked.

‘You can trust me, Natalie.’

She made a scoffing sound. ‘I’d rather take my chances with a death adder.’

Angelo smiled a thin-lipped smile. ‘I’m afraid a death adder is not going to hold any sway with an Italian magistrate,’ he said. ‘I can get your brother out of harm’s way with the scrawl of my signature.’ He picked up a pen for effect. ‘What’s it going to be?’

He saw her eyes go to his pen. He saw the way her jaw locked as she clenched her teeth. Her saw the way her slim throat rose and fell. He saw the battle on her face as her will locked horns with his. He felt the energy of her anger like a high-voltage current in the air.

‘You can’t force me to sleep with you,’ she bit out. ‘You might be able to force me to wear your stupid ring, but you can’t force me to do anything else.’

‘You will be my wife in every sense of the word,’ he said. ‘In public and in private. Otherwise the deal is off.’

Her jaw worked some more. He could even hear her teeth grinding together. Her eyes were like twin blasts from a roaring furnace.

‘I didn’t think you could ever go so low as this,’ she said. ‘You can have anyone you want. You have women queuing up to be with you. Why on earth do you want an unwilling wife? Is this some sort of sick obsession? What can you possibly hope to achieve out of this?’

Angelo slowly swung his ergonomic chair from side to side as he surveyed her outraged features. ‘I quite fancy the idea of taming you,’ he said. ‘You’re like a beautiful wild brumby that bucks and kicks and bites because it doesn’t want anyone to get too close.’

Her cheeks flushed a fiery red and her eyes kept on shooting sparks of ire at him. ‘So you thought you’d slip a lasso around my neck and whip me into submission, did you?’ she said, with a curl of her bee-stung top lip. ‘Good luck with that.’

Angelo smiled a lazy smile. ‘You know me, Tatty. I just love a challenge—and the bigger the better.’

Her brows shot together in a furious frown. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Why not?’ he said. ‘I always used to call you that.’

She stalked to the other side of the room, her arms across her body in a keep-away-from-me pose. ‘I don’t want you to call me that now,’ she said, her gaze determinedly averted from his.

‘I will call you what I damn well want,’ he said, feeling his anger and frustration rising. ‘Look at me.’

She gave her head a toss and kept her eyes fixed on the painting on the wall. ‘Go to hell.’

Angelo got to his feet and walked over to where she was standing. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she spun around and slapped at his hand as if it was a nasty insect.

‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she snarled at him, like a wildcat.

He felt the fizzing of his fingers where his hand had briefly come into contact with her slim shoulder. The sensation travelled all the way to his groin. He looked at her mouth—that gorgeous, full-lipped mouth that had kissed him with such passion and fire in the past. He had felt those soft lips around him, drawing the essence from him until he had been legless with ecstasy. She had lit fires of need over his whole body with her hot little tongue. Her fingers had danced over every inch of his flesh, caressing and stroking him, branding him with the memory of her touch.

Ever since she had left him he had waited for this moment—for a chance to prove to her how much she wanted him in spite of her protestations. His rage at being cut from her life had festered inside him. It had soured every other relationship since. He could not seem to find what he was looking for with anyone else. He had gone from relationship to relationship, some lasting only a date or two, none of them lasting more than a month. Lately he had even started to wonder if he had imagined how perfectly physically in tune he had been with her. But seeing her again, being in the same room as her, sensing her reaction to him and his to her, proved to him it wasn’t his imagination.

She wouldn’t be the one who walked out on him without notice this time around. She would stay with him until he decided he’d had enough. It might take a month or two, maybe even up to a year, but he would not give her the chance to rip his heart open again. He would not allow her that close again. He had been a passionate fool five years ago. From the moment he had met her he had fallen—and fallen hard. He had envisaged their future together, how they would build on the empire of his grandparents and parents, how they would be the next generation of Bellandinis.

But then she had ripped the rug from under his feet by betraying him.

She might hate him for what he was doing, but right now he didn’t give a damn. He wanted her and he was going to have her. She would come to him willingly. He would make sure of that. There would be no forcing, no coercing. Behind that ice-maiden façade was a fiercely passionate young woman. He had unleashed that passion five years ago and he would do so again.

‘In time you will be begging for my touch, cara,’ he said. ‘Just like you did in the past.’

Her expression shot more daggers at him. ‘Can’t you see how much I hate you?’ she said.

‘I can see passion, not hate,’ he said. ‘That is promising, si?’

She let out a breath and put more distance between them, her look guarded and defensive. ‘How soon do you expect to get this ridiculous plan of yours off the ground?’ she asked.

‘We will marry at the end of next week,’ he said. ‘There’s no point dilly-dallying.’

‘Next week?’ she asked, eyes widening. ‘Why so soon?’

Angelo held her gaze. ‘I know how your mind works, Natalie. I’m not leaving anything up to chance. The sooner we are married, the sooner your brother gets out of trouble.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘No.’

She frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘He’s not allowed visitors,’ Angelo said.

‘But that’s ridiculous!’ she said. ‘Of course he’s allowed visitors. It’s a basic human right.’

‘Not where he is currently staying,’ he said. ‘You’ll see him soon enough. In the meantime, I think it’s time I met the rest of your family—don’t you agree?’

Something shifted behind her gaze. ‘Why do you want to meet my family?’ she said. ‘Anyway, apart from Lachlan there is only my parents.’

‘Most married couples meet their respective families,’ Angelo said. ‘My parents will want to meet you. And my grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins.’

She gave him a worried look. ‘They’re not all coming to the ceremony, are they?’

‘But of course,’ he said. ‘We will fly to Rome on Tuesday. The wedding will be on Saturday, at my grandparents’ villa, in the private chapel that was built especially for their wedding day sixty years ago.’

Her eyes looked like a startled fawn’s. ‘F-fly?’

‘Si, cara,’ he said dryly. ‘On an aeroplane. You know—those big things that take off at the airport and take you where you want to go? I have a private one—a Lear jet that my family use to get around.’

Her mouth flattened obstinately. ‘I’m not flying.’

Angelo frowned. ‘What do you mean, you’re not flying?’

She shifted her gaze, her arms tightening across her body. ‘I’m not flying.’

It took Angelo a moment or two to figure it out. It shocked him that he hadn’t picked it up before. It all made sense now that he thought about it.

‘That’s why you caught the train down from Edinburgh yesterday,’ he said. ‘That’s why, when I suggested five years ago that we take that cut-price trip to Malta, you said you couldn’t afford it and refused to let me pay for you. We had a huge fight over it. You wouldn’t speak to me for days. It wasn’t about your independence, was it? You’re frightened of flying.’

She turned her back on him and stood looking out of his office window, the set of her spine as rigid as a plank. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Call me a nut job. You wouldn’t be the first.’

Angelo released a long breath. ‘Natalie … Why didn’t you tell me?’

She still stood looking out of the window with her back to him. ‘Hi, my name’s Natalie Armitage and I’m terrified of flying. Yeah, that would have really got your notice that night in the bar.’

‘What got my notice in that bar was your incredible eyes,’ he said. ‘And the fact that you stood up to that creep who was trying it on with you.’

He saw the slight softening of her spine and shoulders, as if the memory of that night had touched something deep inside her, unravelling one of the tight cords of resolve she had knotted in place. ‘You didn’t have to rescue me like some big macho caveman,’ she said after a short pause. ‘I could’ve taken care of it myself.’

‘I was brought up to respect and protect women,’ Angelo said. ‘That guy was a drunken fool. I enjoyed hauling him out to the street. He was lucky I didn’t rearrange his teeth for him. God knows I was tempted.’

She turned and looked at him, her expression still intractable. ‘I don’t want to fly, Angelo,’ she said. ‘It’s easy enough to drive. It’ll only take a couple of days. I’ll make my own way there if you can’t spare the time.’

Angelo studied her dark blue gaze. He saw the usual obstinacy glittering there, but behind that was a flicker of fear—like a stagehand peeping out from behind the curtains to check on the audience. It made him wonder if he had truly known her five years ago. He had thought he had her all figured out, but this was a facet to her personality he had never even suspected. He had always prided himself on his perspicuity, on his ability to read people and situations. But he could see now that reading Natalie was like reading a complex multilayered book.

‘I’ll be with you the whole time,’ he said. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’

‘That’s hardly reassuring,’ she said with a cynical look, ‘considering this whole marriage thing you’ve set up is a plot for revenge.’

‘My intention is not for you to suffer,’ he said.

Her chin came up and her eyes flashed again. ‘Oh, really?’

Angelo drew in a breath and released it forcefully as he went back behind his desk. He gripped the back of his chair as he faced her. ‘Why must you search for nefarious motives in everything I do or say?’

She gave a little scoffing laugh. ‘Pardon me for being a little suspicious, but you’re surely not going to tell me you still care about me after all this time?’

Angelo’s fingers dug deeper into the leather of his chair until his knuckles whitened. He didn’t love her. He refused to love her. She had betrayed him. He was not going to forgive and forget that in a hurry. But he would have her. That was different. That had nothing to do with emotions.

He deliberately relaxed his grasp and sat down. ‘We have unfinished business,’ he said. ‘I knew that the minute you walked in that door yesterday.’

‘You’re imagining things,’ she said.

He put up one brow. ‘Am I?’

She held his gaze for a beat, before she lowered it to focus on the glass paperweight on his desk. ‘How long do you think this marriage will last?’ she asked.

‘It can last as long as we want it to,’ Angelo said.

Her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t you mean as long as you want it to?’ she asked.

He gave a little up and down movement of his right shoulder. ‘You ended things the last time,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it fair that I be the one to do so this time around?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘I ended things because it was time to move on,’ she said. ‘We were fighting all the time. It wasn’t a love match. It was a battlefield.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Angelo said. ‘What are you talking about, Natalie? All couples fight. It’s part and parcel of being in a relationship. There are always little power struggles. It’s what makes life interesting.’

‘That might have been the way you were brought up, but it certainly wasn’t the way I was,’ she said.

He studied her expression again, noting all the little nuances of her face: the way she chewed at the inside of her mouth but tried to hide it, the way her eyes flickered away from his but then kept tracking back, as if they were being pulled by a magnetic force, and the way her finely boned jaw tightened when she was feeling cornered.

‘How were you brought up to resolve conflict?’ he asked.

She reached for her bag and got to her feet. ‘Look, I have a train to catch,’ she said. ‘I have a hundred and one things to see to.’

‘Why didn’t you drive down from Edinburgh?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t suddenly developed a fear of driving too, have you?’

Her eyes hardened resentfully. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I like travelling by train. I can read or sketch or listen to music. I find driving requires too much concentration—especially in a city as crowded as London. Besides, it’s better for the environment. I want to reduce my carbon footprint.’

Angelo rose to his feet and joined her at the door, placing his hand on the doorknob to stop her escaping. ‘I’ll need you to sign some papers in the next day or two.’

Her chin came up. The hard glitter was back in her gaze. ‘A prenuptial agreement?’

He glanced at her mouth. He ached to feel it move under the pressure of his. He could feel the surge of his blood filling him with urgent, ferocious need.

‘Yes,’ he said, meeting her gaze again. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No,’ she said, eyeballing him right back. ‘I’ll have one of my own drawn up. I’m not letting you take away everything I’ve worked so hard for.’

He smiled and tapped her gently on the end of her nose. ‘Touché,’ he said.

She blinked at him, looking flustered and disorientated. ‘I—I have to go,’ she said, and made a grab for the doorknob.

Angelo captured her hand within his. Her small, delicate fingers were dwarfed by the thickness and length and strength of his. He watched her eyes widen as he slowly brought her hand up to his mouth. He stopped before making contact with his lips, just a hair’s breadth from touching. He watched as her throat rose and fell. He felt the jerky little gust of her cinnamon-scented breath. He saw her glance at his mouth, saw too the quick nervous dart of her tongue as she swept it out over her lips.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, dropping her hand and opening the door for her. ‘Ciao.’

She brushed past him in the doorway and without a single word of farewell she left.

CHAPTER THREE

‘CONGRATULATIONS,’ said Linda, Natalie’s assistant, the following morning when she arrived at work.

‘Pardon?’

Linda held up a newspaper. ‘Talk about keeping your cards close to your chest,’ she said. ‘I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.’

‘I’m …’ Natalie took the paper and quickly scanned it. There was a short paragraph about Angelo and her and their upcoming nuptials. Angelo was quoted as saying he was thrilled they were back together and how much he was looking forward to being married next week.

‘Is it true or is it a prank?’ Linda asked.

Natalie put the paper down on the counter. ‘It’s true,’ she said, chewing at her bottom lip.

‘Pardon me if I’m overstepping the mark here, but you don’t look too happy about it,’ Linda said.

Natalie forced a smile to her face. ‘Sorry, it’s just been such a pain … er … keeping it quiet until now,’ she said, improvising as she went. ‘We didn’t want anyone to speculate about us getting back together until we were sure it was what we both wanted.’

‘Gosh, how romantic!’ Linda said. ‘A secret relationship.’

‘Not so secret now,’ Natalie said a little ruefully as her stomach tied itself in knots. How was she going to cope with the constant press attention? They would swarm about her like bees. Angelo was used to being chased by the paparazzi. He was used to cameras flashing in his face and articles being written that were neither true nor false but somewhere in between.

She liked her privacy. She guarded it fiercely. Now she would be thrust into the public arena not for her designs and her talent but for whom she was sleeping with.

Her stomach gave another little shuffle. Not that she would be actually sleeping with Angelo. She was determined not to give in to that particular temptation. Her body might still have some sort of programmed response to him, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to it.

She could be strong.

She would be strong.

And determined.

He wouldn’t find her so easy to seduce this time around. She had been young and relatively inexperienced five years ago. She was older and wiser now. She hadn’t fallen in love with him before and she wasn’t about to fall in love with him now. He would be glad to call an end to their marriage before a month or two. She couldn’t see him tolerating her intransigence for very long. He was used to getting his own way. He wanted a submissive, I’ll-do-anything-to-please-you wife.

There wasn’t a bone in Natalie’s body that would bend to any man’s will, and certainly not to Angelo Bellandini’s.

‘These came for you while you were at the lawyer’s,’ Linda said when Natalie came back to the studio a couple of hours later.

Natalie looked at the massive bunch of blood-red roses elegantly wrapped and ribboned, their intoxicating clove-like perfume filling the air.

‘Aren’t you going to read the card?’ Linda asked.

‘Er … yes,’ Natalie said unpinning the envelope from the cellophane and tissue wrap. She took the card out and read: See you tonight, Angelo.

‘From Angelo?’ Linda asked.

‘Yes,’ Natalie said, frowning.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re frowning.’

She quickly relaxed her features. ‘I’ve got a few things to see to in my office at home. Do you mind holding the fort here for the rest of the day?’

‘Not at all,’ Linda said. ‘I guess you’ll have to leave me in charge when you go on your honeymoon, right?’

Natalie gave her a tight on-off smile as she grabbed her bag and put the strap over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’ll be away very long,’ she said.

‘Aren’t you going to take the roses with you?’ Linda asked.

Natalie turned back and scooped them up off the counter. ‘Good idea,’ she said, and left.

Angelo looked at the three-storey house in a leafy street in the well-to-do Edinburgh suburb of Morningside. It had a gracious elegance about it that reminded him of Natalie immediately. Even the garden seemed to reflect parts of her personality. The neatly clipped hedges and the meticulous attention to detail in plants and their colour and placement bore witness to a young woman who liked order and control.

He smiled to himself as he thought how annoyed she would be at the way things were now out of her control. He had the upper hand and he was going to keep it. He would enjoy watching her squirm. He had five years of bitterness to avenge. Five years of hating her, five years of wanting her, five years of being tortured by memories of her body in his arms.

Five years of trying to replace her.

He put his finger to the highly polished brass doorbell. A chime-like sound rang out, and within a few seconds he heard the click-clack of her heels as she came to answer its summons. He could tell she was angry. He braced himself for the blast.

‘How dare you release something to the press without checking with me first?’ she said as her opening gambit.

‘Hello, cara,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’

She glowered at him as she all but slammed the door once he had stepped over its threshold. ‘You had no right to say anything to anyone,’ she said. ‘I was followed home by paparazzi. I had cameras going off in my face as soon as I left my studio. I almost got my teeth knocked out by one of their microphones.’

‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I’m so used to it I hardly notice it any more. Do you want me to get you a bodyguard? I should’ve thought of it earlier.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course I don’t want a bloody bodyguard!’ she said. ‘I just want this to go away. I want all of this to go away.’

‘It’s not going to go away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to go away.’

She continued to glare at him. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m here to take you out to dinner.’

‘What if I’m not hungry?’

‘Then you can sit and watch me eat,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

‘You are totally sick—do you know that?’ she said.

‘Did you like the roses?’

She turned away from him and began stalking down the wide corridor. ‘I hate hothouse flowers,’ she said. ‘They have no scent.’

‘I didn’t buy you hothouse flowers,’ he said. ‘I had those roses shipped in from a private gardener.’

She gave a dismissive grunt and pushed open a door leading to a large formal sitting room. Again the attention to detail was stunning. Beautifully co-ordinated colours and luxurious fabrics, plush sofas and crystal chandeliers. Timeless antiques cleverly teamed with modern pieces—old-world charm and modern chic that somehow worked together brilliantly.

‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked uncharitably.

‘What are you having?’

She threw him a speaking glance. ‘I was thinking along the lines of cyanide,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Not quite to my taste, mia piccola,’ he said. ‘Can I have a soda and lime?’

She went to a bar fridge that was hidden behind an art deco cabinet. He heard the rattle of ice cubes and the fizz of the soda water and then the plop of a slice of lime. She fixed her own glass of white wine before she turned and passed his drink to him with a combative look on her face.

‘I hope it chokes you,’ she said.

He lifted the glass against hers in a salute and said, ‘To a long and happy marriage.’

Her gaze wrestled with his. ‘I’m not drinking to that.’

‘What will you drink to?’

She clanged her glass against his. ‘To freedom,’ she said, and took a sip.

Angelo watched her as she moved across the room, her body movements stiff and unfriendly. She took another couple of sips of her drink, grimacing distastefully as if she wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. ‘I drove past your studio on the way here,’ he said. ‘Very impressive.’

She gave him a quick off-hand glance over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

‘I have a project for you, if you’re interested,’ he said.

She turned and looked at him fully. ‘What sort of project?’

‘A big one,’ he said. ‘It’s worth a lot of money. Good exposure for you, too. It will bring you contacts from all over Europe.’

She stood very still before him, barely moving a muscle apart from the little hammer beat of tension at the base of her throat. ‘Go on,’ she said, with that same look of wariness in her gaze.

‘I have a holiday villa in Sorrento, on the Amalfi Coast,’ he said. ‘I bought another property nearby for a song a few months back. I’m turning it into a luxury hotel. I’m just about done with the structural repairs. Now it’s time for the interior makeover. I thought it would be a good project for you to take on once we are married.’

‘Why do you want me to do it?’ she asked.

‘You’re good at what you do,’ he said.

Her mouth thinned in cynicism. ‘And you want a carrot to dangle in front of me in case I happen to find a last-minute escape route?’

‘You won’t find an escape route,’ he said. ‘If you’re a good girl I might even consider using your linen exclusively in all of my hotels. But only if you behave yourself.’

The look she gave him glittered with hatred. ‘You’ve certainly got blackmail down to a science,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise you were this ruthless five years ago.’

‘I wasn’t,’ he said, taking another leisurely sip of his drink.

She tightened her mouth. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said. ‘I have a lot of work on just now.’

‘How capable is your assistant?’ Angelo asked.

‘Very capable,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of promoting her. I need someone to handle the international end of things.’

‘It must be quite limiting, not being able to do the travelling yourself,’ he said.

She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive manner. ‘I manage.’

Angelo picked up a small photo frame from an intricately carved drum table next to where he was standing. ‘Is this Lachlan as a toddler?’ he asked.

Her deep blue gaze flickered with something as she glanced at the photo. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not.’

Angelo put the frame back on the table and, pushing back his sleeve, glanced at his watch. ‘We should get going,’ he said. ‘I’ve booked the restaurant for eight.’

‘I told you I’m not having dinner with you,’ she said.

‘And I told you to behave yourself,’ he tossed back. ‘You will join me for dinner and you will look happy about it. I don’t care how you act in private, but in public you will at all times act like a young woman who is deeply in love. If you put even one toe of one foot out of line your brother will pay the price.’

She glared at him, her whole body bristling with anger. ‘I’ve never been in love before, so how am I going to pull that act off with any authenticity?’ she asked.

Angelo gave her a steely look. ‘Make it up as you go along,’ he said, and put his glass down with a dull thud next to the photo frame. ‘I’ll be waiting outside in the car.’

Natalie waited until he had left the room before she picked up his glass. She mopped up the circle of condensation left on the leather top of the table with the heel of her hand and then wiped her hand against her churning stomach.

Her eyes went to the photo of Liam. He was standing on the beach with a bucket and spade in his dimpled hands, his cherubic face smiling for the camera. It had been taken just hours before he died. She remembered how excited he had been about the shells he had found. She remembered the sandcastle they had built together. She remembered how they had come back to the pool with their parents to rinse off. She remembered how her mother had gone inside for a rest and her father had left her with Liam while he made an important phone call …

She gently straightened the photo frame with fingers that were not quite steady. And then, with a sigh that burned like a serrated knife inside her chest, she went to get ready for dinner.

The restaurant Angelo had booked was a popular one that attracted the rich and the famous. Natalie had been a couple of times before, but no one had taken much notice of her. This time everyone looked and pointed as she came into the restaurant under Angelo’s escort. A couple of people even took photos with their phones.

She tried to ignore the feel of his hand at her back. It was barely touching her but it felt like a brand. She could feel the tensile strength of him in that feather-light touch. It was a heady reminder of the sensual power he had over her.

Still had over her.

The maître d’ led them to a table and then bustled off to fetch drinks after he had handed them both menus.

She buried her head in the menu even though she had no appetite. The words were just a blur in front of her. She blinked and tried to focus. A week ago she wouldn’t have dreamed it possible for her to be sitting with Angelo in a restaurant. Ever since their break-up she had kept her distance both physically and mentally. But now she was back in his world and she wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of it. How long would their marriage last, given the irreconcilable differences between them? He had loved her once, but he certainly wasn’t motivated by love now. Revenge was his goal.

It had taken five years for the planets to align in his favour, but Lachlan had provided the perfect set-up for him to make her pay for leaving him. A man as proud and powerful as he was would not be satisfied until he had settled the score. How long would he insist on her staying with him? He surely wouldn’t tie himself indefinitely to a loveless marriage. He was an only child. He was thirty-three years old—almost thirty-four. He would want children in the not too distant future. He would hardly want her to be the mother of his heirs. He would want someone biddable and obedient. Someone who would grace his many homes with poise and grace. Someone who wouldn’t argue with him or question his opinions. Someone who would love him without reservation.

‘Are you still a strict vegetarian?’ Angelo asked.

Natalie looked at him over the top of the menu. ‘I occasionally eat chicken and fish,’ she confessed a little sheepishly.

His dark brows lifted. ‘You were so passionate back then.’

She lowered her gaze to the menu again. ‘Yes, well, I was young and full of ideals back then. I’ve realised since that life is not so black and white.’

‘What else have you changed your mind about?’ he asked.

She put the menu to one side. ‘I haven’t changed that much,’ she said.

‘Meaning you still don’t want children?’

Natalie felt the all too familiar pain seize her. She thought of Isabel’s little newborn daughter Imogen, of how it had felt to hold her in her arms just a couple of weeks ago—the soft sweet smell, the tiny little starfish hands that had gripped hers so firmly. It had brought guilt down on her like a guillotine.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t changed my mind about that.’

‘So you’re still the high-powered career girl?’ he said.

She picked up her glass and raised it in a salute. ‘That’s me.’

His dark brown eyes kept holding hers. ‘What about when you’re older?’ he asked. ‘You’re young now, but what about when your biological clock starts to ramp up its ticking?’

‘Not every woman is cut out to be a mother,’ she said. ‘I’m not good with kids. I think I must have missed out on the maternal gene.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘I accept that there are some women who genuinely don’t want to have children, but you’re a born nurturer. Look at the way you’re prepared to put your neck on the line for your brother.’

She gave a careless shrug. ‘I hate the thought of ruining my figure,’ she said. ‘I don’t want stretch marks or sagging boobs.’

He made a sound at the back of his throat. ‘For God’s sake, Natalie, surely you’re not that shallow?’

She met his gaze levelly. ‘No, but I’m convinced some of your recent lovers have been.’

He gave her a glinting smile. ‘So you’ve been keeping track of me over the years, have you, cara?’ he asked.

‘Not at all,’ she said, looking away again. ‘It is of no interest to me whatsoever who you sleep with. I have no hold over you. We dated. We broke up. That’s it as far as I’m concerned.’

‘We didn’t just date,’ he said. ‘We lived together for five and a half months.’

Natalie picked up her drink, just for something to do with her hands. ‘I only moved in with you because my flatmate’s boyfriend moved in with us and made me feel I was in the way,’ she said. ‘Anyway, five months is not a long time compared to some relationships.’

‘It was a long time for me.’

‘Only because you’ve been playing musical beds since you were a teenager,’ she said.

‘Now who’s talking?’ he asked, with a diamond-hard glitter in his gaze as it clashed with hers.

Natalie wasn’t ashamed of her past, but she wasn’t proud of it either. While not exactly a constant bed-hopper, like some of her peers, she had occasionally used sex as a way to bolster her self-esteem. But the physical sensations had meant nothing to her until she had met Angelo. Not that she had ever told him. While she had been totally open with him physically, emotionally she had always held him slightly distant. She wondered if that was why he had found her so attractive. He was used to women falling head over heels in love with him and telling him so right from the start.

But she had not.

‘Careful, Angelo,’ she said. ‘Your double standards are showing.’

His jaw tensed as he held her look. ‘How long did you date the guy you replaced me with?’ he asked.

‘Not long,’ she said.

‘How long?’

‘Is this really necessary?’ she asked.

‘I want to know.’

‘We went out for a couple of weeks,’ she said.

‘Who broke it off?’

Natalie found his intent look unsettling. ‘I did,’ she said.

‘So who have you dated since?’

‘No one you would know,’ she said. ‘I try to keep my private life out of the papers.’

‘Well done, you,’ he said. ‘I try to, but it’s amazing how people find out stuff.’

‘How do you stand it?’ she asked.

He gave a little shrug. ‘I’m used to it,’ he said. ‘My family’s wealth has always kept us in the spotlight. The only time it cooled off a bit was when I came to study in London. I enjoyed being anonymous—not that it lasted long.’

‘You lied to me.’

‘I didn’t lie to you,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t tell you I came from such a wealthy family. It was important for me to make it on my own. I didn’t want my father’s name opening any doors for me.’

‘You’ve certainly made a name for yourself in your own right,’ Natalie said. ‘You have twice the wealth of your father, or so I’ve heard.’

‘For someone who says they have no interest in what I do or who I see, you certainly know a lot about me,’ he said with a sardonic smile.

She ignored his comment and picked up her glass again, took a sip. ‘What have you told your family about me?’ she asked.

‘A version of the truth,’ he said.

Natalie’s eyes came back to his. ‘The truth about you hating me and wanting revenge?’ she asked with an arch look.

His dark brown eyes gleamed. ‘I could hardly tell my parents I hate you, now, could I?’

‘What did you tell them?’

His eyes kept on holding hers. ‘I told them I had never stopped loving you,’ he said.

She moistened her lips. ‘And they … believed you?’

‘They seemed to,’ he said. ‘Although the real test will be when they see us together. My mother, in particular, is a hard person to fool. You’ll have to be on your toes with her.’

Natalie felt her insides quake at the thought of interacting with his parents and other members of his family. How would she do it? How would she play the role of a happy bride without revealing the truth of how things were between them? How long before someone guessed? How long before it was splashed all over the newspapers?

‘Why do we have to get married?’ she asked. ‘Why couldn’t we just have an … an affair?’

Those unfathomable brown eyes measured hers. ‘Is that what you want?’ he asked. ‘An affair?’

She ran her tongue over her lips again. ‘No more than I want to marry you. I was just making a point,’ she said. ‘It seems a bit over the top to go to all the trouble of getting married when ultimately we know it’s going to end in divorce.’

‘You seem very sure it will end in divorce,’ he said.

Natalie’s heart fluttered like fast moving wings against her breastbone. ‘You can’t want to be tied to me indefinitely?’

His eyes moved over her leisurely. ‘Who knows? You might like being married to me,’ he said. ‘There will be numerous benefits to wearing my ring and bearing my name.’

She sat up like a puppet suddenly jerked backwards. ‘I don’t want your name,’ she said. ‘I’m perfectly happy with my own.’

A steely glint came into his eyes. ‘You will take my name,’ he said. ‘And you will be proud of it.’

She glowered at him, her whole body trembling with anger. ‘I will not change my name.’

Angelo’s eyes warred with hers. ‘You will do what I tell you to do,’ he said, his voice low but no less forceful.

Natalie stood up so abruptly her chair knocked against the one behind it. Every eye turned to look at her but she was beyond caring. She tossed her napkin down on the table and scooped her purse up with the other.

‘Find yourself another wife,’ she said, and stormed out.

A camera went off in her face as soon as she stepped outside the restaurant.

‘Miss Armitage?’ A journalist pushed a microphone close. ‘Can we have an exclusive on your current relationship with Angelo Bellandini?’

Natalie tried to avoid the reporter, but another member of the paparazzi cut her off as she tried to escape.

‘We notice you’re not wearing an engagement ring,’ he said. ‘Does that mean the wedding’s off?’

‘I …’

Angelo’s arm came around her protectively and he gently led her away from the throng. ‘Please give my fiancée some space,’ he said.

‘Mr Bellandini, do you have a comment to make on your engagement to Miss Armitage?’ the first journalist asked.

Angelo’s arm tightened around her waist a fraction. ‘The wedding is going ahead as planned,’ he said. ‘I have an engagement ring already picked out for Natalie. I am giving it to her tonight when we get home. Now, please leave us to celebrate our engagement in privacy.’

Natalie was ushered to Angelo’s car without further intrusion from the press. She sat back in her seat, her fingers white-knuckled around her purse.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Angelo said as he fired the engine.

She threw him a cutting glance. ‘I am not going to be ordered around by you.’

His hands gripped the steering wheel as tightly as she was clutching her purse. His knuckles looked as if they were going to burst through the skin.

‘I will not tolerate you flouncing out on me like a spoilt child,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Do you have no sense of propriety? You do realise that little scene will be all over the papers tomorrow? What were you thinking?’

Natalie gave her head a toss. ‘I’m not going to be bullied into changing my name.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It’s obviously a sore point with you. I’m prepared to compromise. I should’ve realised how important it was to you. It’s your trademark.’ He paused for a beat. ‘I’m sorry.’

She slowly loosened her grip on her purse. ‘Are the press always that intrusive?’ she asked.

He let out a breath in a sigh. ‘I hardly notice it any more,’ he said. ‘But, yes, they are. It won’t last for ever. They’ll lose interest once we’re married.’

Natalie frowned as she looked at him. ‘I hope people don’t think I’m marrying you for your money.’

His lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. ‘No, cara, they’ll think it’s my body you are after.’

She turned away to stare at the passing scenery, her lower body flickering with a pulse she had thought long ago quelled. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Angelo,’ she said.

‘Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?’ he asked.

Natalie couldn’t have answered either way, so she changed the subject. ‘Have you really got an engagement ring?’ she asked.

‘I have.’

‘Do you not think I might have liked to choose it for myself?’

He threw her an exasperated look. ‘In my family it’s traditional for the man to choose the engagement ring,’ he said.

She toyed with the catch on her purse for a moment or two. ‘It’s not the same one you bought five years ago, is it?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said.

She sneaked a glance at him but his expression was inscrutable. ‘Did you give it to someone else?’ she asked. ‘As a present or something?’

He brought the car to a standstill outside her house before he answered. ‘I donated it to a charity for their silent auction,’ he said. ‘There’s some lucky girl out there now wearing a ring that cost more than most people’s houses.’

Natalie chewed at the inside of her mouth. ‘I never asked you to spend that amount of money on me.’

His swung his gaze to hers. ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he said. ‘But then it wasn’t money you wanted from me, was it?’

She couldn’t hold his look. ‘I’ve seen what money can do to people,’ she said. ‘It changes them, and not always for the good.’

She felt his gaze studying her for endless seconds. ‘What have you told your parents about us?’ he asked.

She pressed her lips together. ‘Not much.’

‘How much?’

She looked at him again. ‘It was my mother’s idea for me to come and see you,’ she said. ‘I only did it for her sake.’

‘And Lachlan’s, presumably?’

Her eyes fell away from his. ‘Yes …’

The silence stretched interminably.

‘Are you going to ask me in?’ he asked.

She gave him a pert look. ‘Are you going to come in even if I don’t?’

He brushed an idle finger down the curve of her cheek, his eyes focussed on her mouth, his lips curved upwards in a half-smile. ‘If you don’t want me then all you have to do is say so.’

I do want you.

The words were like drumbeats inside her head.

I want you. I want you. I want you.

She locked out that traitorous voice and pasted an indifferent look on her face. ‘Are you staying in town overnight?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I was hoping you’d offer me a bed for the night.’

Natalie felt her heart give a hard, sharp kick. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because … Because …’

‘The press will think it odd if I don’t stay with you,’ he said, before she could think of an excuse. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but a car followed us back here. It’s parked behind the red car.’

She checked in the side mirror. There was a man sitting behind the wheel with a camera’s telephoto lens trained in their direction. Panic gripped her by the throat. Was this how it was going to be? Would she be hounded like a terrified fox with nowhere to hide?

Angelo opened his door and came around to where she was sitting, frozen in dread.

‘He’ll move on once we’re inside,’ he said. ‘Just try to act naturally.’

Natalie got out of the car and allowed him to take her hand. She felt the strong grip of his fingers as they curled around hers. It was the same feeling she’d had when he had put his arm around her waist earlier.

She felt protected.

‘Give me your keys,’ he said.

She handed them over. ‘It’s the big brass one,’ she said.

He unlocked the door and held it open for her to pass through. ‘How long have you lived here?’ he asked as he closed the door.

‘Three and a half years.’

‘Why Scotland? I thought you said you grew up in Gloucestershire?’

‘My mother is a Scot,’ she said. ‘She grew up in the seaside village of Crail in Fife. I spent a lot of holidays there with my grandparents when I was young.’

‘You didn’t tell me that before.’

She gave a shrug as she placed her purse on the hall table. ‘It didn’t seem important.’

‘What else didn’t you tell me that didn’t seem important?’

Natalie turned away from his probing look. ‘Do you want a drink or something?’

He stalled her by placing a hand on her arm. ‘Tatty?’

She looked down at his hand. How dark and masculine it looked against her paler skin. It dredged up memories she didn’t want to resurface. She felt the rumble of them like tectonic plates rubbing against each other. An earthquake of sensation threatened to spill out like lava. She felt the heat of it bubbling like a furnace inside her.

‘I asked you not to call me that,’ she said.

His hand moved along her arm in a gentle caress. ‘I don’t always do what I’m told,’ he said. ‘I like bending the rules to suit me.’

Natalie tried to pull away but his fingers subtly tightened. She met his gaze—so dark and mesmerising—so in control. He knew he had her where he wanted her. She was at his mercy. Lachlan’s freedom and future depended on her. Angelo knew she would not do anything to jeopardise it. Her little temper tantrum back at the restaurant had achieved nothing. He would always come after her and remind her of what was at stake.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘You must know how it’s going to end.’

His hooded gaze drifted to her mouth. ‘I don’t care how it ends,’ he said. ‘This is about the here and now.’

She looked at his mouth. Oh, how she wanted to feel those firm lips move against hers! She remembered the heat; she remembered the blistering passion that burned like a taper all over her flesh. She remembered the sexy thrust of his tongue as it came in search of hers.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the breeze of his breath skate over her lips. He lowered his mouth to just above hers. She swept her tongue over her lips, wanting him, aching for him to make the first move.

‘Go on,’ he said, in a low, husky, spine-melting tone. ‘I know you want to.’

Natalie’s stomach shifted like a speeding skater suddenly facing a sheet of broken ice. Could he read her so well even after all this time? She fought for composure, for self-control, for anything.

‘You’re mistaken,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t want any such thing.’

He brushed a finger over her tingling bottom lip. ‘Liar.’

It took all of her resolve and then some to step back, but somehow she did it. She moved to the other side of the room, barricading herself behind one of the sofas set in the middle of the room. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Because you don’t trust yourself around me?’

She sent him an arctic look. ‘I’m not going to be a slave to your desires.’

‘Is that what you think you’ll be?’ he asked. ‘What about your own desires? You have them. You can deny them all you like but they’re still there. I can feel it when I touch you.’

‘What we had five years ago is gone,’ Natalie said. ‘You can’t make it come back just to suit you.’

‘It never went away,’ he said. ‘You wanted it to, but it didn’t. You were scared of the next step, weren’t you? You were scared of the commitment of marriage. You’re still scared. What I’d like to know is why.’

‘Get out.’

‘I’m not going until I give you this.’ He took a jeweller’s box from inside his jacket pocket. But rather than come over to her he simply set it down on the coffee table. It reminded her of a gauntlet being laid down between two opponents.

‘I’ll have a car sent to collect you on Tuesday,’ he said. ‘Pack enough clothes for a week. We’ll be expected to go on a honeymoon. If you e-mail me a list of the people you wish to invite to the ceremony I’ll have my secretary deal with it.’

‘What do you want me to wear?’ she asked. ‘Sackcloth and ashes?’

‘You can wear what you like,’ he said. ‘It makes no difference to me. But do keep in mind that there will be photographers everywhere.’

‘Do you really expect me to pack up my life here and follow you about the globe like some lovesick little fool?’ she asked.

‘We will divide our time between your place and mine,’ he said. ‘I’m based in London, but I plan to spend a bit of time in Sorrento until the development is near completion. I’m prepared to be flexible. I understand you have a business to run.’

She gave him a petulant look. ‘What if I don’t want you to share my house?’

‘Get used to it, Natalie. I will share your house and a whole lot more before the ink is dry on our marriage certificate.’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday.’

Natalie didn’t touch the jeweller’s box until he had left. She stood looking at it for a long time before she picked it up and opened it. Inside was an art deco design triple diamond ring. It was stunningly beautiful. She took it out of its velvet home and slipped it on her finger. She couldn’t have chosen better herself. It was neither too loose nor too tight—a perfect ring for an imperfect relationship.

She wondered how long it would be before she would be giving it back.

CHAPTER FOUR

NATALIE was in a state of high anxiety by the time Tuesday came around.

She hadn’t eaten for three days. She had barely slept. She had been dry retching at the thought of getting on a plane to Italy.

Angelo had called her each day, but she hadn’t revealed anything of what she was going through. He had assured her Lachlan was out of harm’s way. Her parents had called too, and expressed their satisfaction with the way things had turned out. Her father was greatly relieved that the family name hadn’t been sullied by Lachlan’s antics. Angelo had miraculously made the nasty little episode disappear, for which Adrian Armitage was immensely grateful. He’d made no mention of Natalie’s role in fixing things. She had expected no less from him, given he had never shown an interest in her welfare, but she was particularly annoyed with her mother, who hadn’t even asked her how she felt about marrying Angelo. But then Isla had married Natalie’s father for money and prestige. Love hadn’t come into it at all.

She felt annoyed too at having to lie to her friends—in particular Isabel. But strangely enough Isabel had accepted the news of her marriage with barely a blink of an eye. Her friend had said how she had always thought Natalie had unresolved feelings for Angelo since she hadn’t dated all that seriously since. She thought Natalie’s aversion to marriage and commitment had stemmed from her break up with Angelo. Natalie hadn’t had the heart to put Isabel straight. As close as she was to her, she had never told Isabel about the circumstances surrounding Liam’s death.

Natalie heard a car pull up outside her house. Her stomach did another somersault and a clammy sweat broke out over her brow. She walked to the door on legs that felt like wet cotton wool. It wasn’t a uniformed driver standing there but Angelo himself.

‘I … I just have to get my bag …’ she said, brushing a loose strand of sticky hair back behind her ear.

Angelo narrowed his gaze. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, averting her eyes.

He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to look at him. ‘You’re deathly pale,’ he said. ‘Are you ill?’

Natalie swallowed the gnarly knot of panic in her throat. ‘I have some pills to take.’ She rummaged in her bag for the anxiety medication her doctor had prescribed. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Angelo followed her. He took the packet of pills from her and read the label. ‘Do you really need to take these?’ he asked.

‘Give them to me,’ she said, reaching for them. ‘I should’ve taken them an hour ago.’

He frowned as he handed them to her. ‘Do you take them regularly?’

She shook her head as she swallowed a couple of pills. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Only in an emergency.’

He was still frowning as he led her out to the car. ‘When did you develop your fear of flying?’ he asked.

‘Ages ago,’ she said.

‘What caused it?’ he asked. ‘Rough turbulence or a mid-air incident?’

She shrugged. ‘Can’t remember.’

His dark gaze searched hers. ‘When was the last time you flew?’

‘Can we get going?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to fall asleep in the car. You’ll have to carry me on board.’

Angelo glanced at Natalie every now and again as he drove to the airport. She was not quite so pale now the medication had settled her nerves, but she still looked fragile. Her cheeks looked hollow, as if she had recently lost weight, and her eyes were shadowed.

Her concern over her brother was well founded. He had struck a deal with Lachlan, but already Lachlan was pushing against the boundaries Angelo had set in place. The staff at a very expensive private rehab clinic had called him three times in the last week to inform him about Lachlan’s erratic and at times uncontrollable behaviour. He had organised a therapist to have extra sessions with him, but so far there had been no miraculous breakthrough. It seemed Lachlan Armitage was a very angry young man, hell-bent on self-destruction.

Speaking with Natalie’s father had made Angelo realise how frustrating it must be to have a child who, no matter how much you loved and provided for him, refused to co-operate. Adrian Armitage had hinted at similar trouble with Natalie. Apparently her stubborn streak had caused many a scene in the Armitage household over the years. In spite of all of her father’s efforts to get close to her she had wilfully defied him whenever she could. Angelo wondered if it was a cultural thing. He had been brought up strictly, but fairly. His parents had commanded respect, but they had more than earned it with their dedication and love for him. He hoped to do the same for his own children one day.

He turned off the engine once he had parked and gently touched Natalie on the shoulder. ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said. ‘Time to get going.’

She blinked and sat up straighter. ‘Oh … Right …’

He put an arm around her waist as he led her on board his private jet a short time later. She was agitated and edgy, but he managed to get her to take a seat and put the belt on.

‘Can I have a drink?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘What would you like?’

‘White wine,’ she said.

‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to combine alcohol with those pills?’ he asked.

She gave him a surly look. ‘I’m not a child.’

‘No, but you’re under my protection,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you getting ill, or losing consciousness or something.’

She started chewing her nails as the pilot pulled back. Angelo took her hand away from her mouth and covered it with his. ‘You’ll be fine, cara,’ he said. ‘You were in far more danger driving to the airport than you ever will be in the air.’

She shifted restively, her eyes darting about like a spooked thoroughbred’s. ‘I want to get off,’ she said. ‘Please—can you tell the pilot to stop? I want to get off.’

Angelo put his arm around her and brought her close against him. ‘Shh, mia piccola,’ he soothed. ‘Concentrate on your breathing. In and out. In and out. That’s right. Nice and slow.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head to his chest. He stroked the silk of her hair, talking to her in the same calm voice. It took a lot longer than he expected but finally she relaxed against him. She slept for most of the journey and only woke up just as they were coming to land in Rome.

‘There,’ he said. ‘You did it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

She nodded vaguely and brushed the hair back off her face. ‘Have I got time to use the bathroom?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Her cheeks pooled with colour. ‘No, thank you.’

He gave her a mocking smile. ‘Maybe next time, si?’

The press had obviously been given a tip-off somewhere between their arrival at the airport and Angelo’s family villa in Rome. Natalie watched in dismay as photographers surged towards Angelo’s chauffeur-driven car.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he helped her out of the car. ‘I’ll handle their questions.’

Within a few moments Angelo had managed to satisfy the press’s interest and sent them on their way.

An older man opened the front door of the villa and greeted Angelo. ‘Your parents are in the salon, Signor Bellandini.’

‘Grazie, Pasquale,’ he said. ‘Natalie, this is Pasquale. He has been working for my family for many years.’

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Natalie said.

‘Welcome,’ Pasquale said. ‘It is very nice to see Signor Bellandini happy at last.’

‘Come,’ Angelo said, guiding her with a hand resting in the curve of her back. ‘My parents will be keen to meet you.’

If they were so keen, why hadn’t they been at the door to greet her instead of the elderly servant? Natalie thought bitterly to herself. But clearly there was a different protocol in the upper classes of Italian society. And Sandro and Francesca Bellandini were nothing if not from the very top shelf of the upper class.

Natalie could see where Angelo got his height and looks from as soon as she set eyes on his father. While an inch or two shorter than his son, Sandro had the same dark brown eyes and lean, rangy build. His hair was still thick and curly but it was liberally streaked with grey, giving him a distinguished air that was as compelling as it was intimidating.

Francesca, on the other hand, was petite, and her demeanour outwardly demure, but her keen hazel eyes missed nothing. Natalie felt them move over her in one quick assessing glance, noting her hair and make-up, the style and make of her clothes, the texture of her skin and the state of her figure.

‘This is Natalie, my fiancée,’ Angelo said. ‘Natalie—my parents, Sandro and Francesca.’

‘Welcome to the family.’ Francesca was the first to speak. ‘Angelo has told us so much about you. I am sorry we didn’t meet you five years ago. We would’ve told him he was a fool for letting you go—si, Sandro?’

‘Si,’ Sandro said, taking her hand once his wife had relinquished it. ‘You are very welcome indeed.’

Angelo’s arm came back around her waist. ‘I’ll see that Natalie is settled in upstairs before we join you for a celebratory drink.’

‘Maria has made up the Venetian room for you both,’ Francesca said. ‘I didn’t see the point in separating you. You’ve been apart too long, no?’

Natalie glanced at Angelo, but he was smiling at his mother. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Mamma,’ he said.

Natalie had to wait until they were upstairs and alone before she could vent her spleen. ‘I bet you did that deliberately,’ she said.

‘Did what?’

‘Don’t play the guileless innocent with me,’ she flashed back. ‘You knew your mother would put us in the same room, didn’t you?’

‘On the contrary. I thought she would go old-fashioned on me and put us at opposite ends of the villa,’ he said. ‘I told you she’s incredibly insightful. She must have sensed how hot you are for me.’

Natalie glared at him. ‘I’m not sharing that bed with you.’

‘Fine,’ he said unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I’ll let you have the floor.’

She frowned at him. ‘What are you doing?’

He pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. ‘I’m getting changed.’

Her eyes went the flat plane of his abdomen. He looked amazing—so masculine, so taut, so magnificently fit and tanned and virile. She swung away and went to look out of the windows overlooking the gardens.

‘Why did you let your parents think it was you who ended our affair five years ago?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t want you to get off to a bad start with them,’ he said. ‘I’m their only child. Parents can be funny about things like that.’

Natalie turned around. He was only wearing black underwear now. The fabric clung to him lovingly. Her insides clenched with greedy fistfuls of desire. She had kissed and tasted every inch of his body. She had taken him in her mouth, ruthlessly tasting him until he had collapsed with release. She had felt him move deep within her. She had felt his essence spill inside her. She had been as brazen as she could be with him and yet still he had always been a step ahead of her. He had pushed her to the limit time and time again. Her flesh shivered in memory of his touch. Her spine tingled and her belly fluttered. She drew in a breath as she saw his gaze run over her. Was he too thinking of the red-hot passion they had shared?

‘I don’t expect you to take the blame,’ she said. ‘I’m not ashamed of breaking off our relationship. I was too young to get married.’

‘That won’t cut it with my mother, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘She was barely sixteen when she fell in love with my father. She has never looked at another man since.’

‘Is your father faithful to her?’

He frowned. ‘What makes you ask that?’

Natalie lifted a shoulder up and down. ‘They’ve been together a long time. It’s not uncommon for a man to stray.’

‘My father takes his marriage vows seriously,’ he said. ‘He is exactly like my grandfather in that.’

‘And what about you, Angelo?’ she asked. ‘Will you follow in their honourable footsteps, or will you have your little bits on the side if I don’t come up trumps?’

He came over to where she was standing. Stopped just in front of her. So close she could feel her body swaying towards him like a compass searching for magnetic north. She fought against the desire to close the minuscule distance. She stood arrow-straight, stiff to the point of discomfort. Her heart was racing; the hammer blows were making her giddy, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Her resolve, God help her, was crumbling.

Angelo slipped a warm hand behind her head at the nape of her neck setting off a shower of sensation beneath the surface of her sensitive skin.

‘Why do you fight with yourself so much?’ he asked.

Natalie pressed her lips together. ‘I’m fighting you, not myself.’

His fingers moved through her hair in a spine-tingling caress. ‘We both want the same thing, cara,’ he said. ‘Connection, intimacy, satisfaction.’

She could feel her resolve slipping even further out of her control. Why did he have to look so damned gorgeous? Why did he have to have such melting brown eyes? Why did he have to have such amazing hands that made her flesh tingle with sensation? Why did he have to have such a tempting mouth?

For God’s sake, why didn’t he throw her backwards caveman-style on the bed and ravish her?

In the end it was impossible to tell who had closed the distance between their bodies. Suddenly she felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly. It was like putting a match to a decade of dried-out tinder. She felt the flames erupt beneath her flesh. They licked along every nerve pathway, from the top of her scalp to her toes.

Her mouth met his in a combative duel that had no hint of romance or tenderness about it. It was all about lust—primal, ravenous lust—that was suddenly let loose after being restrained for far too long. She felt the scorch of his lips as they ground against hers. And then his tongue thrust boldly through the seam of her lips, making her insides flip over in delight. Her tongue tangled with his, fighting for supremacy, but he wouldn’t give in. She felt the scrape of her teeth against his; she even tasted blood but couldn’t be sure whose it was. She fed off his mouth greedily, rapaciously, and little whimpers of pleasure sounded deep in her throat as he varied the speed and pressure.

He crushed her to him, one of his hands ruthlessly tugging her top undone so he could access her breast. She felt her achingly tight nipple rubbing against his palm. A wave of longing besieged her. She felt it flickering like a pulse between her thighs. She felt the honeyed moistness of her body preparing for his possession. She rubbed up against him intimately, the feminine heart of her on fire, aching, pulsing, contracting with a need so great it was overwhelming.

He kept kissing her relentlessly, his tongue diving for hers, conquering it with each and every sensual stroke. Her lips felt swollen but she didn’t care. She kissed him back with just as much passion, nipping at him with her teeth in between stroking him with her tongue. He tasted just as she remembered him: minty and fresh and devastatingly, irresistibly male.

He tore his mouth from hers to suckle on her breast, his tongue swirling around her areola and over her nipple until her back arched in pleasure. She knew it would take very little to send her up into the stratosphere. She could feel the tremors at her core, the tension building and building, until she was close to begging him to satisfy that delicious, torturous ache.

He brought his mouth back to hers—a slower kiss this time. He took his time exploring her mouth, his tongue teasing hers rather than subduing it. She melted like honey in a hothouse. Her arms went around his neck. Her hands delved into the thick denseness of his hair. Her throbbing pelvis was flush against the hardness of his.

He raised his mouth from hers, his breathing heavy, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded and smouldering with desire. ‘Tell me you want me,’ he commanded.

Natalie was jolted out of his sensual spell with a resurgence of her pride. ‘I don’t want you,’ she lied.

He gave a deep and very masculine-sounding mocking laugh. ‘I could prove that for the lie that it is just by slipping my hand between your legs.’

She tried to back away but he held her fast. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

He slowly slid his hands down the length of her arms, his fingers encircling her wrists like handcuffs. ‘You will come to me, cara, just like you did in the past,’ he said. ‘I know you too well.’

She held his gaze defiantly. ‘You don’t know me at all,’ she said. ‘You might know your way around my body, but you know nothing of my heart.’

‘That’s because you won’t let anyone in, will you?’ he said. ‘You push everyone away when they get too close. Your father told me how difficult you are.’

Natalie’s mouth dropped open in outrage. ‘You discussed me with my father?’

His hands fell away from her wrists, his expression masked. ‘We had a couple of conversations, yes,’ he said.

‘About what?’

‘I asked for your hand in marriage.’

She gave a derisive laugh. ‘That was rather draconian of you, wasn’t it? And also hypocritical—because you wouldn’t have let the little matter of my father’s permission stand in the way of what you wanted, now, would you?’

‘I thought it was the right thing to do,’ he said. ‘I would’ve liked to meet him face to face but he was abroad on business.’

Natalie could just imagine the ‘business’ her father was working on. His latest project was five-foot-ten with bottle-blonde hair and breasts you could serve a dinner party off.

‘I’m sure he didn’t hesitate in handing me over to your care,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t offer to pay you for the privilege.’

His gaze remained steady on hers, dark and penetrating but giving nothing away. ‘We also discussed Lachlan’s situation.’

‘I take it he didn’t offer to postpone his business in order to be by Lachlan’s side and sort things out?’

‘I told him to stay away,’ he said. ‘Sometimes parents can get in the way when it comes to situations like this. Your father has done all he can for your brother. It’s time to step back and let others take charge.’

‘Which you just couldn’t wait to do, because it gave you the perfect foothold to force me back into your life,’ she said, shooting him a resentful glare.

Those piercing brown eyes refused to let hers go. ‘You came to me, Natalie, not the other way around.’

A thought slipped into her mind like the thin curl of smoke beneath a door. ‘My father was the one who contacted you, wasn’t he?’ she said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘I only came to you because my mother begged me to. I would never have come to you otherwise. He put her up to it.’

‘Your father expressed his concern for you when we spoke,’ he said. ‘It seems it’s not only your brother with an attitude problem.’

Natalie stalked to the other side of the bedroom, her arms around her body so tightly she felt her ribs creak in protest. Her anger was boiling like a cauldron inside her. She wanted to explode. She wanted to hit out at him, at the world, at the cruel injustice of life. The thought of Angelo discussing her with her father was repugnant to her. She hated thinking of how that conversation would have played out.

Her father would have painted her as a wilful and defiant child with no self-discipline. He would have laid it on thickly, relaying anecdote after anecdote about how she had disobeyed him and made life difficult for him almost from the day she had been born. He would not have told of how he had wanted a son first, and how she had ruined his plans by being born a girl. He would not have told of his part in provoking her, goading her into black moods and tempers until he finally broke her spirit. He would not have told of how his philosophy of parenting was ‘might is right’, how tyranny took precedence over tolerance, ridicule and shame over support and guidance. He would not have told of how he had used harsh physical discipline when gentle corrective words would have achieved a much better outcome.

No, he would have portrayed himself as a long-suffering devoted father who was at his wits’ end over his wayward offspring.

He would not have mentioned Liam.

Liam’s death was a topic no one mentioned. It was as if he had never existed. None of his toys or clothes were at the family mansion. Her father had forced her mother to remove them as soon as Lachlan had been born. The photos of Liam’s infancy and toddlerhood were in an album in a cupboard that was securely locked and never opened. Natalie’s only photo of her baby brother was the one she had found in the days after his funeral, when everyone had been distraught and distracted. She had kept it hidden until she had bought her house in Edinburgh.

But for all her father’s efforts to erase the tragedy of Liam’s short life his ghost still haunted them all. Every time Natalie visited her parents—which was rare these days—she felt his presence. She saw his face in Lachlan’s. She heard him in her sleep. Every year she had night terrors as the anniversary of his death came close.

With an enormous effort she garnered her self-control, and once she was sure she had her emotions securely locked and bolted down she slowly turned and faced Angelo. ‘I’m sure you found that conversation very enlightening,’ she said.

His expression was hard to read. ‘Your father cares for you very deeply,’ he said. ‘Like all parents, he and your mother only want the best for you.’

Natalie kept her mouth straight, even though she longed to curl her lip. ‘My father obviously thinks you’re the best for me,’ she said. ‘And as for my mother—well, she wouldn’t dream of contradicting him. So it’s happy families all round, isn’t it?’

He studied her for a heartbeat, his eyes holding hers in a searching, probing manner. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he said. ‘My parents will have gone to a great deal of trouble over dinner. Please honour them by dressing and behaving appropriately.’

‘Contrary to what my father probably told you, I do actually know how to behave in company,’ she said to his back as he went towards the en suite bathroom.

He turned around and meshed his gaze with hers. ‘I’m on your side, cara,’ he said, with unexpected gentleness.

Her eyes stung with the sudden onset of tears. She blinked and got them back where they belonged: concealed, blocked, and stoically, strenuously denied. She gave a toss of her head and walked back to the window overlooking the gardens. But she didn’t let out her breath until she heard the click of the bathroom door indicating Angelo had gone.

Angelo was putting on some cufflinks when he heard Natalie come out of the dressing room. He turned and looked at her, his breath catching in his chest at the sight of her dressed in a classic knee length black dress and patent leather four-inch heels. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant knot at the back of her head, giving her a regal air. She was wearing diamond and pearl droplet earrings and a matching necklace. Her make-up was subtle, but it highlighted the dark blue of her eyes and the creamy texture of her skin and model-like cheekbones. Her perfume drifted towards him—a bewitching blend of the wintry bloom of lily of the valley and the hot summer fragrance of honeysuckle. A perfect summation of her complex character: ice-maiden and sultry siren.

How could someone so beautiful on the outside be capable of the things her father had said about her? It was worrying him—niggling at him like a toothache. The more time he spent with her, the more he found new aspects to her character that intrigued him.

Yes, she was wilful and defiant. Yes, she had a streak of independence. Yes, she could be incredibly stubborn.

But she clearly loved her brother and was prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to help him. How did that fit in with Adrian Armitage’s assessment of her as totally selfish and self-serving?

‘You look like you just stepped off a New York City catwalk,’ he said.

She lifted a slim shoulder dismissively. ‘This dress is three seasons old,’ she said. ‘I bought it on sale for a fraction of the cost.’

‘I like your hair like that.’

‘It needs cutting,’ she said, touching a hand to one of her earrings. ‘This is a good way to hide the split ends.’

‘Why don’t you like compliments?’ he asked. ‘You always deflect them. You used to do that five years ago. I thought it was because you were young back then, but you’re still doing it.’

She stopped fiddling with her earring to look at him, her chin coming up. ‘Compliment me all you like,’ she said. ‘I can handle it.’

‘You’re beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And extremely intelligent.’

She gave a little mock bow. ‘Thank you.’

‘And you have the most amazing body,’ he said.

High on her cheekbones twin pools of delicate rose appeared, and her eyes moved out of reach of his. ‘I haven’t been to the gym in months.’

‘You’re meant to say thank you—not make excuses,’ he pointed out.

She brought her gaze back. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re the most intriguing person I know.’

A mask fell over her face like a curtain dropping over a stage. ‘You need to get out a little more, Angelo,’ she said.

‘You have secrets in your eyes.’

She stilled as if every cell in her body had been snap frozen. But then, just as quickly she relaxed her pose. ‘We all have our secrets,’ she said lightly. ‘I wonder what some of yours are?’

‘Who gave you that jewellery?’ he asked.

She put a hand to her throat, where her necklace rested. ‘I bought it for myself,’ she said.

‘Do you still have the locket I gave you from that street fair we went to?’

She dropped her hand from her neck and reached for her purse. ‘Your parents will be wondering what’s keeping us,’ she said.

‘My parents will think we’ve been catching up on lost time.’

Her cheeks fired again. ‘I hope they don’t expect me to speak Italian, because I’m hopeless at it.’

‘They won’t expect you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,’ he said. ‘They’re keen to welcome you as the daughter they never had.’

‘I hope I live up to their lofty expectations,’ she said, frowning a little. ‘But then, I guess no one is ever going to be good enough for the parents of an only child.’

‘I’m sure they will grow to love you if you show them who you really are,’ he said.

‘Yeah, like that’s going to work,’ she said, and picked up her wrap and wound it round her shoulders.

Angelo frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘No one really gets to be who they truly are on the inside, do they?’ she said. ‘We all fall into line because of cultural conditioning and family expectation. None of us can say what we really want to say or do what we really want to do. We’re hemmed in by parameters imposed on us by other people and the society we live in.’

‘What would you do or say if those parameters weren’t there?’ he asked.

She gave one of her dismissive shrugs. ‘What would be the point?’ she asked. ‘No one listens anyway.’

‘I’m listening,’ he said.

Her eyes fell away from his. ‘We shouldn’t keep your parents waiting.’

He brought her chin up with his finger and thumb. ‘Don’t shut me out, cara,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, talk to me. I’m tired of this don’t-come-too-close-to-me game you keep playing.’

Her expression flickered with a host of emotions. He saw them pass through her eyes like a burgeoning tide. They rippled over her forehead and tightened her jaw, but she spoke none of them out loud.

‘You won’t let me in, will you?’ he said.

‘There’s nothing in there.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘I know you try and pretend otherwise, but you have a soft heart and you won’t let anyone get near it. Why? Why are you so determined to deny yourself human connection and intimacy?’

She stepped out of his hold and gave him a hardened look. ‘Didn’t my father tell you?’ she said. ‘I’m a lost cause. I’m beyond redemption. I have a streak of selfishness and self-preservation that overrides everything else. I care for no one but myself.’

‘If that is so then why have you agreed to sacrifice yourself for your brother’s sake?’ he asked.

There was a hint of movement at her slim throat, as if she had tried to disguise a swallow. ‘Lachlan isn’t like me,’ she said. ‘He’s sensitive and vulnerable. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself yet, but he will. He just needs more time.’

‘You’re paying a very high price for his learning curve.’

She met his gaze levelly. ‘I’ve paid higher.’

Angelo tried to break her gaze down with the laser force of his but she was indomitable. It was like trying to melt a wall of steel with a child’s birthday cake candle. ‘I won’t give up on you, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I don’t care how long it takes. I will not give up until I see what’s written on your heart.’

‘Good luck with that,’ she said airily, and sashayed to the door. She stopped and addressed him over her shoulder. ‘Are you coming or not?’

CHAPTER FIVE

NATALIE was handed a glass of champagne as soon as she entered the salon on Angelo’s arm.

‘This is such a happy occasion for us,’ Francesca said. ‘We were starting to wonder if Angelo would ever settle down, weren’t we, Sandro?’

Angelo’s father gave a benign smile as he raised his glass. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘But we always knew he would only ever marry for love. It is a Bellandini tradition, after all.’

‘Isn’t it also twenty-first century tradition to do so?’ Natalie asked.

‘Well, yes, of course,’ Francesca said. ‘But that’s not to say that certain families don’t occasionally orchestrate meetings between their young ones to hurry things along. Parents often have a feel for these things.’

‘I’m not sure parents should get involved in their children’s lives to that extent,’ Natalie said. ‘Surely once someone is an adult they should be left to decide what and who is right for them?’

Sandro’s dark brown eyes glinted as he addressed his son. ‘I can see you have chosen a wife with spirit, Angelo,’ he said. ‘Life is so much more exciting with a woman who has a mind of her own.’

Francesca gave Sandro a playful tap on the arm. ‘You’ve done nothing but complain for the last thirty-six years about my spirit.’

Sandro took her hand and kissed it gallantly. ‘I adore your spirit, tesoro mio,’ he said. ‘I worship it.’

Natalie couldn’t help comparing her parents’ relationship to Angelo’s parents’. Her parents spoke to each other on a need basis. She couldn’t remember the last time they had touched. They certainly didn’t look at each other with love shining from their eyes. They could barely be in the same room together.

‘Papa, Mamma,’ Angelo said. ‘You’re embarrassing Natalie.’

Francesca came over and looped an arm through one of Natalie’s. ‘Angelo tells me you are a very talented interior designer,’ she said. ‘I am ashamed that I hadn’t seen your soft furnishings range until I searched for it online. I cannot believe what I have been missing. Do you not have an Italian outlet?’

‘I’ve limited my outlets to the UK up until now,’ Natalie said.

‘But why?’ Francesca said. ‘Your designs are wonderful.’

‘I’m not fond of travelling,’ Natalie said. ‘I know I should probably do more in terms of networking in Europe …’

‘Never mind,’ Francesca said, patting her arm reassuringly. ‘Angelo will see to it. He is very good at business. You will soon be a household name and I will be immensely proud of you. I will tell everyone you are my lovely daughter-in-law and I will not speak to them ever again unless they buy all of your linen and use all of your treatments in their homes, si?’

Natalie thought of her father’s dismissal of her latest range as ‘too girly’ and ‘too Parisian’. She felt more affirmed after five minutes with Angelo’s mother than she had in a lifetime with her father.

‘I’ll get my assistant to send you a catalogue,’ she said. ‘If you want a hand with anything I’d be happy to help.’

‘Oh, would you?’ Francesca’s eyes danced with excitement. ‘I’ve been dying to redecorate the guest rooms. I would love your help. It will be a bonding experience, si?’

‘I’d like that,’ Natalie said.

Francesca smiled. ‘I have been so nervous about us meeting,’ she said. ‘But I am happy now. You are perfect for Angelo. You love him very much, no?’

‘I … I …’

Francesca squeezed Natalie’s forearm. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, si? But I can see what you feel for him. I don’t need you to say it out loud. You are not the sort of girl who would marry for anything but for love.’

Angelo came over and put an arm around Natalie’s waist. ‘So you approve, Mamma?’ he said.

‘But of course,’ his mother said. ‘She is an angel. We will get on famously.’

Dinner was a lively, convivial affair—again very different from meals taken at Natalie’s family home. At the Armitage mansion no one spoke unless Adrian Armitage gave permission. It was a pattern from childhood that neither Natalie nor Lachlan had been courageous enough to challenge.

But in the Bellandini household, magnificent and imposing as it was, everyone was encouraged to contribute to the conversation. Natalie didn’t say much. She listened and watched as Angelo interacted with his parents. They debated volubly about politics and religion and the state of the economy, but no one got angry or upset, or slammed their fist down on the table. It was like watching a very exciting tennis match. The ball of conversation was hit back and forth, but nothing but good sportsmanship was on show.

After the coffee cups were cleared Angelo placed a gentle hand on the nape of Natalie’s neck. ‘You will excuse us, Mamma and Papa?’ he said. ‘Natalie is exhausted.’

‘But of course,’ Francesca said.

Sandro got to his feet and joined his wife in kissing Natalie on both cheeks. ‘Sleep well, Natalie,’ he said. ‘It is a very great privilege to welcome you to our family.’

Natalie struggled to keep her overwhelmed emotions back behind the screen she had erected. ‘You’re very kind …’

Angelo kept his hand at her back all the way upstairs. ‘You didn’t eat much at dinner,’ he said. ‘Are you still feeling unwell?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not a big eater.’

‘You’re very thin,’ he said. ‘You seem to have lost even more weight since the day you came to my office.’

She kept her gaze averted as she trudged up the stairs. ‘I always lose weight in the summer.’

He held the door of their suite open for her. ‘My parents adore you.’

She gave him a vestige of a smile. ‘They’re lovely people. You’re very lucky.’

Angelo closed the door and watched as she removed the clip holding her hair in place. Glossy brunette tresses flowed over her shoulders. He wanted to run his fingers through them, to bury his head in their fragrant mass.

‘You can have the bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms.’

‘Won’t your parents think it rather odd if you sleep somewhere else?’ she asked, frowning slightly.

‘I’ll think of some excuse.’

‘I’m sure we can manage to share a bed for a night or two,’ she said, looking away. ‘It’s not as if we’re out-of-control, hormonally driven teenagers or anything.’

Angelo felt exactly like an out-of-control, hormonally driven teenager, but he thought it best not to say so. He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep a wink with her lying beside him, but he was going to give it a damn good try.

‘You use the bathroom first,’ he said. ‘I have a couple of e-mails to send.’

She gave a vague nod and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

When he finally came back into the bedroom Natalie was soundly asleep. She barely took up any room in the king-sized bed. He stood looking at her for a long time, wondering where he had gone wrong with her. Had he expected too much too soon? She had only been twenty-one. It was young for the commitment of marriage, but he had been so certain she was the one for him he hadn’t stopped to consider she might say no. It had been perhaps a little arrogant of him, but he had never factored in the possibility that she would leave him. All his life he had been given everything he wanted. It was part and parcel of being an only child born to extremely wealthy parents. He had never experienced disappointment or betrayal.

He had her now where he wanted her, but he wasn’t happy and neither was she. She was a caged bird. She would not stay confined for long. She would do her duty to save her brother’s hide but she would not stay with him indefinitely.

He slipped between the sheets a few minutes later and lay listening to the sound of her soft breathing. He ached to pull her into his arms but he was determined she would come to him of her own volition. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

He was not far off sleep when he felt Natalie stiffen like a board beside him. The bed jolted with the movement of her body as she started to thrash about as if she were possessed by an inner demon. He had never seen her jerk or throw herself about in such a way. He was concerned she was going to hurt herself.

‘No!’ she cried. ‘No! No! No! Noooo!’

Angelo reached for her, restraining her flailing arms and legs with the shelter of his body half covering hers. ‘Shh, cara,’ he said softly. ‘It’s just a bad dream. Shh.’

Her eyes opened wide and she gulped over a sob as she covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find him.’

He brushed the hair back off her forehead. ‘Who couldn’t you find, mia piccola?’ he asked.

She shook her head from side to side, her face still shielded by her hands. ‘It was my fault,’ she said, the words sounding as if they were scraped out of her throat. ‘It was my fault.’

He frowned and pulled her hands down from her face. ‘What was your fault?’

She blinked and focussed on his face. ‘I … I …’ She swallowed. ‘I—I’m sorry …’

She started to cry, her face crumpling like a sheet of paper snatched up by someone’s hand. Big crystal tears popped from her eyes and flowed down her face. He had never seen her cry. He had seen her furiously angry and he had seen her happy, and just about everything in between, but he had never seen her in tears.

‘Hey,’ he said, blotting each tear as it fell with the pad of his finger. ‘It’s just a dream, Tatty. It’s not real. It’s just a horrible nightmare.’

She cried all the harder, great choking sobs that made his own chest feel sore.

‘I’m sorry,’ she kept saying like a mantra. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘Shh,’ he said again. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about.’ He stroked her face and her hair. ‘There … let it go, cara. That’s my girl. Let it all go.’

Her sobs gradually subsided to hiccups and she finally nestled against his chest and fell into an exhausted sleep. Angelo kept on stroking her hair as the clock worked its way around to dawn.

He could not have slept a wink if he tried.

Natalie opened her eyes and found Angelo’s dark, thoughtful gaze trained on her. She had some vague memory of what had passed during the night but it was like looking at something through a cloudy, opaque film.

‘I hope I didn’t keep you awake,’ she said. ‘I’m not a very good sleeper.’

‘You’re certainly very restless,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember you being like that when we were together.’

She focussed her gaze on the white cotton sheet that was pulled up to her chest. ‘I sleep much better in the winter.’

‘I can see why you choose to live in Scotland.’

She felt a reluctant smile tug at her mouth. ‘Maybe I should move to Antarctica or the North Pole.’

‘Maybe you should talk to someone about your dreams.’

She got off the bed and snatched up a bathrobe to cover her nightwear. ‘Maybe you should mind your own business,’ she said, tying the waist strap with unnecessary force.

He got off the bed and came to stand where she was standing. ‘Don’t push me away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?’

She glared at him, her anger straining like an unbroken horse on a string bridle. ‘Back off. I don’t need your help. I was perfectly fine until you came along and stuffed everything up. You with your stupid plans for revenge. Who are you to sort out my life? You don’t know a thing about my life. You just think you can manipulate things to suit you. Go ahead. See if I care.’

She flung herself away, huddling into herself like a porcupine faced with a predator. But her prickly spines felt as if they were pointing the wrong way. She felt every savage poke of them into her sensitive soul.

‘Why are you being so antagonistic?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened to make you like this?’

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought for control. ‘I don’t need you to psychoanalyse me, Angelo. I don’t need you to fix me. I was fine until you barged back into my life.’

‘You’re not fine,’ he said. ‘You’re far from fine. I want to help you.’

She kept her back turned on him. ‘You don’t need me to complicate your life. You can have anyone. You don’t need me.’

‘I do need you,’ he said. ‘And you need me.’

She felt as if he had reached inside her chest and grasped her heart in his hand and squashed it. She wasn’t the right person for him. She could never be the right person for him. Why couldn’t he see it? Did she have to spell it out for him?

‘You deserve someone who can love you,’ she said. ‘I’m not capable of that.’

‘I don’t know what’s happened in your life to make you think that, but it’s not true,’ he said. ‘You do care, Natalie. You care about everything, but you keep your feelings locked away where no one can see them.’

She pinched the bridge of her nose until her eyes watered. ‘I’ve stuffed up so many lives.’ She sucked in a breath and released it raggedly. ‘I’ve tried to be a good person but sometimes it’s just not enough.’

‘You are a good person,’ he said. ‘Why are you so damned hard on yourself?’

Natalie felt the anguish of her soul assail her all over again. She had carried this burdensome yoke since she was seven years old. Instead of getting lighter it had become heavier. It had dug down deep into the shoulders of her guilt. She had no hope of shrugging it off. It was like a big, ugly track mark on her soul.

It was with her for life. It was her penance, her punishment.

‘When I was a little girl I thought the world was a magical place,’ she said. ‘I thought if I just wished for something hard enough it would happen.’

‘That’s the magic of childhood,’ he said. ‘Every child thinks that.’

‘I truly believed if I wanted something badly enough it would come to me,’ she said. ‘Where did I get that from? Life isn’t like that. It’s never been like that. It’s not like some Hollywood script where everything turns out right in the end. It’s pain and sadness and grief at what could have been but wasn’t. It’s one long journey of relentless suffering.’

‘Why do you find life so difficult?’ he asked. ‘You come from a good family. You have wealth and a roof over your head, food on the table. What is there to be so miserable about? So many people are much worse off.’

She rolled her eyes and headed for the bathroom. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘Make me understand.’

She turned and looked at him. His dark eyes were so concerned and serious. How could she bear to see him look at her in horror and disgust if she told him the truth? She let out a long sigh and pushed against the door with her hand. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

Angelo was having coffee in the breakfast room when Natalie came in. She looked cool and composed. There was no sign of the distress he had witnessed during the dark hours of the night and first thing this morning. Her ice maiden persona was back in place.

He rose from the table as she came in and held out a chair for her. ‘My mother has organised a shopping morning for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be with you shortly. She’s just seeing to some last-minute things with the housekeeper.’

‘But I don’t need anything,’ she said, frowning as she sat down.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re getting married on Saturday.’

Her eyes fell away from his as she placed a napkin over her lap. ‘I wasn’t planning on going to any trouble over a dress,’ she said. ‘I have a cream suit that will do.’

‘It’s not just your wedding, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s mine too. My family and yours are looking forward to celebrating with us. It won’t be the same if you turn up in a dress you could wear any old time. I want you to look like a bride.’

A spark of defiance lit her slate-blue gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I don’t want to look like a meringue,’ she said. ‘And don’t expect me to wear a veil, because I won’t.’

Angelo clamped his teeth together to rein in his temper. Was she being deliberately obstructive just to needle him for forcing her hand? He regretted showing his tender side to her last night. She was obviously going to manipulate him to get her own way. Hadn’t her father warned him? She was clever at getting what she wanted. She would go to extraordinary lengths to do so.

But then, so would he.

She had met her match in him and he would not let her forget it. ‘You will wear what I say you will wear,’ he said, nailing her with his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’

Her eyes flashed like fire. ‘Does it make you feel big and macho and tough to force me to do what you want?’ she asked. ‘Does it make you feel big and powerful and invincible?’

It made him feel terrible inside, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. ‘I want our wedding day to be a day to remember,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I will not have you spoiling it by childish displays of temper or passive aggressive actions that will upset other people who are near and dear to me. You are a mature adult. I expect you to act like one.’

She gave him a livid glare. ‘Will that be all, master?’ she asked.

He pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin to one side. ‘I’ll see you at the chapel on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I have business to see to until then.’

Her expression lost some of its intractability. ‘You mean you’re leaving me here … alone?’

‘My parents will be here.’

Her throat rose and fell over the tiniest of swallows. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You said nothing to me about having to go away on business. I thought you were going to be glued to my side in case I did a last-minute runner.’

Angelo leaned his hands on the table and looked her square in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it, Natalie,’ he said through tight lips. ‘You put one foot out of place and I’ll come down like a ton of bricks on your brother. He will never go to Harvard. He will never go to any university. It will be years before he sees the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?’

She blinked at him, her eyes as wide as big blue saucers. ‘Perfectly,’ she said in a hollow voice.

He held her pinned there with his gaze for a couple of chugging heartbeats before he straightened and adjusted his tie. ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. Ciao.’

CHAPTER SIX

THE private chapel at Angelo’s grandparents’ villa forty-five minutes outside of Rome was full to overflowing when Natalie arrived in the limousine with her father. The last few days had passed in a blur of activity as wedding preparations had been made. She had gone with the flow of things—not wanting to upset Angelo’s parents, who had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.

She had talked to Angelo on the phone each day, but he had seemed distant and uncommunicative and the calls hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two at most. There had been no sign of the gentle and caring man she had glimpsed the other night. She wondered if he was having second thoughts about marrying her now he had an inkling of how seriously screwed up she really was.

Her parents had flown over the day before, and her father had immediately stepped into his public role of devoted father. Her mother was her usual decorative self, dressed in diamonds and designer clothes with a hint of brandy on her breath that no amount of mints could disguise.

Her father helped Natalie out of the car outside the chapel. ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d end up with some tradesman from the suburbs. Angelo Bellandini is quite a catch. It’s a pity he’s Italian, but his money more than makes up for that. I didn’t know you had it in you to land such a big fish.’

She gave him an embittered look. ‘I suppose I really should thank you, shouldn’t I? After all, you’re the one who reeled him in for me.’

Her father’s eyes became cold and hard and his voice lowered to a harsh, dressing-down rasp. ‘What else was I to do, you stupid little cow?’ he asked. ‘Your brother’s future depended on getting on the right side of Bellandini. I’m just relieved he wanted to take you on again. Quite frankly, I don’t know why he can be bothered. You’re not exactly ideal wife material. You’ve got too much attitude. You’ve been like that since the day you were born.’

Natalie ground her teeth as she walked to the chapel along a gravelled pathway on her father’s arm. She had learned long ago not to answer back. The words would be locked inside her burning throat just like every other word she had suppressed in the past.

They ate at her insides like bitter, poisonous acid.

Angelo blinked when he saw Natalie come into the chapel. His heart did a funny little jump in his chest as he saw her move down the aisle. She was wearing a gorgeous crystal-encrusted ivory wedding gown that skimmed her slim curves. It had a small train that floated behind her, making her appear almost ethereal, and she was wearing a short gossamer veil with a princess tiara that didn’t quite disguise the chalk-white paleness of her face. She looked at him as she walked towards him, but he wasn’t sure she was actually seeing him. She had a faraway look in her eyes—a haunted look that made him feel guilty for having engineered things the way he had.

He took both of her hands in his as she drew close. They were ice-cold. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

She moved her lips but there was no way he could call it a smile.

‘Your mother chose the dress,’ she said.

‘I like the veil.’

‘It keeps the flies off.’

He smiled and gave her hands a little squeeze as the priest moved forward to address the congregation. He felt her fingers tremble against his, and for the briefest moment she clung to him, as if looking for support. But then her fingers became still and lifeless in the cage of his hands.

‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest began.

‘… and now you may kiss the bride.’

Natalie held her breath as Angelo slowly raised her veil. She blinked away an unexpected tear. She had been determined not to be moved by the simple service, but somehow the words had struck a chord deep inside her. The promises had reminded her of all she secretly longed for: lifelong love, being cherished, protected, honoured, worshipped … accepted.

Angelo’s mouth came down and gently pressed against hers in a kiss that contained a hint of reverence—or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. Halfway through the service she had started wishing it was for real. That he really did love her. That he really did want to spend the rest of his life with her in spite of her ‘attitude problem’.

The thought of her father’s hateful words made her pull out of the kiss. If Angelo was annoyed at her breaking away he showed no sign of it on his face. He simply looped her arm through his and led her out of the chapel to greet their guests.

The reception was held in the lush, fragrant gardens at his elderly grandparents’s spectacular villa, under a beautifully decorated marquee. The champagne flowed and scrumptious food was served, but very little made it past Natalie’s lips. She watched as her father charmed everyone with his smooth urbanity. She watched in dread as her mother downed glass after glass of champagne and talked too long and too loudly.

‘Your mother looks like she’s having a good time,’ Angelo remarked as he came back to her side after talking with his grandfather.

Natalie chewed at her lip as she saw her mother doing a tango with one of Angelo’s uncles. ‘Deep down she’s really very shy, but she tries to compensate by drinking,’ she said. ‘I wish she wouldn’t. She doesn’t know when to stop.’

He took her by the elbow and led her to a wistaria-covered terrace away from the noise and music of the reception. Bees buzzed in the scented arras above them. ‘You look exhausted,’ he said. ‘Has it all been too much for you?’

‘I never thought smiling could be so tiring,’ she said with a wry grimace.

‘I should imagine it would be when you’re not used to doing it.’

She looked away from his all-seeing gaze. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if he sensed her deep unhappiness. He’d used to tease her about taking life so seriously. She had tried—she had really tried—to enjoy life, but hardly a day passed without her thinking of all the days her baby brother had missed out on because of her.

‘I like your grandparents,’ she said, stepping on tiptoe to smell a purple bloom of wistaria. ‘They’re so devoted to each other even after all this time.’

‘Are yours still alive?’ he asked. ‘You didn’t put them on the list so I assumed they’d passed on.’

‘They’re still alive.’

‘Why didn’t you invite them?’

‘We’re not really a close family,’ she said, thinking of all the stiff and awkward don’t-mention-what-happened-in-Spain visits she had endured over the years.

Everything had changed after Liam had died.

She had lost not just her younger brother but also her entire family. One by one they had pulled back from her. There had been no more seaside holidays with Granny and Grandad. After a couple of years the beautiful handmade birthday presents had stopped, and then a year or two later the birthday cards had gone too.

A small silence passed.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange for Lachlan to be here,’ he said. ‘It’s against regulations.’

She looked up at him, shielding her eyes against the bright sun with one of her hands. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s in a private clinic in Portugal,’ he said. ‘He’ll be there for a month at the minimum.’

Natalie felt a surge of relief so overwhelming it almost took her breath away. She dropped her hand from her eyes and opened and closed her mouth, not able to speak for a full thirty seconds. She had been so terrified he would self-destruct before he got the help he so desperately needed. She had suggested a clinic a couple of times, but he had never listened to her. She had felt so impotent, so helpless watching him destroy his life so recklessly.

‘I don’t know how to thank you … I’ve been so terribly worried about him.’

‘He has a long way to go,’ he said. ‘He wants help, but he sabotages it when it’s given to him.’

‘I know …’ she said on a sigh. ‘He has issues with self-esteem. Deep down he hates himself. It doesn’t matter what he does, or what he achieves, he never feels good enough.’

‘For your parents?’

She shifted her gaze. ‘For my father, mostly …’

‘The father-son relationship can be a tricky one,’ he said. ‘I had my own issues with my father. That’s one of the reasons I came to London.’

Natalie walked with him towards a fountain that was surrounded by sun-warmed cobblestones. She could feel the heat coming up through her thinly soled high-heeled shoes. The fine misty spray of the fountain delicately pricked her face and arms like a refreshing atomiser.

‘You’ve obviously sorted those issues out,’ she said. ‘Your father adores you, and you clearly adore and respect him.’

‘He’s a good man,’ he said. ‘I’m probably more like him that I’m prepared to admit.’

She looked at the water splashing over the marble dolphins in the fountain and wondered what Angelo would think if she told him what her father was really like. Would he believe her?

Probably not, she thought with a plummeting of her spirits. Her father had got in first and swung the jury. He had done it all her life—telling everyone how incredibly difficult she was, how headstrong and wilful, how cold and ungrateful. The one time she had dared to tell a family friend about her father’s treatment of her it had backfired spectacularly. The knock-on effect on her mother had made Natalie suffer far more than any physical or verbal punishment her father could dish out.

It had silenced her ever since.

‘I guess we should get back to the guests,’ she said.

‘It will soon be time to leave,’ he said, and began walking back with her to the marquee. ‘I’d like us to get to Sorrento before midnight.’

Natalie’s stomach quivered at the thought of spending a few days alone with him at his villa. Would he expect her to sleep with him? How long would she be able to say no? She was aching for him, and had been since she had walked into his office that day. Her body tingled when she was with him. It was tingling now just from walking beside him. Every now and again her bare arm would brush against his jacket sleeve. Even through the barrier of the expensive fabric she could feel the electric energy of his body. It shot sharp arrows of awareness through her skin and straight to her core. She wanted him as she had always wanted him.

Feverishly, wantonly, urgently.

She was the moth and he was the flame that could destroy her, and yet she just couldn’t help herself. But giving herself to him physically was one thing. Opening herself to him emotionally was another. If she showed him everything that was stored away inside her what would she do if he then abandoned her?

How would she ever be able to put herself back together again?

Natalie could barely recall the journey to Sorrento in the chauffeur-driven car. She had fallen asleep before they had travelled even a couple of kilometres. She had woken just after midnight as the car drew to a halt, to find her head cradled in Angelo’s lap, his fingers idly stroking her hair.

‘We’re here,’ he said.

She sat up and pushed back her loosened hair. ‘I think I dribbled on your trousers,’ she said, grimacing in embarrassment. ‘Sorry.’

He gave her a lazy smile. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed watching you.’

The villa was perched high on a clifftop, overlooking the ocean. It had spectacular views over the port of Sorrento and the colourful villages hugging the coastline. With terraced gardens and a ground area twice the size of its neighbours, the villa offered a level of privacy that was priceless. Lights twinkled from boats on the wrinkled dark blue blanket of the sea below. The balmy summer air contained the sweet, sharp scent of lemon blossom from the surrounding lemon groves, and the light breeze carried with it the faint clanging sound of the rigging on a yacht far below.

Angelo left the driver to deal with their luggage as he led Natalie inside. ‘My hotel development is much larger than this place,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you there tomorrow or the next day.’

Natalie looked around at the vaulted ceilings and the panoramic arched windows, the antique parquet and the original terracotta floors. ‘This is lovely,’ she said. ‘Have you had it long?’

‘I bought it a couple of years ago,’ he said. ‘I like the privacy here. It’s about the only place I can lock myself away from the press.’

‘I suppose it’s where you bring all your lovers to seduce them out of the spotlight?’ she said before she could check herself.

He studied her as he pulled free his loosened tie. ‘You sound jealous.’

‘Why would I be jealous?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have any hold over you. And you don’t have any hold over me.’

He picked up her left hand and held it in front of her face. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re married now. We have a hold over each other.’

Natalie tried to get out of his grasp but his fingers tightened around hers. ‘What possible hold do I have over you?’ she asked. ‘You forced me to marry you. I didn’t have a choice. Five years ago I made the decision to walk out of your life and never see you again. I wanted to be left alone to get on with my life. But no; you had to fix things so I’d be at your mercy and under your control.’

‘Stop it, Natalie,’ he said. ‘You’re tired. I’m tired. This is not the time to discuss this.’

She tugged some more until she finally managed to break free. She stood before him, her chest heaving, her heart pounding and her self-control in tatters.

‘Don’t tell me to stop it!’ she said. ‘What hold do I have over you? You hold all the cards. I know what you’re up to, Angelo. I know how men like you think. You’ll hoodwink me into falling in love with you and then you’ll pull the rug from under my feet when I least expect it. But it won’t work because I won’t do it. I won’t fall in love with you. I won’t.’

He stood looking down at her with implacable calm. ‘Do you feel better now you’ve got all of that off your chest?’ he asked.

Goaded beyond all forbearance, she put her chin up and flashed him a challenging glare. ‘Why don’t you come and collect what you’ve bought and paid for right here and now?’ she said. ‘Come on, Angelo. I’m your little puppet now. Why don’t you come and pull on my strings?’

A muscle flickered in his jaw as his dark-as-night gaze slowly moved over her body, from her head to her feet and back again. She felt it peel her ivory gown away. She felt it scorch through her bra and knickers. She felt it burn her flesh. She felt it light an inferno between her legs.

But then a mask slipped over his features. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said. ‘I hope you sleep well. Buonanotte.’ He inclined his head in a brief nod and then turned and left.

Natalie listened to the echo of his footsteps on the terracotta floor fading into the distance until there was nothing left but the sound of her own erratic breathing …

The bedroom she’d chosen to sleep in was on the third floor of the villa. She woke after a fitful sleep to bright morning sunshine streaming in through the arched windows. She peeled back the covers and went and looked out at a view over terraced gardens. There was a sparkling blue swimming pool situated on one of the terraces, surrounded by lush green shrubbery. She could see Angelo’s lean, tanned figure carving through the water, lap after lap, deftly turning at each end like an Olympic swimmer.

She moved away from the window before he caught her spying on him and headed to the shower.

When she came downstairs breakfast had been laid out on a wrought-iron table in a sunny courtyard that was draped on three sides in scarlet bougainvillaea. The fragrant smell of freshly brewed coffee lured her to the table, and she poured a cup and took it to the edge of the courtyard to look at the view over the port of Sorrento.

She turned around when she heard the sound of Angelo’s tread on the flagstones as he came from inside the villa. He was dressed in taupe chinos and a white casual shirt that was rolled up past his wrists, revealing strong, masculine forearms. His hair was still damp; the grooves of his comb were still visible in the thick dark strands. He looked gorgeously fresh and vitally, potently alive.

‘I thought you might’ve joined me for a swim,’ he said.

‘I’m not much of a swimmer,’ she said, shifting her gaze. ‘I prefer dry land sports.’

He pulled out a chair for her at the table. ‘Do you want something hot for breakfast?’ he asked. ‘I can make you an omelette or something.’

Natalie looked at him in surprise. ‘Don’t you have a twenty-four-hour housekeeper at your beck and call here?’

‘I have someone who comes in a couple of times a week,’ he said. ‘I prefer my time here to be without dozens of people fussing around me.’

‘Oh, the trials and tribulations of having millions and squillions of dollars,’ she said dryly as she sat down.

He looked at her with a half-smile playing about his mouth. ‘You grew up with plenty of wealth yourself,’ he said. ‘Your father is a very successful investor. He was telling me about some of the ways he’s survived the financial crisis. He’s a very clever man.’

She reached for a strawberry from the colourful fruit plate on the table. ‘He’s very good at lots of things,’ she said, taking a tiny nibble.

He watched her with those dark, intelligent eyes of his. ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’ he asked.

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, taking another little bite of the strawberry.

‘I was watching you at the reception yesterday,’ he said. ‘You tensed every time he came near you. You never smiled at him. Not even once.’

She gave a shrug and reached for another strawberry, focussing on picking off the stem rather than meeting his gaze. ‘We have what you might call a strained relationship,’ she said. ‘But then he told you how difficult I was when you had that cosy little chat together, didn’t he?’

‘That really upset you, didn’t it?’

‘Of course it upset me,’ she said, shooting him a hard little glare. ‘He’s good at swinging the jury. He oozes with charm. No one would ever question his opinion. He’s the perfect husband, the perfect father. He doesn’t show in public what he’s like in private. You don’t know him, Angelo. You don’t know what he’s capable of. He’ll smile at your face while he has a knife in your back and you’ll never guess it. You don’t know him.’

The silence that fell made Natalie feel horribly exposed. She couldn’t believe that she had said as much as she had said. It was as if a torrent had been let loose. The words had come tumbling out like a flood. A dirty, secret flood that she had kept hidden for as long as she could remember. Her words stained the air. The contamination of the truth even seemed to still the sweet sound of the tweeting birds in the shrubbery nearby.

‘Are you frightened of him, cara?’ Angelo asked with a frown.

‘Not any more,’ she said, giving her head a little toss as she reached for a blueberry this time. ‘I’ve taught myself not to let him have that power over me.’

‘Has he hurt you in some way in the past?’

‘What are you going to do, Angelo?’ she asked with a woeful attempt at scorn. ‘Punch him on the nose? Rearrange his teeth for him? Give him a black eye?’

His gaze became very dark and very hard. ‘If anyone dares to lay so much as a finger on you I will do much more than that,’ he said grimly.

A piece of her emotional armour peeled off like the sloughing of skin. It petrified her to think of how easily it had fallen away. Was this his plan of action? To conquer by stealth? To ambush her by making her feel safe and secure?

To protect her?

‘You know, for such a modern and sophisticated man, deep down you’re amazingly old-fashioned,’ she said.

He reached for her hand. ‘You have no need to be frightened of anyone any more, cara,’ he said. ‘You’re under my protection now, and you will be while you’re wearing that ring on your finger.’

Natalie looked at her hand in the shelter of his. The sparkling new wedding band and the exquisite engagement ring bound her to him symbolically, but the real bond she was starting to feel with him was so much deeper and more lasting than that.

And it secretly terrified her.

She pulled her hand out of his and took one of the rolls out of a basket. ‘So, what’s the plan?’ she asked in a light and breezy tone. ‘How are we going to spend this non-honeymoon of ours?’

His eyes continued to hold hers in a smouldering tether that made the base of her spine feel hot and tingly. ‘How long do you think you’ll be able to keep up this ridiculous pretence of not wanting me?’ he asked.

She gave a false-sounding little laugh. ‘You had your chance last night and you blew it.’

His eyes smouldered some more. ‘I was very tempted to call your bluff last night.’

Hot, moist heat swirled between her legs as she thought of how dangerous and reckless her little taunt had actually been. Was that why she had issued it? Did some subconscious part of her want him to take charge and seduce her?

‘Why didn’t you?’ she asked with a little lift of her brow.

‘I don’t like being manipulated,’ he said. ‘You wanted me to take the responsibility away from you. You don’t like the fact that you still want me. You’ve taught yourself not to want or need anyone. It bugs the hell out of you that I stir you up the way I do, doesn’t it?’

Natalie tried to push her emotions back where they belonged, but it was like trying to refold a map. She pushed back from the table with a screech of the wrought-iron chair-legs against the flagstones. ‘I don’t have to listen to this,’ she said, slamming her napkin on the table.

‘That’s right,’ he said mockingly. ‘Run away. That’s what you usually do, isn’t it? You can’t face the truth of what you feel, so you bolt like a scared rabbit.’

She glowered at him in fury, her fists clenched, her spine rigid. ‘I am not a coward.’

He came to where she was standing, looking down at her with those penetrating eyes of his. She wanted to run, but had to force herself to stand still in order to discredit his summation of her character.

‘How long do you think you can keep running?’ he asked. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that your feelings go with you? You can’t leave them behind. They follow you wherever you go.’

‘I don’t feel anything for you,’ she said through barely moving lips.

He gave a deep chuckle of laughter. ‘Sure you don’t, Tatty.’

She clenched her teeth. ‘Stop calling me that.’

‘How are you going to stop me?’ he asked with a goading smile.

She stepped right up to him and fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. ‘Stop it, damn you,’ she said, trying to push him backwards. But it was like a moth trying to move a mattress.

His dark gaze mocked her. ‘Is that really the best you can do?’

She raised her other hand to slap him, but he caught it mid-air. ‘Ah-ah-ah,’ he chided. ‘That’s not allowed. We can play dirty, but not that dirty.’

Natalie felt the stirring of his erection against her, and her body responded with a massive tidal wave of lust. The erotic pulse of his blood thundering against her belly unleashed a deranged demon of desire inside her. She lunged at him, pulling his head down by grabbing a handful of his hair so she could smash her mouth against his. He allowed her a few hot seconds before he took charge of the kiss and pushed through her lips with the sexy thrust of his tongue, claiming her interior moistness, mimicking the intimate possession of hard, swollen male inside soft, yielding female.

She tried to take back control but he refused to relinquish it. He commandeered her mouth with masterful expertise, making her whole body sing with delight. One of his hands drove through her hair to angle her head for better access as he deepened the kiss. His other hand found her breast and cupped it roughly, possessively. Her flesh swelled and prickled in need, her nipples becoming hardened points that ached for the hot wet swirl and tug of his tongue. She moved against him, wanting more, wanting it all.

Wanting it now.

Her hands dug into his taut buttocks as she pulled him closer. He was monumentally aroused. She felt the rock-hard length of him and ached to feel him moving inside her. Her inner body secretly prepared itself. She felt the dewy moisture gathering between her thighs. She felt the tapping pulse of her blood as her feminine core swelled with longing. She didn’t think she had ever wanted him so badly. She was feverish with it.

Her heart raced with excitement as he scooped her up and carried her indoors. But he didn’t take her anywhere near a bedroom. He didn’t even bother undressing her. He roughly lifted her sundress, bunching it up around her waist, and backed her towards the nearest wall, his mouth still clamped down on hers. He didn’t waste time removing her knickers, either. He simply shoved them to one side as he claimed her slick, hot moistness with one of his fingers.

She gasped against his mouth and he made a very male sound at the back of his throat—a primal sound of deep satisfaction that made all the tight ligaments in her spine loosen. He tortured her with his touch. Those clever fingers got to work and had her shaking with need within moments. She clung to him desperately, her fingernails digging into his back and shoulders as he made her shatter into a million pieces. She sagged against him when the first storm was over. She knew there would be more. There always was with Angelo. He was never satisfied until he had completely undone her physically.

She reached for the zip on his trousers and went in search of him. Her fingers wrapped around his pulsing steely length. He felt hot and hard and heavy with need. She blotted her thumb over the bead of moisture at his tip and a sharp dart of need speared her. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Hadn’t it always been this way between them? Their coupling had always been a frenzied attack on the senses. Always fireworks and explosions. Always a mind-blowing madness that refused to be tamed.

He pulled her hand away and quickly applied a condom before pressing her back against the wall, thrusting into her so hard and so fast the breath was knocked right out of her. His mouth swallowed her startled gasp as he rocked against her with heart-stopping urgency.

The pressure built and built inside her again. The sensations ricocheted through her like a round of rubber bullets. It had been so long! This was what she had craved from him. The silky glide of his hard body, those powerful strokes and bold thrusts that made her shiver from head to foot. Her body was so in tune with his. Everything felt so right, so perfect. Her orgasm came speeding towards her, tightening all her sensitive nerve-endings and tugging at her insides, teasing as it lured her towards the edge of oblivion. She cried out as it carried her away on a rollercoaster that dipped and dropped vertiginously.

She was still convulsing when he came. She felt him tense, and then he groaned out loud as he shuddered and quaked with pleasure, his breathing heavy against her neck where he had pressed his face in that last crazy dash to the finish.

It was a moment or two before he stepped away from her. His expression was impossible to read as he did up his zip and tucked his shirt back into his trousers. Natalie felt a pang for the past—for a time when he would smile at her in a smouldering way, his arms holding her in the aftermath as if he never wanted to let her go.

She quickly suppressed that longing, however. She pushed her dress down and her chin up. ‘Was that playing dirty enough for you?’ she asked.

His dark, unreadable eyes held hers. ‘For now.’

She felt a delicious little aftershock of pleasure ripple through her as his gaze went to her mouth. Was he thinking of how she’d used to pleasure him with it? He had done the same to her; so many times she had lost count. There had been few boundaries when it had come to sex. She had learned how to enjoy her body with him, how not to feel ashamed of its needs and urges. He had opened up a wild, sensual world to her that she had not visited since.

She moved away from the wall, wincing slightly as her tender muscles protested.

His expression immediately clouded with concern. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘I’m fine.’

He put a hand around her wrist, his fingers overlapping her slender bones, his thumb stroking along the sensitive skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have taken things so fast. I should’ve taken my time with you, prepared you more.’

She gave him a nonchalant shrug and pulled out of his hold. ‘Save the romantic gestures for someone you didn’t have to pay for.’

A hard glitter came into his eyes. ‘Is this really how you want our relationship to run?’ he asked. ‘As a point-scoring exercise where we do nothing but attack each other?’

‘If you’re unhappy with how our relationship runs then you have only yourself to blame,’ she said. ‘You were the one who insisted on marriage. I told you I’m not cut out for it.’

‘I wanted to give you the honour of making you my wife,’ he said bitterly. ‘But clearly you’re much more comfortable with the role of a whore.’ He took out his wallet and peeled off a handful of notes. Stepping up to her, he stuffed them down the cleavage of her dress. ‘That should just about cover it.’

Natalie took the notes out and tore them into pieces, threw them at his feet. ‘You’ll need far more than that to get me to sleep with you again.’

‘You’re assuming, of course, that I would want to,’ he said. And, giving her a scathing look, he turned and left.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NATALIE spent most of the day in her room. She heard Angelo moving about the villa but she refused to interact with him. She was determined to avoid him for as long as she could. Hunger was a minor inconvenience. Her stomach growled as the clock moved around but still she remained resolute.

It was close to eight in the evening when she heard the sound of footsteps outside her door, and then a light tap as Angelo spoke. ‘Natalie?’

‘Go away.’

‘Open the door.’

She tightened her arms across her body, where she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. ‘I said go away.’

‘If you don’t unlock this door I swear to God I’ll break it down with my bare hands,’ he said in a gritty tone.

Natalie weighed up her options and decided it was better not to call his bluff this time. She got off the bed, padded over to the door, turned the key and opened the door. ‘Yes?’ she said with a haughty air.

The lines that bracketed his mouth looked deeper and his eyes, though currently glittering with anger, looked tired. ‘Can we talk?’ he asked.

She stepped away from the door and moved to the other side of the room, folding her arms across her middle. She didn’t trust herself not to touch him. Her body had switched on like a high-wattage lightbulb as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. She could feel the slow burn of her desire for him moving through her. Her insides flickered with the memory of his possession. It was a funny sensation, like suddenly stepping on an uneven surface and feeling that rapid stomach-dropping free fall before restoring balance.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

She sent him a chilly look. ‘Fine, thank you.’

He drew in a long breath and then released it. ‘What happened this morning … I want to apologise. What I said to you was unforgivable.’

‘You’re right,’ she said, shooting him another deadly glare. ‘And, just for the record, I don’t forgive you.’

He pushed a hand through his hair. Judging from the disordered state of it, it wasn’t the first time that day he had done so. ‘I also want to apologise for being so rough with you.’ He swallowed tightly and frowned. ‘I thought … I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I didn’t think. I just wanted you.’ His eyes darkened as they held hers. ‘I have never wanted anyone like I want you.’

Natalie’s resolve began to melt with each pulsing second his eyes stayed meshed with hers. She felt the heat of longing pass between them like a secret code. It was there in his dark as night eyes. It was there in the sculptured contours of his mouth. It was there in the tall frame of his body, pulling her like a powerful magnet towards him. She felt the tug of need in her body; she felt it in her breasts, where they twitched and tingled behind her bra. And, God help her, she felt it rattle the steel cage around her heart.

‘Apology accepted,’ she said.

He came to her and gently cupped her right cheek in his hand, his eyes searching hers. ‘Can we start again?’ he asked.

She gave a little frown. ‘Start from where?’

His mouth curved upwards. ‘Hi, my name is Angelo Bellandini and I’m a hotel and property developer. I’m an only child of wealthy Italian parents. I help to run my father’s arm of the business while working on my own.’

She gave a resigned sigh. ‘Hi, my name is Natalie Armitage and I’m an interior designer, with an expanding sideline in bedlinen and soft furnishings.’ She chewed at her lip for a moment and added, ‘And I have a fear of flying …’

His thumb stroked her cheek. ‘How old were you when you first got scared?’

‘I was … seven …’

‘What happened?’

She slipped out of his hold and averted her gaze. ‘I’d rather not talk about it with a virtual stranger.’

‘I’m not a stranger,’ he said. ‘I’m your husband.’

‘Not by my choice,’ she muttered.

‘Don’t do this, Natalie.’

‘Don’t do what?’ she asked, glaring at him. ‘Tell it how it is? You blackmailed me back into your life. Now you want me to open up to you as if we’re suddenly inseparable soul mates. I’m not good at being open with people. I’ve never been good at it. I’m private and closed. It must be my Scottish heritage. We’re not outwardly passionate like you Italians. You’ll just have to accept that’s who I am.’

The touch of his hands on her shoulders made every cell of her skin flicker and dance in response.

‘You’re much more passionate than you give yourself credit for,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the scratch marks on my back to prove it.’

Natalie felt that passion stirring within her. His body was calling out to hers in a silent language that was as old as time itself. It spoke to her flesh, making it tauten and tingle all over in anticipation. She wished she had the strength or indeed the willpower to step back from his magnetic heat, but her body was on autopilot. She pressed closer, that delicious ache of need starting deep in her core.

His mouth came down towards hers as hers came up, and they met in an explosion of sensation that made the flesh on her body shudder in delight. He flooded her senses with his taste—mint and male, heat and primal purpose. His tongue darted and dived around hers, subjecting it to a teasing tango that made her spine shiver and shake like a string of bottle caps rattling against each other. Heat pooled between her legs as he moved against her, the thickened length of him exciting her unbearably. She rubbed against him wantonly, desperate for the earth-shattering release that he alone could give her.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy. ‘Too fast.’

‘Not fast enough,’ she said and, pulling his head down, covered his mouth with her greedy one.

His hands worked on her clothes with deliberate attention to detail. She squirmed and writhed as he kissed every spot of flesh as he gradually exposed it. She tugged his shirt out of his trousers and with more haste than precision got him out of the rest of his clothes. She ran her hands over him reverentially. He was so strong and so lean, his muscles tightly corded, his skin satin smooth all but for the sprinkling of masculine hair that went from his chest in an arrow to his swollen groin. She stroked him with her hand, loving the feel of his reaction to her touch. She heard him snatch in a breath, his eyes glittering as she gave him a sultry look from beneath her lashes.

‘If you’re going to do what I think you’re about to do then this show is going to be over before it gets started,’ he warned.

She gave him a devil-may-care look and shimmied down in front of him. ‘Then I’ll just have to wait until the encore, won’t I?’

‘Dio mio,’ he groaned in ecstasy as she took him into her mouth.

She used her tongue and the moistness of her saliva to take him to the brink. She would have pushed him over, but he stopped her by placing his hands on either side of her head.

‘Enough,’ he growled, and hauled her to her feet.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down and covering her, with his weight supported by his arms to avoid crushing her. His mouth took hers in a searing kiss as his hand caressed her breasts and that aching secret dark place between her thighs.

It was her turn to suck in a breath when he moved down her body to stroke her with his lips and tongue. She felt the fizzing of her nerves as he brought her closer and closer. Her release started far away, and then gathered speed and stampeded through her flesh. She lost herself in a whirlpool of sensation that made her feel weightless and boneless.

She opened her eyes to find him looking at her as he stroked a lazy finger down between her breasts. ‘Do you want to finish me off with your hand?’ he asked.

She gave him a little frown. ‘Don’t you want to come inside me?’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he said, gently circling one of her nipples. ‘You might still be sore.’

She stroked her hand down his lean stubbly jaw. ‘I want you inside me,’ she said. ‘I want you.’

His eyes held hers in a sensual lock that made her belly quiver. ‘I’ll take it easy,’ he said. ‘Tell me to stop if it hurts.’

‘It’s not as if I’m a virgin, Angelo,’ she said, with a brittle little laugh to cover her unexpected emotional response to his tenderness. ‘I can handle everything you dish out.’

His eyes smouldered as they held hers. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned,’ he said, and covered her mouth with his.

Angelo lay on his side and watched Natalie sleep. From time to time he would pick up a silky strand of her hair and twirl it around one of his fingers.

She didn’t stir.

Her stubborn refusal to open her heart to him was like a thorn in his flesh. It was as if she would do anything to stop him thinking she cared about him. He thought back to their break-up, to how she had announced without warning that she was leaving. Her bags had been packed when he’d come home from a three-day workshop in Wales. She had told him she had slept with someone she had met at the local pub. He had stood there in dumbstruck silence, wondering if she was joking.

Their relationship had been volatile at times, but he hadn’t really thought she was serious about walking out on him. She had threatened to many times, but he had always thought it was just her letting off steam. He had planned to ask her to marry him that very night. He had wanted to wait until he got back from the workshop so she would have had time to think about how much she had missed him. But then she had shown him a photo on her phone, of her with a man, sitting at the bar, smiling over their drinks. The anger he had felt at seeing the evidence of her betrayal had been like a hot red dust storm in front of his eyes. She had stood there, looking at him with a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it-look and he had snapped.

He wasn’t proud of the words he had flailed her with. He was even more ashamed that he’d pushed her up against the wall like a cheap hooker and given her a bruising parting kiss that had left both of them bleeding.

He shuffled through his thoughts as he looked at her lying next to him like a sleeping angel.

She had wanted him to believe she had betrayed him.

But why?

Hadn’t he shown her how much he had loved her? He had said it enough times and shown it in a thousand different ways. She had never taken him seriously. Funny that, since she took life so seriously herself. She rarely smiled unless it was a self-effacing one. He couldn’t remember ever hearing her laugh other than one of those totally fake cackles that grated on his nerves because he knew them for the tawdry imitation they were.

Why had she been so desperate to get him out of her life?

He was still frowning when she opened her eyes and stretched like a cat. ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘You didn’t do it, did you?’ he asked.

A puzzled flicker passed through her gaze. ‘Do what?’

‘You didn’t sleep with that guy from the bar.’

She made a business of sitting upright and covering herself with a portion of the sheet. ‘I went home with him,’ she said after a moment.

‘But you didn’t sleep with him,’ he said. ‘You wanted me to think you had. You wanted me to believe that because you knew me well enough to know I would never have let you go for anything less.’

A tiny muscle began tapping in her cheek and her eyes took on a defensive sheen. ‘I wasn’t ready for commitment. You were pressuring me to settle down. I didn’t want to lose my freedom. I didn’t want to lose my identity and become some nameless rich man’s husband just like my mother.’

‘You’re nothing like your mother, cara,’ he said. ‘You’re too strong and feisty for that.’

She got off the bed and wrapped herself in a silky wrap. ‘I don’t always feel strong,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I feel …’ Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

‘What do you feel?’

She turned to the dressing table and picked up a brush, started pulling it through her hair. ‘I feel hungry,’ she said. She put the brush down and swung around to face him. ‘What does a girl have to do around here to get a meal?’

Angelo knew it wasn’t wise to push her. He had to be patient with her. She was feeling vulnerable and had retreated back to her default position. It was her way of protecting herself.

He only wished he had known that five years ago.

Natalie sat across from Angelo in a restaurant in Sorrento an hour later. He had given her the choice of eating in or out and she had chosen to go out. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to mingle with other people; it was more that she wanted to keep her head when around him. She couldn’t do that so well when she was alone with him.

The passion they had shared had stirred up old longings that made her feel uneasy. She was fine with having sex with him—more than fine, truth be told. It was just she knew he would want more from her.

He had always wanted more than she was prepared to give.

How long before he would ask her to think about staying with him indefinitely? Then he would start talking about babies.

His mother had already dropped a few broad hints when she had helped her choose her wedding dress. Natalie’s stomach knotted at the thought of being responsible for a tiny infant. She could just imagine how her parents would react if she were to tell them she was having a baby. Her mother would reach for the nearest bottle and drain it dry. Her father wouldn’t say a word. He would simply raise his eyebrows and a truckload of guilt would land on her like a concrete slab.

Angelo reached across the table and touched her lightly on the back of her hand. ‘Hello, over there,’ he said with a soft smile.

Natalie gave him a rueful smile in return. ‘Sorry … I’m hardly scintillating company, am I?’

‘I don’t expect you to be the life of the party all the time, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s enough that you’re here.’

She looked at his fingers entwined with hers. She had missed his touch so much in the years that had passed. She had missed the way his skin felt against hers, the way he felt under the caress of her hands. She had lain awake at night with her body crying out for his lovemaking. Her body had felt so empty. So lifeless without the sensual energy he shot through it like an electric charge.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, stroking the underside of her wrist with the broad pad of his thumb.

She met his chocolate-brown gaze and felt her insides flex and contract with lust. ‘Do you want dessert?’ she asked.

‘Depends on what it is,’ he said with a sexy glint.

She could barely sit still in her chair for the rocket blast of longing that swept through her. ‘I’m not in the mood for anything sweet,’ she said.

‘What are you in the mood for?’ Still that same sexy glitter was lighting his eyes from behind.

‘Nothing that takes too much time to prepare.’

‘I can be a fast order chef when the need arises,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll deliver it as fast as humanly possible.’

Natalie shivered as he came behind her to pull out her chair for her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as his warm wine-scented breath coasted past her ear. She leaned back against him, just for a brief moment, to see if he was aroused.

He was.

She smiled to herself and walked out of the restaurant with him, her body already quaking in anticipation.

Angelo had barely opened the door of the villa when she slammed him up against the wall as if she was about to frisk him.

‘Hey, was it something I said?’ he asked.

Her dark blue gaze sizzled as it held his. ‘You promised me dessert,’ she said. ‘It’s time to serve me.’

The entire length of his backbone shuddered as she ran her hand over his erection. ‘Who’s doing the cooking here?’ he asked.

She gave him a wicked look and brazenly unzipped him. ‘I want an appetiser,’ she said.

It was all he could do to stand there upright as she sank to her knees in front of him. He braced himself by standing with his feet slightly apart. When she was in this mood there was no stopping her. He was just happy to be taken along for the ride.

And what a ride it was.

Fireworks went off in his head. He couldn’t have held back if he had tried. She ruthlessly teased and caressed him until he was barely able to stand upright. His skin went up in a layer of goosebumps and his heart raced like a fat retiree at a fun run.

She stood up and gave him a wanton smile that had a hint of challenge to it. ‘Top that,’ she said.

‘I can do that,’ he said, and swept her up in his arms.

He took her to the master suite. He dropped her in the middle of the mattress and then pulled her by one ankle until she was right between his spread thighs. He leaned over her, breathing in her scent, his mouth coming down to claim her in a sensual feast that had her shuddering in seconds. She bucked and arched and screamed, and even batted at him with her fists, but he wouldn’t let her go until he was satisfied that he had drawn every last shuddering gasp out of her.

She lay back and flung a hand over her eyes, her chest rising and falling. ‘OK, you win,’ she said breathlessly.

‘It was pretty damn close,’ he said, coming to lie next to her. He trailed a finger down the length of her satin-smooth arm. ‘Maybe we should have a re-match some time soon, just to make sure?’

She rolled her head to look at him. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

‘Five.’

‘You’re insatiable.’

‘Only with you.’

A tiny frown puckered her brow and she turned her head back to look at the ceiling. ‘Have there been many?’ she asked after a pause.

‘Does it matter?’

She gave a careless shrug, but the tight set of her expression contradicted it. ‘Not really.’

‘I was never in love with anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I’m not.’

He sent his fingertip over the silky smooth cup of her shoulder. ‘Is it so hard to admit you care for me?’ he said.

She shoved his hand away and got off the bed. ‘I knew you would do this,’ she said in agitation.

‘What did I do?’

She turned and speared him with her gaze. ‘I don’t love you,’ she said. ‘Is there something about those words you don’t understand? I don’t love you. I like you. I like you a lot. You’re a nice person. I’ve never met a more decent person. But I’m not in love with you.’

Frustration made Angelo’s voice grate. ‘You don’t want to love anyone, that’s why. You do care, Tatty. You care so much it scares the hell out of you.’

She clenched her fists by her sides. ‘I can’t give you what you want,’ she said.

‘I want you.’

‘You want more,’ she said. ‘You’ve said it from the beginning. You want a family. You want children. I can’t give you them.’

‘Are you infertile?’

She rolled her eyes heavenwards and turned away. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand.’

He came over to her and took her by the upper arms. ‘Then make me understand,’ he said.

She pressed her lips together, as if she was trying to stop an outburst of unchecked speech from escaping.

He gave her arms a gentle squeeze. ‘Talk to me, Tatty.’

Her eyes watered and she blinked a couple of times to push the tears back. ‘What sort of mother would I be?’ she asked.

‘You’d be a wonderful mother.’

‘I’d be a total nutcase,’ she said, pulling away from him. ‘I’d probably be one of those helicopter parents everyone talks about. I would never be able to relax. So much can happen to a child. There’s so much danger out there: illness, accidents, sick predators on the streets and online. It’s all too much to even think about.’

‘Most parents manage to bring up their children without anything horrible happening to them,’ he said. ‘It’s easy to look at what’s reported in the press and think that the danger is widespread and unavoidable, but you’re disregarding all the positive parenting experiences that are out there.’

‘I just don’t want to go there,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me. No one can make me. You can’t force me to get pregnant.’

‘I sure hope you’re on the pill, then, because I haven’t always used protection.’

‘Did you do that deliberately?’ she asked with a hardened look.

‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘You were on the pill in the past … I just assumed … OK, maybe I shouldn’t have. I’m clear, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘Yes, well, so am I,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I’ve been out there much just lately.’

‘Have you been “out there” at all?’

She tried to look casual about it, but he saw her nibble at the inside of her mouth. ‘A couple of times,’ she said.

‘What happened?’

She gave him a withering look. ‘I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you.’

‘Did you have sex?’

She looked away. ‘It wasn’t great sex,’ she said. ‘More of a token effort, really. I don’t even remember the guy’s name.’

‘What were you trying to prove?’

She looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’ve noticed you have a habit of using sex when you want to avoid intimacy.’

She pulled her chin back in derision. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘What sort of pop psychology is that? Isn’t sex all about intimacy?’

‘Physical, maybe, but not emotional,’ he said. ‘Emotional intimacy takes it to a whole different level.’

‘That’s way too deep for me,’ she said, with an airy toss of her head. ‘I like sex. I like the rush of it. I don’t need anything else.’

‘You don’t want anything else because you’re running away from who you really are,’ he said.

‘I’m sure you’re a great big world expert on emotional intimacy,’ she said with a scathing curl of her lip. ‘You’ve had five different lovers in the last year.’

‘So you have been counting.’

She stalked to the other side of the room. ‘The Texan heiress was way too young for you,’ she said. ‘She looked like she was barely out of the schoolroom.’

‘I didn’t sleep with her.’

She gave a scoffing laugh. ‘No, I can imagine you didn’t. You would’ve kept her up way past her bedtime with your silver-tongued charm.’

Angelo ground his teeth in search of patience. ‘I’m not going to wait for ever for you, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I have an empire that needs an heir. I’ve felt the pressure of that since I was twenty-one years old. If you can’t commit to that, then I’ll have to find someone else who will.’

She gave him a stony look. ‘That’s why you forced me into this farce of a marriage, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘It isn’t just about revenge or nostalgic past feelings. It’s a convenient way to get what you want. My brother played right into your hands.’

‘This has nothing to do with your brother,’ he said. ‘This is between us. It’s always been between us.’

Her slate-blue eyes were hard and cynical. ‘Tell me something, Angelo,’ she said. ‘Would you have done it? Would you really have sent my brother to prison?’

He returned her look with ruthless determination. ‘You’re still the only person standing between your brother and years behind bars,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever forget that, Natalie. His future is in your hands.’

She put up her chin, her eyes flashing their blue fire of defiance at him. ‘I could call your bluff on that.’

He nailed her with his gaze. ‘You do that, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘And see how far it gets you.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

NATALIE walked out in the moonlit gardens when sleep became impossible. She had tossed and fretted for the past couple of hours, but there was no way she could close her eyes without images of the past flickering through her brain like old film footage.

Tomorrow was the anniversary of her baby brother’s death.

The hours leading up to it were always mental torture. Was that why she had practically thrown herself at Angelo, in an attempt to block it from her mind? She hadn’t seen him since he had stalked out on her after delivering his spine-chilling threat.

She wanted to test him.

She wanted to see if he really was as ruthless as he claimed to be but it was too risky. Lachlan would have to pay the price.

She couldn’t do it.

He had a future—the future that had been taken from Liam. Lachlan didn’t just have his own life to live; he had that of his baby brother, too. No wonder he was buckling under the pressure. Who could ever live up to such a thing? Lachlan was his own person. He had his own goals and aspirations. But for years he had suppressed them in order to keep their parents happy. He had no interest in the family business. Natalie could see that, but their father could not or would not. Their mother couldn’t see further than the label on the next bottle of liquor.

She gave a thorny sigh and turned to look at the shimmering surface of the pool that had appeared as if by magic in front of her. She generally avoided swimming pools.

Too many memories.

Even the smell of chlorine was enough to set the nerves in her stomach into a prickling panic. Before Liam’s death she had loved the water. She had spent many a happy hour in the pool at Armitage Manor, practising what she had learned with Granny and Grandad at the beach at Crail. But after Liam had died the pool had been bulldozed and made into a tennis court.

She had never once picked up a tennis racket.

She looked at the moonlit water; a tiny breeze teased the surface. It was like a crinkled bolt of silver silk.

Had she come out here in a subconscious attempt to find some peace at last? Would she ever find peace? Forgiveness? Redemption?

A footfall behind her had her spinning around so quickly she almost fell into the water behind her.

‘Couldn’t you at least have said something before sneaking up on me like that?’ she asked clutching at her thumping chest as Angelo stepped into the circle of light from one of the garden lamps.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he asked.

She rubbed at her arms even though it was still warm. ‘It’s not all that late,’ she said.

‘It’s three a.m.’

She frowned. ‘Is it?’

‘I’ve been watching you for the last hour.’

She narrowed her gaze. ‘Don’t you mean spying?’

‘I was worried about you.’

She raised a brow mockingly. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘You thought I might do something drastic rather than face the prospect of being tied to you for the rest of my life?’

‘I was concerned you might go for a swim.’

Her eyebrow arched even higher. ‘Do I have to ask your permission?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said, frowning. ‘I was just worried you mightn’t realise the danger of swimming alone late at night.’

A hysterical bubble of laughter almost choked her. ‘Yeah, right—like I don’t already know that,’ she said with bitter irony.

His frown gave him a dark and forbidding look. ‘You said you weren’t a strong swimmer. I thought I should be with you if you fancied a dip to cool off.’

Natalie hid behind the smokescreen of her sarcasm. ‘What were you going to do if I got into trouble?’ she asked. ‘Give me mouth to mouth?’

The atmosphere changed as if someone had flicked a switch.

His eyes smouldered as they tussled with hers. ‘What a good idea,’ he said, grasping her by the arms and bringing her roughly against him, covering her mouth with his.

His mouth tasted of brandy and hot male frustration. He was angry with her, but she could cope much better with his anger than his tenderness. He disarmed her with his concern and understanding.

She wanted him mad at her.

She wanted him wild with her.

She could handle that. She could pull against his push. She could survive the onslaught of his sensual touch if she could compartmentalise it as a simple battle of wills, not as a strategic war against her very soul.

His lips ground against hers as his hands gripped her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh. She relished the discomfort. She was in the mood for pain. She kissed him back, with her teeth and her tongue taking turns. She felt him flinch as her teeth drew blood, and he punished her by driving his tongue all the harder against hers until she finally submitted.

She let him have his way for a few breathless seconds before she tried a counter-attack. She took his lower lip between her teeth and held on.

He spun her around, so her back was facing the pool, and with no more warning than the sound of his feet moving against the flagstones he tangled his legs with hers so she lost her footing. She opened her mouth on a startled gasp, fell backwards and disappeared under the water, taking him with her.

She came up coughing and spluttering; panic was like a madman inside her chest, fighting its way out any way it could. She felt the sickening hammer blows of her heart. She felt the acrid sting of chlorine in her eyes. She was choking against the water she had swallowed. It burned the back of her throat like acid.

‘You … you bastard!’ she screamed at him like a virago.

He pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and laughed. ‘You asked for it.’

She came at him then. Hands in fists and teeth bared, she fell upon him, not caring if she drew blood or worse. She called him every foul name she could think of, the words pouring out of her like a vitriolic flood.

He simply held her aloft, and none of her blows and kicks came to anything but impotent splashes against and below the water.

Suddenly it was all too much.

The fight went out of her. She felt the dismantling of her spirit like starch being rinsed out of a piece of fabric. She went as limp as a rag doll.

‘Do you give up?’ he asked, with a victorious glint in his dark eyes.

‘I give up …’

His brows moved together and his smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said tonelessly. ‘Can I get out now? I—I’m getting cold.’

‘Sure,’ he said, releasing her, his gaze watchful.

Natalie waded to the edge of the pool. She didn’t bother searching for the steps. She gripped the side and hauled herself out in an ungainly fashion. She stood well back from the side and wrung her hair out like a rope, and pushed it back over her shoulder. It wasn’t cold, but she was shivering as if she had been immersed for hours in the Black Sea.

Angelo elevated himself out of the pool with a lot more athletic grace than she had. He came and stood in front of her, his hand capturing her juddering chin so he could hold her gaze. ‘You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’ he asked.

She flashed him a resentful look. ‘It would be your fault if I had.’

‘I would never have pushed you in if I didn’t think it was safe,’ he said. ‘The water is deepest this end.’

She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and rubbed at it furiously. ‘What if it had been the other end?’ she asked. ‘I could’ve been knocked out or even killed.’

‘I would never deliberately hurt you, cara.’

‘Not physically, maybe,’ she said, throwing him a speaking glance.

A little smiled pulled up the corners of his mouth. ‘So you’re feeling a little threatened emotionally?’ he asked.

She glowered at him. ‘Not at all.’

His smile tilted further. ‘It’s the sex, cara,’ he said. ‘Did you know that the oxytocin released at orgasm is known as the bonding hormone? It makes people fall in love.’

She gave him a disparaging look. ‘If that’s true then why haven’t you been in love with anyone since we were together? It’s not as if you haven’t been having loads and loads of sex.’

His eyes held hers in a toe-curling lock. ‘Ah, but there is sex and there is sex.’ His gaze flicked to her mouth, pausing there for a heartbeat before coming back to make love with her eyes.

Natalie felt her hips and spine soften. She felt the stirring of her pulse, the tap-tap-tap of her blood as it coursed through her veins. It sent a primal message to the innermost heart of her femininity, making it contract tightly with need.

‘But you’re not in love with me,’ she said, testing him. ‘You just want revenge.’

He stroked a light, teasing fingertip down the length of her bare arm, right to the back of her hand, before he captured her fingers in his and brought her close to his body. She felt the shock of touching him thigh to thigh like a stun gun. It sent a wave of craving through her that almost knocked her off her feet.

‘I love what you do to me,’ he said. ‘I love how you make me feel.’

She could barely think with his erection pressing so enticingly against her. Her body seeped with need. She felt the humid dew of it between her thighs. She looked up in time to see his mouth come down. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to his devastatingly sensual kiss.

His lips moved with hot urgency against hers, drawing from her a response that was just as fiery. Her tongue met his and duelled with it, danced with it, mated with it. Shivers of reaction washed over her body. She pressed herself closer, wanting that thrill of the flesh to block out the pain of the past.

But suddenly he put her from him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not falling for that again.’

Natalie looked at him in confusion. ‘You don’t want to …?’

He gave her a wry look. ‘Of course I want to,’ he said. ‘But I’m not going to until you tell me why you were out here, wandering about like a sleepwalker.’

Her gaze slipped out of the range of his. ‘I wasn’t doing any such thing.’

He pushed her chin up with a finger and thumb. ‘Yes, you were,’ he said, his gaze determined as it pinned hers. ‘And I want to know why.’

Natalie felt her stomach churning and her shivering turned to shuddering. ‘I told you. I often have trouble sleeping,’ she said.

His eyes continued to delve into hers. ‘What plays on your mind so much that you can’t settle?’

She licked her dry lips. ‘Nothing.’

His brow lifted sceptically. ‘I want the truth, Natalie. You owe me that, don’t you think?’

‘I owe you nothing,’ she said, with a flash of her gaze.

His eyes tussled with hers. ‘If you won’t tell me then I’ll have to find someone who will,’ he said. ‘And I have a feeling it won’t take too much digging.’

Natalie swallowed in panic. If he went looking for answers it might stir up a press fest. She could just imagine the way the papers would run with it. She would have to relive every heartbreaking moment of that fateful trip. Her mother would be devastated to have her terrible loss splashed all over the headlines. Her father had managed to keep things quiet all those years ago, but it would be fair game now, in today’s tell-all climate.

And then there was Lachlan to consider.

How would he feel to have the world know he was nothing but a replacement child? That he had only been conceived to fill the shoes of the lost Armitage son and heir?

She ran her tongue over her lips, fighting for time, for strength, for courage. ‘I … I made a terrible mistake … a few years back …’ She bit down on her lip, not sure if she could go on.

‘Tell me about it, Natalie.’

Oh, dear God, could she tell him? How could she bear his shock and horror? Those tender looks he had been giving her lately would disappear. How she had missed those looks! He was the only person in the world who looked at her like that.

‘Tatty?’

It was the way he said his pet name for her. It was her undoing. How could one simple word dismantle all her defences like a row of dominoes pushed by a fingertip? It was as if he had the key to her heart.

He had always had it.

He hadn’t realised it the first time around, but now it was like the childhood game of hot and cold. He was getting warmer and warmer with every moment he spent with her.

Natalie slowly brought her gaze up to look at him head-on. This is it, she thought with a sinkhole of despair opening up inside her. This is the last time you will ever see him look at you like that. Remember it. Treasure it.

‘I killed my brother.’

A confused frown pulled at his forehead. ‘Your brother is fine, Natalie. He’s safe and sound in rehab.’

‘Not that brother,’ she said. ‘My baby brother, Liam. He drowned while we were holidaying in Spain … he was three years old.’

His frown was so deeply entrenched on his brow it looked as if it would become permanent. ‘How could that have been your fault?’ he asked.

‘I was supposed to be watching him,’ she said hollowly. ‘My mother had gone inside to lie down. My father was there with us by the pool, but then he said he had to make a really important business call. He was only gone five minutes. I was supposed to be watching Liam. I’d done it before. I was always looking out for him. But that day … I don’t know what happened. I think something or other distracted me for a moment. A bird, a flower, a butterfly—I don’t know what. When my father came back …’ She gave an agonised swallow as the memories came flooding back. ‘It was too late …’

‘Dear God! Why didn’t you tell me this five years ago?’ he asked. ‘You never mentioned a thing about having lost a brother. Why on earth didn’t you say something?’

‘It’s not something anyone in my family talks about. My father strictly forbade it. He thought it upset my mother too much. It was so long ago even the press have forgotten about it. Lachlan was the replacement child. As soon as he was born every photo, every bit of clothing or any toys that were Liam’s were destroyed or given away. It was as if he had never existed.’

Angelo took her by the upper arms, his hold firm—almost painfully so. ‘You were not to blame for Liam’s death,’ he said. ‘You were a baby yourself. Your parents were wrong to lay that guilt on you.’

She looked into his dark brown eyes and saw comfort and understanding, not blame and condemnation. It made her eyes water uncontrollably. The tears came up from a well deep inside her. There was nothing she could do to hold them back. They bubbled up and spilled over in a gushing torrent. She hurtled forward into the wall of his chest, sobbing brokenly as his arms came around her and held her close.

‘I tried to find him as soon as I noticed he wasn’t beside me,’ she said. ‘It was barely a few seconds before I realised he was gone. I looked and looked around the gardens by the pool, but I didn’t see him. He was at the bottom of the pool. I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him …’

‘My poor little Tatty,’ he soothed against her hair, rocking her gently with the shelter of his frame. ‘You were not to blame, cara. You were not to blame.’

Natalie cried until she was totally spent. She told him other things as she hiccupped her way through another round of sobs. She told him of how she had seen Liam’s tiny coffin being loaded on the plane. How the plane had hit some turbulence and how terrified she had been that his tiny body would be lost for ever. How she had sat in that wretched shuddering seat and wished she had been the one to drown. How her father had not said a word to her the whole way home. How her mother had sat in a blank state, drinking every drink the flight crew handed her.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she eased back out of his hold and looked up at him through reddened and sore eyes. ‘I must look a frightful mess,’ she said.

He looked down at her with one of his warm and tender looks. ‘I think you look beautiful.’

She felt a fresh wave of tears spouting like a fountain. ‘You see?’ she said as she brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘This is why I never cry. It’s too damn hard to stop.’

He brushed the damp hair off her face, his gaze still meltingly soft. ‘You can cry all you want or need to, mia piccola,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with showing emotion. It’s a safety valve, si? It’s not good to suppress it for too long.’

She gave him a rueful look. ‘You always were far better at letting it all hang out than me,’ she said. ‘It used to scare me a bit … how incredibly passionate you were.’

He stroked her hair back from her face. ‘I seem to remember plenty of passion on your part too,’ he said.

‘Yes … well, you do seem to bring that out in me,’ she said.

His hands slid down to hers, his fingers warm and protective as they wrapped around hers. ‘I think it’s high time you were tucked up in bed, don’t you?’

Natalie shivered as his gaze communicated his desire for her. ‘You want to …?’

He scooped her up in his arms. ‘I want to,’ he said, and carried her indoors.

Angelo lay awake once Natalie had finally dozed off. It had taken a while. In the quiet period after they had made love she had told him how today was the actual anniversary of her baby brother’s death. It certainly explained her recent agitation and restlessness. He thought of her horrible nightmare the other night, how she had thrashed and turned and how worried he had been.

It all made sense now.

He still could not fathom why her parents had done such a heartless thing as to blame her for the tragic death of their little son. How could they have possibly expected a child of seven to be responsible enough to take care of a small child? It was unthinkably cruel to make her shoulder the blame. Why had they done it? What possible good did they think it would do to burden her with what was essentially their responsibility?

And where had the resort staff been?

Why hadn’t Adrian Armitage aimed his guilt-trip on them instead of his little daughter?

His gut churned with the anguish of what she must have faced. Why had she not told him before now? It hurt him to think she had kept that dark secret from him. He had loved her so passionately. He would have given her the world and yet she had not let him into her heart.

Until now.

But she hadn’t told him because she had trusted him.

He had forced it out of her.

He picked up her left hand and rolled the pad of his thumb over the rings he had made her wear.

He had sought revenge, but it wasn’t as sweet as he had thought. He hadn’t had all the facts on the table. How differently would he have acted if he had known?

His insides clenched with guilt. He had railroaded her into marriage, not stopping to think of the reasons why she had balked at it in the first place. He had not taken the time to understand her, to find the truth about why she was so prickly and defensive. He had not made enough of an effort to get to know her beyond the physical. He had allowed his lust for her to colour everything else.

He had listened to those barefaced lies from her father. Listened and believed them. How could he ever make it up to her? How could he show her there was a way through this if only she trusted and leaned on him?

Or was it already too late to turn things around?

Angelo brought in a tray with coffee and rolls the next morning and set it down beside her. She opened her eyes and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. ‘I don’t expect you to wait on me,’ she said.

‘It’s no bother,’ he said. ‘I was up anyway.’

She took the cup of coffee he had poured for her. ‘Thanks,’ she said after a little pause.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I meant about last night,’ she said, biting her lip.

Angelo sat on the edge of the bed near her thighs and took one of her hands in his. ‘Would you have eventually told me, do you think?’

She lifted one shoulder up and down. ‘Maybe—’ She twisted her mouth. ‘Probably not.’

‘I’ve been thinking about your parents,’ he said. ‘I’d like to meet with them to talk through this.’

She pulled her hand out of his. ‘No.’

‘Natalie, this can’t go on—’

‘No.’ Her slate blue eyes collided with his. ‘I don’t want you to try and fix things. You can’t fix this.’

‘Look, I understand this is a painful thing for all of you, but it’s not fair that you’ve been carrying this guilt for so long,’ he said. ‘Your parents need to face up to their part in it.’

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